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"Justin," I gasped. "Wake
up."

"What makes you think I'm not
awake?" he asked.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it feel like I'm doing?
I've got a rather delectable ass cheek in my hand, and I'm enjoying it."

Puzzled by his confident tone, I struggled
to wake up fully. Maybe I was dreaming. No, as I assessed my position, I became
aware that he was enjoying it more than his matter-of-fact statement had
indicated. A long ridge of hard flesh pressed into my abdomen where it met his,
one of his legs holding me in place. Instant heat pooled between my legs, and a
low moan escaped me.

Justin's hand pushed the shirt up further
and moved to cup my breast. "You're such a sweet treat in the
morning," he murmured. Languor prevented me from stopping him. Truthfully,
I didn't want him to stop. His warm hand on my breast sent delicious sensations
through me. Yet, I tried.

"Justin, I said no sex."

"No you didn't, you said you wouldn't
go home with me. We're not at my house."

Before I could argue that the difference
was specious, he covered my mouth with his and thrust his tongue in, at the
same time pumping his erection into me even more firmly. The kiss was
breathtaking, erotic, his breath tasting of last night's wine overlaid with the
minty toothpaste we'd bought. His hand continued to explore my body, now
cupping my breast, now pinching my nipple and sending bolts of desire straight
to my core. When he broke it off, I was dizzy and wanted more.

Justin pulled away from my body only long
enough to throw the covers back and strip the shirt off me, leaving me naked to
his gaze. Morning sun streaked through a small opening in the drapes and
brightened the room, making me shyly try to cover myself.

"Stop that. Keep your hands away from
your breasts and your sex. I want to look at you," his rough command. For
some reason, I obeyed, helpless to deny what was about to happen, wanting it as
badly as I had the first time, in spite of my vow to swear off sex. Justin
dropped his head to my breast and lapped his tongue around an erect nipple,
drawing it into his mouth and sucking.

"Ah," I breathed. It was all he
needed to press his advantage. The wandering hand parted my legs and stroked
along the cleft, finding me wet and ready. His finger dipped into me, and then
pulled out, spreading moisture up and onto my pulsing clit. He switched to the
other breast while stroking me for a few minutes, until I was writhing and
calling out his name. Suddenly, he was gone. Bereft, I opened my eyes to look
for him, finding him standing beside the bed, removing his briefs to let his
erection spring free.

My eyes seized upon it, followed quickly by
my hand. He laughed as he tumbled back into the bed.

"I thought you didn't want sex,"
he teased.

"Shut up and fuck me," I ground
out.

"Oh, no, not yet. I want to make this
good. Ever tried sixty-nine?"

"No, I don't think so, what's
that?" I could speak only in short gasps, as his fingers had once again
found my pleasure button and was flicking it lightly but repeatedly.

"I'll show you," he said. In a
deft move, he whirled around, at the same time pulling me down the bed so that
when he was done his face was near my groin and mine near his. Using both
hands, he parted me and thrust his tongue into my slick channel. I jumped, and
then gasped again as his tongue found my clit and began to lap. It was
different from the first time, and different from when Drew had done it, but it
still felt like nirvana.

I didn't understand my part until he swung
a leg over my head and his shaft came to rest on my lips, pushing a bit. As
soon as I took him into my mouth, his groans against my core increased, driving
me further into mindless pleasure. His musk inflamed me, and I sucked, hard. In
response, he sucked my swollen clit. In turn, I used both hands to push him
further into my mouth, ragged sounds of ecstasy muffled by his shaft being
thrust all the way into my mouth. We were locked in an embrace of lust that
became stronger as we reciprocated, driving each other to greater heights of
pleasure.

Suddenly, I felt a rush, something like I
imagined an avalanche, or a mighty waterfall, with its center where Justin's
lips and tongue still sucked and teased me. I turned my head violently, yanking
him out of my mouth before a spasm took me. My whole body convulsed, and my
teeth clamped together, as I tried to curl into a fetal position, though
Justin's body on mine prevented it. "Unh, unh, unh," I ground out.
Justin kept sucking until I tried to push him away, spent. Only then, did he
turn back around and take me into his arms.

"That was a good one," he
observed, as if I'd executed a perfect swan dive or something. I was incapable
of speech, still quivering and twitching. Holding me close, he turned on his
back and reached behind him for something, then handed me the small foil packet.
"Here, you put it on me." My hands shaking, I managed to tear open
the packet and take out the circle of latex inside. I reached for him, finding
him only half-erect. I thought he needed to be hard to roll the condom on, so I
did what I knew would accomplish that goal.

