“Might you top off my ambrosia?” Hermes asked.

Without even a remark on his forwardness at expecting the Queen of Olympus to serve him, Hera freely poured ambrosia into his goblet. “Anytime.”

“I’d say things are looking up around here, wouldn’t you?”

Hera nodded. “We’re out of our stagnation, that’s for sure. And we have you to thank for that.”

“Me? I hardly did anything. Hephaestus made the mirrors.”

“And you made the arrangements and profiles of mortals in need.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I only did what comes natural to me. It hardly felt like work.”

“Even one’s passion can be exhausting at times. I had to take breaks when our people worshiped us openly and asked me to bless their marriages.” She let the confession hang in the air. “You can only hide it for so long, Hermes. You need to go enjoy yourself.”

“If it’s you asking, I can hardly refuse, can I?”

She grinned. “That’s right. I’m glad we understand each other. Oh, and make it a challenge, or you won’t get your mind right.”

—

The likelihood of finding someone for his needs not only in the same city as Hera and Dionysus, but on the same campus, delighted Hermes beyond words. He’d already catalogued profiles on every student and professor who was remotely interesting, and finally settled on one with several different fires within.

He used his own devices to write records of himself into the school’s files, specifically into a key class for his target. The first step was an email. Hey Eric. Just reminding you that you have four weeks for your project on your disorder. If you need any help with research or formatting your project, just let me know. -Freddy

About twenty minutes later, there was a reply. Hey. I definitely need help. There’s not much info in the DSMR. It’s just a basic outline. Could you point me in the right direction, maybe a few recommendations? I’m doing schizoid personality disorder, just to save you the trouble of looking up my proposal.

This was it. The way in. Sure, I think I can help you. How about we meet in the library and I’ll run a few choice titles by you? Which evening do you have available this week?

Then a roadblock came. Could you just send me the list? I know the Dewey Decimal System and I can find them on my own.

Maybe offering to save him work would help. I can show you what to look for in terms of what's most helpful. Otherwise, you’ll be plowing through these page by page for hours on end. Is that really worth it for one class?

Luckily, the block didn’t reassert itself. Okay. What times do you have?

Eric agreed to show up at 1 the next day. Hermes was waiting for him with a stack of books on the table. He had a clean shave, a dark green backpack covered in aphorisms written in permanent marker, and a pair of wire-framed rectangular glasses.

“Hey, Freddy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in class.”

“I’m one of three graduate instructors,” Hermes explained. “My turn to give a lesson isn’t for a couple weeks. Most of my time is spent grading papers.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “Is graduate school really that draining?”

“Why? What do you plan to do with your degree?” He gestured to a chair, inviting the still-standing Eric to sit.

Eric looked around, almost surprised that he was standing, and took the invitation. “I don’t know, honestly. I know everyone says ‘therapist’, but that’s not for me. I don’t think I could keep my composure well enough.”

“You went to college without knowing what you wanted to do with your degree?” He gave Eric a sideways look.

A pink tint lined his face. “I mean…it’s pretty much expected these days, isn’t it? I don’t see how I can have any sort of career without one.”

“You didn’t know what sort of career you wanted before you applied?”

“I’ve had a lot of dreams.” Eric looked down at the table. “But they’ve all been a lot harder than I expected. And psychotherapy was never one of them.”

“What were they?”

Eric counted them off on his fingers, still not making eye contact. But his eyes did linger on Hermes’s somewhat-exposed biceps. “Well, the earliest one I can remember is that I wanted to be a veterinarian. I’m quite fond of animals. Then my dad told me how much math that needed, and I’ve always been bad at math. The same thing happened when I said I wanted to be a geologist, a pilot, and an architect.”

“And you never tried getting better at math?”

“Of course I tried!” Eric snapped. “I never enjoyed it. Maybe my brain’s not wired the right way for it.”

“Nobody’s wired the right or wrong way for math. It’s either a skill you develop or you don’t. Did you give up on it?”

“I can do basic Algebra. Anything more advanced, and I can never keep track of whatever the instructor’s talking about. They always go to the next step before I understand the last one, and if I say I didn’t get the last one, they don’t listen.” His fists clenched on the desk. “Nobody ever listens to me. Story of my life.”

Hermes nodded. “Do you think that’s why you chose Schizoid Personality Disorder?”

“What are you talking about?” Eric finally made eye contact.

