What were these heavy books I was schlepping for her? I tried to read the faded spines as we began our walk across campus to the lot where I was allowed to park my car. They appeared to be studies on matriarchal and matrilineal cultures.

"So what are you majoring in?" I asked, doubling my pace to catch up. Gwendolyn evidently knew the way to Lot Six.

"Anthropology." She gave me an appraising glance. I guess I looked genuinely interested - I would have hung on every word that might issue from those exquisite lips - so she deigned to converse further.

"I was going to do Gender Studies - that's what Ms. Greenleaf suggested - but that turned out to be way too political. God, I hate politics!"

Another sidelong glance confirmed my rapt attention.

"Did you have her? She was pretty useless as a counselor, I thought. Except for the jocks. She was all about scholarships for them. Especially the girls. She tried that on me. Creeped me out a little."

"No, mine was Abernathy. Also useless." I was glad to hear her reaction. There were rumors about Greta Greenleaf and the girls' basketball coach at our rival school.

"So, Anthropology?" I said, to keep up the conversation. "Is that what these books are for? Do you have a report to write?"

"What? No, not a report. I just want to get out ahead on this subject. I got into the Individual Studies Seminar - it's a 400-level - anyway, I want to do my study on alternatives to male-dominated societies."

That appraising look again. I hoped I appeared merely interested. I felt something visceral.

"Did you know that in some Native American cultures, the women elders are the governing council that chooses their chief?" Her zeal was palpable.

"No, that's amazing!" I encouraged, loving her passion as well as just listening to the sound of her voice.

"Do you know how much more just and peaceful those egalitarian societies are compared to patriarchies?"

Maybe that was rhetorical, I didn't know, but we were approaching the car and I was reaching for my key fob. I unlocked the doors remotely. It was a ten-year-old hand-me-down, the four-door sedan that my dad replaced the year before.

I quickly stacked the books on top of the roof so I could open the passenger door and hold it for Gwendolyn. She waited for me to do the honors and then seated herself. I closed the door, opened the back door, moved the books to the back seat, and hurried around to take the driver's seat.

"Take College Avenue to Elm Street. It's two block down on Elm." she directed. "I was lucky to find a place so close to campus. And I can bring my cat."

A cat. That explained why she hadn't taken a dorm room.

I was silent until I had maneuvered us out past the dorms to the campus gate, where I turned right on College. Stopping for the next traffic light, I kind of blurted out the question that had been weighing on my mind since the moment I saw her.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

She was silent for a moment. The corners of her mouth curled in a little smile. The traffic light changed. She turned her torso to face towards me. There was a polite honk from behind us. I started the car forward, my eyes back on the street ahead.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

That was a surprise! I wasn't even sure she liked boys.

"Uh, yes!" I said once my mind grasped what she was asking. I colored a little, hoping I didn't seem as foolishly eager as my reply sounded in my ears.

"Okay. You can be my boyfriend," she said simply. She spoke so easily that I began to doubt she'd actually said it.

I forced my mind to focus on my driving despite my racing heart and my sweaty palms on the wheel. In silence, we drove a couple more blocks and I made the turn onto her street.

"It's the blue one on the left. Number six-twenty-three," she said, watching me struggle to maintain control.

I pulled into the driveway and turned the engine off. "We're here," I said, turning to look at her. My new girlfriend! I had so much to say, but my power of speech was tenuous at best. I think I just gazed at her, drowning in her beauty, probably merely looking stupid. But her pretty mouth was smiling. What did it mean, I wondered; her face, her eyes, a complete enigma. Could she read my longing?

"You can kiss me if you want," she said softly. What I feared was only fantasy had become reality by mere pronouncement.

Miraculously released from my trance, I eagerly leaned across the console in a surge of joyful gratitude to meet her precious lips. She reached up and pulled me to her, bringing my mouth to hers. I felt her teeth graze my lips as hers parted. Her hand on the back of my head pulled me down, mashing us together, our mouths merging ravenously. I had been kissed before, but never like this!

Our tongues tangled. They wrestled fiercely until hers took my mouth by force, invading it, filling it, pressing deep and owning it. I was reduced to sucking it. Gently at first, caressing it with mine, and swallowing her saliva, I sucked on her tongue with growing urgency. She was relentless; she was conquering me with her tongue and with her spit. I sucked harder, hungrily. I whimpered, surrendering to her, confessing my need.

"There!" she said, triumphant, suddenly releasing me. "I knew you would be a good kisser. A boyfriend should be a good kisser, don't you think?"