Sitting up, I rolled and took him into my
mouth again, feeling a rush of joy when his cock leapt in response. It took no
more than a few seconds for it to be hard as granite again, ready for me to
roll the condom on, which I took my time doing. Justin watched me avidly, and
swiftly flipped me onto my back when it was done. He positioned himself between
my legs, curled an arm under each knee and hefted my butt all the way off the
bed, pulling me roughly into him as his engorged cock slid in with a little
resistance.

"God, kid, you're tight," he
said. "But so wet!" He continued to murmur erotic nonsense as he
thrust, slowly at first. The rhythmic strokes against the sensitive channel
inside began to build me toward another explosive orgasm; I clenched him as he
pushed. The first time, he gasped. The second time, he thrust harder, and then
faster, until I was shrieking with each pounding blow. He was hitting a spot repeatedly
that filled me with the need to erupt. His grunts were also becoming louder and
more uncontrolled, until he went rigid and thrust as if to split me in two. My
detonation followed immediately, and then he was shuddering and pushing with
me.

We came down slowly, first physically as he
released my legs and collapsed on top of me, and then emotionally as our breath
slowed and our bodies quieted. He was the first to speak.

"God," he said. "That's the
best it's been in years." I was feeling proud of myself and satisfied
until he ruined it. "You're a good lay, Janey."

Blood rushed to my ears and drowned
whatever else he said. I was a good lay. No hint of affection there. I'd done
it again, given myself to a cold and indifferent player who would now discard
me again until he hit a dry spell of 'good lays', and came back to me because
he knew I'd give him what he wanted. I could clearly see the future, and didn't
like what I saw. I rolled away from him and got up, no longer bothering to hide
my nudity from him. He'd had me stripped and spread before him like a Christmas
feast, what was the point?

Without a word, I strode into the bathroom
and started the shower, drowning his knocks on the door and his plaintive
questioning, "Janey, what's wrong? Wasn't it good for you? What did I
do?"

When I came out, fully clothed and my hair
carefully styled as well as I could without my hair products, he was sitting on
the bed in his briefs, a schooled expression of neutrality on his face and the
TV remote in his hand. The TV was tuned to the hotel information channel.

"Looks like they got the road open
around four this morning," he said, not looking at me.

"Good. Will you take me home, please?
I've got a lot to do today."

"Sure, just let me grab a
shower."

I was polite and correct with him on the
way back to campus. Now and then, he glanced at me curiously, but I had nothing
to say. I wasn't mad at him, I was mad at myself. For the first time, I was
considering how really stupid and immature I was being. That would come to a
halt.

I was here to study, get my teaching degree
and prepare to start a life of independence for my daughter and me. This time,
I really was going to swear off sex and no amount of pleading or manipulation
from the man beside me would change my mind. I was done with him, despite the
soaring heights of pleasure I could attain with him. It meant nothing to him,
so it couldn't mean anything to me, either.

Drew called that afternoon. This time he
was inviting me to the game personally, and my morning of self-criticism and
realization had set me up to say yes, for one reason only. I had to clear the
air with Drew. I owed him an understanding of what I'd been doing with him,
even though it would hurt him deeply. It was time to confess my attraction to
Justin and let Drew know he shouldn't want to be with me. I didn't deserve him,
and he didn't deserve to be treated the way I'd been treating him.

Ri wouldn't approve of my plan, so I just
didn't tell her. Nothing could be worse than the uneasy truce we shared right
now, even a physical fight would be better. She looked at me distrustfully when
I told her I'd be going and asked if she wanted to go together.

"What are you up to, bi-otch,"
she said, half-heartedly trying for our old easy friendship.

"Nothing. Drew asked me to go, and I
owe him that," I explained, stopping short of the full story.

"You can sit with us, then. You're
really going to work it out with him?" she asked, clasping her hands under
her chin as if in prayer.

"We're going to talk," I
answered, seeing no reason to make her fly off the handle by expressing my
doubt that our talk would work anything out. In fact, I expected Drew to hate
me afterward, and never want to see me again. At least he'd be free of the
distraction, and he could go back to making good grades and playing well.

In fact, he was phenomenal, leading the
team to a blowout against Arizona State that had the fans ecstatic once again.
I stayed put in the stands as everyone else streamed into the player's exit for
a congratulatory high-five, fist pump or hug. Only when it had cleared out did
I venture down to the exit, but the players had already continued into the
locker room.

I'd agreed to meet Drew here after he
dressed and I didn't have to wait long. He must not have stayed long with his
adoring fans, as he had showered and even had dried his hair. Without saying
anything, we turned and made our way out to the parking lot, where Drew ushered
me into his car and took off toward the Pancake Haus.

"Drew," I said, "We need to
talk, and I'd rather not have an audience. Do you mind if we just go park
somewhere? Maybe get a burger at a drive-thru or something?"