“Schizoid Personality Disorder. It’s where the patient is socially avoidant and unskilled, and has as minimal contact with others as possible. You’ve been in this class long enough to know it’s not the same thing as schizophrenia. Most people find schizophrenia more interesting. Bipolar disorder, too. With personality disorders, Cluster B disorders also get snatched up pretty quickly. But you went with a Cluster A disorder. Professor Wilber told me that was your first choice.” He made an impressed look. “That sort of thing stands out to me. Care to tell me why you went with that?”

“I thought you were going to help me pick out books to research it with.” Eric looked over to the stack of books on the table. “Are we going to go through this or not?”

“We could, if you insist. But if I know why you chose this one, that would help me even more with finding you the right books. So, how about it?”

Eric sighed. “The name got my attention, but then I looked deeper into it. It sounds like something I can relate to.”

“That’s…” Shocking? Sad? Frightening? It was rare for the Messenger God to find himself at a loss for words.

“Not something I want to get into. You don’t want to hear my life’s story, and I just want to know how to tell what books to use.”

“I didn’t say you have the condition. The fact that you’re at college is proof of that.” Eric opened his mouth to give an objection Hermes anticipated. “And no, I’m not going to try to diagnose you with anything else. Even if I had my license, that would be gross malpractice.” He put his hand on the stack of books, pushing them a couple inches toward him. “I’m fine helping you with book recommendations, and we can do that now. But the disorder you chose and the reason you gave me for it make me think you’re taking this class not just for your degree, but for a deeply personal reason. To answer certain questions about yourself.”

“Maybe. So what?”

“I can help you find those answers. I won’t insist on it, but that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Eric’s silence prompted him to continue. “You don’t know how to find them on your own, but you can’t stand the idea of asking outright, so you drop hints. Maybe without even realizing it. Would you like that?”

Eric shrugged. “I guess I could give it a try. Hell, I’m willing to try almost anything once, just to see if I like it.”

“Then here’s what’s going to happen: We’re going to go through these books like we agreed, you’ll check out the ones you think are the most helpful, and the minute you get back to your dorm, you will text me and tell me when I can come over this evening. Understand?”

Eric nodded. “It’s all clear enough.”

Hermes knocked on the dorm door at 4 that evening. Eric answered, looking happy to see him, but still with a jaded demeanor behind his eyes. “Oh! Hey Freddy, come on in.”

He stepped inside, took off his shoes, and sniffed the air. “Something smells wonderful.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a baked ziti in the oven. In fact, I think it’s about ready to come out.” Eric seemed more energetic as he walked to the oven and put on his mitts, then removed the baking dish and set it on the counter and lifted the lid. “Oh yeah…it’s done. Just needs a little bit to cool.”

Hermes looked over the culinary concoction. “It looks as good as it smells. And from the fact that it’s in a ceramic dish and there’s no prepackaged box in your trash, I take it you made it from scratch.”

Eric blinked, then nodded. “Well, not entirely from scratch. I got the sauce from the store.” He pointed to one side of the room, where a couch was against the wall. “You can sit down if you want.”

Hermes did so. “You take pride in your cooking.”

“I’m not all that good,” Eric shrugged. “I’m better than most around here, but that’s a low bar. I just think that most people overcomplicate cooking. Turning down the heat will solve most problems you encounter.”

Tempted as he was to remark on Eric’s mixture of modesty and putting his peers down, Hermes held back. “Still, you put a lot of care into your dishes.”

“I do. Cooking is one of the few useful things my dad taught me.”

“You have disdain for your father,” Hermes pointed out.

“And here I was trying so hard to hide it.”

He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Eric…that’s neither normal nor healthy.”

Eric looked over at his face, only shying away when he made eye contact. “Well, I’m neither normal nor healthy. If you’d seen how I grew up, you’d know I never had a chance of being either.”

Hermes gestured to the couch in the common room area. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Eric looked to the couch, then back at Hermes. “I don’t know…”

“Isn’t this why you invited me here? To help you figure yourself out? How am I going to do that if I don’t know about what you came from?”

Eric sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I just…I don’t like talking about it. Because talking means I have to remember it.”

Glossing over the fact that Eric was the one who brought it up in the first place, Hermes led him over to the couch and sat on the right end. Eric sat on the opposite end, propping himself up with his elbows on his knees, occasional glances at him, everywhere other than his eyes. “What did your father do that you found so unlikeable?”

“I hardly know where to begin.”

“Say the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Well…he told me that my finding women sexually attractive was oppressive to them. He found some pictures of women in bikinis that I had under my bed and spent a whole hour asking me loaded questions until I arrived at the conclusion he wanted. And this was after he’d forced me to watch the nude scene in Titanic when I was too young to appreciate such things.”

