Part 2
4:00pm - 8:00pm
I want to pass out by the time we lug all of our stuff back to the sorority house. I was already exhausted from the car wash alone, but on top of that, we spent hours driving around to get supplies and buy alcohol. Now, we have to clean the place for guests which, trust me, is no small task. Whoever started the myth that girls are cleaner and neater than guys never pledged a sorority. Me, Cassie, and the other five girls all inhale a few cups of coffee so that we can have the energy we need, and then we go to town.
The party is officially starting at seven, but people are going to start coming in here and there over the next few hours, which means that we need this place in order, and everything set up. Part of me cringes at how much attention to detail I’m putting into this, but I’m trying to impress. I realize that this whole scene is going to turn into a drunken mess before the night is done, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the sisters see me contributing to the cause, so that maybe, they’ll want me to be one of them soon enough. I do my best, and Cassie is like my right hand girl, helping me unload all the supplies and putting everything in just the right place. Together, we put out food, set up a little bar area where one of the girls is going to be making mixed drinks, and make the place so clean that you could eat off the floor. It looks great, if I do say so myself, and despite a throbbing headache and the exhaustion that’s about to overtake me, I couldn’t be more psyched about tonight. Maybe I’ll meet some cute guys, who knows!
A few hours pass, and me and Cassie are finishing getting ready. Well, we’re sort of getting ready. There’s a rule in Kappa that pledges aren’t allowed to wear makeup or get overly beautiful for parties. They say it’s because we’re not supposed to be having the same experience as the full members of the sorority, but really, I think it’s that they don’t want any competition from us. I don’t normally think things like this, but we’re pretty hot. I get why they wouldn’t want us to put on too much makeup or wear our sexiest outfits to parties, so Cassie and I are working with what we’ve got to work with while trying to not break any of the rules.
“This is such bullshit,” she says to me, grabbing her makeup then putting it down immediately. “I want to put this on so badly.”
“I know,” I say, trying to calm her down a little bit. “It is what it is.”
“Jealous bitches,” she yells.
“Shhh,” I say to her, for the second time in as many hours. “Keep your voice down. Like I said, it is what it is. We’ll still be hot, don’t worry.”
“Your optimism is starting to grate on me.”
“Stop it, you love me.”
“Of course I do,” she says, smiling in the mirror. “But can you just let me have my bitter moment before we move on?”
“Who’s stopping you from your bitter moment?”
“You are!”
“I am not,” I say, defending myself. “I’m just asking you to have it quietly, is all.”
“Fair enough.”
We finish getting ready, and even though we’re not at full capacity, I think we look damn good, considering the weapons of beauty they’ve denied us. Right before people start showing up, me, Cassie, and all the girls get together for a hug. It sounds lame as hell, and it probably looks that way too, but we pledges have to stick together.
“Let’s show them how it’s done,” Cassie says, and all the future sisters cheer and smile. We take some pictures of the group and some selfies for our social media, and then get downstairs like the unpaid interns we basically are. I can tell it’s going to be a wild night.
The party’s been going for a while now, and things are already nuts. So far, I’ve seen about three people throw up just outside the place, the other pledges have had to go back on two alcohol runs, and everybody here is trying to hook up. It’s not as obvious as you’d think, particularly on the girls’ end. It’s always obvious when guys are trying to hook up because, well, they’re guys, that’s kind of what they do. You don’t need a Ph.D. in Sociology to recognize the body language of men when they’re looking for sex. They do all the dumb guy stuff. Nature channel 101. The taller guys hover over the smaller girls. Sometimes, they even put their arms on the wall behind the girl they were talking to, in order to assert some kind of weird dominance. The girls did their part too, mind you, but you needed to either be a girl or have a trained eye to perceive it. Can you tell I want to be a Psych major? I love observing people, and even in places as crazy as this, I find time to see little things about why people behave like they do.
The music is booming, and a few drunken kids are trying in vain to dance, but mostly they just look like they’re being electrocuted. It’s kind of funny. I get myself a drink, but after the stories I heard about my sister’s friend, I want to make sure that I don’t drink too much. It isn’t the girl’s fault when something happens - ever - but I’m still going to make sure that my mind is as clear as possible, in case someone tries anything with me. But that’s not why I’m here, and besides, no guys have even approached me yet, which is starting to bother me a little. I’m not arrogant or conceited at all, but usually at this point in a party, I’ll at least have two to three options of who I want to talk to, but on the guy front, this has been as dry as the Sahara. Cassie’s doing good, though.
