Carl McHenry looked up from the textbook spread out on his dorm room desk and out the window at the now dark sky. He had been trying to understand the last economics problem in the review for the last hour and still couldn't get it. Maybe he was just overtired, he told himself. After all, he had been studying non-stop for the last nine hours.
Attending the University on a scholarship, Carl needed to maintain at least a B average. It was because he was having problems in a few of his classes that the eighteen-year old had decided to stay in the dorm this weekend and try to catch up. With the last night of the Homecoming Weekend festivities in full swing, most of the rooms around him were empty and for once, even the halls were quiet. His roommate, Brian, had taken the opportunity to take his latest conquest on an overnight trip as well.
"Maybe I should take a walk down to the Student Center and get something to eat," Carl said to himself as he remembered he'd only had a soda and some chips to eat since breakfast and the dinner had ended three hours ago.
Carl was about to close his books when there came a knock on the door. The sudden noise startled him since he'd become accustomed to the uncommon quiet.
"Now who could that be?" the dark-haired teen asked himself as he rose to his full five foot, six height and went to answer the door. "Maybe it's Donna Perez come to tell me that she's tired of the Captain of the Football team and that it's me that she really wants." He laughed to himself, thinking that he had indeed been studying too long to even make a joke that silly.
Aside from being Head Cheerleader, with the emphasis on the first half of that title, Donna Perez was the girl most of the male portion of the freshman class dreamed about at night. Dreamed of and, Carl was sure, used as a masturbation image. He knew he did.
Opening the door, Carl wasn't surprised that it wasn't Donna come to rock his world. What did surprise him was that it wasn't a student at all. It wasn't even a member of the faculty.
The woman standing in the doorway was slightly shorter than Carl with medium, brown curly hair and a face that looked like it should be on a fashion magazine. She was wearing a short, black sleeveless cocktail dress with a rather deep V-neck in both front and back. The outfit made the student think she was one of the Alumnus attending the Homecoming reception. Whoever she was, she didn't give the appearance of someone who was lost.
"Can I help you?" he finally asked when he managed to take his eyes off the firm rounded breasts that the short dress displayed so prominently. A view that could easily banish Donna from his nighttime fantasies.
"Hi there," the woman said with a smile, her words and the slight giggle with which she spoke them giving Carl the impression that she'd been drinking. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No," Carl simply said, wondering what was going on.
"Good," she replied just as simply as she stepped past Carl and into the center of the room.
Totally confused, the teenager let the door close behind them and turned to follow her.
"It's just as I remember it," she said as she looked around the small dorm room. "Isn't it amazing how some things never change."
Carl looked around the room as well. To his eye, it was the same as every other room in White Hall. Her recognition of the room at all made him think he knew what she was doing here.
"I take it this was your room at one time," he asked, sure he had put two and two together. He'd heard of Alumni visiting their old haunts during previous Homecomings.
"Not exactly," she said as she stepped over to his bed and ran her hand across the headboard.
"Were you a student here?" Carl asked.
"Class of '86," she replied, allowing Carl to make a quick calculation and put her age at thirty-eight, which was a lot older than he would've guessed. "I had a room over in Wilson Hall on the other side of campus." she added in clarification to his previous question.
That only confused him even more. If she had lived at Wilson, what did she want with his room?
"I guess I really should explain," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, an action that gave Carl an even better view down her dress. "My name is Sandra by the way, Sandra Hoffman."
"Nice to meet you," the freshman said, hoping she hadn't noticed the way he was staring at her breasts again. "And I'm Carl."
"When I was a freshman, a hundred years ago," she grinned, "this was my boyfriend's room. And I guess, for a while, it was sort of my room too, in a way."
Carl just nodded his head in understanding. It didn't take a house to fall on him to realize that she meant that she used to share her boyfriend's bed. Imagining how hot his visitor must've looked like back then, he envied the guy who once had this room.
"This place had a lot of pleasant memories for me," Sandra went on as she ran her hand across the center of the bed. "This is actually the bed in which I lost my virginity."
Carl blushed at that comment, thinking that maybe it was a little more information that he really needed to know. Evidently, the older woman realized that as well a few moments later.
"I guess that's something I should've kept to myself," she apologized. "Sometimes my mouth gets away from me when I've had a little too much to drink."
"It's okay," Carl said.
"I'm sure the spot where you did it the first time is pretty special to you as well," she went on.
Carl's reaction to that comment told her that she'd done it again.
"Oh I'm sorry," she apologized again, "I didn't realize, I mean..."
"It's okay, really," Carl said, not able to believe he was standing here in short pants and a T-shirt discussing a subject like this with a strange woman, "It's not like virginity is some kind of disease."
Yet, that was exactly as Carl and many of his friends looked at it. A disease that he wanted to cure himself of in the worse way. So far, unfortunately, he hadn't found any girl on campus willing to lend him more than a hand.
"No girlfriend?" Sandra asked.
"Not really," came his reply.
"Well I'm sure that it's only a matter of time," Sandra smiled. "A nice looking young man like you is sure to attract the girls."
"Did you and your boyfriend stay together after college?" he asked, changing the subject to something less embarrassing.
"No, in fact Jimmy and I didn't even make it until the next year," Sandra said, "that was his name, Jimmy Danson. I married someone else that I met after him, which in hindsight was a mistake. We broke up a few years later."
"I'm sorry," Carl said. He wasn't sure how you were supposed to respond to things like that but he remembered his mother always telling people she was sorry when she heard bad news.
"You don't have to be," she said, "it was probably just as much my fault as his. I didn't score too well with marriage the second time around either."
"Wow," Carl thought, "she's been married twice already."
"How come you're here all alone while everyone else is out having a good time?" she asked as again the subject changed.
"I'm a little behind in some of my classes," he replied. "I figured I'd use the time to try and catch up."
"Not a bad idea," she said. "I think you're a lot smarter than I was at your age."
Carl didn't say, but he certainly thought, that he'd gladly have traded freshman years with Sandra. Or at least with her boyfriend.
"So what are you studying?" she asked as she noticed the open textbook on the desk and got up to take a look.
"Economics," Carl answered as he moved to the open book as well. "I've been stuck on a problem."
"Hmmmm," Sandra said as she quickly read the problem, "that's a tricky one."
"Tell me about it," he laughed, "I've been trying to figure it out for over an hour."
"Have you tried working it out this way?" Sandra said as she picked up a pencil and started to put down a few figures on his legal pad.
Carl had trouble following her for a moment as he leaned over next to her to look at the pad. Then the numbers suddenly made sense. The answer was so obvious that he felt a little stupid not having seen it before.
"Don't feel bad," Sandra said as she looked up. "I've got a masters in business administration. People pay me a lot of money to know things like this."
Carl's embarrassment at not knowing the answer turned to embarrassment of another kind. As Sandra turned, her dress shifted and her breasts became even more visible from his vantage point. This time, he could even see the edge of her nipples.
The deep valley of her breasts held his attention too long as Sandra finally noticed. Rather than say anything, however, she instead glanced in the direction of his crotch and saw the physical evidence of the effect she was having on him. A small smile appeared on her face.
"I guess I should take that as a compliment," she said, causing him to finally take his eyes off her mounds.
He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.
"I guess I should apologize again," she said.
"I get a hard-on looking down her dress and she's the one who wants to apologize?" Carl thought, remembering that the last girl who'd caught him doing that wanted to put his lights out.
"After all, I'm the one who came in here, dressed like this and started talking about how I lost my cherry in that bed," she went on. "I don't blame you for reacting like you did."
Carl didn't know what to say. This woman certainly had a much different attitude than any girl his own age.
.... There is more of this story ...