Hermes nodded. “So he confused you about your own sexuality.”

“Tried to. He never convinced me to stop liking women. Just that I’d never be worthy of one.”

“There’s a difference between finding women attractive and being worthy of them. What did he do to make you think you weren’t?”

Eric glanced over at Hermes with a wry smile, like he was about to tell him something he’d regret hearing. “My mother was a violent abuser. Not just to me, but to him and to my sister. The moment I started standing up to her, he took me out on a car ride and told me that he was worried that I was going to do something violent to her. All I’d done was yell back and catch her wrist when she tried hitting me. That wasn’t the first time, either. Once, I tried to call the police on her for beating me, and he forced me to hang up the phone.”

“You’d think he’d be grateful for you keeping him safe, too.”

Eric scoffed. “Right? He was too scared of losing her salary. And why wouldn’t he be? She made more money than him, and she never ran out of ways to remind him of it.”

“Sounds like she resented him for not being man enough.”

“Of course she did.” Eric nodded. “He wasn’t man enough. If he had been, maybe she’d have been happier. He had trouble holding down jobs, too. His last good one, he shot his mouth off at his boss and was asked to resign. I don’t think I ever saw him working hard.”

“So you didn’t learn what you needed to be a man from him.”

“Exactly.” Eric put his chin in his hands. “And it’s not like I had a lot of role models to choose from. All my extended family were on the other side of the country, and I didn’t think anyone at church was sympathetic.”

“You were completely alone. That’s no way to go through adolescence.”

Eric took a deep breath. “I didn’t learn anything I needed to learn for life. I didn’t learn how to attract women, I didn’t learn how to develop a work ethic, I didn’t learn how to control my emotions…I’m just a neurotic wreck who can’t decide what he wants in life.” His voice started cracking. “My worst nightmare is coming true, and I have no idea how to stop it.”

Hermes didn’t have to ask what that was. “Your father is everything you think a man shouldn’t be. Of course you don’t want to become him.” He scooted closer to Eric, and watched him out of the corner of his eye, just to see where he was looking. Eric was looking over his chest, and pretending not to. “Are you familiar with Alfred Adler?”

“I’ve heard the name.”

“He was never quite as well known as Freud or Jung, and he took a much different approach than them. Freud and Jung had different answers on what makes a person what they are. Adler focused more on where a person is going in life and what it took to get them there. So…where do you want to go in life?”

“I don’t know. I thought I already mentioned that. I went to college because it was something I felt like I had to do for its own sake.”

Hermes nodded. “I remember. Have you really not thought the least bit about what sort of a career you’d like to have?”

“I want to do something creative. Probably in the realm of writing.”

“Alright, and what are you doing to pursue that?”

“Well, I’ve been writing outside of what I need to do for classes.”

Hermes inched closer again. “Keeping your craft honed is good. But does that actually put you any closer to being a writer?”

Eric looked sidelong at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Have you reached out to any publishing houses? Online publications? Anyone who needs someone who can paint pictures with words?”

“I’ve submitted short stories to a couple websites, but they didn’t seem interested.”

“...and?”

“And…they weren’t interested. Not a lot I could do to change their minds.”

“So you just stopped?” Hermes offered Eric a chance to answer, but nothing was said. “Exactly. Your father didn’t teach you persistence.”

Eric sighed with resignation. “No. That would be the blind leading the blind.”

“Then you need to learn it for yourself. If you want to pursue a career as a writer, you’ll have to deal with rejection, and lots of it. The only way around it is to just keep going. The more of it you deal with, the less it’ll hurt.”

“You’re right.”

“Speaking of which…when was the last time you got laid?”

Eric looked at the floor. “The semester before last.”

“How did that go?”

Eric pursed his lips, then loosened them. “I…had difficulty performing. So, I just got between her legs and used my mouth.”

“Did she enjoy it?”

Eric nodded. “She moaned and thrashed, and told me how bad the last guy who’d done it to her was. She asked him if he’d be okay with her reading a book while he did.”

Hermes blinked. “That’s a little harsh, but it speaks well of you. What happened between you and her?”

“I got too wrapped up in my studies and forgot to talk to her anymore. Then she dropped out and changed her number.”

“In other words, you gave up.”

The words hit right on their mark. “I…yes, I did.”

