The Swim Team (Closed)

Sports teams were just something that you had to deal with on a college campus - even small colleges that had a reputation for academic excellence. Southwest University seemed the most, “We produce all of these illustrious alumni - from business giants to film directors - but we also happen to have a few sports teams because of the money they bring in,” which was something that Jolie “Jo” or, occasionally, “JoJo” Monae could live with. As long as she could pursue her studies in history, nothing else really mattered.

Therefore, when she actually started at Southwest, and discovered that not only was there more than one sports team, but that they were actually the biggest draw to the campus, she felt that she’d been sold a false set of goods. As orientation went on, the storm cloud on her dark face only grew darker, as the opening speech was peppered with references to the various teams - basketball, football, and, most inexplicably to her, a swim team. What sort of college had a swim team? It wasn’t like there were Rose Bowls for swimmers. Or maybe there were, and she just hadn’t heard of them. Huh. Well, Olympic level swimmers had to come from somewhere, right? They weren’t just farting around at the local public pool.

Or maybe they were?

Either way, outside of those idle thoughts, she hadn’t given the teams much more thought than that, and that had been a year or so ago at this point. Now at 19, a sophomore, and a history major, she’d earned a reputation of being “no-nonsense,” a serious scholar, and one of the prominent minority faces on campus, always trotted out for a “look how diverse we are!” presentation, coming to a head when her face, caught in the middle of one of her rare laughs, was plastered all over the newest campus brochures. Despite her urge to want to hide in her dorm until she graduated because of it, she managed to suck it up and deal with the polite (and sometimes not so polite) ribbing she got from her fellow students. But overall, campus life was fine - between working part time as a tutor on campus and then, off campus at the local coffee shop, she had money, she had her studies, and occasionally, treated herself to a movie.

Life was decent - and for the most part, she flew under the campus life radar. And she would have been fine with it. Until her roommate.

“Dude, Jojo. How come you never go to any of the games?”

Jo rolled her eyes, drumming her fingers against the worn wood countertop. “Are you going to order something, or continue to harass me at work?”

“Don’t be like that. Gimmie a large mocha. And answer the question.” The blonde across the counter leaned on it, putting her picture perfect, American apple pie and baseball chin in her palms. Holly Summers was a psychology major and a girl about town. With her big blue eyes, long eyelashes, and bombshell body, Holly had the air of the girl next door who’d fallen out of Playboy magazine circa 1955, with the sensibilities of a Tinder addict. Not that Jo felt like she was some sort of troll next to Holly - she knew she was decent looking.

Years of ballet as a kid had graced her to a dancer’s build to this day - long, elegant lines and powerful legs. Once her official "dancer days" had ended, her body had filled out to a generous chest, luckily enough for her to still be in proportion with the rest of her body. She considered her breasts her best-kept secret - though she typically underplayed their size. And her face wasn’t that bad, either - big brown eyes, full lips, even skin that a religious skin care regime kept in near flawless condition. But if someone were to ask her, her looks were purely secondary to her brain. They were nice to have, and she did what she could to keep them up, but found it way more fun to get lost in a documentary series than it was to go to the gym.

Turning her back to Holly, Jo started a fresh coffee drip. “Because I don’t have the time, Holly. Between my classes and tutoring and here, where am I going to find the time to go to whatever game? My nights are pretty full.” She carelessly pushed a strand of wild hair back into the messy bundle of curls looped into a sloppy bun on the top of her head.

“Uh, no they’re not," Holly scoffed. "I live with you. And go to a swim meet. Those are usually super early in the morning, and totally worth the time. Do you even know any of the guys on the team?”

Jo sighed, and dramatically dropped her head against her chest. There was no changing the topic here, apparently. “Unless I had class with them, I doubt it?”

“You don’t remember taking classes with any stupidly hot beyond all reason guys? Is your vag in working order?”

“My vag is working just fine, thank you.” A few pumps of chocolate to the coffee, and Jo, for a moment, had to resist the urge to mimic spitting into the cup, just to get a rise out of Holly. Not that she would ever actually spit in the girl’s coffee; Holly, for all of her meddling, meant well.

“You know,” Jo continued, sliding Holly’s drink across the counter to her, “for someone who’s a psych major, you spend a lot of time focusing on other people’s sex lives.”

“Sexuality, and subsequent fetishes and desires, are intricately linked with self-perception. Desires are simply a larger mirror that reflect back a different side of our personality, largely, one that is more personal.” Holly dropped her academic tones, and with her cup in one hand, leaned over again to lightly nudge Jo in the side. “I’m just trying to get you to live a more fulfilled and well-rounded life. Books and studies are grand and all, but they can’t take the place of a human body. Even if it’s just for a one night stand.”

Smiling, Jo shook her head. “That’ll be $5.00.”

____

If the coffee shop visit wasn’t enough, Holly dropping continual hints - from sticky notes to text messages to voicemails - was enough to finally send Jo over the edge. If it’d get the blonde to back off, she’d go to a million swim meets. And, as luck would have it, there happened to be one right before her next class. She could dash over, stay for five minutes just to say she’d been there, and then get to the other side of campus, no problem.

The air inside of the pool was humid, and didn’t smell as strongly of chlorine as she would have thought. It was warm enough for her to briefly rethink her oversized hoodie, but she decided that it’d be better to keep it on, rather than take it off and reveal that in her hurry to leave the dorm this morning, she’d neglected to put on a bra.

The red tank under the hoodie was roomy, and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, even with a bra on. The back was open, twisted low at her waist, and probably meant for those that had a little less going on in the breast department. Her black leggings with red stars on the knees were clean, and though she knew she wasn’t likely to win any fashion contest, she was comfortable, and that was most important.

Phone in hand, she glanced down at the time. It was still early. Great. She was totally here, and now she could leave -

Bodies exiting the water drew her attention from her phone to the neatly divided lines in the pool. As she finally got a glimpse of the male swim team, the pool suddenly got warmer, and she dropped her phone at the same time that her mouth fell open.

The guys coming out of the pool were absolutely beautiful. Just...wow. Completely dumbfounded, she could do little more than stand and stare, dimly realizing that she dropped her phone. Kneeling, her attention still on the boys exiting the pool, she fumbled across the damp floor for her phone.

"Don't step on her fucking phone," Liam Gardel said to his friend.

But he was too late. Seth Gamble, thinking a thousand thoughts as usual, stepped from the pool oblivious to his surroundings and felt his bare foot kick something. Whatever it was shot under the plastic seats in the bottom row, making a metallic sound when it contacted the concrete wall.

It was always like this with Seth. In a dream. But more so after swim practice. It was how he got through the relentless hours of training. Reviewing his last class. Planning the next. Rewriting old essays in his head. Finding better ways to say things. Contemplating the meaning of life, the universe, everything.

And it got him into trouble.

He mumbled sorry, to no one in particular. Then dripping water, said 'let me get it', and crouched down on his bare knees. With his firm speedo-clad ass in the air, Seth peered under the seat still not sure what he was looking for.

"It's the girl in the campus brochure. You know. The one you said was hot. Hi there."

He heard Liam as he reached under the seats, but his hands found nothing. And when he turned his head to see if Liam was helping, his friend had turned his back and was talking to the girl.

"Your phone? Don't mind my friend. He's a fucking idiot. But he'll pay for the damages."

The hot girl's phone. At least Seth now knew what he was looking for. And as usual he was the one flat on his face, embarrassing himself, while Liam got to flirt. He knew what Liam would be doing. It was always the same. Wear as little as possible, flex his muscles, be his most charming or striking or memorable. Never forgettable. Liam had taken to wearing his speedos outside the pool, even when the coach told him not to, strutting round campus and the hallways, showing off.

And as usual, the girls lapped it up. Seth knew the hot campus brochure girl would be doing that now, ogling Liam, playing with her hair as his friend's smart talk disarmed her, while Seth squirmed on the ground like some beached sea creature in its death throes at their feet.

And then the phone found its way into his palm. He clasped it, stood awkwardly and held it out to her. In the brief moment it took to thank him and turn away, Seth was pleased to sense something unexpected. The brochure girl, unlike so many other of Liam's conquests, was not already brushing his six pack with her fingers, but seemed unimpressed. Or expressionless at least. And keen to make her getaway.

Seth watched the girl walk towards the exit. It was hot and humid inside the pool, but she was wearing an over-sized hoodie so he couldn't see her hair. The black leggings she wore, however, showed off her long legs to advantage.

"Fucking hot or what?"

Seth kept his eyes on the girl until the doors closed behind her, before turning to his friend.

"Suppose you got her number then."

Liam turned towards the changing rooms. The rest of the team were already disappearing inside. Seth followed his friend in their wake.

"Nah," he said. "She's a sophomore. And a serious student, Holly says. Doesn't fuck at all, let alone freshmen."

The changing rooms were a storm of spray and testosterone and ribaldry. Liam and Seth stepped into the showers to rinse off.

Gamble and Gardel. Their names had been adjacent on the schedule on their first day. Seth was still amazed they'd hit it off given how different they were. He quiet and contemplative and shy. Liam outspoken and opinionated and super confident.

But friends they'd become. They nominated each other to share a dorm room, took politics classes together, even travelled part of the way home together in Liam's car on semester breaks.

And they swam together. Study and socialising and sharing campus life was all good, but it was the swim team which cemented their buddy relationship.

Swimming for Seth was the ultimate relaxation. He was a long distance swimmer. The pool was where he could suspend his body and his troubles, gliding effortlessly through the water, lap after lap, never tiring.

Liam was a sprinter. He was in and out of the pool in no time. Where the pool seemed to put Seth into a trance, it made Liam hyper. They'd return to their dorm room or to classes after practice, Seth gently coming up for air, Liam jumping and laughing and going off like a fire cracker.

"Good fucking effort." One of the senior swimmers, naked and tanned, walked up to Liam in the shower. They high-fived. "See you in the bar," he said. "You too, Prince Charming," he said looking at Seth.

'Prince Charming'. Seth hated the nickname. It was a reference to his having the same name, Seth Gamble, as a porn star. He'd played the prince apparently, in an X-rated Cinderella parody. Liam had watched it online in their room, laughing and wanking while Seth tried to avoid paying him any attention. But the other guys had given Seth the nickname and it had stuck. Liam said it was a compliment. Said he had a big cock. A pornstar's cock. Liam said to make the most of it, especially if Seth was going to wear speedos on the swim team. All the girls like a big cock, Liam said. And the boys, if that's your thing.

Was it big? Seth guessed so when he compared the guys in the showers. It made him hard thinking about it, but so far Liam and the swim team were the only people at Southwest University who'd seen his cock outside the lycra.

Freshman year was hard work, and Seth missed his family and friends. The only girlfriend he'd had at high school had partnered him to the prom, let him fondle her through her bra, kissed him and pretty much ignored him since. There would be time for girlfriends later.

"So the bar it is," Liam said, towelling off. "We might see Holly there. And brochure girl. Maybe it's time your pornstar's cock made its debut."