He tensed as soon as I said 'we need to
talk'. This wasn't going to be easy on either of us. The second time I caught
myself wringing my hands, I sat on them, causing Drew to look over at me with
his brows knitted and his head tilted. I wanted him to have his after-game meal
in his hands and partially eaten before I hit him with what I had to say. A
shot of tequila would have been helpful for me, but Utah had no drive-thru
burger joints with liquor licenses, I was certain.

Once we had our bags of to-go food, I
busied myself getting Drew's sandwich out and wrapping it so he could handle it
one-handed, then placing his fries where he could reach them. He didn't start
eating until we were high in the foothills above the main drag, though, parked
at the curb beside a neighborhood green space.

Drew cleared his throat, searching for an
opening, and finally settled on, "Good game, huh?"

"It really was, Drew. You played so
well, congratulations."

"Thanks. Listen, Janey, I'm sorry
about the other night. I shouldn't have gotten carried away. I don't blame you
for hating me, but can you forgive me?"

Momentarily lost, I finally realized he was
apologizing for something about the sex play. "Drew, I don't hate you, and
there's nothing to forgive."

"Then what, Janey? Why did you freak
out? It's been tearing me up."

"I need to tell you something, Drew,
and you're going to hate me afterward. Maybe you'd better take me to the dorm
now, so I won't be so far from home when you kick me out of the car."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to
kick you out of the car, and I can't imagine what you could tell me that would
make me hate you. Just spill it, Janey, you're making me crazy!"

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you. I
need to go back to the first of the year, before I met you. I got a huge crush
on my English professor, and I slept with him." I couldn't look at him,
but I could imagine the incredulous look, or maybe a look of disgust, on his
face. Keeping my head down, I stared at my hands, which wouldn't be still,
plucking at a piece of lint on my pants, twisting my fingers together.

"Ow," he said, without heat.
"I didn't see that coming, but you said that was before we met. What
difference would it make to me?"

Miserable, I knew I'd have to get the rest
of it out somehow. "Drew, I never stopped crushing on him. I slept with
him again after I met you." I risked a peek. Drew's profile had gone to
stone, except for the muscle twitching in his jaw.

"While we were dating?" he asked,
finally.

"I was hoping to forget him by dating
you. Then we had our fight and he showed up. Drew, I'm sorry. I don't blame you
for hating me," I said, unconsciously echoing his words from a few minutes
before.

"I don't hate you, Janey. Have you
broken it off with him? When was the last time…" he stopped, evidently
unable to say the words. I could have made the argument that it was none of his
business, but I wanted to be friends again eventually, when he stopped being
mad. If I weren't completely honest now, I never would be. Any future
friendship would be tainted by the lie.

My voice was low and soft as I answered.
"Last night."

I expected an outburst, yelling,
accusations. None of that happened. Without a word, Drew got out of the car and
closed the door quietly. Then he ran into the little park and disappeared among
the evergreen trees. I peered out my window, trying to see where he'd gone. All
I could see was violent shaking among the trees, until I caught a glimpse of
him throttling a small tree no taller than he, shaking it as if he'd like to
kill it. Then he turned to a larger tree, not an evergreen and drew back a
fist.

"No!" I screamed. I didn't know
whether he heard me, but something made him think better of punching a tree. A thought
for his basketball career, maybe, as it would certainly have broken his hand.
Instead, he kicked it half-heartedly before making his way back to the car.

"Drew…" I started to say, but he
held up his hand in a Stop! gesture.

"I can't talk to you right now, Janey.
Sorry. I'll take you back to the dorm."

It was no less than I expected, but grief
filled me. No future friendship, then. I'd badly hurt a kind, decent man, and I
didn't deserve his friendship, much less the love he'd professed for me. As big
a mess as I'd made of things, I'd be surprised if any man could love me.
Silence ruled as he drove me back to the dorm, getting out of the car to open
my door and walk me to the front door of the dorm as always.

Conspicuously missing were the kisses we'd
usually share as our goodnight ritual. That would never happen again. I'd
avoided tears until now, but suddenly they were pouring down my face and I
couldn't hide them as I choked out a goodbye. Drew turned and walked away, both
hands clenched into fists that hung by his side.

He must have gone straight to Rihanna, or
called her. It wasn't ten minutes before I got a text from her. 'WTF have you
done.' Nothing more. The trouble with a text is you can't tell if someone is
yelling, or laughing, or what. Maybe if it had been in all caps, I'd have known
the depth of her anger. As it was, I knew she'd be mad, but I didn't know how
mad. Not until she slammed open the door, strode over and bodily pulled me out
of bed to the floor and started kicking me, while screaming imprecations.

