Chapter 40

Darkness was the passageway between encounters. I lost count of how many I had been through since seeing Jordan. For the most part, walking through a doorway was how I traveled from one to another. This encounter however, I found myself standing outside on a hot summer night.

I turned in a circle, taking in the details. I was near Brozos House and had two large suitcases with me.

I knew what night this was. I knew what was about to happen. I also remembered that this wasn’t real, but an encounter. Rho had set up my encounter with Jordan on a day we had shared previously, and things had turned out differently. Among all of the missing women, there was only one other I had met before she was kidnapped, Francine James. This was the night I arrived on campus. Francine and I didn’t have sex, unless one counts me blowing a wad in my pants while she rubbed me as sex.

Did I have to live through that indignation again or was this encounter supposed to go in a different direction?

I looked around. I didn’t see anyone else. I thought furiously about it. Unless circumstances started off differently, and so far they weren’t, then I would probably go through the same thing up to some point, much like I did with Jordan.

I grabbed my suitcases and started walking. Soon, I was passing the same huge building I had passed on my way to the girls’ dorm. I heard voices coming from one of the entryways. Trees lined both sides and cast shadows across everything. I didn’t ignore them this time. Instead of trying to hurry past the voices, I slowed down.

From the entryway, I heard a woman laugh and then she erupted from the shadows. She stumbled in front of me, giggled, and then looked up at me.

I stood there, looking her over. She was dressed in only a pink bra that barely held on to her breasts and black panties that resembled shorts but were a lot more form-fitting. Her body was pale in the dim light and curvaceous. I wasn’t embarrassed like I had been the first time. Yet, I felt compelled to ask the same question, “Where’re your clothes?”

The brunette looked me over, stumbling in the process. Her ample cleavage jiggled within her bra and I had to swallow to wet my dry throat. She looked up and smiled at me, her eyes sparkling. She ran her small hands over her body and said, “Don’t you like what you see?”

I wasn’t frozen this time. My emotions weren’t a storm of conflicts. I was simply relieved to know that Francine was okay.

Her eyes dropped, she licked her lips, and said, “Why, yes. Yes you do!”

Having some idea of where this could go, I watched her step closer and reach out for me. I knew what she was reaching for, and I didn’t try to stop her. Her hand came toward me, low and centered, and gently cupped me. With a tender squeeze, she coaxed me into a full erection.

A mix of wonder and excitement ran through me and my heart raced. I wasn’t forcibly reminded of my emotions the last time this happened and I was glad for that. I wasn’t frozen by anything more than the unknown direction I should go. Should I stand there and enjoy her manipulations of my genitals or should I drop my bags and reciprocate?

I certainly enjoyed what the scantily clad brunette was doing, and I wanted to help her to feel just as good, just as welcome.

Movement drew my attention back to where the brunette had come from. Two more women emerged from the same entryway. It was Barbie Gifford and Trudi Horvath. Whether Rho had used replicas of them or allowed the two of them to be a part of this encounter, I didn’t know. They both wore the same similar clothes to each other, but, unlike the brunette, they didn’t seem to be drunk, and were at least properly attired, not that their shorts and skimpy tops covered much more than Francine’s bra and panties.

I wasn’t on overload, but I had to admit I was certainly more sensitive to her ministrations that I would have expected. Was this the requirement I had to meet? Was I to stand here and let her rub me off in my own pants again?

The brunette giggled and looked over at the two blondes. “I found someone for us to play with.”

I looked back at her, knowing exactly what she meant. The two blondes apparently didn’t agree with the idea though. Without uttering a syllable, they turned and walked away, disappearing around the next corner of the building.

“Party poopers!” Francine called after them, and then turned to look at me again. “Looks like I get you all to myself tonight.” She moved in closer to me. She wasn’t very tall, the top of her head only level with my mouth, but the difference in our heights didn’t seem to bother her at all and she pressed her chest into me, rubbing her breasts back and forth.

Even through my shirt and her bra, I could feel the warmth of her body where she touched me. Where before I wanted to run but couldn’t make my feet move, this time, I wanted to move but forced myself to remain still. The feel of her so close felt too good.

She looked up and said, “It feels like you’ve got a party going on in your pants. Mind if I see?” Without waiting for me to answer, her fingers slid up along my zipper and pulled at the tab.

Part of me wanted to let her, to find out how things would have turned out that night had I let her have her way, but another part knew that that wasn’t how it should go. She had been magically drugged. She was supposed to disappear that night, to be made a vessel of the Lockdown. I finally reacted, catching her by her wrists. “I ... I’m not sure this is what we should be doing.”

She giggled and wrestled with me, still trying to get at my pants. “Let me give it a kiss, make it better,” she said, pouting.

Someone else said, “Francine!”

Francine stopped struggling with me and looked around. I did too, curious if this really was going to end up like that night, regardless of my actions.

It was the same woman from that night, the one who had told the police that I might have tried something with Francine, simply because she didn’t want to believe that Francine would do something as crazy as this of her own volition. “God, Francine, what are you doing? What would Jimmy think if he saw you?”

Francine smiled at her. “He could join us. Check out the package this big boy has!” She slipped a hand from my grip and groped me again.

The woman stood there watching Francine’s lewdness. When she looked up at me, I met her eyes, wishing she would go away. She shook her head and said, “Whatever makes you happy, Francine.”

Francine looked up at me again. “I will be once I get his pants open and slip his sausage into my mouth.”

Her groping had been one thing, but something about her euphemisms made the muscles in my legs and abs shake. I knew what was coming, but didn’t think Francine had done enough to illicit such a reaction.

Francine noticed and said, “Oh, God, Janice, I think he’s going to cum in his pants.” She leaned down and the pace of her hand increased.

I glanced at Janice again. She rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving us there, alone and ready to make a mess. I looked down and met Francine’s eyes.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” she asked with an expression of excitement, akin to someone waking up on Christmas morning and tearing open their presents.

I didn’t answer immediately, and she flipped the hand I was still holding around and caught my wrist. I watched, both fascinated and eager, as she placed my hand on her bra-clad breast. I squeezed her. I wasn’t disconnecting from what was happening this time, and I enjoyed the fullness and softness of her breast, not to mention the way her nipple poked through the material into my palm. My experience told me that I was seriously enjoying touching her. I also understood that touching her body anywhere would have aroused me. It was just what I needed.