The Resurrection of Crazy Jane
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2016 by GonzoJournalist

Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A young man, struggling with a burgeoning sexual relationship with his girlfriend, has his life turned upside down by an exciting temptress. She takes him on a roller coaster ride that gets much too real. (Trigger warning: There are adult characters in this story who have been affected by rape and molestation, as well as psychological issues arising from it.)

Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Coercion   Fiction   Tear Jerker   Crime   Cheating   Revenge   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Size   Big Breasts   Public Sex   Slow   Caution  

In the summer of 2005, I first saw the movie preview for "The 40 Year Old Virgin."

Even though I was only 20 years old at the time, let's just say that it hit a bit too close to home.

Getting a girlfriend was something that happened to ... other people.

Not me.

Finally getting a girl, let alone actually having sex, was a pipe dream stacked on top of another pipe dream.

But that stupid movie inspired me to actually grow a pair. I was not going to end up a 40-year-old virgin!

I had to reverse my fortunes.

I got some industrial grade acne medication to clear my face.

I tried looking people in the eye more often, and along with that, actually speaking to humans more often.

I also found out people thought I was kind of funny. Who knew?

The hardest thing, though, was running and lifting weights. The entire concept was totally antithetical to my nerdy "I hate jocks" persona that I had cultivated my entire life. But, I stuck with it - and actually kind of enjoyed it.

Again, who knew?

Six months into my transformative vow, I finally landed Beth.

I met Beth in our college creative writing class in the spring of 2006. We began getting close, bonding over movies, writing, and all that artistic junk that literature majors like us held dear.

In quite awkward fashion, we hooked up. But, neither of us could admit that that was our ulterior motive.

We got an idea to work on a collaborative story. It was about a young elf (me) and a regal forest nymph (her). They were seeking to recapture some MacGuffin device from an evil wizard.

Truth be told, the story was utter shit. Just a cheesy "Lord of the Rings" rip-off. All you need to know, though, was that the whole "story" was just a ruse that allowed us to hook up with each other, after which we promptly abandoned our story.

Like me, Beth was a virgin. Technically.

It's complicated. It's a long story. It truly is.

She was a bigger girl and I thought she was kind of cute. She had a great smile and was curvy in all the right places. And good lord, the girl was seriously stacked like a never-ending game of Jenga. But unless she wore a tight top (which she never did), she wasn't the kind of girl that would actually get looks from passersby walking down the street.

We were two birds of a feather like that. Nobody would notice either of us. Except for the stacked thing. I wasn't stacked.

See? I told you I was funny.

But Beth seemed to actually like me. That sort of thing didn't happen often. Ever.

By summertime, we were in the midst of a truly virginal courtship worthy of balloons, puppy dogs, and pretty pink flowers.

I didn't push the sex thing on her. It just wasn't the thing to do. Again, it was a long story.

But mercifully, about three months into the relationship, she finally let me.

Our first time having sex was a blur. All that buildup ... for that?

It was quiet, after-school-special copulation. Very awkward. Confusing. I had no idea what I was doing. I barely knew where to put it. Neither did she.

Even though she was way older than me at age 26, she was a virgin, too.

And sex frightened her.

Luckily, it frightened me less. I was strangely confident in the bedroom. It was the damndest thing. It was so unlike real life, where everybody else frightened me. I guess, since I already got the girl, why get nervous? As such, it only made sense that I would take the lead in our sexual relationship.

That's what led to me heading to the bookstore to find a book. A how-to book. I needed to learn how to do this stuff.

It was this stupid trip to the stupid bookstore that changed my life forever.

Beth happened to work at this particular bookstore, so it made it difficult to sneak in and procure a sexual instructional manual. I had to go prospecting for "Kama Sutra" knockoffs on the down low.

I was quite nervous while looking in the sex section at the bookstore. I was worried somebody would see me. Honestly, I was worried that Beth's co-workers, who knew that I was her boyfriend, would see me, report back to her, and tell her that I was some pervert messing around in the sex section. I have no idea why I was nervous about that. Sex is a normal adult subject. But with Beth, it was, I don't know ... not normal.

I found an older paperback there and began thumbing through it. It was called "A Sensuous Man." It was written like an instructional manual. It was, essentially, just what I needed. It was graphic, talking in detail about pleasure zones, cunnilingus, and all of the other taboo subjects that we just weren't told about in the dark ages of the early 21st century.

The approach taken in the book put me at ease.

"Assuming you have found your ideal woman - or at least a woman who will do until that one comes along - it's time you learned how to make love to her so capably that your mutual satisfaction, your outright ecstasy, is assured."