I curled up in a ball with my arms over my
head to protect it, at least, and waited it out. She wasn't kicking very hard,
so I knew she wouldn't injure me. She just had to physically release the rage,
or explode. When at last she stopped, I uncurled and crawled back into my bed.
I'd be bruised tomorrow, but nothing was broken. I didn't dare speak, for fear
of setting her off again, so I waited for the tongue-lashing I expected. It
didn't come. Instead, I heard her leave the room, slamming the door behind her.
She didn't come back that night.

This silent waiting for expressions of
anger that I expected but that didn't come was getting freaky. On the one hand,
I was relieved, but there was unease as well, like waiting for a firecracker to
go off when it appeared to be a dud. I woke up alone on Sunday morning and
wondered where Ri had spent the night.

~~~

I didn't have long to wait before I found
out. While I was eating breakfast at the Student Union, I got a text from Ri
that she was moving out of our room and in with one of the gang, whose original
roommate had quit school and gone home. I'd expected Ri to be mad, but this
wasn't something I'd ever considered, that she would move out and leave me
alone. While I was still trying to absorb that, which felt like a kick in the
stomach, another text came in that she would be there at eleven to pick up her
stuff, and she'd appreciate it if I weren't there at the time.

I went cold and felt dizzy, then my stomach
reacted and I fled to the ladies' room to throw up. My entire social support
system, except for Alicia, revolved around Rihanna. Her friends accepted me as
one of the gang because of her. She was my touchstone, my gauge of whether I
was fitting in, my best friend. I'd known that when it came to choosing sides,
she would choose Drew's. The reality was so much worse than I'd thought,
though. Panic filled me. Only the knowledge that Russ would be terribly
disappointed kept me from getting in my car and running to the ranch
immediately. I didn't know what else to do.

Eleven o'clock found me at the library,
pretending to study. In truth, I was staring at nothing and imagining Ri and
some of her friends packing up her side of the dorm room, trying to visualize
what it would look like when I got back. Everything interesting, on the walls,
on the desk, even on the floor, was hers. I had nothing but my frilly pink
bedclothes and a few matching pillows. I couldn't imagine hanging out there
alone.

By happy coincidence, Alicia passed by
during one of the few times I was looking up and focused on what was in front
of me. I called her name, and she turned, startled.

"Oh, Janey, you gave me a shock,"
she said. "How's it going?"

"It's been better," I said, with
massive understatement.

"Want to get lunch and talk about
it?"

"I'd love lunch, but I'm not sure I
want to talk about it."

"Whatever. Are you done here?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Alicia had some books to check out, but we
were soon on our way, walking companionably but without speaking. At lunch,
Alicia carried the conversation, chattering about her classes, a boy she was
dating and when spring would finally show up, though no one in Utah expected
spring before April and it was still late February. I answered just enough to
be polite, until Alicia put down her fork and leaned over to put her hand on my
arm.

"Janey, you're scaring me. Something's
wrong, what is it?" I'd been thinking that maybe confiding in a friend who
might be on
my
side would make me feel better, after all.

"I've pretty much fucked up everything
in my life," I said, with a little more drama than was required. 'My
roommate is moving out as we speak, and you're the only friend I've got left,
so thanks for being here."

"Oh, honey, what happened?"
Alicia's frown of sympathy and caring tone of voice was enough to open the dam.

"Let's see, I manipulated my friend
into having sex, sort of, when I knew he was being celibate for a reason. Then
I let that son-of-a-bitch Mackey manipulate me into a booty call. I tried to
set the record straight with my friend, who thought he was my boyfriend, and
hurt him badly. Since my roommate is his best friend, she hates me now and is
moving out. I want to die, or at least run away. That's about it."

"Wow, when you create drama, you
really do a bang-up job!" she replied, providing some comic relief. I
couldn't help but laugh at her admiring tone.

"You know me," I joked,
"nothing but an all-out effort will do."

"So, let's back up. Talk about what
'having sex, sort of' means."

"Ugh, do you really want the ugly details?"

"Damn straight I do. If I'm going to
help, I need all of it."

"Crap. All right, it means that on
Valentine's Day, we had this amazing date in California, complete with moonlit
kisses on the beach and everything. Ri was with me, so I figured that when we
got back to the hotel we'd be safe. Did I mention it was him who wanted to be
celibate?"

"Yeah, tell me about that. What the
hell?"

"Basketball. Listen, you can't breathe
a word of this to anyone, Alicia."

"Hey, if I'm going to be your bestie
now, call me Ali, or Al."

"Promise you'll keep this quiet,
Ali," I said.

"Okay, I promise. What's the big
deal?"

"Andrew Craig."