“Hey,” she says when she comes over to me.
“Girl, I counted three guys trying to dance with you in the last hour.”
“What can I say?” She was smiling. Cassie’s even less conceited than I am (I can have my moments every now and then), so I know she’s feeling good about fitting in.
“You don’t have to say a damn thing; at least one of us is attractive to the guys on this campus.”
“Stop it, you’re gorgeous, you know that.”
“Thanks, Cass. Go get back to your boys, I see one of them giving you the eye right now.”
It’s true; a really good-looking blond kid, who looks about six-foot-three, is looking over at us like he’s waiting to have this chance at Cassie, so I wave her off. At least one of us is having a good night. An hour passes with pretty much everything being the same: loud music, even more drinking, lots of bad, spastic dancing, and the occasional consumption of food from the fridge. After a little while, I notice the front door open, and who do I see but my car wash friend, Patrick. He doesn’t look the same as he did before; he’s well dressed, in a nice pair of jeans and a button-down black shirt. His hair is done nicely, and for some reason, he cuts a completely different figure than he did when we first met. Maybe that’s just because I was standing around in an overly tight tee shirt hating my life when he came around, but he turned out to not be the jerk I thought he was at first.
He’s a dick. Literally. He’s one of the Kappa guys, and behind him, I see a bunch of his frat brothers follow inside the house. Patrick has this swag about him. He’s tall as hell, and clearly muscular, but there’s also this confidence that borders on cockiness about him. He’s sure of himself, you can tell by how he carries himself. It’s little things like that that I notice. His chin is up in the air, but not too high. His shoulders are straight, but not too far back as to make him seem arrogant. He’s smiling, but it’s more of a confident grin than anything. Regardless of whether someone catches some of the subtleties I pick up on, he’s inarguably beautiful and sexy as fuck.
We make eye contact right away, across the crowded room, and I catch the recognition on his face. His grin widens into a full smile, and he keeps his eyes fixed on me through the human ant farm that our sorority house has become. It’s like he can’t be distracted, his gaze holding me in place, and I return the look to let him know I’m glad to see him. Then suddenly, he looks away as one of his frat bros pats him on the back and hands him a red solo cup full of beer. He sips it gently, and then looks back over in my direction.
Oh shit, he’s walking over towards me! I can’t believe I actually feel butterflies as he approaches, wading his way through the spastic dancers and drunk kids, but a few strides later, he’s passed through the crowd and found his way to me.
“Well, fancy meeting you here.”
It’s strange that he’s giving me the feelings he’s giving me right now, especially considering how obnoxious he came off when I first met him, but I guess context is everything. In this house, under these lights, with this music playing and a few drinks in my system, the boy is looking damn good tonight!
“I guess, being that I live here.”
“Right,” he jokes sarcastically. “I totally forgot that.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t, you’re right. But it’s great to see you again, even in this craziness.”
“Craziness, huh? This is pretty standard sorority stuff, from what my sisters tell me. Not your scene? Being one of the Dicks, I’d think this was mild for you?”
“Did you just call me a dick?”
“A better question,” I joke. “Does that pun ever get old?”
“If it does, I’ll text you and let you know. But so far, absolutely not. Still makes me laugh every time.”
“You’re so dumb.”
“Maybe,” he replies. “But I’m curious. . .”
“Hold on,” I tell him. “Let’s get a drink first.”
“I have one.”
“Then follow me to get one.” I wave him over and go to the kitchen. I practically set this whole party up so I know where all the good stuff is, and I make myself a martini like I was Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Patrick looks impressed. “Shaken, not stirred,” I say, smiling.
“James Bond fan?”
“Mysteries and action fan in general. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is one of my favorite books. That whole series, actually.”
“Sad what happened to him,” Patrick answers back.
“Who?”
“Steig Larsson. The author.”
“Yeah, I know who he is. I just didn’t know that you would.”
“That’s twice now, you know?”
“Twice what?”
“That’s twice that you made assumptions about me.”
I feel embarrassed because he’s right. I didn’t even realize I was doing that in the moment, but I have made two different references to who I think he might be. Instead of admitting it, I decide to play a little dumb. “When?”
“First, you assume that I’m some dumb frat guy who’d be into parties,” he begins.
“Well, that one you can’t hold too much against me. After all, we are at a party that I assume you came to willingly, and you are a frat guy.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “But the other thing. You assumed that I wouldn’t read much, huh?”