It took far longer than normal for her mouth to start working again. She hadn’t even registered that one of these beautiful boys had kicked her phone. One of boy’s words echoed from a distance, and she blinked, once, twice, before getting back to her feet, so swiftly she almost stumbled backwards. Luckily, the weight of her backpack served as a counter balance, and she rocked forward, firmly back on her feet.

She was about to speak, then one of the boy’s voice cut her off. He…he’d called her the ‘hot girl from the brochure.’ Nah. Maybe he said the ‘not girl from the brochure.’ Like, “not that noticeable.” Or maybe he said something about cots? There was no way he was talking about her. She glanced behind her, and, seeing no one there, looked back at him with a blank look on her face, her brown eyes large and nearly owlish as she raised her brows in a “who, me?” gesture. No one, but no one, had actually called Jo “hot.” “Striking,” maybe. And if people were feeling charitable, “cute,” but “hot”? No way!

“Er.” Was what came out of her mouth when he mentioned her phone. It was less precise than that, really, some sort of drawling of syllables that might have been a word by the time she closed her mouth again. My god, his smile! It was absolutely…just…wow. And of course he had dimples. And even white teeth and a perfectly sculpted jaw and jet hair and eyes that were so blue they were nearly violet -

She suddenly, and abruptly, slapped her cheeks. Closed her eyes. Then opened them again with a deep breath. Ah, there it was. Language.

“Don’t worry about it,” she finally managed, her voice edging up at the end, threatening to burst into a giggle. Infuriated at herself, she cleared her throat, then, as the other boy handed her the phone, she shot him a quick smile. Then, turning her attention back to the brunette, she gave him a shrug. “No big. Like…” She had to resist the urge to fidget, and shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her hoodie. Crap! Class! She snatched her hands back out of her pockets, glancing at her phone. “I gotta go, thanks!” she spoke so quickly her words stumbled over one another as she quickly made her exit.

____

Oh. My. God.

Normally, Fridays were her favorite class days. Her earliest class was at 9, and her day was effectively over by 2 - and they were all history or philosophy courses. From there, she could sometimes pick up an extra shift at the coffee shop, which meant good tips, and still leave by the early evening. Since Holly was typically out during the weekends (well, maybe “out” wasn’t the right word as so much as “temporarily stopping in between staying the night somewhere or the other”), it meant two days to herself - to go dance, to binge documentaries, to lay around naked and eat pizza. Fridays were heaven.

But she couldn’t so much as focus on Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon during today’s lecture. Every time she closed her eyes, if she as so much as blinked, she saw that brunette’s smile. Those eyes. Those…muscles. Never had she envied water so much in her life. And the other one! The one who kicked her phone - with the galaxy of freckles across his shoulders, and his deep red hair, and that speedo…

Oh, god, BOTH of those speedos. Just the thought of them made her cross and uncross her legs. Bite the inside of her mouth. This was ridiculous. They were just guys. And swim team guys on top of that. They had girls throwing themselves at them constantly - Holly, she knew, for a fact, was working her way through the team just to see if she could. And here she was, a serious student, and she made a complete ass of herself in front of them. Like any other idiotic girl. Like they probably knew that they made panties spontaneously combust at the first glance.

Ugh.

Letting go of the poor, battered side of her cheek, she shoved the tip of her pen there, and bit down hard. Caesar. Rubicon. End of the Republic.

That brunette’s amazing nipples.

….Dammit.

______

A cold, then hot, then warm, then cold again shower hadn’t done much to lighten her spirits. There was no telling when Holly would be back, so a “self-love” session was out of the question. Sighing, Jo wrapped her towel tighter around herself as she dug through her underwear drawer. This morning had been a bit of a fluke: her throwing on comfy clothes and whatever was closest to the bed so she could get to class. Now that she had a bit more time - and a shift at the shop - she was a bit more discerning. Fishing through the bundles of colorful lace and neatly folded bikini panties, she selected one of her favorites: a bright orange and yellow lace trimmed thong. The colors popped against her brown skin, and made it look like rich cream. Well, not like anyone would see her in said thong, but she knew and that was what mattered.

She was hooking her bra when the door opened. “Hey Jo,” Holly said, shutting the door with her butt.

Pulling the straps over her shoulder, Jo grinned. “Surprised to see you back so soon,” she stood up from the bed, moving to her small dresser.

“Oh, don’t get used to it - I gotta drop a paper off at Dr. Harriman’s office and then I’m to the library.”

“Another paper?” Jo’s voice was muffled as she pulled on a deep violet unitard. It had open lacing from her mid calf down, exposing hints of her smooth legs.

“God, yes. Another case study,” Holly groaned out. “I gotta get this sucker outlined before 5.”

“What’s happening at 5?” Jo’s voice was muffled again as she pulled on a loose white shirt that hung off her shoulders, making her look every bit the former dancer she was.

“Just ‘I want to be done with school o’clock,’” chirruped Holly, as she gathered her things from her desk. “Dang, what happened to your phone?”

“Oh, yeah…” There was some damage to the paint, but the screen was still in tact, and it didn’t seem to have gotten that wet. “So because SOMEONE said I HAD to go to a swim meet, I went - and dropped my phone. Then some red-head kicked it -“

“Seth.” Holly supplied, instantly stopping in her rooting. She was all ears now, turning to lean against her desk, her eyes sparkling. “And?”

“And then” Jo continued, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt, “that dark haired one, with the blue eyes-”

“Liam.”

“Okay, well. Redhead and Captain Blue Eyes there talked to me for a little. Well, what’s his face, Liam, did.”

“Uh-huh.” Holly pulled out her own phone, and her fingers were dancing across the keys. Jo raised an eyebrow, then went about getting ready. Applying her favorite perfume oil to the crooks of her elbows, she turned her neck to the side, lovingly applying the spicy scent to the hollow of her throat. Holly lived on her phone - so Jo didn’t take it as a slight that she was typing while she was talking.

“And that’s it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really.”

“Gotcha.”

“….My head’s on fire.”

“It is not. Do your hair up and wear those hoop earrings.”

“Why? I’m just going to the shop.”

Holly finally put down her phone and glanced at Jo, and smirked. “Uh-huh.”

“You know I’m working tonight.”

“Yeah. I also know you just put on your favorite perfume and you’re wearing that unitard thing that makes your ass look amazeballs. Do I need to say anything else?”

Jo was pretty sure her face was on fire. “….Don’t you have a paper to turn in?”

_____

Liam’s phone buzzed.

I heard you talked to Jo today!

Before he could respond, his phone screen showed: Holly is typing…

You didn’t hear this from me, but she’s working till 6 at Epoch Coffee. I think you and me and Ginger McFrecklebutt should go.

A pause. Then: Holly is typing…

And then ditch those squares. I need a good dicking. Winking emoji. Wet emoji. Eggplant emoji.

Holly is typing…

See you at 5:45 at Epoch!

Lips emoji.

"Are we really going through with this whole bar fiasco thing again?"

Seth spoke without looking up at Liam as they walked across campus.

"And who is likely to be in a bar at 5.30 in the afternoon?"

Seth pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and dawdled, hoping that his friend might get a physical message even as he ignored the verbal one. Liam strode on a few paces, then turned.

"OK. No, we're not going through with this whole bar fiasco thing again."

The swim team met after practice at a small bar near the campus gate. It was some longstanding tradition even though the place was an expensive dive. Or so rumour had it. Seth and Liam were underage. And no amount of cajoling and fake ID-ing and trying locked doors could get them in. The barkeeper might not be fussed about cleanliness and student-friendly prices, but he was a stickler for drinking age and ID. The two friends had tried to enter with the team on several occasions, and separately, and together, and surreptitiously, but without success. The swim team bar was off limits for another two years.

"So where are we going?"

"If I told you, would you come?" Liam turned and walked on. Seth hurried to catch him up.

"What sort of question is that?"

"When I told Chuck in the changing room we'd see him in the bar," Liam said, "you came when you knew that was never gonna happen."

"Yeah, but...OK...I think that makes sense." Seth shrugged. "So where are we going?"

"We're going to Epoch Coffee."

"Why?"

Liam stopped and turned. Seth thought he looked unusually impatient and exasperated, even for Liam.

"If I tell you...we're starting to sound like some fucked up married couple who only stay together because they've run out of ideas. Don't you like coffee?"

Seth thought back to the dozens of times he'd refused coffee in Liam's presence. Did this guy notice anything which wasn't centered on his cock? Seth thought it best not to reply. Liam was in a determined mood, Epoch Coffee probably served tea, and he had run out of ideas.

"Holly is meeting us there."

Seth pictured Holly as Liam walked on ahead. She was Liam's latest pastime. All tits and lashes and a carnivorous air. Seth had jerked off to thoughts of Holly, that was true. But he did it in the dark and not vocalising over her Facebook page like Liam.

"And Holly is friends with brochure girl. You broke her mobile earlier. Remember? She got the full speedo ass shot while you searched under the chairs."

Fuck. She'll be there, Seth thought. His mind raced as he went through the inevitable. Trip over his feet, knock over a chair, spill a drink, tongue-tied. It wouldn't go well. Not without a week to rehearse. And they were just coming up on Epoch Coffee now.

"Stop. Listen, Liam. I'm gonna need your help."

Again Liam stopped and turned. Seth noticed how his friend's impatient face now just read scepticism.

"Doh! Of course you're gonna need my help, shit-for-brains. You think I'd let you come here pussy hunting on your own? Jesus Christ, you must think I was fucking born yesterday."

Seth put out his arm to stop Liam walking on.

"No, Liam, seriously. This is important. I'm gonna fuck this up just like last time...just like every time."

Liam seemed to relent a little, placing his hand on Seth's shoulder.

"You've already broken her phone. How much fucking worse can it get." He laughed without alleviating Seth's growing trepidation.

"Look," Seth said. "We're nearly there. There's no time to work through what I'm going to say (why was Liam looking so quizzical?) so I just want you to do two things for me. Don't mention my nickname and why they call me Prince Charming. And introduce me as Seth Harding."

Quizzical didn't cover the way Liam looked at Seth now. "Harding?"

"It's my mother's name," Seth said. "I don't want Holly's friend to know I've got a pornstar's name."

Unusually, Liam hesitated for a moment.

"Her name's Jo. And I don't see how that's gonna make a difference. Your name gets read out in class all the time. I mean fuck, it's printed on the swim team programs. It's on the home page. You might as well call yourself Tonya Harding. At least Jo can friend Tonya on Facebook."

"Please," Seth pleaded. "Just those two things."

"OK," Liam said. "Maybe she watches a lot of porn. And she might as well find out how fucking crazy you are right from the start."

Liam turned and walked on before Seth could thank him.

“Do that thing with your leg.”