Beth needed this. To enjoy sex. To not be scared. I wasn't scared. I just didn't know what to do. I just wanted her to feel good. To relax. I didn't want her to be the frozen, scared plank she was. Somebody had to lead this.

As I pondered this, previewing the book with rapt attention, a sweet, sing-songy voice broke my concentration.

"Sir, are you finding everything okay?"

I was startled and instantly froze. I felt a harrowing and fearful chill burrow its way up my spine and slap me in the back of my head, like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I looked up from the book to see a mind-bogglingly gorgeous girl.

I knew I was taken by Beth. But I wasn't dead.

She wore a pair of black, wire-rim glasses and her lips just shined. They were bright pink and glossed up, begging you to notice them, which I did. She bit her lip as she looked at me, a move that always made my pulse quicken.

My eyes glanced downward, looking at her nametag on her green bookstore polo, perched atop a pretty staggeringly large swell of breasts for an otherwise slim girl.

"Zoey" it said.

Most men could've cycled through that reaction in a matter of seconds. But for me, armed with my magnificent social anxiety, it spanned 10 truly long seconds of staring silence. It was a long time to be quiet after somebody asked a question.

Throughout this torturous span, I saw her expression change three times.

After biting her lip with an almost innocent stare, she transitioned to a raised eyebrow as she waited for a reaction. Then, she produced a more relaxed giggle as she seemed to look me up and down. Then she smiled.


I was startled at the realization. Was she checking me out? I wasn't sure that had ever happened before. I wasn't the kind of guy that actually got checked out.

I finally stammered out some words.

"I ... uh, I'm just, um ... browsing." I quickly closed my book and, without looking, tried to nonchalantly place it back on the shelf without her noticing.

"Are you sure there's not anything I could help you with?" Zoey asked, arching her eyebrow. She looked down again at me then back into my eyes, letting a little giggle escape her lips. I don't know why I thought this, but it seemed like her giggle was ... scripted and not spontaneous. It's just something I noticed. Or pondered.

She had her hands behind her back and stretched slightly, arching her back, which had the effect of stretching her bookstore polo shirt out even more across her chest.

And I noticed. And looked. It occurred to me that if I pretended to be reading her nametag - which I had already read - I could get away with looking at her chest a second or two longer.

I looked back down at her and into her eyes, which were blue and big like an anime girl. They were the biggest, most shimmering pair of eyes I'd ever looked into.

Then, a rush of thoughts entered me.

Why had I never noticed her working there before? Was she new? Did she go to the same college as Beth and I? Why did a girl as pretty as her work at a fucking bookstore? And how did she perfectly embody that goddamn hot librarian fantasy to a fucking tee?

Unlike my last journey inside my own head, all these thoughts and actions took only a few seconds, but they were vivid. I was suffering from sensory overload.

One thing I wasn't suffering from: Any thoughts at all of Beth and our sex life.

"I'm- uh, I'm fine. Like I said, I'm just browsing."

I twisted my elbow to place my book back on the shelf behind me while not ripping my eyes away from her. Success! Now nobody would know...

Then, proudly, she just reached behind me, right for the book I had put down. She picked it up, looked at it, then back up to me, glaring above her glasses with her shimmering eyes, her expression overflowing with playful judgment. She pinched her face in a cute frown before losing her resolve and letting it descend upward into a knowing smirk.

"Hmmm..." she said inquisitively as she lightly tapped the closed book against her palm, like she was going to punish me or something. I was frozen, scared to death. Despite those nerves, I kept glancing down. And I kept seeing her stupid tits staring at me. I kept yo-yoing back and forth from her body to her eyes, but couldn't bear to actually look in her eyes.

Get a hold on yourself, man!

"Books are a good start," she said, still smirking. She took a half-step toward me. My nerves were blazing and I felt like my heart would beat out of my chest. Then, she leaned in toward my shoulder. I kept panicking.

"Don't tell my boss I said this," she said in a whisper, looking away from me. "But books can't match ... life experience."

She stood up straight again and looked at me daringly. Her gaze was completely unwavering, like she was looking through my eyes and into my fucking soul.

Little by little, she began moving closer to me. She came closer to my face, like she was going to kiss me. Her smile disappeared and she looked like she was going to eat me. Devour me. I'd never seen somebody look at me like that in my life.

And say what you will, but it was fucking scary!

I felt like I had to return her gaze. I had to look her in her eyes, too. It was like a game of chicken.

So, I looked into her way-too-pretty eyes, absolutely mortified.