“I’m sorry,” I reply, copping to it right away. “You’re right. I’m a little surprised. Pleasantly surprised, I should say.”
“You really shouldn’t stereotype people. What if someone did that to you?”
They have, I wanted to say, but I barely knew Patrick, and getting into my past isn’t something I’m going to do standing right here in the middle of a party. But the fact is, when I told my friends in high school - the ones I still talk to anyway - that I wanted to pledge a sorority, they looked at me sideways. “You,” they’d asked. “The AP student? The Salutatorian of the damn school? You’re going where? You’re pledging where?” It was as if you weren’t allowed to be smart and also want to do other normal things, like be a sorority sister. And it wasn’t just my friends; it was my family, too.
“I wouldn’t like it very much, I get it. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” he says, looking down and seeming a little sad. “I’m used to it.”
“So what else do you like to read?” I try to change the topic. Well, actually, not really change the topic, but keep it going in the same direction. It seems to perk him up.
“A lot. Can we go somewhere and talk, maybe? I can barely hear myself.”
“Sure, we can go upstairs if you want.” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Here I am, afraid of sexual assault, trying to be prudent, and I just invited a guy I barely know upstairs where all the bedrooms are. Shit!
“Only if you’re comfortable,” he says back. “If you’d rather be where other people are, I understand totally. There are a lot of shady dudes around here.”
“There’s actually a room on this floor. It’s like a sitting area. Wanna go?”
“Sounds great.”
We take our drinks and go into the downstairs room. There are other people in there so I don’t feel weird, but we can still have our own conversation without being interrupted. It’s the perfect setting. I didn’t think I’d have this reaction, but I’m really enjoying talking to Patrick. He seems unexpectedly interesting and even sensitive, and I want to get to know him a little more. We sit down on a little couch made for two or three people and he jumps right back into the conversation.
“I love that whole series also,” he says. “Especially the themes Larsson explores about violence against women. That really spoke to me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I love the stories, too, they’re awesome. He was a great storyteller, but it was his homage to women that I really connected to.”
Did he just use the word homage? I really did have him stereotyped. “Can I ask why that appealed to you so much?”
When I ask, he hesitates and looks off into the distance, a slightly uncomfortable smile creeping over his face. “We’re getting personal, I see.”
“You don’t have to answer,” I say, trying to backtrack. The last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable, but I really am interested in what he’s going to say.
“No, it’s okay. My dad was abusive towards my mom.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. She left him, and took me and my baby brother and started a new life here.”
“She sounds like a strong woman.”
“She is,” he says, looking right into my eyes this time. “But that’s why I connected to that in the books, since you asked.”
“I get it now.”
We keep talking for what seems like an eternity, but when I look at my phone, it’s only been like an hour. The more we talk, the more I’m into him. Not only is he a pretty face, but it turns out he has one of the most diverse series of interests I’ve ever heard in a guy my age. He’s into literature, movies, skydiving, and cultural anthropology, which is his major. He’s everything I wouldn’t have guessed he was, and nothing that I assumed.
After a while it starts to get late, and not only have we discussed our mutual interests, but we talked about our personal lives as well. He tells me about his family, how they moved here when he was ten, and how his mom worked two jobs to keep food on the table for him and his brother. Before too long, I’m lost in his words, and I’m constantly amazed that my preconceived notions of him are all incorrect.
I’m not feeling anything like myself, which is to say I feel free, I feel adventurous, and I feel independent for the first time in my life. It also means that I’m feeling impulsive. My entire life has been planned out; a series of predictable movements and paths set out for me. But tonight is mine; my choices, my decisions, and for the first time in a long time, I know exactly what I want from a situation.
When there’s a pause in our conversation, I notice that we’re the only ones left in the room. I’m feeling him in every way possible: physically, intellectually, and even emotionally. I decide to trust myself for once in my life, and I lean in and whisper in his ear. “Do you want to go upstairs now?”
He looks back at me with a mixture of surprise and happiness, like a little kid on Christmas. I can tell that it was the last thing he expected me to say, and the expression on his face is absolutely priceless. “Are you sure?” he asks.
He’s such a gentleman, and I grin without even realizing I’m doing so. I lean over and grab his face gently, pressing my lips against his.
“Does that answer your question?”
“I’m still a little ambiguous,” he jokes. I kiss him again, like he wants me to, only this time he kisses me back, passionately, and I feel like it’s definitely time to take things to the next level.