I sat up, dazed and deliriously happy. "That was amazing, Gwendolyn!" Saying her name was like an incantation.

She reached into my lap and found my fervid erection. "Yes, definitely boyfriend material!" She giggled, giving it a proprietary squeeze. Later I would wonder if she saw me as a project, a work in progress.

"Anyway, thanks for the ride, Mike." She pronounced my name with a certain care that gave a boost to the euphoric pride I was feeling. She unbuckled her seat belt. "Want to take me to dinner? Pick me up at six thirty?"

Of course I did, but apparently a reply was unnecessary, because she went on happily, "You decide where to go. I like everything. Whatever you can afford is fine." She sat with her hands in her lap. "I know it's our first date, but we're just starving students after all." She smiled beneficently, and sat.

I suddenly realized she was waiting for me to do the gentlemanly honors. I rushed to attend; I opened, held, and closed the door for her. Then I retrieved her books from the back seat.

"Want me to carry them in for you?" I asked hopefully.

"Aw, you're so nice," she said with a twinkle that implied that she thought I had ulterior motives. "No thanks. I'll take them from here." All I wanted was to be near her and not have to go away.

I gave her the books and watched her walk up the steps to the porch. I could have watched her forever. She turned and waved.

"See you at six thirty!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking!" said Gwendolyn, her eyes wide in mock indignation.

"Mff, No," I sputtered, almost choking on a mouthful of noodles. That wasn't exactly what I was getting at, though it was good to know. "I just don't understand. You don't date and you've never had a boyfriend before?"

"Well, have you? I mean, a girlfriend?"

"No... " I hadn't thought of it like that. "You meet a girl, maybe at a party, and you might even have sex, but when you meet up again, it's... there's just no spark. You just have nothing in common."

"So why would it be any different for me?" she reasoned patiently.

"Because you ARE different," I countered. "I mean, look at you. You're gorgeous and sexy and funny and smart and..."

"And you have a crush on me," she interrupted. "It isn't that. It's what we talked about before, gender roles and power dynamics. That's what it is." She looked at me, penetrating me. "Isn't it?"

I nodded. She is so amazing, I thought. She knew me better than I knew myself.

"So you're worried that I'm a lesbian, or a man-hater, or some kind of frigid freak, right?" she said, laughing.

I laughed too. It was contagious. Plus, she was so adorable! Plus, she had hit the nail right on the head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had decided on the Chinese buffet - I knew what it would cost in advance and you had a variety of food to choose from. Gwendolyn had changed; she was wearing a simple blouse in a blue that accentuated her eyes, with a skirt a few shades darker and low-heeled shoes that looked dressier than the sandals she had worn earlier. Her legs were bare. She looked perfect, much nicer than I looked in a clean pair of jeans and a polo shirt. But the shirt was blue, so we kind of matched.

She let me lead her to a booth that I figured might give us a little privacy. She slid onto the seat and I went to get drinks, just two ice waters and cups for the hot tea we would order.

"This is so much like the one in Springdale. Even the same name."

I laughed. "Pretty close. This one's China House; ours is China Chef."

Gwendolyn laughed too. The decor was almost identical and the buffet looked like it offered all the same dishes. "Good choice, Mike! I know exactly what I'm going to have: lobster egg foo young and vegetable fried rice."

I stood back up to head for the buffet.

"And, would you put some egg foo young sauce on the fried rice? That's how I always have it back home."

"Oh," I said, with the realization that she wanted to be waited on and that I'd have to make two trips. "Sure. Be right back!"

She waited for me to return with my Mongolian beef and sesame noodles before digging in. I think she felt the same touch of home comfort as I did. So conversation came easily. Yes, she knew it wasn't really lobster. And she won the chopstick contest, handling them more deftly than I could.

I wanted to know more about her individual project topic. Did he have a title for it yet? She didn't. She only had rough ideas at this point and knew she was going to have to narrow it down to turn it into a research project.

"It's going to be something that tackles the huge inequality between men and women. Maybe some comparisons between cultures; we know, for example, that where women are oppressed, there are also oppressed minorities and more corruption in the courts and the government."

I had some sense of that from following international news, but hadn't given it much thought; maybe it wasn't coincidental.

"And, the societies where women have the most rights are the societies with the highest standards of living!" she said emphatically, like closing remarks for the prosecution.