“…Are you serious?” Jo wiped her hands on her coffee-smudged apron. Though the fabric was black, there was the occasional brown smudge of coffee beans, or a stray dollop of whipped cream. Holly was sitting at the long bar, further down the counter. Free from the chaos that cluttered around the cash register and glass case that offered a mouthwatering selection of pastries, Holly was free to take up a ridiculous amount of space with her various text books and notebook. Like Jo, she was a bit of an odd duck. In an age where laptops and digital communication were the norm, Holly preferred to take all of her notes by hand. Highlighter in one hand and mocha in the other, Holly glanced up from her book, her reading glasses sliding half-way down her nose.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Holly blew an errant strand of blonde hair away from her face. “There’s no one in here and it’s entertaining.”

Jo chuckled, turning to take a small sip from her own cup. Leaning back against the back bar, she looked out at Epoch. This late in the evening, with most classes ending early, the rush had ended. The place wouldn’t be busy again until 7 or so - way after her shift had ended. Now, as it was, there were a few scattered students around the small tables, lost in headphones, books, or laptops.

“I think those people count as ‘someone’,” Jo said, holding her tea cup close to her face, and closing her eyes. The fragrant steam caressed her face, and she sighed in contentment. The sweet smell of the tea mixed perfectly with her perfume, threatening to carry her off. Now that it was quieter, she could actually enjoy the cup she’d poured herself a while ago. One of the perks of the job were free drinks (within reason), and first dibs on the last pastries of the day. As she slowly opened her eyes again, Jo looked over at the pastry case. There was one lone almond croissant that had been calling her name since her shift started. "Also, I thought you said you were going to be done with your school stuff at 5."

“Yeah, but they’re not like, anyone that matters,” Holly muttered, buried in her book again. She glanced at her phone. Resisted the urge to text Liam. “Come on. It’ll be fun. And I happen to get really into this research, so, you know. Shut up, Miss Dean's List.”

“If I do, popcorn at the movies tonight is on you.” Jo took in a deep breath, looked around the coffee shop. Then, backing up further until her butt bumped against the back counter, she took in a deep breath, lifted her right leg at a neat angle, reached over to grasp her instep, and with a ridiculous amount of grace, she lifted her right leg straight up, her calf touching her ear.

Holly was leaning back in her chair, phone held to her eye. A rapid motion of her fingers, and as she was typing, she spoke:

“That’s totally going on the ‘gram. ‘Hot ass coffee ballerina barista.’ You’ll be trending in an hour.”

“Jesus Christ, whatever. Can I put my leg down now?”

“Whatever - not like that even hurts you. And no one totally is even looking at you.” True to Holly’s word, the other patrons were still engrossed in their various tasks.

“It’s not painful, persay, but it’s a strain,” Jo huffed, and lowered her leg. “Popcorn. Endless popcorn. ALL of the popcorn. Popcorn until eternity."

Holly glanced up from her phone, not even the slightest bit apologetic. “About that…”
____

Liam’s phone buzzed.

The latest text from Holly included a photo of Jo in her dancer's pose.

Ginger McFrecklebutt won’t even know what hit him. Wink emoji, heart emoji, flame emoji.

Liam stopped again and looked at his phone. A pic from Holly. Jo with her leg in the air. The unitard exaggerated the smooth firmness of her dancer's body. Holly was fucking hot, but she was easy. He wondered how it would feel to peel the tight thin fabric off Jo and unveil the prize. Only yesterday Liam watched a porn vid about ballerinas and guys fucking fit young girls who held this pose. His cock stirred in his jeans.

But hey. Holly would soon be lying on her back somewhere with her legs spread for him. He really wanted Seth to lose his virginity. Might stop him whining and following him round like a puppy. Might stop him falling over his own feet. He showed the pic to Seth.

"Nice legs, huh?"

Seth took the phone. Jo looked hot, sure. But she looked unattainable. The unitard might as well have been the Berlin Wall for all the negativity Seth felt about his chances with a girl. He remembered last night and lying in bed listening to Liam and Holly talking dirty on the phone. He just lay there, his naked cock pointing at the ceiling, stroking himself, Holly's disembodied obscenities echoing in the dark. Jesus, were there any limits to what Liam would let him hear? Thank Christ, no, Seth thought, reaching orgasm and spraying cum. Another clean up in the morning. The room must smell like a teenager's jockstrap.

"Nice. Yeah," Seth said.

He felt he knew so much about Liam and Holly and what they did, or said they did to each other, that he was almost fucking Holly himself. When he looked at porn, Seth was drawn to threesomes. MFM. Maybe he could ask Liam about joining in. Maybe he should just tag along and Holly would fuck him. A charity fuck they called it.

"Hope she does a charity fuck," Liam said.

Seth jolted at the coincidence of Liam using the term at the very same time it crossed his own mind.

"You know," Liam said, " I think we should just walk in, cut the crap and tell Jo you gotta get laid. Now. Gotta get that cock out and see if it works. Unleash all that cum you've been storing in there."

Seth nodded unthinkingly. He wanted to get laid. Badly. Maybe he mouthed 'yeah'. Maybe he said it out loud. Liam was laughing. Seth looked down. He was hard. Tenting his jeans. His cock hurt.

Liam texted back. 'Hold that pose for Prince Charming and his pornstar cock.' When he'd pressed send he looked down. Seth was hard. The line of his friend's cock was visible. Time to get him in front of the girls.

Holly glanced down at her phone, and bit back her grin. Just imagining the shy red head’s reaction to the photo was enough to make what she was about to have to do that much easier.

“So, yeah, about tonight…” The blonde trailed off, before shooting Jo a sheepish look. “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed would you be if I had to back out?”

“Hollyyyyyy.” Exasperated, Jo crossed her arms and mock-glared at her roommate. “Dude. I can’t get a refund on these tickets. And I thought you were all super stoked to go to this film festival.”

“I am! Really!” Holly put down her highlighter, and gave Jo her full attention - a rarity, that, no doubt, Jo picked up on. “I really want to check out some of these movies, I do. But I kinda sorta double booked myself.” Holly’s sheepish expression melted into a salacious grin. It was a testament to Jo’s good nature that she just laughed and shook her head.

“So predictable.”

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

Lifting her cup back up to her lips, Jo took a long sip as she paced towards the counter again. Leaning across it, her and Holly were face to face now.

“Someone I know?” Jo’s voice was a low whisper, and the excitement in her dark eyes showed true excitement for her friend. Though Jo couldn’t really remember the last (and only time) she’d had sex, there was something about Holly’s sheer joy and abandonment that she had towards finding sexual partners that was infectious. It didn’t hurt that Holly herself, for all of her “flaws,” was typically extremely thoughtful (in that she did ALL of her fucking outside of their dorm - leaving it a fuck-free zone, and thereby avoiding any uncomfortable situations), and was sweet and good-natured: once you got to know her. Despite being complete strangers last year, and somewhat at odds (with Jo being more of an introvert and Holly outgoing and bombastic), the two had quickly bonded over late night conversations, coffee runs, and shopping trips. Despite Holly’s bottle-blonde exterior, there was the brain of a serious scholar under there - which meant that, so far, all of Holly’s trysts were brief ones.

“Maybe,” Holly whispered back, grinning from ear to ear. “You probably met him at the pool today.”

Well, dang. Not like either one of those guys would have ever given Jo the time of day to begin with. Though Holly and her were both sophomores, Holly was far more the “face around parties,” while Jo was the staid face of academics. Times like this, she really envied Holly for being so carefree.

“I’m totally jealous,” Jo sighed. Might as well be honest. “The two I met today were absolutely beautttifffullll. I couldn’t stop thinking about one of them in class all day today. Pretty lame, right?”

Though they were nearly nose to nose as it was, Holly leaned forward suddenly, nearly kissing Jo as Jo scrambled to back up.

“Dude!”

“Sorry, sorry!” breathed Holly, waving for Jo to close the gap between them again. “Though kissing me is a fantastic experience.”

Jo laughed, and leaned in closer.

“But seriously, though,” Holly continued, “you were thinking about a guy? That…has never happened since I met you. Not even so much as a ‘my high school boyfriend’ story out of you! Like…if one of them is the one you like, you can totally have first dibs. Because I love you that much.” Sincerity held firm in Holly’s voice, and Jo leaned over, throwing her arms around the blonde’s shoulders and pulling her in for a tight hug.

“Holly, you are the best. But you do you. I would’ve had a snowball’s chance in hell anyway.”

Holly patted Jo’s arms around her neck as the door chimed, signaling new arrivals. “We’ll talk later - you gotta get back to work.”

Jo grinned, letting go of Holly to face the door with a bright smile. “Welcome to Epoch!”

Liam pushed the door open at Epoch Coffee and Seth followed him inside. His erection had failed to subside, and was as usual, threatening to embarrass him. He tugged at Liam's shirt hoping to delay their entry, but Liam ploughed on.

The interior of Epoch was dark. Seth was blinded. He could feel his cock painfully impacting the back of his zip, but had no idea if it was obvious to onlookers or not.

"Welcome to Epoch!" a disembodied voice said. "Hi sugarcheeks." That was Liam. Then Holly's voice. Then a loud smoochy kiss. Then Seth tripped over a chair.

Males and females laughing. Someone put a hand under his arm. For a brief moment he was looking up into her eyes, just as he had earlier at the pool when retrieving her phone. Brochure girl. What was her fucking name? "Thanks," he murmured. She had beautiful eyes. Jo. Jo had beautiful eyes. Maybe he should say that. The words formed perfectly in his brain, but when he opened his mouth, Seth slurred some spittle-laced stream of grunts that sounded more like a drunken cough.

And anyway, their eye contact was gut-wrenchingly brief. He picked himself up off the floor properly, and brushed a hand down his shirt and the front of his trousers. His cock had ceased freelancing for a moment and gone to sleep. Holly was smiling, more at him than with him. Some people had bedroom eyes. Holly had bedroom everything. With those lips and lashes perched over those tits, Seth found her almost stereotypically pornstar-like. Her pout seemed almost too permanently rounded from oral exertion.

And Jo only had eyes for Liam. Seth couldn't believe how good she looked without the hoodie. In the unitard, slim and fit, with her hair up and the hoop earrings swinging at the edges of her face. Jo was not cock-hardeningly fuckable like Holly. She was....Seth searched his brain for the right words. She was handsome. No, that was wrong. Pretty for sure, but deeper than that. More substantial. Lovely maybe. Adorable. Adorably vulnerable. He gazed at Jo, willing her to turn his way, but to no avail.

"Ladies," Liam said, gesturing in Seth's direction. "After that entrance, I give you a man who needs no introduction. My good friend and jerk off companion, the man with the pornstar's name, but you can call him Prince Charming.

Shit. Now everyone was looking at him.