I had no idea what my body language was saying at that point. I just looked into her eyes. That's all I focused on, centering my every muscle to my eye sockets so I could look straight ahead at her. Her baby blue anime eyes were glistening white under the lights from the ceiling the bookstore, almost like they were painted on.

And she just kept looking. And moving closer. Daring me. She wouldn't let it go. Her protruding breasts began to make contact with my chest. This went on for 10 of the longest seconds of my life ... and 10 of the most intense and exciting seconds of my life.

She finally softened her gaze, backing up slightly before she produced a smile.

"You're cute," she proudly announced with an innocent grin and a tilted head, like she suddenly came to this conclusion after scrutinizing my face. "Your eyes are gorgeous. I bet you'd have no problem attaining ... life experience." She glanced down and smiled a toothy grin behind her shiny pink lips. "Yep, no problem at all."

And then she bit her lip. Again. AUUGGGH!

She quickly backed up, turned around, and while walking away, said, "If you need any more help, sir, I'm Zoey. Just look for me." She bounced away like a fucking bubbly teenager.

I looked down as she left, and then I saw it.

A tent was protruding from my pants. Clear as fucking day.

Was I that obvious? Did I have that big of a hard-on while she was talking to me? Daring me?

I felt as if I somehow avoided death. I readjusted my treasonous cock behind the waistband of my underwear and practically ran to the restroom.

I went to the sink, still hard, and splashed water on my face, looking at myself, replaying the conversation in my head.

Cute? Gorgeous eyes? What the hell was she talking about? She must've been mentally ill.

Then I looked at myself. I mean, really looked, like I was looking with somebody else's eyes.

Was this me?

My face was clear. No more pimples. My face was smooth and free of blemishes, since that acne medicine worked like a charm. That little gut I always had was gone. All that running and lifting had done me good. When I noticed I had abs a few months before, all I realized was that my paunch was gone. But I never really thought about it and noticed.

My hair was sitting in a way that was messed up, but looked good somehow. I never gave it credit before, but I suppose I had nice hair. And my eyes kind of jumped off my face. I mean, I looked at myself in the mirror every day, but I guess my eyes are the first thing I notice about myself. So it's the first thing everybody else notices, right?

Obviously Zoey noticed.

Wow, I wasn't ugly.

Mind blown.

Then, I reflected on Zoey and what she said to me. How she was looking at me. And I absolutely beamed with pride. I'd never experienced anything like that before in my life. I've heard forever about "love at first sight" and that must have been what they were talking about - that experience I just had with Zoey.

Get a hold of yourself! You have a girlfriend. Beth is your girlfriend. She is your first girlfriend, and she loves you and you love her, you stupid, stupid fuck!

Even with that thought about Beth, I grabbed at my still rock-hard cock. I felt it twitching along with my heartbeat, and I saw Zoey in my mind's eye.

I couldn't help it. She was so damned attractive. I couldn't even use the word "hot" because, from the way she spun a phrase, she was definitely smart. She was better than "hot." She seemed like she could keep up with me. I'm not brilliant, but I hated having to dumb down my average vocabulary when I talked to people. If she and I were on a date, she could easily keep up.

Jesus, man! What are you even saying to yourself? Stop. Just STOP!

I went to the bathroom stall to gather my wits and the first thing I noticed was my tent. I felt the torque from my pants and boxers being stretched out and pushing back into it.

I don't know what moved me, but I suddenly unzipped and pulled my cock out and looked at it.

Zoey complimented my dick, didn't she? Man, that's a fucking rush. Zoey thought I had a big dick?

I started beating off, right there in the bathroom stall. At my girlfriend's place of employment. Thinking about one of her co-workers. I just simply didn't give a single fuck.

I stroked my cock like a madman, dry-handed, and despite the rug-burn, it took me only 30 seconds to cum. Tops.

I breathed raggedly as my cum splashed on the door of the stall like I was shooting a fucking water gun against it.

I never came like that in my life.

The time is right, I suppose, to tell you why Beth was all weird about sex.

When we first started dating, she said she had a secret.

She told me that she wasn't really a virgin.

She told me that her birth father had brought her into some religious cult where he and his friends ritualistically raped her when she was a child. From the story she told, they were masked, holding torches and raping little girls. Or at least that was the image that was seared into my mind from her harrowing tale.

It was, obviously, a bombshell. I had no idea how to react to that news. Even now, I still don't know how to handle it.

And she doubled down. She said that the experience caused her to have split personalities. Sometimes, she said, she'd fade in and out, acting a different way completely, believing she was somebody else based on the triggers in any given situation. Afterward, she'd have no memory about it when it happened.

I know what you're thinking...