“Before you go lamenting that you’ve fallen into an inescapable pattern, I want you to know one thing: It doesn’t have to be like this.” Now, Hermes was practically next to him. “I know a thing or two about persistence and pushing through fears, and I’d love to teach you.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Hermes brought his face close to Eric’s. “We’re going to fuck. Tonight. Here on this couch.”

Eric swallowed. “I…what are you…”

“You think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me?” He grinned. “You’re bi, don’t deny it.”

“Well, I am…”

“So why not explore that? Why not get some fun out of learning the dogged persistence you so badly need, with someone who’s very much a willing partner?”

“Just like that?”

Hermes slumped backward into the couch. “No, first we’re going to need a legal advisor to sign up a contract, then a notary public to witness it, then submit it to the dean’s office.”

Eric laughed. “Alright, you made your point. Let’s do this.”

“Then kiss me.”

His eyes opened wide. “W-why?”

“You want to, don’t you?”

Eric’s eyes flashed around the apartment and his heart raced. He looked at Fred’s face, then away, then back again. A small frown made him anxious yet again–was his inaction offending the TA? He pushed forward and kissed him. Fred seemed stiff and unresponsive, which was odd for the person who’d made the request to begin with. He turned his head a little more to the right, then felt more at ease. Fred clearly did, too, because he finally started kissing back. He got even more at ease when he opened his mouth wider. The whole time, his brain was screaming at him that not only was he kissing another man, he was actually enjoying it. Even with all the unspoken threats of voicing disappointment, he still had to pull back and take a breather. “Wow…”

“You’ve never been with another man, have you?”

“How could you tell?”

“You kissed me like a guy who’s only been with women.”

“Oh…sorry.”

“Being new to it is nothing to apologize for…but too many apologies will kill the mood. Now…do you want to have sex with me?” Eric nodded. “Alright, then show me. Do what you think will make the both of us feel good.”

Eric took Fred’s belt loops in his fingers, undid the buckle, and pulled his pants off his legs. He took his balls in one hand and his cock in the other, stroking it until it was more prominent, then sat upright, removing his own pants. “Well, there is something else I’ve been thinking about quite a bit.” He gave him another, longer kiss, this time making his mouth a little wider at Fred’s unspoken request. Then he grabbed his own cock in one hand and Fred’s in the other and pressed them together, stroking them with the same hand. “Whoa, that’s even better than I thought it would be.”

“You didn’t think you’d enjoy it?” Hermes raised a brow.

“I mean, I did…I’m just used to my imagination being better than real life.”

“You’d be surprised how often that happens. At least, when you stick with something.”

“I see your point.” Eric started moving his hips as he held their cocks together. A smirk briefly flashed across his face when he remembered a frat boy saying It’s only gay if the balls touch. His own balls were on Fred’s and he loved the sensation. Even more, he loved the sensation of their shafts rubbing together, and couldn’t stop thinking about how he was doing that at this moment. There was only one thing that could make it better.

Hermes kissed him again, hoping Eric would take mental notes on how it was done. He barely even noticed that Eric’s strokes of their cocks slowed and became less consistent. They soon resumed the usual pace. It was a lot for him to deal with, and patience was the key. When Eric needed another breather, Hermes let him have it. “That’s pretty great,” he said with a grin. “You’ve had plenty of other fantasies, though, haven’t you?”

Eric nodded. “There’s one thing in particular. I’ve thought about it a lot.” He pushed his legs back, got on his knees, and took Fred’s cock in his mouth, bobbing his head and curling his tongue around the shaft. He licked the underside repeatedly as he felt it hardening, careful to suppress a gag. Thinking about what he’d like, he closed his mouth over the glans, pushing it as far down as he could and swirling his tongue around it. He kept it up until Fred’s moans quieted, which he took as a sign of boredom.

He clutched the shaft and took the balls in his mouth, sucking them forcefully, turning his head slowly side to side as he did. His tongue slid between the testicles, rustling them around.

He spotted a bottle of massage oil on the table and grabbed it, drizzling some onto his cock. He paused for just a moment before remembering what Fred had said earlier about determination and lined his cock up, pushing slowly. Fred didn’t show any signs of pain, so he continued until he felt himself fully inside, kissing him until it was all the way inside. Then he paused, but longer.

“This is a big step for you.” Hermes half-smiled. “Might as well keep going.”

Eric wasted no further time and started thrusting into Fred, going on his reactions to see when he was doing something right. When he finally figured out the best angle, he supported himself on Fred’s legs against his chest, thrusting continuously and energetically, looking down into his face. “Mmm…yes… I love this!”

