Less Than Half
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Romantic, NonConsensual, Rape, Slow, School,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A quirky romance between two college students. This story began as a short story for a creative fiction class ten years ago and I've gradually been adding and re-editing it since. I'm reposting part one and adding the other three parts. There is no real explicit sex in Less than Half.
It seems strange to think that no matter how involved we are with a person, we may not really know them. Everyone has been in that situation with a co-worker, classmate, or friend. You think you know someone really well, and then they do something so totally unexpected that you question how well you know them. There are people who would call this naivety, I disagree. If it were that simple to explain, the human race would have destroyed itself long ago.
I don't believe that there are people in this world who have never been surprised by the actions of another person. Anyone who claims to be is a liar. Perfect people do not exist, perfect intentions might. The point being that life is made up of experience. Whether or not we learn from our experience is entirely personal, but sometimes we find that we learn a lot more than we think.
I think a good example of this is my relationship with Kathy. I thought I knew her, received the shock of my life, and discovered a lot more about her character than I thought ever existed. In the end, she turned out to be a much stronger person than I would have given her credit for.
"... We move in circles with our eyes on the door, saying so little, thinking much more, stranger and stranger we start to feel, the night is over and nothing is real..."
Patty Smyth and Scandal continued to harmonize in the background as I got down my suitcases and began packing. Kathy had finally gone too far and I was leaving. I had really tried to make the relationship work, but her mood swings, along with her drinking were finally proving to be too much. Ever since the fight last month, things had been somewhat icy in our relationship. Try as I might, I couldn't forgive her, or myself, for what happened. In some ways, I suppose it would be cliche to say, but she had really gone too far, and I wouldn't forgive her. Of course, I've said that before.
It had all started so long ago. She had been in one of my classes at school, and I thought she was very attractive. I was a twenty year old junior Business Administration undergraduate student. My last serious relationship had fallen apart some six months earlier, and I was just trying to get through another semester. I had to take a history class as an elective, so I had chosen a 300 level class about Ancient Rome. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone that way -- liberal arts elective and a 300 level elective. I also figured that it would be an easy A. Funny how things never quite turn out as we plan.
I was sitting in class, patiently waiting for the professor to arrive, when she walked in. She was tall - about five feet, eight or nine inches, about one hundred twenty five pounds - with long sensuous, straight blond hair that curled at the ends, generous breasts that made me wish I was the sweater covering them, nice hourglass shape, and legs that went on forever. She came into class wearing a midriff baring white half-sweater -- showing her pierced belly button --, black mini-skirt and sandals, calmly looked around, and selected a seat further down the row I was in. As she settled in, she turned and winked at me with one of her beautiful brown eyes. I think I needed a crane to yank my jaw back into place. Normally, the girls who flirt with me tend to be the 'nerdish' type with thick glasses and no social life, kind of like me. It is not normal for a girl that half the men in school are lusting after to give me a second glance, let alone flirt. I must have missed at least half of the lecture I was so stunned. At least this class would be interesting I decided, one way or another.
A few weeks into the semester I noticed something. No matter where I sat, she would sit a few seats down, in the same row. As the semester continued on, she would move about one seat closer a week. There was no real pattern to it, some weeks she would move two seats, some one, one day five.
I would occasionally glance her way during the lectures. She always seemed to catch me at it too, and flash a little leg, or breast depending on how she dressed. I became convinced that she had a wardrobe that consisted solely of mini-skirts and low-cut blouses. Actually, she did wear jeans sometimes -- I lived for those days, did she ever fill them out! -- but only with a shirt she could undo some of the buttons on. She really loved catching me glancing her way then. A sly little glance from me, she would drop her pencil and lean my way to pick it up, or lean back to stretch much like a cat with her arms over her head, thus causing my eyes -- and those of anyone else who might be looking -- to leave my head.
Finally, I was sitting there one Tuesday towards the end of October, when she appeared next to me and sat down. She had on a dark blood-red blouse, with the first three buttons undone showing some tanned cleavage lightly brushed by her blonde locks, faded black jeans that looked painted on, and bright red pumps with a sensible one and a half inch heel. My heart about stopped when she sat down. She just gave me her usual dazzling smile, fixing her liquid chocolate eyes on me, and made herself comfortable. I was so shocked that I dropped the pen I was taking notes with right next to her left foot. She bent down, picked it up -- almost popping open another button on her blouse, and widening my eyes considerably -- paused while she was bent over and glancing up at me, flexed her considerable cleavage I flushed and averted my eyes at having been caught staring. She giggled and handed my pen back to me with her typical mischievous smile.
I think I missed at least half of the lecture that day. I couldn't concentrate. I would try to pay attention, then I would catch a whiff of her spicy perfume, glance her way, get caught in the usual manner, and turn away slightly crimson. Then she would go to get something out of her bag, brushing my leg as she bent over. I, inevitably, jumped as though burned, much to her obvious delight. When I looked down at her to see what was going on, she flexed her very exposed breasts at me and winked. I'm lucky the professor was too oblivious to notice or I'm sure he would have thrown us both out of class.