Dude, RUN!

But it wasn't that easy. Actually being in a relationship with somebody who had experienced that, was essentially made crazy by that, it becomes the kind of thing you couldn't simply ignore.

I cared about her. And she was my first girlfriend. It's not like I would get another. I'd marry her eventually. That's what people did, right? So I had to be there for her and work through it, doing what I could to help her deal.

And that meant being sensitive about sex. Because, of all those triggers in her environment that set her off, sex was a major trigger.

It was difficult because I was pretty healthy about sex. I was raised that it wasn't taboo. My dad left his Playboy collection out in the open for bathroom reading. It just wasn't a big deal.

I wanted to explore her body and make her feel good while I made myself feel good and grow together through sex.

But we were so damn awkward about it.

Christ, at that point, we had had sex a total of exactly 6-1/2 times and I hadn't even cum yet while I was with her.

It was a problem.

But, being honest about it, the fact that she was frozen solid during sex, scared to move, scared to do anything or say anything, let alone let herself enjoy it, was probably the problem.

That's why I was so excited when Beth bought a bra the day after my bookstore episode with Zoey. It wasn't like any of the tan granny bras she had. This was a pretty bra. It was honest-to-god lingerie. The good stuff.

It was a symbol to me that, as our sexual relationship began to grow, she was trying.

Her roommate Nikki was staying the night at her parents' place, so we had her apartment all to ourselves. That's when she showed me her cherry red bra that pushed her magnificent tits up and together, framing them perfectly.

I was in heaven.

She was finally letting me have her.

I lifted her sweater over her head and ran my hands over her bra. It was an amazing sight. She was smiling, giggling awkwardly, but seemingly content. She let me lift her bra cups and suckle on her breasts, chewing on her nipples. I lost myself in her. She moaned for the very first time and had a high-pitched, sing-songy squeal whenever I did something she liked, like graze my pointed tongue along her hard, moist and crinkled nipple as it protruded an inch from her chest.

Within a couple minutes, I just took her. Right there on the couch in her living room.

My cock was straining in my shorts and I was grinding against her thigh. And she wasn't pulling away. On occasion, I think I even felt her reciprocate by moving her thigh, ever so slightly, into my humping thrusts as my lips explored her body, trying to put her at ease.

She was still pretty frozen. But she was smiling. Giggling. Moaning.

Holy shit, she actually wanted it!

I fetched a Magnum condom from my bag and slipped it on. Before long, I was rubbing my thick cock head against her clit, and I swear, she jumped with pleasure. At least it seemed like she did. I didn't think it was in my head.

It was finally happening. Though we'd technically had sex several times, this seemed like it would be the first time that we actually fucked like normal people.

Every time we had had sex, getting it in was problematic. She was so tight, negotiating my cock into her seemed to take 30 seconds or more. She'd always complain about pain. She'd often tell me to not move at all, because it hurt whenever I thrust.

But not this time.

She wrapped her arms around my neck as I thrust into her. Fully. I'd withdraw my cock almost completely with each thrust before lunging forward and bottoming out.

This felt good.

I looked into her eyes as I kissed her and she shockingly had a glazed sex look. At least that's what it seemed like. I was new at this. I didn't know.

She had a 1,000-yard stare, off into the distance, enjoying the moment. Feeling everything.

Her voice raised a few octaves as she was moaning in high-pitched mews. She had yet to close her eyes or really return my gaze, looking back into me, which I thought was a good sign. She was focusing on her body. I knew it. Focusing on the pleasure.

At long last, I finally felt it. My balls tightening up. My cock hardened even more. This was it.

Without her roommate in the house, I moaned LOUD.

If I wasn't wearing a rubber, I would've blown a pint of cum into her, which I confirmed when I pulled out and saw a golf-ball sized reservoir of cum swelling the end of the condom.

"Oh my God," she finally said in a high-pitched voice, smiling and, for the first time, showing a look of actual lust in her eyes.

She enjoyed it!

We were both grinning like idiots and in a matter of minutes, we just fell asleep together on the couch, holding each other.

The next morning, Nikki came back to the apartment and told Beth that they needed to talk.

It was a bit of a bomb, but Nikki said that she had been secretly struggling with her finances for months. She was trying to not bother Beth with it, but she was at her breaking point. She couldn't make rent this month and she was moving back in with her parents.

Nikki would be gone within a week.

I offered immediately to move in with Beth. Yes, it was a big move, but I was ready to make it. We were a real deal. Sex the night before had confirmed it.

Yet, she was apprehensive.