“Ahh… me too, Eric. Me too. That’s it…finish however you want.” At his urging, Eric finished inside of Hermes, giving a groan.

“I…I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Well, you should. Because you did.” He smiled more fully this time. “You had sex with another man, and you took charge of the whole thing. How does that feel?”

Eric breathed deeply. “Pretty good.”

“That’s what you’re capable of. Never forget that.”

He pulled out and sat back. “It’s not the sort of thing I’d forget, believe me. Not unless my parents tried beating it out of me.”

“But they’re not here, are they? And they don’t know what you did, do they?” At Eric shaking his head for both questions, Hermes nodded. “They won’t find out if you don’t tell them. So don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Is that really all you wanted?” Hermes sat upright, his hands on Eric’s knees. “You wanted to assert yourself over another guy, and that’s it?”

“No, I…I also wanted to…be the one who gets fucked.”

“Oh really?” The smile was now a grin. “Why’s that?”

“I guess…I’ve just never really felt desired. And I want to know I am. Desirable, I mean.”

“Relax, I wasn’t going to correct your grammar.” Hermes started lubricating his own cock. “Is there a particular position you want?”

Eric laid down on the couch and spread his legs. “I want it like this. So I can see you and feel you.”

“I promise you will.” Hermes grabbed his hips and entered slowly, at a pace that was almost too perfect, and wasted no time getting to the thrusts. As Eric wrapped his legs around his hips, he scooped him up in his arms and held him close. He kissed him and held it for a long while as they fucked. Eric grabbed his shoulders with a surprisingly tight grip, his cock still as hard as when he’d topped, sliding against the messenger god’s abs. When Hermes’s climax finally came, he set Eric on his back, pushed all the way inside him, and released.

It seemed to last forever. Eric could feel it coating his insides, and even stretching them. When he finally sensed it stopping, he wrapped his arms around Fred, holding him tightly. Fred lay on top of him. “Thank you,” he said, just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Hermes corrected him. “I enjoyed that so much.”

“I…I don’t know what else to say,” Eric smiled. “I just want to stay here with you for a bit. Take this moment in.”

“It’s a lot. I know. But I’ve got the time.” He sniffed the air. “Don’t you think your ziti’s done cooling by now?”

“Oh, right!” Eric got up to his feet and grabbed a couple plates out of a cupboard, dishing his home-cooked meal onto them, and setting one in front of Fred.

They dug into it eagerly. “Mmm…this turned out fantastic!” Hermes complimented him.

“It did,” Eric agreed. “I usually do well at cooking.”

“You’re competent enough for it. But do you know what else that means?” Eric gave him a confused look. “It means you’re competent enough to be a sexual partner that nobody will forget. That’s easier than cooking, especially a dish this complex.”

“I…I think you might be right.” He nodded. “By the way, I noticed something earlier.”

Now it was Hermes’s turn to look intrigued. “What’s that?”

“You said that you knew this was an authentic homemade meal because there wasn’t a frozen food package in my trash. Well, there were plenty of other things in my trash, and what’s more, it was under the kitchen sink when you said that.” He leaned closer. “How did you know that?”

“Maybe I looked in there when your back was turned.”

“I don’t think so,” Eric shook his head. “I’m really protective about my kitchen space when I’m cooking. You couldn’t have taken a look in there then. In fact, I haven’t seen you step into the kitchen space once since you got here. You couldn’t have. Not unless…no, that’s ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“I was going to say…not unless you have super-human reflexes. Not like the sort a professional athlete has. More like the sort that can only be captured by a high-speed camera.”

Hermes set his plate down. “So, where does that leave you, in terms of conclusions?”

“You’re…not human. At least, not completely.”

“What if I told you that you’re right?”

Eric set his own plate down. “I’d find that pretty hard to believe.”

“What would make you believe?”

“Something I could see for myself.”

Hermes stepped over and locked and bolted the door to the common area. “Alright, then that’s what you’ll get. But I can guarantee–whatever you think I am, it’s not what you’re about to see.” He spread his arms to his sides, and a glow spread from his body. His feet floated slightly off the floor, and in an instant, he was clad in his usual toga.

Eric’s eyes were ready to bulge out of his head. Then he looked down and saw them: The winged sandals. Even he knew what they were. “You’re…you mean, they’re…”

Hermes stayed silent.

“You’re faking it.”

Hermes settled back on the floor but continued glowing. “How? And more importantly, why?”