No sooner were the words out of Jo’s mouth that she realized who came through the door. And was instantly tongue-tied. Not that she would have long to sit and stare - the redhead tripped, and like a flash, she was in front of the counter, moving to help him up. She didn’t have time to register the sleek muscle of his arm; as he was righted, she managed a quick smile, her body moving on autopilot. The ripple of laughter from the few people in the shop that noticed (more because of the noise than actively watching the people entering) faded into the background as she got a brief look at Seth’s face. He was looking everywhere but her - made sense; poor thing was probably embarrassed. She could only catch hints of what he looked like: his profile, the line of his jaw, smatterings of freckles. The deep red hair.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly kissed the floor because of how dark it is in here,” she said, soothingly, as she helped him up. There was a smile in her voice - not at his expense, but in sympathy. “The worst was when I had like, three lattes and an expresso and boom! Coffee everywhere - the floor, me, the customers. It was absolute balls.” She resisted the urge to help dust him off, and, like a bolt out of the blue, she realized she was still hanging on to him. She let go quickly, and put some space between the two of them. Now that the “crisis” had been averted, it came rushing back to her that he was one of the swim team guys - one of the princes of the campus, beautiful and shining and special.

And she was just…boring Jo.

The spell was broken as Liam spoke. ‘Prince Charming’, huh? Now that she could get a better look at his face, she could definitely agree with that. The image of him riding into the coffee shop, in shining armor and atop a white horse seemed to fit him perfectly. Seth didn’t just have a handsome face - it was one of those faces that didn’t seem to happen anymore, a classic style of handsome that looked like it was from Hollywood of the 1940s, dashing and boyish, but with the hint of unyielding masculinity and strength. It certainly was an interesting contrast to Liam’s pretty boy, causal handsomeness.

Holly tittered, causing Jo to look over at her with a quizzical expression. Maybe it was an inside joke?

“Unless it’s something like ‘Dick Wrangler’ or whatever, I’m pretty sure it’s not a porn star name,” Jo managed to say, a little annoyed at Holly’s laughter. Though Liam was handsome, his personality was starting to grate on Jo a bit. Despite his stupid cute face, he was shaping out to be another jock asshole. Figures. “Anyway, what can I get you guys?” She spoke over her shoulder as she walked back behind the counter. It was just her manning the shop now; the next two people coming in to run the evening shift wouldn’t be in until when she was leaving.

“Oh, it’s a pretty porn-y name,” chirruped Holly as she made room at the counter for Liam to sit next to her. Well, “next to her”, for as long as it took for her to close up her books and drape her legs over Liam’s.

Jo shot her a dirty look. “Dude.” Whatever inside joke it must be, it didn’t seem to be all that welcome by the red head. “Well, I don’t know your name,” Jo continued, relying on her workplace to keep her tongue moving, “But I’m Jolie. Pretty much everyone calls me ‘Jo.’”

“Or ‘JoJo,’” supplied Holly, even as she was leaning back from pressing a kiss against Liam’s neck. Already, discreetly, she was running her hand along Liam’s thigh, from outside to inside.

“Or ‘JoJo’,” sighed Jo, “Though I prefer ‘Jo.’ ‘JoJo’ is more of a family thing,” it didn’t take much reading between the lines to figure that Jo may not be the biggest fan of that particular nickname - either that, or that it had some history behind it. “What’s your name?”

"Seth. Seth...Gamble."

Jolie. JoJo. Fuck. Seth didn't know anyone called Jolie. He'd wondered what Jo might be short for. How perfect that this gorgeous woman had a unique name.

"Not Harding then, you fucker," Liam said. Seth watched him whisper something to Holly as she draped her legs over his friend's. And not Dick Wrangler either, he thought. Pussy Wrangler maybe? A name like that might get him into Holly's pants. But don't think about Holly's pants, he reminded himself, even as Holly ran her hands inside Liam's thigh and they kissed, not a hello kiss, more of a 'throw me on the bed and let's get fucking' kiss.

"Jesus, Liam," Seth said, "I told you not to say any of that stuff." But Liam was far too distracted to hear.

Seth wanted to say more, but Jo's attention was taken by customers ordering coffee. Did he want coffee? Not really. Yet Seth was suddenly thirsty, his mouth dry. He just wanted to watch this girl with complete concentration as she went about the business of running the shop, seemingly oblivious now to him, and Liam and Holly and their nearly obscene fondling. He loved how she moved. How she breezed through the room. How she smiled sweetly as people spoke to her without really noticing her like he was. It pleased him that she was just a shop girl to them. He wanted all of her, not to share her with these cold-eyed coffee drinkers.

And then, as he started to drift into a slightly arousing daydream, she was back in front of him. Just her. Occupying all his gaze. Her vulnerable dark eyes searching out his own. Maybe her earlier interest in Liam was just politeness extended to her friend. Or a projection of his own negativity.

"Yeah," he said. "Seth Gamble. Like the pornstar."

Fuck. Why had he said that? What would a girl like this know about porn? Seth was consumed by his stupidity and a desire to protect her, in equal portions.

"Like the pornstar," Liam repeated, much too loudly. "The one who played Prince Charming and fucked Cinderella and the ugly step trannies up the ass."

Seth wanted to punch his friend in the face. Thank fuck Holly decided to kiss him on the mouth again.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Seth,” Jo quickly said, giving him a shy smile. It was somewhat reassuring that he seemed to be as nervous and put out as she was. Oh well. Holly meant well, she guessed. And probably told Liam to bring this guy along to keep her company while she did whatever with Liam - speaking of -

“Dude. If you’re gonna start screwing, could you not do it here?” Jo’s voice was exasperated. While she’d been talking to Seth, she’d kept her eyes on the blonde, and knew that if left alone, Holly would push every single boundary of good taste.

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” Holly grinned against Liam’s lips. “I’m just saying hello.”

“Yeah, right,” Jo snorted. “I’ve got plenty of cold water. Just so you know.” The threat was implicit.

“Killjoy,” Holly sniffed.

At Liam’s comment about the porn star, Jo huffed, and put her hands on her hips, standing back away from the counter. “Wow, the mouth on you.” There was faint humor in her voice. Though Jo was the more patient of the two, from her tone it was clear that Liam’s bad influence on Holly was trying her patience. Watching Holly’s hand traveling up Liam’s thigh was clearly enough.

“All right - out,” Jo said, decisively. “You guys are becoming a disturbance. And Holly, I love you, but I’m still at work. And since we no longer have any plans this evening - get.”

“We’re not being a disturbance,” Holly whined, pulling her legs away from Liam’s in a belated attempt to be “good.” “Seriously.”

“Really.” Jo inclined her head towards the few patrons in the shop that were watching them with no small amount of interest. “Pretty sure if you start yelling about porn, you’re being a disturbance.”

“Aww, Liam just gets a little excited. He’s proud of his friend.”

“Some friend,” Jo grumbled, looking at the abashed Seth. “Not like I have any idea who Seth Gamble is anyway. I mean, besides you,” she said towards the red head, with a small grin. “Not everyone has an encyclopedic knowledge of porn stars. Though I do think you look like a prince,” and, if realizing what she just said, Jo’s dark face flushed deep red across her cheeks.

Idiot!

Jo hoped that her out of place coughing was enough to cover up her embarrassing slip, but it wasn’t fast enough for Holly.

“ ‘Looks like a prince,’ says the Sexless Wonder!” she crowed. Looking back towards Seth, her grin became salacious. “That’s very high praise, you know. I love Jo, but I’m pretty sure she has an ice block for a cunt.”

“HOLLY.” Jo slammed her hands down on the counter.

“Okay, so maybe not an ice block. But for sure some spider webs because it’s never used,” Holly teased.

“Okay, seriously. Get out,” snapped Jo, her patience at its end. Between Holly’s jibs, the near making out in the formerly quiet coffee shop, and now this, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, okay.” Holly slid off of her seat, leaving her books there. “Liam and I are gonna jet - can you take my books back?”

“Can’t,” Jo said, with mock sweetness. “I got a movie to catch that someone bailed on.”

“Psst, please. Take him,” Holly waved at Seth. “You like movies, don’t you, Freckles?”

Seth struggled to process Holly's description of Jo as 'having an ice block for a cunt' as Holly and Liam stood to leave. He was not surprised to see Liam zipping up his pants. Nothing surprised him much about Liam anymore.

"Don't be back before midnight, Prince Charming" Liam whispered as the pair passed. "Or tomorrow morning. Why don't you brush a few of Jo's cobwebs away."

Holly dropped a brochure in his lap, blew him a kiss, and they were gone. Seth looked up, but Jo was busying herself in the kitchen.

'Golden Age of Porn' read the brochure. 'A joint initiative of South West University, the Free Speech Association, and Angel Studios'. Inside it listed a series of classic porn films , mostly from the 1970s, which were showing over the next week on rapid rotation, starting tonight. Not on campus, but someplace called The Arthouse. From the endorsement Seth read The Arthouse had the same address as Angel Studios.

Sure he liked movies. Seth thought he had fairly broad tastes, pretty ordinary. Mainstream. Not much time for subtitles. They were just too hard to follow, although he felt shallow for admitting that to himself.

But porn. Well, he'd seen plenty of porn. Who hadn't in the age of the internet? And as he scrolled down the list of films he recognised many of the names. But not one he'd seen. The porn with which Seth was familiar was the stuff he'd watched in high school and which he and Liam sometimes jerked off to. Anal Sluts. Gangbang Auditions. Spit Roasted Teens. Babysitters defiled. Hitchhikers violated. Coeds fucked in every hole while they smiled and cooed and asked to be fucked harder. Banging Step Moms meet Big-dicked Tradesmen at the Free Love Truck Stop. Lots of action, not a lot of plot.

Yet the brochure listed reviews by named people. Some were even college lecturers. 'A classic of the genre,' he read. 'Makes you yearn for a simpler time of boy meets girl, cock meets pussy.' "I'll never think of cheerleading the same way again.' That review was even signed 'Mrs'.

And as usual, Seth's cock did his thinking for him. It was trying very hard to reach up to the counter top and take a peek at the brochure too. He adjusted his crotch for comfort.

And then he saw a title he'd seen. 'Debbie Does Dallas.' Which red-blooded American male hadn't seen the story of Debbie and her friends trying to raise money to send Debbie to Dallas to try out for Cowboys cheerleader? And who hadn't watched the anal scenes frame by frame? He adjusted his crotch again. His cock was fighting hard now.

Without warning he realised Jo was back. Inches away at the counter, looking at him in that same expressionless way he couldn't quite read. Had she seen him fiddling with his zip? He lifted his hand slightly, but his cock pulsed as if it was going to break out of his jeans. He dropped his palm down on the unruly organ and coughed.

"So you're taking me to the movies," he rasped.

Jo watched the pair leave, clicking her tongue in annoyance. Only the slight creasing of her brows was any indication that she was really annoyed. Holly typically took on the persona of whoever she was chasing after at the time, and it was times like that that Jo could barely recognize the blonde as her roommate. Figures that she’d get immature and bitchy going after a freshman. Not like either one of them were too much older, but Jo was what some described as an “old soul,” and seemed older than she was - which didn’t help with her cold reputation.