"I ... I'm not ready for that," she told me without making eye contact with me. "I mean, we just started dating and it's just..." She was kind of shaking while having this conversation. It was the exact opposite of the girl that all but seduced me the previous night. She was "scared Beth" again.

I think she knew what cohabitation implied and she simply wasn't ready.

I knew that. I understood. She didn't have to explain it to me. I smiled and kissed her and told her I'd be there to help her financially if she couldn't find anybody, even if that meant I didn't live there. I was crashing on my friend's sleeper couch for $75 a month (even though I was mostly at Beth's), so I had cash to spare.

In the meantime, she began the search for a new roommate.

I helped her design a flyer and we figured she'd hang it up at school, maybe in the library.

"I'll hang it up in the bookstore too when I go to work later," she announced.

I immediately froze and thought of Zoey, for the first time since I had met her.

Why, idiot?! Why?!

My pulse quickened and my breath caught in my throat from the simple mention of her name. I stifled a grin for Beth's benefit.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you worked tonight," I told her with an unsure tone.

"Yes, and I'll miss you too, you big dork," she told me before grabbing my hand. She looked into my eyes for a moment then said dreamily, "I love the way you look at me. It makes me feel ... special."

I gave her a noncommittal smile, because this "look" I was giving her was because I was far away, thinking about Zoey, and that Beth would be working with her that night. I guess a daydream look amounted up a look of love. Apparently.

Jesus, get your act together, man!

I let my mind wander. Beth and Zoey. Were they friends? Would Zoey tell Beth? Did Zoey even know who I am? And besides, it was quite forward of Zoey to blatantly flirt with me like that. She must've flirted with guys all the time. I'm not such a prize catch that my dumb ass made her lose her mind like that.


"Um, why are you, you know?" Beth asked, pulling me out of me reverie. She angled her eyes down at my crotch to tell me I had gotten hard as a rock suddenly. She looked unsure and scared, and I just beamed and shrugged.

"I'm a growing boy, Beth. You rev my motor," I flirted with her, trying to cover up the source of my excitement - my daydream. She didn't take it as a flirtation at all, though.

"I can't handle this right now," Beth exclaimed suddenly before standing up and walking around in a panic, flailing her arms in exasperation. "I can't do this. I'm not your, your..."

I stood up and went to hug her. The sight of my girlfriend having a mental fit had a way of neutering my libido, so I was fully in control when I tried to embrace her.

"Beth, sweetie, I'm sorry ... it's okay," I told her as I wrapped my arms around her. As soon as I made contact with her, she shuddered and pulled away. Her face scrunched up.

"I ... I ... need to get ready. Get dressed." She skulked off and went into her bedroom and closed the door.

I sat down on the couch and clenched my hands together, just staring. I'd be lying if this were the first time I saw Beth act strangely like this. The sex from the previous night was a long memory at that point.

When she was out of sorts, I learned to wait it out. Then, with time, she'd get back to normal. Give her space. That was the biggest thing.

I picked up a book of poetry from the bookcase to occupy myself until she hopefully came back out. It was a book of poems by William Butler Yeats. I thumbed through and began to read, settling on "Crazy Jane and Jack the Journeyman."

I know, although when looks meet

I tremble to the bone,

The more I leave the door unlatched

The sooner love is gone,

For love is but a skein unwound

Between the dark and dawn.

As I ruminated on Yeats' first lines, she came out of the room, dressed in her uniform, grinning. She smiled widely at me and bent down to kiss me on the forehead.

"Could you walk me out to my car?" she requested, grabbing me by my hand like she didn't have a care in the world. Somewhat stunned, I walked down from her apartment to the parking lot. She squeezed me with her hand as we walked, looking at me happily yet silently, almost in adoration. Once we got to her car, she got up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

"Would you meet me during my lunch break? Say, 6 p.m.? If you're not, you know, busy."

I stared, nodding. "Sure, Bethy," I said as I apprehensively brought her into a hug. She looked at me silently, still not finding the nerve to say the l-word - neither of us had even said it to each other at that point.

With a quiet look, she got in her car and took off.

It wasn't until Beth drove off that it occurred to me what I agreed to.

Zoey would be at the bookstore. Or, at the very least, she might.

All that flirting. That kind of thing didn't happen often - or ever - to me. But Zoey probably acted that way all the time. She probably didn't even remember me.

And so what if she did? It wasn't like I did anything wrong. I didn't flirt with her. If anything, she came on to ME! And the book I was looking at was innocent ... ish. Beth might've freaked out. She would've thought I was gross. But what was one more thing? I already pretended that I didn't have thousands of dirty pictures saved on my computer. I was fine. We, Beth and I, were fine. There was nothing to worry about with Zoey. Nothing.