Before I know it, we’re kissing outside of one of the upstairs bedrooms. Surprisingly, there’s no one else up here, not that I would notice if there was. I’m too swept up in the moment, and the feeling of his lips against mine, making my whole body tingle. He’s pressing me up against the wall. Not too hard, but enough for me to feel the uncontrollable passion. I feel the pressure of the wall against my back, and the pain turns me on. He’s pushing into me so hard, but I’m also pushing back into him, and I pull away just long enough to test the door to the bedroom. It opens to a dark room, and we both know what’s going to happen next. I back into the bedroom and he follows me.
He whispers in my ear, “Hadley,” and then nips gently at my earlobe. As his teeth scrape towards my neck, I run my hands through his hair. We slowly back further into the room, until my knees hit the mattress. With his arms around my back, Patrick gently lowers me onto the mattress. He climbs on after, hovering above me, caging me with his arms. He smiles down at me, before pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
He licks a path down my throat and when he gets to my collarbone, he stops and looks up at me. His smile is so bright and yet so mischievous at the same time. My pulse beings to pick up, and I know that Patrick knows what kind of effect he has on me. My eye plead with him just to give me what he knows I want. Instead, he chuckles and grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it off. He gets back to licking a path from my collarbone, between the valley of my still-covered breasts, to my stomach, while he keeps repeating, "Hadleyyyyyy." He reaches my hip bone and ever so lightly traces the tiny heart tattoo, that I got on my sixteenth birthday, with his tongue. My body responds to him and I beg for him to fuck me.
He doesn't. He continues to torture me. Slowly. Ever so slowly.
His mouth begins to feather kisses back up my body. Once he reaches my right breast, his mouth descends on my nipple. His breath is hot and warm, and it turns me on more intensely than I’ve ever felt in my life. My hands reach to pull off his shirt, and his mouth leaves my breast as he helps me get his shirt off. Then immediately, his hands are in my hair and his mouth connects with mine for a forceful kiss.
I moan against his lips. "Patrick, please just fuck me."
Patrick ignores my request as his hands knead both my breasts, and I squirm beneath him. His sure, steady fingers make their way to my denim short shorts and in one quick motion, they are on the floor. He follows in turn, standing to pull his pants off, and I can see how aroused he is. His cock needs my mouth, even if it doesn’t know it just yet. I sit up on the mattress, and he’s standing over me; I’m at the perfect height to give him what he needs.
I reach over and pull his boxer briefs down, and I see his thick, perfect cock staring me right in the face. I lean in and take him in my mouth, and he starts to moan immediately. “Oh, fuck, Hadley. . .”
I don’t stop, just continue stroking and sucking, exaggerating the noises I’m making to turn him on even more. It seems to be working. His cock feels amazing in my mouth, and I love the pleasure I’m bringing him right now. He can’t help but put his hands on my head, and I let him, as I reach my hands around to grab his ass, pulling him closer. Before I know it, he’s fucking my mouth, and every time he moves forward, I do the same, plunging his dick deeper and deeper down my throat, until I’ve taken all of him inside of me. I keep blowing him for a few more minutes, and whenever I look up, I can see his eyes rolling in his head.
Finally, Patrick pulls away and lays me down on the bed, placing his hand on the middle of my stomach and gently pushing me back. He looks down and whispers, “I need to fuck you right now. Beg for it, Had. Beg for it, and I just might give it to you."
“Fuck me, Patrick,” I plead. “Fuck me right now.”
He shakes his head back and forth, and waves his pointer finger. “Not yet,” he says. Dropping to his knees, he pulls my ass towards the edge, until I can feel the warmth of his breath bouncing against my wet pussy. I’m moaning his name over and over again, and before I know it, he’s licking around my lips, teasing me until I’m about ready to burst. I reach down and run my fingers through his hair as I feel his tongue plunging inside of me, softly at first, then quickening his pace. He gets into an amazing rhythm and his tongue is lapping at my swollen clit over and over again, building my orgasm so quickly that I think I’m about to come.
“Fuck Patrick, I am so close,” I scream.
I can feel him smile as he continues to lick and bite at my core. Then, as if he can read my mind, he adds a finger in just the right spot. That one finger. That one delicious finger finds my spot as it's doing its magic. He adds another finger and I come completely undone. I am panting and grabbing at Patrick's hair.
Pulling back, he doesn't say a word as he grabs a condom from his discarded jeans on the floor, and my attention snaps back to Patrick, anticipating what’s coming next. “Hey Pippi, do you think you have one more orgasm in you?” When he uses his nickname for me, it warms my heart. When he first started calling me Pippi, for Pippi Longstocking, it annoyed me.