“Asshole,” she snorted, then sighed, looking back at Seth. “And no - I mean, not like I wouldn’t like to get to know you better-” She stopped, coughed, looked up at the ceiling, then sighed again. “That came out wrong.” She laughed a bit now, amused by her own embarrassment. “You totally don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I think if I work an extra shift and get some good tips next week, I’ll make up the cost for Holly’s ticket. I got it at a discount, anyway. I know the owners.” She looked like she was going to say something more, then quickly stopped herself.

“Anyway, I don’t blame you if you don’t wanna go. I mean, it’s not like, porn porn, well, I mean, not all of it, but some art films in there too - you gotta put ‘porn’ on it to get people to come.” A beat - then, realizing the double-meaning of what she just said, she turned deep red. And cleared her throat. “Anyway. I’m just going to stop talking now,” she reached behind her to the small of her back to undo her apron. Untying it, she pulled it easily over her head. The motion took part of her shirt with it, revealing her stomach and the undersides of her breasts, the unitard beneath the shirt molded to her body. Shaking her hair out (she had it pulled up in a mock mohawk, her dark brown curls catching the edge of the light), she draped the apron over her arm carelessly.

“Either way, I gotta book, if I want to get down to the theater.” She stepped from behind the counter. “You’re totally free to come with, but if not, I get it. Also - sorry about Holly being a complete bitch. She’s usually not that bad. Tell you what,” and this was with a bright smile, “next time you come in, pick whatever you want. It’s on me.”

Seth wanted to go to the film festival with Jo so badly it hurt. Finally her easy chatter was overcoming his chronic self doubt. I mean, she even laughed at the crude pun she made, he thought.

"Hey," he said, looking into her dark eyes, expecting at every second to realise this was all one of Liam's cruel jokes, or that he repulsed her, "I'd love to come with you. It sounds...(what to say about a blue movie festival)...really interesting."

And then she sort of switched off again and stopped talking. His self doubt flooded back. Jo lifted her apron over her head, her shirt lifting with it, revealing the body-hugging unitard and the profile of her stomach, and then the smooth concave curves under her breasts. As if performing a slow motion show just for him, Jo shook out her dark brown curls and apron over her arm, enigmatically smiled, but brightly, and went back to working in the store.

Seth's feet flew outside. The late afternoon sun was newly warm, the grass greener, the usually stressed campus faces uniformly carefree and welcoming.

7.30pm at The Arthouse. He knew where it was. In an alley off Main Street, but at the rail depot end. A bit rundown. He and Liam frequented the bars there where no one asked for ID. And there was an adult store and a blue movie house. One that made no pretence to art.

Seth wondered how such places survived but maybe not everyone had the internet. Not the older crowd who hung out there. Seth watched porn for sure, but all online. He'd visited adult stores and porn cinemas on holidays, but not in places where he lived. The last spring break in Miami was still a blur of nightclubs and strip joints and blue movies. He shivered with delight just recalling the debauched newness of being openly filthy with other people, men and women. Sure he'd jerked off with guys in private houses, but jerking off in a movie house with strangers, or in a strip joint where the girls waved their asses inches from your spurting cock, was an amazing release.

How would he spend the time until meeting Jo at The Arthouse? Maybe he should go straight there and have a no-ID beer. But placing his hand on his pocket he realised he'd left his wallet in the dorm room. Fuck. In the dorm room where Liam was fucking Holly. Liam had said not to return until late, if not tomorrow. But the options were limited. Ask Jo to pay for everything or interrupt Liam and Holly? Maybe, just maybe, if they were fucking in the bathroom, he could sneak in and out without disturbing him.

Seth managed to put the key in the lock, and turn it noiselessly. But as soon as the door cracked Liam's voice rang out. And when he'd opened the door enough to look in, Seth could see Holly's naked back crouched in front of Liam, also naked, sucking him off while Liam braced against the wall behind him.

"Suck it baby, suck it," Liam was saying, over and over, eyes closed. Holly wasn't vocalising, fully engaged as she was, just moaning and slurping and drawing breath.

And then Liam opened his eyes. He saw Seth immediately, but to Seth's surprise, Liam just smiled, then drew a finger up to his lips to indicate silence, and then with his eyes, invited Seth to watch.

Without thinking, Seth's hands dropped to his cock which he rubbed through the jeans. He could see his wallet on the bedside table, a few risky steps away. Still stroking, he mouthed 'money' at Liam who nodded in acknowledgement. And then, silently as he could manage, Seth tiptoed across the room, picked up his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket. But as he turned he knocked the edge of the bed, which banged against the wall.

"What the fuck you pervert?" Holly lifted her mouth from Liam's cock and still on her haunches, turned her head towards Seth, letting off a string of obscenities. Her face was smeared with mascara and lipstick, and Liam's precum glistened under her nose.

"Fucking forget about him," Liam said, placing his hands on Holly's head and pulling her round sharply until he could thrust his hard cock back into her mouth. She struggled and squirmed, trying to complain. But Liam held her fast. Seth made his escape, slamming the door behind him after wishing Liam good luck.

He said yes!

Jesus Christ, he said yes.

How off would it look, inviting a random stranger - and not just any stranger, but one of the hottest guys on campus, to essentially a porn film festival? Ugh. Jo had to hand it to Holly - when she wanted to fuck plans up, she fucked them up royally. Her and Holly had talked about this for weeks. Jo had even arranged for it to count as credit for certain classes - Ah! She could have told him that! Maybe it wouldn’t have been as creepy if she had.

“Ugh,” she groaned aloud. Rubbing her face with her hands, she exhaled, and looked up at the coffee shop’s ceiling. Once she’d said her goodbye to Seth, she went into the “Employees Only” room - it was little more than a storage room with a rickety table and chair added in (less for the employees to break in, as employees tended to take advantage of the comfortable settling), but more along the lines to give employees a quiet place off the floor for phone calls or what have you. And now, as she gathered up her purse, all of the stupid things she’d said to Seth came barreling back into her mind, and she wanted to groan aloud.

But wait! What if he was just being polite, and had no intention of showing up? That totally could have happened. How weird would it be for him to show up, anyway? They were complete strangers.

“Okay. It’s all going to be okay,” she breathed aloud, and then, got ready to head to The Arthouse.

____

The Arthouse had started life as the Palais Royale - one of the city’s first theaters in the 1900s. Though it was never as popular as the Golden Palace, the Palais Royale struggled along, doggedly hanging onto its name as vaudeville gave way to silent films which gave way to talkies - and so on. As time ground on, the Palais Royale’s fortunes continued to dip, a combination of poor luck and poor management. In the late 1960s, however, the Palais Royale, received new management, and with that, a new name: The Arthouse. And, for a while, The Arthouse was restored to its former glory.

By exclusively screening pornographic films.

From the charmingly named “marital aid” films to the porn chic of the 1970s, the Arthouse was on top of it. The first to show hardcore BDSM and gay films as well, the Arthouse quickly gained a name (and a reputation) among midnight film goers. As home video became a thing, the Arthouse’s audience quickly dipped. And, at the time where it should have sat back on its deep historical roots, the Golden Palace was the historical darling, ripe for historical societies and preservation. The now tainted Arthouse was doomed for demolition again, it would seem, with no real way out.

Well, until two devoted Arthouse goers decided to buy it.

Ron Waters and Glenn Harris - the former, a hometown outsider film maker (whose type of “trash cinema” not only put him on the map, but the Arthouse as well), and the latter, a business man turned artist, had met at the Arthouse, fell in love, and thus, considered the theater part of their personal love story. And so, every extra penny that they had went back into renovating the theater. Though it would never again reach the splendor of when it was the Palais Royale, the Arthouse remained, stubbornly, a little bubble of old 1970s high art, trash, and pop culture, a strange little relic that attracted the brave, the curious, and the societal outliers. The films that the theater showed were as eclectic and bizarre as the owners - Akira Kurosawa rubbed elbows with Roger Corman, “Edward Scissorhands” and “Edward Penishands.” For the art students at Southwest University, Arthouse was a home away from home, with its comfortable seating, private boxes (with an extra cost), open bar (with coffee and tea in addition to alcohol), and small snack offerings. Though some months the theater operated closer to the red than in the black, Ron and Glenn’s constant work showed, and the theater had attracted yet another loyal crowd.

And Jo was one of them.

It was a brisk walk from the coffee shop - a few blocks -, and though it dipped into the sketchier parts of town, Jo knew the way well enough, sticking to brightly lit streets (and faith in the mace in her purse), and partially jogging some of the way that she didn’t feel too out of sorts. With its proximity to the campus, it wouldn’t do for the Arthouse to feel dangerous - and a lot of the more recent money that the theater saw went to improving security and lighting, in front and around the theater.

For long moments, she was worried that no one would show, that her brain child wouldn’t help the two owners she’d come to love since her first time in, stumbling upon the place, starry eyed, and in love with Jean Cocteau films. But as she turned the corner to the theater, the familiar sound of a crowd graced her ears, and she smiled. Her ears hadn’t lied to her; in front of the theater was a massive crowd, young and old, eagerly grasping their tickets, talking, taking selfies in front of the classic marquee lit up, blaring, “Plentiful Porn! A look back at the Erotic in Cinema.” Even those merely passing by stopped and looked with curiosity, some smiling, some scowling. Either way, this meant that the lights could stay on at the Arthouse for a bit longer.

Standing outside, she folded her arms behind her back, rocking back and forth on her toes. Well, even if Seth didn’t show, she should at least wait a few minutes. Just in case.

Seth stepped outside consumed with thoughts of Liam fucking Holly's mouth. He knew they fucked, of course. But it was another thing to watch them doing it. He was hard and uncomfortable again. His cock had a mind of its own. Seth adjusted his jeans again, and set off for the rail depot end of town.

The streets were Friday night busy. That was the best part of a college town. The centre of Seth's home town emptied at 5 when the workers went home, leaving the shabby streets to the homeless and the rats.

But here the college kept the town buzzing. With students on limited incomes trapped for the weekend, the restaurants and eateries and delicatessens stayed open into the evening. This meant the stores stayed open later, and there were still cinemas in the downtown, and bars rocked until morning with live music.

Seth strolled down Main Street towards the rail depot. In his home town the rail depot was long closed. Here Amtrak stopped twice a day, giving everyone an alternative to driving or the Greyhound. Amtrak and student dollars, and investments like The Arthouse kept the depot neighbourhood alive in all its shabby-chic glory.

Out of habit Seth approached The Arthouse the long way round so he could check out the blue movie house, the adult shops, live theatres, and sleazier bars in the back street. He knew it was just socialization, just the burden of his upbringing, but walking down this street and enjoying the confrontation with the erotic and the forbidden made him feel guilty and aroused in equal measure. I must be a textbook case of western male angst, he thought every time, stopping to read the posters and the new releases, and sometimes stepping inside and watching a show. It shocked him the first time the spruiker outside one of the live shows recognised him and Liam, but of course, that was his job.