Yeah, right.

If Beth found out I was browsing through the sex section, she would freak the fuck out. Completely!

I exhaled, drove back to my place, and got out my books to study for my literary criticism quiz the next week.

Unfortunately, it took me 15 minutes to write a measly two paragraphs about Jacques Derrida and deconstruction. My mind just kept thinking about that book, "The Sensuous Man," which made me think of sex with Beth. Which made me think of Zoey and how forward she was. And that look she gave me that made my spine quiver. That magnificent body I had yet to solidly look at.

Those eyes.

I shouldn't have been a surprise to notice that I unconsciously fished my cock out of my pants, thinking about Zoey.

Why fight it? FUCK!

Before I knew it, it was close to 5 p.m.

In my postorgasmic bliss, I finally managed to write a response to Derrida and do away with my studies for a day. I decided to surmise that Derrida was just an asshole, in so many words, and that the umbrella of "deconstruction" merely provided him the vehicle to be an asshole in academic affairs. Yes, it was a bullshit paper, but it was only worth 20 points toward my final grade. So, I figured, fuck it.

Regardless, no more homework meant my mind was left to think about my girls. Namely, that my girlfriend was ... interesting ... and that there was a chance I would see Zoey again when I met Beth for her lunch break. Both topics bounced around in my head.

I couldn't figure out Beth's emotions for the life of me. She seemed fine, until sex entered the equation. Since, she'd been all kinds of nutty. I tried to be sensitive. But I couldn't keep up with her.

Zoey, well, was just tits and ass. That was all I could let myself think at that point. It wasn't like I could rationally think about anything else. I didn't even know her. It would have been all speculation. There was no use getting hung up on speculative matters. I just couldn't get over the fact that I had never been hit on like that in my life. And I was hit on. Whether I actually was or not, I was hit on. That's what my brain chose to believe.

I kept obsessing about both, so I figured I'd get there early and sit in the cafe at the bookstore, waiting for Beth to clock out for her lunch break. And I hoped and/or dreaded seeing Zoey. Let's just say, from a purely sporting angle, I was eager to see her again. No matter what, she was exciting.

I entered the bookstore and looked around for Zoey. And Beth. I tried to not be too excited to find either one of them. But I still moved my head back and forth, peeking around all the shelves to see if I could spot one of them.


Maybe Zoey wasn't even working that night?

A little relaxed, I took a seat and sipped on a coffee before getting out my notebook to fiddle around and write some poetry.

I liked to free-write, getting words onto paper, letting go of images or sounds that were trapped in my mind. Then, they'd come together as I spun a poem out of them. I didn't particularly like poetry, but I won undergrad writing awards at my University, so I think I was obligated to continue to write some.

I started to get some words on the page as they came to me.

Masochistic passion engulfs me

like using a machete to trim fingernails

Devil eyes of an angel

A periscope into my soul

Popping and mashing

into a paste of goodbyes

It wasn't great or even good, but it was a start. This was my process - write without much thought, then edit and find the meaning in rewrites. "Mash" sounds? Paste? I must have been hungry.

"Is that my sensuous man?"

I froze. I knew that voice.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, moving lightly down my upper arm as she swept into view.


Without being invited, she sat across from me like she was my best friend. I tensed my posture and closed my notebook. I don't know if I turned white, but whatever that feeling was, it became known in my personal vernacular as the "turning white feeling." Or whatever. I was a free writer. I would edit it later.

"So, decided to not buy the book, huh? Chose to gather experience instead?"

This damn girl was the most expressive person I'd ever met. She showed happiness, fun, and sex all over her face. She just oozed whatever emotion she was trying to convey with her precious mouth and her pink, shiny lips.

It was fucking intoxicating.

"Hi ... uh, Zoey," I finally managed to eek out, trying not to make eye contact. When I looked up, she playfully scrunched up her face to me.

"Good," she said. "You were looking near my name tag the other day, but I didn't know if you ever actually looked at it." On cue, she pushed her heavy chest up and out at me. Jesus, the girl could flirt!

I was so riddled with nerves, all I could think to do was run. I squirmed in my seat. I wanted to run away from her. She scared me.

"I, uh, remember things," I said, my eyes shifty and unable to focus on her eyes. "I'd, uh, like to think of myself as observant." I sat back straight and picked my notebook up, clutching it in my hand, looking for a getaway. I kept yo-yoing between her eyes, hidden behind her sexy glasses, and her chest. Again.

Meanwhile, she looked straight at me. Unwavering. Dammit!