“I…I can’t…”

“You can’t think of a reason I would, because there isn’t one.” His glow stopped, and his normal outfit disappeared, and he began dressing in the clothes he’d worn on campus. “You’ve read the stories of my people. You know what we do. What we’re capable of. Why we’re interested in mortals like you.” He sat back on the couch next to Eric, who had also finished dressing. “I’m interested in you because I like you. I’ve seen where you come from, your struggles, your interests…but most of all, I’ve seen that incredible spark within you.” He took Eric’s hand in his. “You can do amazing things. You’ve just been surrounded by people who’ve made you forget. But you aren’t any longer. You are a man now, and you can stand on your own two feet.”

Eric’s voice started cracking. “If you say that…I can believe it.”

“Really?” The skepticism returned to his voice. “A minute ago, you could barely accept that the gods of Olympus existed. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“The only thing I’ve been more fascinated by than the workings of the human mind is the divine. As you know, I was raised in a religious household, but every single prayer I’ve ever uttered has gone unanswered. I know beyond a doubt that there’s more to reality than meets the eye, and I’ve always wanted to connect with it. For me, God’s been nothing more than a deadbeat dad.” He gave a dry laugh. “Maybe that’s rooted in my issues with my actual father. But you…you came into my life from out of nowhere, you stuck around, and you want to help me without ulterior motives. It’s the most hopeful I’ve ever dared to be.”

“You’re not the first person this has happened to,” Hermes said as he put an arm around Eric’s shoulders. “And you won’t be the last, either. Hera and Dionysus have gotten similar results in this age. I’m starting a program up there, and I’d love to use my experiences with you to sell the others on it.”

“Please do,” Eric nodded. “You know, this does give me a whole new set of questions about the unseen world.”

“I could give you the answers,” Hermes suggested. “But I know you wouldn’t find any fun in that. And I’m not saying the religion you grew up with is false. I’ll give you a hint: Think of me as a god with a small g.”

“Alright. And again, thank you. For everything.”

He kissed Eric on the forehead. “I’ll return someday. For now, just remember that I’m always watching over you. Farewell.” Hermes stood, returned to his original outfit, and the wings on his sandals fluttered as he rose to the ceiling, disappearing in a flash of golden light.

After Eric finished his shower, he sat down at his computer. Hermes’s list of books for his school project would do. He put in a request for them with the online checkout, then switched focus to his passion project. A few deleted sentences, an extra scene in the middle, an additional dialogue near the beginning, and he felt it was ready. He started a new message in his email client, attached the document, and hit send.

No sense stressing over it. Even if the studio rejected it, he knew others he could send it to, and even if they all rejected it, there was always self-publishing. Besides, he’d gotten a flyer for a party on the third floor, and was eager to get there. Particularly, to see the busty redhead he knew would be there.

He grabbed himself a drink and spotted her by the left wall, talking to another guy. “Hey, Samantha!” He went up to her, not even waiting for the other guy to finish his sentence.

She turned to him. “Oh! Hi, Eric. You look a bit different.”

“Different how?”

She leaned in a bit closer. “I don’t know. But before, you looked like you had a dark cloud hanging around you, and now it’s gone.”

“You two look like you want to catch up on something,” the other guy said as he took a step back.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, we were just about done anyway. See you, Sam.”

“Later, Rich.”

Eric stood where Rich had been a moment before. “How do you know that guy?”

“He’s my roommate’s boyfriend. We were just talking about her. She’s seemed kind of out of it lately.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” Eric frowned sympathetically.

“Not really. But again…I’m glad to see you, especially with this new look. Seriously, what happened?”

He chuckled. “It’s a long story. You wouldn’t believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me.”

She giggled. “Okay, if you say so. Wow, you’re really handsome without all that doom and gloom hanging off your shoulders.”

Eric felt his face grow warm, fighting an urge to touch it. “Thanks. So…do you have a boyfriend?”

Samantha blinked. “Oh, wow. Right to the point. No, I don’t, but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. I’m too busy with classes.”

Eric shrugged. “That’s alright. Is your workload from those classes stressful?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

He stepped closer to her, angling his head so he was looking down at her. “Well, I have an idea. Not dating, but maybe we could give each other a bit of stress relief.”

Her eyes widened. “What were you thinking of?”

“How about if we find an empty room in this suite and I eat your pussy?”

Samantha started blushing. “I…I haven’t had that done before.”

“Why not give it a try?” He prodded her gently.

“It had better be fun.” She grabbed his hand and led him to an open door.