The blue movie house was the last business in the side street, directly behind The Arthouse. Seth checked his watch. He was on time for Jo. Just. He glanced up at the banner announcing the X-rated feature and nearly turned and ran.

'Cinderella starring Samantha Saint and Seth Gamble'.

He'd looked for Seth Gamble porn since the first time a friend had pointed out the unfortunate coincidence. But he'd never seen his name up in lights. Yet there it was, in full view of The Arthouse crowd spilling round the corner. And anyone else from college he knew. Having decided against running, he was almost drawn inside to watch his namesake, but of course, Jo would be waiting only yards away.

He thought of Jo. She wasn't only beautiful in an alluring unattainable way, but she'd invited him to join her at an erotic film festival. This was new territory for Seth. Real flesh and blood women remained an unknown territory. He'd watched women of all shapes and sizes naked on screen, satisfying every whim and desire he could imagine, and some he hadn't imagined until they were played out for him in technicolor. But Jo was still a mystery.

Seth stepped round the corner. The crowd was larger than he'd expected. Jo was standing in the street, just where she'd said she'd be. She saw him immediately and waved.

Should I call out to him?

Should I jump up and down?

How long have I been waving? I should stop waving. I look like a lunatic. I need to stop waving. Why can’t I stop waving?

How did I not notice how hot he was?

At that point, Jo’s thoughts dissolved into something of a shrill shriek, lending power to the burning of her cheeks.

“Seth! Hi!” She stopped waving, then, started again, and stammered, “Hi, I mean, Hi! Wow, okay, I’m going to stop now.” She jerked her hand down, folding them behind her back. With her purse draped over her arm and her billowing top, she was right at home with the rest of the crowd; an eclectic mix of couples and singles in the 50s and 60s, clear art studies with multi-colored hair and dog collars, and a few leather daddies, rounding it out. Jo and Seth didn’t stand out at all.

“So, um, your ticket,” she fished in her purse, before handing it out to him. It was a little wilted, but still crisp. If he took a look at it, he would notice that it was trimmed in gold - a proverbial “golden ticket.” “I thought Holly was going with me, so, you know, I splurged a little.” She gave him a shy grin, her teeth startlingly white in her brown face. “Here, let’s go inside,” and without thinking, she reached for his hand.

Seth couldn't help smiling. Jo was jumping about like a mad thing. And then, as he approached, strangely shy. Fuck, she was perfect, he thought. Perfectly unique.

She handed over a ticket. It was nothing like a cinema ticket, but much larger, stiffer and gold edged. Jo said something about splurging and he knew she wanted him to examine the ticket, but he wanted to look at her face and handed it back. Her grin seemed to echo his. She had perfect teeth too. Get a grip, he thought, or I'll kiss you, Jo, right here in the noisy crowd. And then, why not....?

Seth was on the verge of doing something out of character when Jo took his hand and dragged him up the steps of The Arthouse. The noise of the crowd seemed to blot out everything except the burn where she held his hand in his, a burn which started to spread along his arm.

The foyer of The Arthouse had been lavishly restored. Heavy red velvet drapes hung in the corners and across every opening. There were gilt columns and mirrored walls, and people jostling at a bar. Seth guessed the people standing in groups with flyers were ushers. They were dressed in all manner of gear; bellhops and vampires and drag queens and over by the main door, young toned male lifeguards except instead of regulation swim wear, they wore a range of tiny tight speedos. Jo seemed to make a beeline for them, saying something about 'the swim team' but he didn't quite pick it up. Maybe that's what she liked. Guys wearing not much. He made a mental note. Invite Jo swimming.

And in the cursory examination he'd made of the ticket, Seth still hadn't discovered what film they were seeing. Surely not porn like the X-rated Cinderella parody showing next door. Erotica. Something intellectual and artistic that the older well dressed couples could talk about in hushed tones, while the boyfriends like him who'd been dragged along could take advantage of the mood and maybe get into someone's pants other than their own.

Was he a boyfriend? Surely not. It was their first date. But with Jo holding on tightly, Seth caught a glimpse of he and Jo in a mirrored wall. She side on, he looking straight into his own reflection. Fuck, they looked good together.

She seemed transfixed by the lifeguards. Should he take a selfie or offer to take a pic of her draped over these guys? What was the protocol? And what was the movie?

Seth dragged her hand back just enough to make her turn around.

"Hey, what are we seeing tonight?"

She’d been expecting that there would be a certain amount of…let’s say, “dress up,” given the clientele, and the typical vibe of larger events at the Arthouse. What she hadn’t been expecting were Southwestern University swim team cosplayers. Despite being with one of the actual swim team members, her curiosity got the better of her, and she inched closer, drawn in. But before she could get too much closer, Seth’s hand tugged her own, and his voice filtered back to her. She blushed (thankful that the dimmed lights, again, would come to her rescue and not make it so obvious), and smacked her forehead playfully, lightly, with her free hand.

“I’m an idiot. I invite you to this weird movie thing, and don’t tell you anything about it.” She let go of his hand to turn and face him fully. To make up for the loss of that contact, she closed the gap between the two of them, standing a few inches away. This close, with their still being strangers, it would be a bit forward, perhaps too intimate. Something in her body language, the relaxed slope of her shoulders, the way she turned her head slightly to the side and smiled at him, allowed for the closeness, excused it. Her perfume wafted between them, a sweet and slightly spicy secret that eased from the hollow of her throat. “So, the movie tonight is ‘In the Realm of the Senses.’ It’s a Japanese movie – based off of the true story of Sada Abe. It was a really big deal when it was released in the 1970s. Sada Abe was a big deal, too – all over the news back then, back then being the 1930s. So, you know, anything dealing with sex at that time was bound to be big.” She paused, realizing that he may not be familiar with the name like she was. “Sada Abe was a bar woman who had this really torrid affair with her boss – and ended up strangling him during sex. Afterwards, she cut off his dick and carried it around with her. She said she did it to keep the part of him that brought her the most pleasure.” As if waiting for him to mock the movie or look horrified, she quickly waved her hands in front of her face, “It sounds twisted, I know, but there’s this…I dunno, really sad longing about it that really draws you in. Well, it did for me, at least. Not that I’d go around chopping cocks, but, you know. Wanting to preserve the best part of the person you loved, even though you fight, even though things aren’t what they initially seemed.”

She trailed off, looking to the side for a moment, then pulled her eyes back to his. Had his eyes always been such a wonderful shade of green? This close, they seemed flecked with brown, gold, blue – sunlight filtering through deep waters of a lagoon. For a moment, she was quite lost, taking in his face, her brain coming to a slow halt, words drifting away. He was taller than her, with arms that suggested warmth. It would be so easy to fall into him, right here, right now, in the middle of the movie theater foyer.

An usher, dressed in second skin leather chaps with his massive chest bared, barked, “Now seating, ‘In the Realm of the Senses’!”

It was enough to break the spell that settled over her. Grinning, sheepishly, she picked up where she left off. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never had the chance to see it on the big screen. So I suggested it to Ron and Glen and they were nice enough to humor me and show it,” she gave him a big grin. “They’re great about taking audience suggestions, and since I’m here so often, I guess I get special treatment.” She shrugged her shoulders, combining it with a scrunching of her nose that was utterly impish, and suggested that she was holding quite a bit back.

“Anyway, it’s in Japanese with English subtitles. It’s a lot to spring on a random guy, so I don’t mind if you end up drifting off, you know? I hope you don’t, but no hard feelings if you do.” She took his hand in hers again, the gesture surprisingly natural, and led him through the foyer towards the theater. They joined in with the press of the crowd, towards the middle. “Once we get to our seats, there’s a menu there – there’s some time before each showing to order food and drink to be delivered to your table before the movie starts. They do it that way so they don’t have ushers going back and forth during the movie, you know? They’ve got some really great things, and we get a discount since we go to the university. I wish I could say I could treat you, but I really could only swing the tickets.” Awkward, but best get it out of the way. After all, her wallet wasn’t bottomless. “Their popcorn is the best – I usually always get it while I’m here. I know, you’re probably thinking,” she made a disapproving face, furrowing her brows, “ ‘Jo, it’s just popcorn, how great can it be?’ Well, I’m here to tell you, Seth, it’s not only the best in the area, but probably in the whole world. Because it’s not just any old movie theater, been sitting under a gross lamp and cooked in nasty fake butter popcorn. This is air popped, customized however you want it, popcorn of the gods. And it’s bottomless refills. Oh my gosh,” her voice was starting to pick up – she was getting more comfortable, it would seem, “One time I came here for a marathon of Akira Kurosawa movies, you know, ‘Throne of Blood,’ ‘Drunken Angel,’ ‘Ran,’ and I was here for close to 8 hours. My entire Saturday – and I ate like, 20 bowls of popcorn. It was so awesome.”

The fact of how lame she must sound to someone like him, popular, handsome beyond the speed of light, guy who was constantly invited to parties and had their pick of any of the girls on campus, didn’t appear to dawn on her. Now comfortable and safely within her element, she truly began to blossom. “I absolutely adore the movies,” she said, with that impish nose scrunch, “So I’m here a lot. I mean, a lot a lot.”

“She’s telling the truth, kiddo,” chimed in the leather clad usher. He held out a massive hand for their tickets. “Jojo’s one of our best customers.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice, Daddy,” she purred, no guile in her voice. “I’m just a broke college kid. You don’t have to lie to make me look good.”

“Darlin’, I may be a lot of things, but a liar I am not. You’d sleep here if we let you.” He was an older man, probably in his late forties, with a salt and pepper beard and moustache that was kept neat, with dark deep set eyes, and firm square jaw. He looked like a Tom of Finland illustration come to life – from his massive pecs with pierced nipples to the fairly conspicuous bulge in the front of his pants. “Who’s your friend?” He gave Seth a calm, steady once over, undressing him mentally, but not salacious as so much as mildly curious, a curiosity born out of habit.

“Oh, this is Seth,” Jo added. “Holly dumped me, so I dragged him here against his will. So I’m hoping the seats will at least make up for going to the movies with a complete rando.” She threaded her arm through one of Seth’s, lightly pulling him against her. The man looked at the two of them with bemusement in his eyes.

“Well, pleasure to meet you, Seth,” he held out a meaty hand, calluses lining the bases of his fingers. “And I hope to see more of you.” He gave the redhead a wink, then, looking back at Jo, quirked his head to the right – in the opposite direction of the rest of the theater goers. “Show starts in 30 – you know the score. Make sure to show the virgin how it’s done here.”

“Daddyyyyy,” Jo whined, playfully. “Be nice.”

“Nothin’ but sugar here.” As the two of them went to the right, Daddy lightly slapped Seth on the rear as he walked up. “Welcome to The Arthouse,” he chuckled.