Sensory overload! Sensory overload!

"Whatcha got there?" she asked. I was confused. Then I realized where she was looking.

My notebook.

"Uh, it's, uh, just my poetry and stuff," I stammered out. Before I could even hatch a plan for this upcoming conversation about my writing that we were obviously going to have, she reached over and snatched the notebook out of my hand. I instinctively tried to grab it back but it was outside of my reach. She flashed me a cocky smirk.

She looked at the cover, which was my best attempt at calligraphy, writing the words "Poetry, Etc." with doodles all over it. I liked drawing cartoon characters, so one was of Homer Simpson dressed like a Shakespearean leading man, in knickerbockers and a beret, but burping.

"Cute," she said, pointing to Homer. "You drew this?"

I nodded meekly, probably blushing.

"Cute and talented. And I haven't even looked inside yet," she teased. Her proclamation that I was "cute" made me uncomfortable. But, it made me beam, too. "So I assume the et cetera is drawings?" she asked. I continued to blush and tried to reach across the table to get my book back. She swatted at my hand and glared at me like a disappointed mother. "May I?" she asked as she began to open it up.

Like I had a choice.

Every bit of writing inside was dated at the top. The poems were marked up all to hell, scratched out and erased. She just kept thumbing through, almost disinterested.

Then her face erupted into a huge smile.

"This one has today's date on it," she said, her face glowing like she just discovered gold. "Was this what you were just writing?"

I lunged at her to get it back, but sensing I might strike, she pulled it away from me. She began reading aloud.

"Masochistic passion engulfs me," she said in an almost mocking, monotonous poetry reading-style voice. "Damn, you are a sensuous man. And kinky."

" ... like using a machete to trim fingernails. Hmm." She looked inward for a moment, obviously thinking about it.

"It's not done yet. I haven't even done a rewrite."

She continued, "Devil eyes of an angel. A periscope into my..."

"I hate that word," I interrupted her. "That word, soul, is so cliché but I couldn't..."

"Popping and mashing," she interrupted back, "into a paste of goodbyes." She began to put it down and looked past me, her flirtatious look finally gone. "Dang. The sensuous man is a poet."

She grinned at me again and placed the book on the table. Slowly, she moved her hand toward mine and began to rub a finger on my right hand. She looked up at me, a bit more serious, and lightly bit her lip.

Gah, her lip!

"You're here!" I heard from a distance. It was Beth. I was shaken back into the real world at the sound of her voice as Zoey jerked her hand away from mine. Beth hugged me from behind and placed a kiss on the side of my cheek. She was feeling good, from the sound of it.

Beth then looked up and saw Zoey as she sat across from me, my notebook still in front of her. "You guys know each other?" Beth asked.

"I-uh, she..." I began to answer, but Zoey interrupted.

"He was in here the other day and I met him when was buying the 'Complete Works of Shakespeare, '" she said, cool as a cucumber. "I saw him sitting here writing, so he was letting me read a bit. You know, killing time until my shift starts," she smiled.

I lifted my arms to cover Beth's at that moment, just to let her know I cared about her. And not Zoey. Not Zoey.

"You know me, Beth," I chuckled. "I'm a whore for letting people read my stuff."

Beth audibly grunted. "Gah, you know I hate that word." I think I even felt her shudder, but that didn't keep me from rolling my eyes. Zoey looked at me and flashed a little smirk.

Zoey broke up the awkwardness. "So, you two are..."

"Yep!" Beth proudly announced and kissed me on the cheek. "Three months now, huh?" she asked me. "I forgot you're new. You weren't here yet when we started going out. Everybody here lost their minds when we starting going out. It was so annoying," she grinned.

All I could pull out of Beth's words was that Zoey was new. That's why I'd never seen her before.

Zoey gave an odd look to Beth. "Girl, good job reeling in this one," Zoey said. "Probably had to poach him from somebody else, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Beth asked innocently.

"I mean, he's smart," Zoey said, picking up my notebook. "And super cute. I assume he was taken." Then, she smirked flirtatiously. "Either that, or you're just dynamite in the sack. And have devil eyes of an angel, hmm?" She looked at Beth and me with a proud smile on her face, quoting my own poetry.

I felt Beth tense up at the sexual comment. "Uhhh, no," Beth said, almost sounding grossed out but laughing awkwardly because she knew that socially, she had to. "We, uh, met in a writing class," she continued. "Wrote a story together and just, he asked me out."

