First and foremost I would like to state that this story is true. Names and locations have been changed to protect the both the innocent and the guilty. That being said, this story takes place about 20 years ago during my junior year of college. I, back then, was a young African American student at a predominantly white small university. I was 5'11", about 175 lbs with a lean muscular sculpted sprinter's body.
I had earned a four year ride here, and the hours on the track and in the weight room have given me an impressive physique. I would have considered myself a very attractive guy. I mean, I was by no means a model, but I never seemed to have any problem with ladies. In fact, I was envied by many of peers for my ability to get just about any woman I desired. This skill, more than likely had more to with my personality than my physical appearance. But being in great shape did not hurt. I was a bit of a social butterfly, and mixed and mingled with all types of people. I was laid back, relaxed and funny. And judging from the amount of parties I was invited to, I would say that for the most part I was generally well liked.
It was your typical Thursday night in the dorm; I had just gotten out of the shower, and was in the process of applying baby oil to my body. I know what you are thinking "Baby oil?" Say what you want, more that one woman has cooed in my ear about how smooth and soft my skin felt pressed against their naked bodies. Prior to my shower, I was unlucky enough to be caught in the weight room as my coach was working in. He was a weight room animal, and I was forced to work out with him. I was tired and sore, but I must admit I like how my still pumped arms and chest look as I admired myself in the mirror.
I finished oiling up, and lit some sandalwood incense. I loved the smell of sandal wood. But mostly I loved how it covered the smell of the joint I was about light. I was still wrapped in my towel as I popped in a Keith Sweat CD - as I said, it was 20 years ago - when there was a knock at the door. I looked through the peep hole, it was my boy Wayne. I sighed to myself. It was not that I did want to see him, more that I was really not in the mood for company. I just wanted to sit back, listen to some music, drink a few beers, smoke my joint and relax.
I opened the door. "Hey, dude, what's up?" I asked as I looked into his broadly smiling face.
"Listen, you know Jackie's roommate, Sara, right?" Jackie was Wayne's oversexed girlfriend. A girl that had shown some interest in me, but I knew that Wayne had a thing for her so I passed on hooking up with her. Had I known then, that she was something short of a nymphomaniac; things would have been a whole lot different.
"Yeah, what about Sara?" I asked, noticing his already huge grin getting larger.
"Well, she asked me to come down to ask you if you would have sex with her."
I stood there for a second, still looking at that grin. "Alright man, what is the joke?" I said with a bit of annoyance in my voice.
"No joke, dude, that is what she said."
"She just asked you to ask me that?"
"Yeah, I'm telling you the truth."
Still thinking this was some kind of game that he was playing I said, "Send her down."
"Great," was his response and he quickly turned and hurried for the staircase. I stood there for a second, wondering what this was really about. It was most likely some kind of ploy to get me to entertain Sara while Wayne got to have his way with the sexy Jackie. I was one of the few lucky students on campus to get one of the much sought after single rooms. And I knew how hard it was sometime to get rid of a roommate. So I smiled to myself and thought I might as well help the freshman get laid.
But what if what he was saying was true, I thought. Sara? No it could not be. Sara had shown little to no interest in me. In fact, what she did show would be more to akin to hostility. I had always felt that she thought that I was some kind of stuck up jock. Which of course I was not, but in retrospect I did little to convince her of that...
That being said, I threw on some old sweats, cracked a beer, and sparked up. I opened the window a bit to let the sweet mixture of sandalwood and weed escape. And lit more incense, just for good measure. It was then I heard a knock at the door. I froze, started for a second thinking it was a RA, there to read me the riot act. It was then that I remembered that it was Jeff the RA who had in fact sold me the weed in the first place. Weed does have a way of making you paranoid.
Sara! The thought flashed in my mind. I had almost forgotten my conversation with Wayne. Weed does have a way of making you forget. I could hear my heart pound, and I was not sure if it because of Sara, or the weed induced paranoia. I took a deep breath and opened the door. There she stood, with both arms tightly clutching her pillow to her chest. "Hey," I said, there was no response. She just walked past me at the door and into my room.
As she passed, I was able to detect the slightest scent of lavender. It was then that I got a good look at what she had on. They were what I best can describe as footy PJs; they were light pink and made of thick velvet. But what I found more interesting was the three button flap that covered her cute round bottom.
She quickly sat on my queen size futon, pillow held tightly to her chest, and knees held tightly together. I remember thinking she looked so small and fragile. Sara stood about 5'1 or 2, and could not have weighed more the 105 lbs. Her skin was white like fine porcelain. Her hair was dark, and the contrast between it and her milky white skin gave it the appearance of being almost beyond black. I mean if there is such a thing. Her face was cute and pixieish, with deep brown almond shaped eyes. She looked to be a late bloomer. But not saying she did not have very womanly curves to her petite frame.
I stood at the door wondering what to do next. I mean I had seduced many women to my bed. But with them it was all part of the seduction. It would follow a logical path. A then B then C. This however started with C. Do I make small talk, or do I just jump her?
Usually, by this part of the night I would have some idea of how the woman would have wanted me to proceed. Do I just whip it out and say "You wanted it, here it is"? She just sat there, her eyes at her feet. Obviously nervous and most likely made worse by my hesitation. I took a deep breath, walked over to the refrigerator, grabbed two beers and handed one to her.
She looked up from the floor, her eyes met mine.