___

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Jo stammered, as soon as the pair were safely at the foot of the staircase. The theater, true to its 1900s roots, still had the old trappings of an orchestra pit and a balcony, with the theater entrance to the left dipping low, and the narrow entrance to the right, leading up an ancient and narrow staircase. There would be no walking side by side here – instead, it would be single file up the narrow, rickety steps. The red velvet covering the old wood was stained by the comings and goings of many foot prints and spilled drinks. It was here, a step or two above Seth, that Jo would be apologizing. “I love Daddy, but he’s ruthless to newcomers. Believe it or not, you actually got off pretty easy. But still, you know, I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

Though she couldn’t blame Daddy for that slap; she’d caught a few discreet glances of Seth’s butt herself. It screamed for her to grasp two handfuls and squeeze. Which, of course, got her thinking about him on top of her, between those thighs of his, pulling him deeper into her…

If he’d said anything to her, she didn’t hear him – completely zoned out in her impromptu fantasy. It was only nearly stumbling up the stairs that brought her attention back to the real world, and she laughed, a little too loudly. “Anyway, here we are.” She dashed up the last two steps, and pushed back a heavy red curtain. It opened into their seats – plush wine red recliners, drink holders built into the arm rests, a small round table between the two chairs with a candle flickering lowly in a red glass, casting dancing crimson light across two menus. They were honestly the best seats in the house – on the second story, they were out of earshot of the packed theater. There was another balcony – but the seats were a fair distance apart. They could see that there were other people sitting there, but as a testament to the old porn house days, each balcony had a privacy curtain that could be drawn to block the views of all else but the screen. The recliners themselves were large enough to comfortably seat two snugly, if they so chose.

Awkward to the last, she misjudged which seat Seth was going to take – and ended up autopiloting to sit in the right chair, flopping down on his lap. Quick as lighting, she tried to jump to her feet. “God, I’m sorry!”

'In the Realm of the Senses.' Japanese with English subtitles. 1970s. Seth mulled these facts over. And she cuts off dicks. It didn't sound like a porn stroke fest. Like his usual cheerleader-does-the-whole-damn-team style porn vid, which usually meant Seth came about three minutes in while she was still sucking the circle of cocks and before the real hardcore fucking commenced. And then having made a mess, he would switch it off feeling a bit ashamed and mostly bored.

But Jo seemed so enthusiastic and just wouldn't stop talking about it, that Seth committed to giving her the benefit of the doubt. He was determined to enjoy it. With her. Especially with her. And who knew what might eventuate?

He followed Jo into the cinema at the direction of the leather-chapped guy. Jo knew everyone. Ron and Glen and every other weirdly dressed staff member. "One of our best customers," leather guy called Jo. She called him Daddy....

So many words and phrases and ideas danced round Seth's head. A girl who was best customer at a porn cinema? A girl who lies dick emasculation movies. Who's ever met a girl like that?

And then leather guy slapped his ass. And called him a virgin. Seth blushed. He meant Arthouse virgin of course.

But the fact of Seth's virginity had beaten its way through his thicket of thoughts to front of mind. Jo. Porn girl. Best customer. Teacher of virgins. What was she wearing under her clothes? What did she want in a guy? In a girl? In a group? Fuck, it's gotta be soon. Tonight?

No matter how hard he tried, Seth couldn't formulate a coherent sentence, let alone blurt one out. It was too noisy, dark and crowded anyway. Just follow wherever she led and try to look like he came here every night. Or at least not trip down the stairs.

And finally they reached their seats. A private screened balcony, high up in the room. Like some nobleman's gaffe. The sort of place a lord might bring someone he didn't want to be seen with, or at least not seen once they'd made their entrance and then retired to their booth for whatever nefarious activity he had in mind.

Was this her usual place? Did she have a favourite seat? If he was going to kiss her, or go further, which was his best side? Overthinking. As usual. He hesitated, waiting for Jo to sit. She did the same. Seth sat. Jo sat in his lap. He had no idea how hard he was until her ass slammed onto his cock. It was probably broken in two now. Useless. From virgin to eunuch in one night.

And somehow, with a sort of involuntary jolt, Seth threw up his arms. Rather than stand up as maybe Jo intended, he pinned her down, still squirming on his cock, but what the fuck? If he was going to hurt, might as well make the most out of it. Or a joke.

"God, I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry for what?"

Seth felt Jo relax a little, struggle a little less, let her legs go limp.

"You can sit on my lap anytime. A guy would pay good money for this anywhere else at this end of town. And you just offer it up like it's included in the ticket."

She laughed, her head turned just enough for Seth to see her lips part, unveiling her white teeth. If he leaned up maybe he could kiss her. Or maybe she would turn a little more. But the seat was plush and deep. He was as much trapped in the folds of the cushion as she was in his arms. I'm going to have to let go soon, he thought, even if I don't fucking want to.

Maybe she'd sat down on his keys. Or maybe it was his phone.

Either way, there was no denying that she was sitting on something firm. The fabric of her unitard was the same as yoga pants - a cotton spandex mix that was thick enough to disguise the lines and color of her underwear, but thin enough that on his lap, she could feel the ridge of his jeans. The heat of him was undeniable, seeping through her unitard, through the light shirt she had on. In comparison to the unitard, the fabric of her shirt was sheer - airy and light; easily ripped. Against his back, the bare parts of her back, her shoulders, pressed into him.

She shifted, a gentle glide of her ass against his lap. Thankfully, her face was turned to the side when her eyes widened. There was no way all of that was him.

Though she laughed at his comment, her cheeks were burning - from the embarrassment of sitting on him in the first place, to his compliment (it was a compliment, wasn't it? Could it be that he was just as smitten as she was?), and out of the sheer awkwardness of the instant rush of desire that snaked through her as she again shifted to further "confirm" what she was sitting on (though a blind man would be able to tell at this point).

Another "mild shift" would have her position the cleft of her rear right on top of his erection, her back to him fully now, and oh...she hoped he didn't feel the sudden rush of heat that pooled between her legs. Okay. Time to stop. While she thought he was cute, she wasn't Holly - and couldn't just jump into something physical. She didn't know anything about this guy. For all she knew, his mind was already racing with saucy stories to share among the team, things that would ruin her reputation as a hard ass scholar that wasn't to be messed with.

Awkwardly, she let out a small, choked laugh, caught between the best course of action. If she stayed, she'd be easy. If she got up, she wasn't interested. She was interested, truly, but, there had to be a better way of going about it.

"I, um..." she trailed off, looking back at him. In the muted light of the theater, his eyes were shining. Swallowing hard, she lowered her head bashfully, before looking back up at him. "I should probably move. It'd be hard to watch the movie like this, you know?"

With all of the willpower she had, she gently, slowly, untangled his arms from her waist. Her fingers grazed the toned flesh of his forearms, linked between his as she undid his grasp. But before she stood up, as a sort of compromise, she gave one last, little grind against his lap. Mmm. Standing, she gave him a small smile, before pacing over to the other empty seat. Her timing was excellent, for as soon as she'd gotten settled, none other than Daddy appeared at the entrance of the little balcony seat, a massive silver bowl of popcorn in one hand, two sodas in the other.

"The usual for my tres Jolie," he set the two things neatly between the table. "Wasn't sure what you wanted, Red, so I hope a coke's good," again with the mildly curious look, the calm air of a practiced dominant sizing up a potential sub interacting with one of his pets.

"Thanks, Daddy," Jo responded, surprised that her voice held firm.

"Anytime," he gave one last, lingering look to her, then to Seth, and smiling as if recalling a joke, he departed as quietly as he came.

Silence sat between the two - thankfully broken by her mindlessly reaching for a handful of popcorn, only to run into Seth's hand. She laughed again now, finally free of tension, and as the house lights began to dim, she settled back into her chair, a bit more relaxed now.

_____

Turns out that even though she'd seen the movie before, it was much different when you were sitting next to someone that you found immensely attractive.

The first sex scene (after all, the film was notable for its unsimulated sex scenes - meaning that the actor and actress were actually fucking) passed with Jo's face growing warmer by the moment. Had it always been this scintillating? She'd steal quick glances over at Seth, looking away before he had the chance to notice that she'd moved. Ugh. He was so fucking hot and he didn't seem to have the slightest clue about it. He was intent on the movie, she noticed, or at least, it seemed like he was, every time she looked over. And that was fine with her - she'd hoped that he'd enjoy it, that it wouldn't be awkward and terrible and she became a running joke on the swim team -

But what would it really matter? It wasn't like she had much of a social life anyway, she was in school to study, not to socialize. That much people knew about her. And Holly was the one that had the "reputation," but she didn't seem to care much. And maybe that's why it worked for her - Holly openly pursued pleasure, and made no excuses for it. For her, life was an endless series of feelings. Why couldn't Jo be the same?

Because she wanted more, she reminded herself, pulling her eyes back to the screen. She wanted to desire, to be desired, to fall into a passion like the one she was watching now, the sort of passion that consumed everything - she wanted to burn. And God, she was well on her way there - her body already responded to Seth's like being pulled by a magnet. Once, their eyes met in the dark, and he gave her a shy smile, and it was enough to stiffen her nipples under her bra.

By the time they were two thirds into the movie, she'd made up her mind. She didn't know where this was going to lead her, but she'd never felt like this, this tug, and somehow, in everything that she'd read, she knew that she couldn't let it pass by. Feelings like these were rare.

So she stood up, quietly, and, silhouetted by the flickering lights behind them, she smiled down at him, curious, shy - and gently, this time, settled in on his lap. She curled up against him, the curves of her body molding to his, a perfect fit. Her heart pounded up into her throat, the heat began again between her legs. She turned, just a bit, to check his face, and wished to whatever deity was listening that he felt the same pull, that he'd just kiss her, just one kiss, that one soul-searing kiss, and they could figure it out from there.

Seth let Jo grind her ass onto his hard cock. He couldn't believe it was happening. Sure, he was a virgin, but he'd come close to crossing the line. He'd just never crossed it. And here he was sitting in a porn cinema with a girl for whom he'd never felt such raw naked desire, who was obviously responding to him in the most sexually arousing way. Not kissing Jo was one thing. But as her playful assault continued, it took all his willpower not to unzip his jeans and expose his cock to her. Indeed, the pain he was feeling was so acute that he needed relief. Seth wondered where the bathrooms were.

And then the episode ended, all too soon and yet Seth almost wanted to cry as the pressure on his swollen cock abated.

He was still lost for words. 'Wanna fuck?' wasn't going to cut it, he thought. Not in a booth, however private. But he considered it again. He just wanted to tear off Jo's clothes, lay her across the soft cushioned seat, and fuck her. Gently and sensually, he hoped, but maybe not, given how he was feeling.

Daddy, as Jo called him, interrupted the mood, pulling back the curtain and serving popcorn. The service was great, although Daddy's long lingering look into Seth's eyes worried him and aroused him a little, given the crazy mood he was in. Another second and Seth felt he might have blown Daddy a kiss. How would Jo have reacted to that?