I looked at Zoey nervously. She could obviously tell she hit a sour chord with Beth. Her face looked crestfallen. "That's cute," Zoey said. "You got a good one. As did you, sir. Beth is probably the sweetest girl here." Zoey stood up and gave Beth a big hug. "Well, time to clock in," she announced. "Have a good lunch, Beth. Bye, Shakespeare."

Almost as suddenly as she appeared, Zoey disappeared behind the book stacks, leaving us alone.

Beth let go and bounded into the chair across from me. She seemed, I don't know, bubbly.

"She's sweet," Beth told me. "Weird she was sitting here with you. I didn't know you guys knew each other."

For some reason, I was calm. I was able to come up with a deflecting comment. "Yeah, she just, sat down and talked to me. It was weird. I don't even know her." That's right. Throw her off the scent. Don't know what scent there is, but if there was one, it smelled like strawberry shampoo and perfume.

Goddammit! Focus, man!

"Yeah, she comes on strong," Beth said. "And she gets, you know, inappropriate," Beth guffawed. Yes, Beth. I NOTICED.

Beth and I had a nice lunch break together. I got a pastry and we hung out. The awkwardness from earlier in the day was gone. We talked about school and what movie we might want to see on our next date. She was normal.

She only had 30 minutes for her break, but 20 minutes into it, Zoey walked up, bouncing with a Cheshire grin on her face. All of her was, well, bouncing.

"Hey Shakespeare, found a couple books you might get use out of," Zoey said. "And Beth," she told her, "When you get off break, find me. I wanted to ask you something."

She dropped off a stack of books, all about Shakespeare.

The one on top: "A Glossary of Shakespeare's Sexual Language." I immediately shuffled that one to the bottom before Beth could see. But, that only revealed "A Dictionary of Shakespeare's Sexual Puns and their Significance." And I turned that fucker over. I smiled at Beth awkwardly.

"What did she give you?" Beth politely asked.

"Just, um, some lit crit books for when I take that Shakespeare class next semester. I was asking her about those yesterday."

"Better you than me!" Beth said, rolling her eyes. "I hate Shakespeare!"

I was never so happy to hear somebody say they hated Shakespeare.

A few minutes afterward, Beth had to get back to work. "Tonight's going to take forever," she whined. "They have me working in the stock room all night, cataloguing. I hate cataloguing."

I gave her a sympathetic look and a hug. "Sorry hun. That sucks." She shrugged.

"It's okay. See you in Creative Writing tomorrow morning?" she asked, and I nodded. I gave her an almost chaste kiss. "See you then." Still, no l-word, as she walked off.

I grabbed the books Zoey gave me and went to the checkout. I had no idea if or how I was going to use them, but you could bet your ass that I was going to buy them.

Lucky for me, Zoey was working the register. When she saw me approach, she began smiling and laughing. Nobody else was in line, so she talked semi loudly.

"Holy crap, I didn't think you'd actually buy them!"

Feeling remarkably at ease, I smiled at her. "The girl that helped me made some great recommendations," I told her, finally somewhat confident. She returned a cheesy grin.

"Well, sir, just make sure you hide these under your bed with the rest of your dirty books," she said blithely. "Can't have your girlfriend find them. I don't think she'd approve."

With that comment, that short-term ease vanished. Dang, this girl is just ... unbelievable.

After she rang them up, she began to grab under the register. "Hold on, there's a giveaway this week. Let me get yours."

She crouched down for quite a long time, like she was digging for something. After about 10 or 15 seconds, she got up, stuffed something in the bag, and handed it to me.

"Have a wonderful night, sir," she smiled with a crooked grin.

I gathered as much of a gander of her as I could, focusing on her ridiculously sexy mouth, and finally forced myself away as I left the store.

Once I left, I immediately grabbed into the bag to see this "giveaway item." I noticed it immediately.

A paperback copy of "A Sensuous Man." She had stuck a bookmark inside of it. She had written a note on it.

"If you fuck half as good as you write, Beth, or any other girl, will be very satisfied. -Z"

"Any other girl" was underlined. Twice.

Mind blown.

The next day, I went over to Beth's, and she was again ridiculously happy. I was so glad to see that temperamental Beth was going away.

As I walked into her apartment, she gave me a huge hug. "So," she said excitedly. "I have some great news!" She could barely hold in a cheesed-out grin.

"What is it?" I matched her smile.

"I found a roommate!"

"Awesome! Who is she?"

As I said that, I heard the door to Nikki's room open. I saw a girl stroll out of the room and down the darkened hallway. She had an amazing body and long hair. Every part of her was bouncing as she stepped.

My body tensed up and a jolt fired up my spine that was both exciting and nauseating.

"Hey there, roomie!" Zoey said to Beth.

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