“Why don't you show me what you got, Patty Cakes.” His face twists, and I know he isn’t exactly thrilled with the name.
“I am going to show you patty cakes, babe.” He stalks toward me while ripping the condom wrapper. He takes it out of the package and sheaths himself, his face determined, and he grabs my legs and pulls me toward him. I let out a yip and a giggle because I know what's in store for me. Even though we just met, I can tell Patrick is very generous lover.
“Oh, pretty Pippi, you have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He has my ankle in his grasp and with the opposite hand, he walks his fingers from my ankle to my center. He pushes his index finger in and swirls my juices around; once, twice, then three times. When he removes his finger, I feel the loss and I whimper for him to keep going. “Next time you come, babe, it will be because you're riding my cock.”
He takes the same index finger that was just giving me such pleasure and sucks it into his mouth. I’ve decided I love when he does this. It turns me on, and I can feel myself getting wetter by the second. Finally, he lines his engorged cock up to my entrance and I brace myself. He feeds himself into me and I throw my head back in delight. He pauses as we adjust to our bodies connecting, then he slowly begins moving.
Picking up the pace, he pistons in and out of me, and I swear I see stars. Our bodies are slapping together, and I reach my hand in between us, and I help Patrick along.
As soon as Patrick sees this, he closes his eyes and throws his head back. “Fuck yeah, Had, work yourself. Help me get you off. I fucking love seeing you help me please you.”
Those words...those words from this man, in this moment, are all I need to bring me over the edge. Patrick picks up speed, but I reach out to grab his hands, holding him still.
“Patrick, you need to stop.”
He looks at me with a hint of fear in his eyes. “Am I hurting you, babe?”
I smile and reply, “No, but you promised me I was going to come riding your cock, so ride it is what I’m going to do.”
Patrick quickly switches positions with me and I straddle him, my hands on his chest. He slowly lowers me on to his dick, and I sigh in pleasure as I begin bouncing up and down, up and down. I move my hands to his shoulders and he places his hands on either side of my face, and smashes our lips together. This is the absolute best kiss we have ever had. I am rocking my way to one amazing orgasm. I know this, and he knows this.
As if on script, he breaks our kiss and looks me in the eye and says, “Pippi, I don’t want this to be just a tonight thing,” and I come apart right on the spot. Those words break me and I shatter. He whispers in my ear, “Told you I would make you come riding my cock.”
I smile and hop off him, getting on all fours. He spanks my ass and says, “This is why I love you Hadley Marie James" and with that he slides inside me from behind. He grabs my hair and wraps it around his hand while he moves inside of me, which begins to trigger another orgasm. After four or five more pumps, his breaths are ragged, and I hear him grunt. "I’m coming, Had, I’m coming." I feel him still as he fills the condom with his release, then we collapse on the bed in a tangle of limbs.
Outside of our locked door, I can hear the clamoring of people as the party starts to wind down. The music is still going, and people are still making a lot of noise, but in this dark bedroom, it’s just the two of us, basking in post-coital bliss, feeling the rise and fall of the mattress underneath our panting bodies. I’m covered in sweat and so is he. I roll over and put my head against his chest. I love the way he smells; the musk of his body, mixing with the smell of me all over him, makes me ready for round two, and I press my entire weight against the side of his body.
“See,” he whispers to me. “Now, aren’t you glad I showed up tonight. I almost went to the movies instead.”
“What movie?” I ask, pretending to care and playing along with his rouse.
“Not sure. I was going to see if there were any new Marvel movies out.”
“When aren’t there new Marvel movies out,” I joke.
“True,” he replies, laughing. “I think they’re up to Avengers 27 by now. Or maybe Iron Man 14. Shit, I can’t even keep track anymore.”
“You know, I can’t believe that I’m here with you right now,” I tell him. I’m not used to being so honest and so connected to a guy, but then again, I’m not used to any of this.
“That makes two of us, Had. That makes two of us.”
This night has been everything I envisioned of my college experience, even though it technically hasn’t begun. It’s been fun, exciting, unpredictable, and taken me to places that I’ve never experienced at any point before. Tonight, all of those qualities are embodied by a guy named Patrick, a guy I’m glad I met. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring for us. I don’t know if this was just a fun night, a fling, or if I’m lying next to my future husband.
But one thing I know for certain - I can’t wait to find out.
THE END