Not only did the argument make sense - it jibed with everything I knew about international economics (admittedly not a lot) - but her delivery only made Gwendolyn more magnificent. She was animated and beautifully intense. I was literally in awe of her. I was impressed with the depth of her knowledge of the subject. I wondered how she had become so interested in it and I said so.

"Just observation, Mike," she said. "A lot of observation," she added, her expression becoming thoughtful. I could see she wanted to give me a real answer.

"I haven't told you much about my family. I have two older sisters, much older: one is twenty-eight and the second one is twenty-five, only she's not my sister any more. She's trans. He's trans, I mean."

I nodded. Not so unusual, but still, you never know what else is going on.

"Okay, so my oldest sister, Evelyn, she goes through men like... I don't know. Like a revolving door. Every Christmas she brings home a new one. They're always 'The one,' you know?" She rolled her eyes. "And Madelyn - he's 'Mike' now, like you - she liked boys so much she wanted to be one, so now he's a gay man. At least he's in a relationship, not that I really get those two, Mike and Eddy."

She looked for my reaction. I widened my eyes to signal my avid interest; she clearly had more to say.

"And my mom, she makes me so sad. She was going to grad school in Astrophysics; she wanted to join NASA. But then she met my dad - he was an Air Force pilot. Very dashing and all that, but she gave up her dreams for him. And honestly, I don't think he cared. Took it all for granted. When he got out and went to work for the airline - before I was born - they settled down in Springdale. When I was old enough my mom started substitute teaching..."

I could see the injustice of it. I could see it in her face. Life isn't fair, is it? I was tempted to say that out loud.

"And all those stupid kids in high school. Not just the boys. The girls too. Especially the girls - I can almost understand the boys. They've got hormones and they've got those stupid girls. Why do they let themselves be used like that? I wasn't going to have any of it. So I kept to myself mostly."

How I remembered! The incredible attraction I felt toward her aloofness that signaled both strength and vulnerability. Was I the only one who saw that?

That's when I remembered that she never answered the question I asked her in the car earlier, if she had a boyfriend. So I reframed it. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that brings us up to date: Gwendolyn laughing, and saying, "So you're worried that I'm a lesbian, or a man-hater, or some kind of frigid freak, right?"

And it was funny. I laughed with her. I laughed at myself. "Okay, sort of," I said.

And then I turned serious. "But, if I'm your boyfriend now - and you know you're my first and only girlfriend - I need to know what that means. I've never felt like this and I've never known anyone like you. Tell me what a boyfriend means to you. Because that's what I want to be."

"You're so sweet." The way she said it it almost sounded like a brush-off, but it wasn't. "I don't mean that you're like weak or soft. No, you're cute and sexy in a kind of manly way."

She paused, choosing her words. I definitely liked the ones she'd already said!

"But you're different. Other boys are like... they see me as a thing, a thing to possess, a prize to win, or like a challenge, you know? Like something to conquer, to lord it over." She gave me a very sharp glance.

"Not you, though. I could tell right from the first thing you said to me. From the way you said it." She smiled. Did I mention how beautiful she is when she smiles?

"I've been testing you. Did you know that?"

I said, "Yes." I mean it was obvious now that I thought about it.

"And you passed every time!" she beamed at me.

"And you really want me, I can tell," she added, teasingly.

I was tempted to feign indifference, in the spirit of teasing, but it was hopeless.

"I bet you're hard for me right now!" she said. She slipped off a shoe and extended her foot into my crotch, proving her point. She rubbed my bulge with her toes.

"And you'd do anything for me, wouldn't you? Anything that wasn't harmful or illegal. Right?"

I nodded my head. I wanted her with every fiber of my being. Her words alone were enough and her foot was tantalizing me beyond my capacity for speech.

She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "If I asked you to crawl under the table and lick my pussy, right here and now, you'd do it wouldn't you?"

I nodded slowly, solemnly, leaving no doubt, wanting her to ask it, wanting her to command me. My cock was very hard, very much on a hair trigger.

"But you would never do it without my permission. I know that. And I love that about you," she said.

She brought her right hand up from under the table and offered it to my lips. "Taste me. See what you do to me."

I took her proffered fingers into my mouth and tasted her arousal. They were very wet. The scent pierced my brain.

"Can we go now? I want to drive somewhere." She was already standing up.

I grabbed the check; I had almost forgotten it. And I was chagrined that I'd have to stop at the cashier. I fumbled with my wallet. I dropped the check and thirty dollars on the till and caught up with Gwendolyn at the door.

She took my hand and said, "Take me someplace we can park. I want to try that big back seat you've got."

(to be continued)