The movie was more engrossing than he feared. In fact, the actors got straight into real fucking. Nothing simulated about this acting. The audience watched respectfully. There was none of the catcalling and movement in the dark he expected during a porn movie. If anyone around them was giving in to what came naturally, Seth didn't notice.

He looked at Jo repeatedly, not quite ever catching her eye. He wanted to know what she was thinking, but he really just wanted to see her eyes and her mouth, and make her smile. Seth mouthed 'wanna fuck' a few times into the dark, just to see how it felt on the lips and the tongue. Nah, not on a first date.

And then their eyes did meet. She smiled. First. Shit. She smiled. He smiled back.

And then she stood, blocking the screen. Seth didn't care. He couldn't even remember what the actors had been doing a second before. Jo smiled enigmatically, then settled, gently, into his lap. She fits perfectly, he thought. It all fits perfectly. The curve of her ass and her back, the gentle pressure of her arms, the sweet scent of her perfume and more importantly, her body and all its mysterious arches and caverns and peaks.

And then she turned her head to face him. Seth tried to read her, inches away, folded into him so close he could feel the rise and fall of her breathing and the tiny tics of her body adjusting to the unevenness of his own as it cushioned her. For a moment Seth even stopped thinking about his cock.

Their faces came together, slowly, cautiously, the slowest slow-motion frame-by-frame approach. Even in the dark Seth drank in her eyes, her nose, her lips, the line of her hair across her forehead. He raised a hand and brushed the hair off her ear, and felt her swoon, relaxing into him. Their lips touched, briefly. She withdrew, then fell onto him, her mouth on his, her lips apart, then breached by his tongue as he explored eagerly the first of her caverns made available to him.

First kisses were usually a jumble of lips, spit, the occasional clack of teeth. The headiness of the experience was typically enough to overlook how clumsy first kisses were - the flush of the cheeks, the pounding of the heart. But always, after she pulled away, Jo was left with a underlying thread of disappointment- another kiss, another guy, no real fireworks.

When Seth's lips touched hers, she could feel nothing else but him. His lips were soft, careful, grace and water to a woman dying of thirst. Before she could stop herself, a soft moan slipped out of her, an exclamation of wonder, desire, and yes, this was it, finally, everything she'd read about and more.

All of the second thoughts, the ideas of "reputation," of him spreading stories were brushed away, cobwebs on long forgotten ideals. She returned the kiss eagerly, her mouth parting, only to feel him beat her to it, his tongue already dancing with hers, and she was shifting, desperate not to break the kiss, to not end the wonderful exploration of his body, feeling the fire stoking hotter within her.

Long hours of practicing at the barre lent her incredible flexibility and grace, which she used to re position herself. She had been curled up in his lap, her side against his chest, but without breaking the kiss, she moved to face him. Though the space was limited in the chair, she straddled his lap, folding her legs on either side of his. The heat of her crotch rubbed against his, bleeding through the thin fabric, each brush driving her primal mind to want to tear aside all ideas of propriety and grind shamelessly against him in pursuit of her own pleasure. She didn't, not yet. As her air supply ran short, a flicker of rationality flickered back into her mind. She didn't know anything else about the guy other than he was on the swim team, a freshman, and his name.

And that he was beautiful and had an ass made for grabbing and his cock, oh, god - just thinking about it, feeling it again beneath her, made her groan aloud, and with that, she pulled away, her chest heaving. She sucked in a breath, and before she latched her lips to his again, she asked:

"What's your major?"

And so it would go - between desperate kisses (desperate now, from her, not wanting them to end, to push harder, faster, past these "introductions"), she struggled to find the words to ask the things she needed to, to sate some deeper desire to still seem respectable, to not betray the fact that she wasn't easy, that she was a scholar, that she wanted more than a quick animal fuck and that she could still be in charge of her baser needs, though every part of her was screaming to get undressed, to impale herself on him, to be fucked and filled until his cum spilled out of her, further than that, until she was covered with his cum, marked, owned, claimed -

"When's your birthday?" Murmured against his lips as she finally took great handfuls of his thick red hair into her fingers. It was just as soft as she imagined it.

"Favorite color?" Her lips moved from his now, to nip at the plump lobe of his ear, her fingers trailing down the line of his jaw, to run across his top, then bottom lip, tracing the path her lips would eventually follow.

"Favorite food?" She rolled her hips, slowly, up into his, the cleft of her sex easily gliding along the ridge in his jeans. She leaned back now, exposing the long column of her throat to his mouth, begging without a sound for him to bite, to suck at it, leave her marked -

"Where's your dorm?" Future reference, she thought, though if Holly was still banging Liam, it wasn't impossible to have him over. This was as she leaned back over, her lips pressing playfully against his, tilting his head back. And, a wicked little thought crossed her mind. Her hands reached back into that thick head of hair and yanked, though not too hard, not too unkindly. Enough for him to further tilt his head back so she could bury her face in the side of his throat, sucking. Who gave a shit about propriety at this point?

"Zodiac sign?" She was running out of things to ask, her body burning, the finer points of thought vanishing. Grinding against him again, her grip on his hair loosened, and she cupped the sides of his face in her hands as she kissed him hard, nearly forcing his mouth open. Now that she'd had a taste, she was becoming more aggressive, seeking whatever he could give to her to try and quench some of this fire, only to find it growing stronger the more she indulged.

"Wanna do this again?" Her voice broke a little there, uncertain, what was meant by 'this'? The movie festival was only for a few days. Today was Monday. The last movie would be Sunday. Her hips bucked, now almost beyond her conscious control, into his, grinding against him again, and her head fell, buried against his neck, her breath coming out in a short huff. It felt so good, just letting her body go, finally, to rub against him, to express what she didn't quite have the words for. "Last movie is Sunday," she managed to gasp out, and as soon as she did, she knew what she wanted. She knew what was going to happen if he said yes. Now, how to convince him to say yes?

She thought that there was more certainty in how he kissed her (wasn't that a song, it's in his kiss, that's how you know if he loves you, or was that some movie, a line from the forgotten movie playing behind them) that he was also interested, that maybe he had been interested for a while, maybe, wasn't there something said about the brochure, please let this not be one-sided, she couldn't stand the idea that she was the only one burning like this, and she blurted out, "God, I've wanted to do that since I saw you in the coffee shop," and instantly regretted it, her face aflame, but she couldn't take it back, "You're so beautiful," she cooed against his throat, her hips still working against his, rising and falling against his own thrusts, their timing already perfect together, him pushing as she did, creating that friction that was enough to make her eyes roll back in her head.

She should probably stop talking. Between those kisses, she offered her own counterpoint to the questions she asked:

"I'm a history major,"

"July 23rd,"

"Purple,"

"I love ramen - real ramen, not the crappy kind you get at the market,"

"On the east side of campus, the set of dorms right next to the library," (how fitting for her),

"Leo,"

"Please say yes," she was doing everything but begging now, her nose bumping against his, "I want to see you again. I want to know more about you, I want to feel you, all of you," and now there really was no going back, as her hands left the sides of his face to run down his chest, stopping to hover briefly over his nipples, caressing the flat plane of muscle through the fabric, and then, at the bottom, because damn it all, she untucked his shirt and reached under, another slow sigh slipping from her as her hands ran from his navel to his pectorals, not pinching, not doing anything other than traveling up and down, feeling him, the sleekness of his skin, the warmth of him.

Kissing Jo was like all of Seth's first kisses. Fresh and exciting and arousing. He didn't want it to stop.

And it was different too. Girls were objects of desire. Sex objects. Like porn. Like Holly. Seth knew this was immature, an undeveloped response to female identity. But it was what he felt. Until now.

Jo aroused him. Massively. In both senses of the word. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to get to know her. And he couldn't really remember a woman who made him feel both things at once.

Kissing Jo was intense and relaxing. As he explored her mouth and her body, Seth reviewed their brief time together, and then before they met, weighing up where he'd been and where he was going. The moment seemed just a singular point in time and his whole life, all rolled into one. Maybe this is what drowning feels like, he thought.

There was nothing he did to Jo that she didn't return. Lips, mouth, tongue, hands, hips, grinding crotches, pushing and folding into each other as if there were no physical limits, as if like ghosts they could push their hands through each others bodies and out the other side.

Jo came up for air first. She took a quick breath and spoke, then kissed him again.

"What's your major?"

And before he could answer they were kissing again, deeper if that was possible, longer, more frenzied kissing, stretching Seth's mouth, inviting a stronger masculine response.

And with each breath another question. Getting-to-know-you questions. Girls are like that, Seth thought. They need to know.

Her hair fell across his face. Strands snagged in his mouth. Did hair always taste this good?

Jo was saying other things now. Sexy things. Things he would have said if he wasn't a totally tongue-tied dork. But after Jo answered her own questions, the words came to him.

"Political science."

"November first."

"Blue."

Ramen? Never tried it, Seth thought, real or crappy.

"Spare ribs."

She laughed.

"Scorpio."

"And you know where my dorm is. Liam and Holly are there. All night. I can't go back until..."

She kissed him before he could finish the sentence.

"Yes, fuck, yes, I wanna do this again?" he said. She needed to ask?

He felt her hands on his chest, teasing his nipples, untucking his shirt. What was under her clothes? Under the unitard? How the fuck did you get a unitard off a girl? He willed her to undo his belt and his zip. He willed her.

Beneath the press of her fingertips, she could feel his pulse, throbbing as hard as hers was. Pulling away, the tip of her nose against his, her eyes, half-way hidden in the darkness of the theater, were half-hidden under the long fringes of her eyelashes. Once, twice, her lips brushed against his, but didn’t press again, no, just teasing, just savoring his breath cascading over her full lips, she could drink him in.

Anything else she needed to ask would come in time. It wasn’t important. She knew a few things; it was enough for her. Baser instincts kicking in, the cinema they were in became little more than a hazy dream, to be brushed away when it was time to come back to the real world. But now, as they were, drifting in the dark, undulating against one another, she didn’t have to wake up yet.

Leaning back, she pulled her shirt over her head. It wouldn’t be much of a gesture - humorously, she reached over to put it neatly in her chair. The straps of her unitard were like a tank top - unseen to him (but perhaps maybe felt), there was a zipper that started between her shoulder blades and ran to her midback. That wasn’t where she directed his hands. She settled them, pale against her own, delicate things against the dark violet of her suit, on her waist, a roll of her hips, and she moved them lower, so he could cup her ass in his palms, like it was his this entire time, waiting for him to finally realize it.

She pressed forward again, the heat of her chest bleeding through his shirt - then, without looking at his face, driven by something deeper, she reached down and tugged up his shirt so that it bunched around his armpits, and, craning her neck, shifting, one leg trailing behind her on the ground now, half-kneeling, she pressed her lips to his left nipple, the tip of her tongue lazily flicking it, testing the smoothness of his flesh, before her lips closed around it, and she sucked gently. Her teeth closing over it, she tugged, softly, before letting his nipple go, and moving up, sliding the lines of her body lazily against his, kissed him deeply again, her tongue probing the inside of his mouth.