As the lecture ended, she leaned over, brushing up against my arm and scribbled something quickly on my paper, blew me a kiss, then she was gone. I had to run to another class across campus, so I didn't read what she had written until that evening.
All her note said was Tau Omega 9:00 Saturday. I just rolled my eyes and crossed it out. Tau Omega is a frat that my friend Chuck belongs to. I am not big on the Greek scene, and I would never make plans to go to a party at one of the houses, especially that one. The Tau Om's seem to think that all there is to life is making up stories about the women they have supposedly scored with, drinking until you puke, then starting to drink some more. In between drinking bouts, they attempt to pick up the the drunk sorority girls. It makes me wonder why more girls don't end up pregnant, and more guys don't end up with funny diseases.
I figured that it was just my luck she was in a sorority. Body aside, her being in a sorority would make me question her intelligence, or lack there of. I don't have much more respect for the women in soroities than I do for their fraternity brothers. I also wondered if she was one of the drunk girls that seem to gravitate to Chuck's parties. If she was, I really didn't want to get to know her better. You never know what you might get.
Thursday, she again sat next to me in class. This time in a denim mini-skirt, white tee-shirt that was thin enough to show she was not wearing a bra, and sneakers. She didn't say anything, but clearly noticed that I had crossed out the line about the party on my paper. If she was disappointed, she didn't show it. But as class ended, she vanished before I could say anything to her. I assumed that she decided I wasn't interested and headed out for the next eligible guy.
As things turned out, Chuck called me Saturday night, about eight o'clock. He invited me over to drink a few beers, and set the place up. I tried to beg off, but he wouldn't let me.
"C'mon Glen, you really need to cut loose once in a while. Just come, help set up and stay a bit. I bet we can even find you a woman."
"Piss off Chuck, I really need to study," I replied tiredly, rolling my eyes, " besides you know how much I like your frat brothers." I'm not exactly looking for a woman, either, I thought.
"Great, I'll be there to pick you up in a few minutes. There will be lots of pretty babes too, " and he hung up the phone.
"Good God," I thought, " here we go again." Chuck has done this to me before. Rather than try to guilt trip me into going, he just literally shows up, drags me out, and then tries to set me up with some bimbo. He thinks that since I got him through Freshman Chemisity, he owes me something. I appreciate the fact that he looks out for me, and it's probably good for me to get out, but I don't enjoy it much. Still, it beats hanging around an empty apartment all night, especially when I know I won't be getting any studying done anyway. When he showed up, I went with him.
We arrived at the fraternity house shortly thereafter and began setting up for the party. The set-up consisted of standing around drinking beer and arguing about the furniture placement.
"I think we should move this couch into the courtyard," Chuck said, pointing to a god-awful looking faded crimson love seat, "then people could sit outside and enjoy the evening air."
"Chuck," I replied, "the couch weighs too damn much to move with just the two of us. Besides it looks like rain, are you sure you want to move it outside. I mean, it's pretty well destroyed already, but a little rain..."
"Let's move it. If it gets wet, oh well."
Around nine, people started to show up, all bringing what ever they wished to imbibe for the evening. At first, it was just the frat guys who didn't live in the house and their girlfriends, with very few single women. As things progressed, I got more and more bored, until, I was in the hall observing the party, and doing my best not to get involved. It was fun in it's own way, watching drunk fraternity boys trying to pick up on drunk sorority girls. If you had a video camera, they would all be pretty embarrassed in the morning -- the perfect cure for a hangover! The video camera would also be very helpful for the person who wakes up the next morning trying to figure out exactly who this is next to them and why, but I digress. Meanwhile, the couch in the courtyard was getting quite a workout, as a drunk couple was attempting to make out without falling off, much to the delight of a few onlookers.
I was standing, alone, in the hall when she found me.
"Glen, I'm so glad you're here. But what are you doing standing here all alone? Chuck wouldn't like that you know." I was so shocked that she knew my name that I just said the first thing that came out.
"Well, I guess I'm just not much for frat parties. Actually, the only reason I'm here is that Chuck feels I spend far too much time in my apartment being anti-social and insisted that I come." She looked delectable in her blue jeans and tight black tee-shirt.
"You're not the only one who doesn't like frat parties. All these drunk boys trying to pick up on you. What say we blow this place and go to a movie?" She looked a little disgusted about the bacchanailian scene going on around her.
"Sure," I replied, anxious to do anything to get away from this party, especially with her.
"I'll drive. My name's Kathy by the way."
"Pleasure to meet you. At least now I don't have to say 'hey you' all night."
She smiled and with that, I followed her out the door to her car, leaving the drunken noisy party behind. I had the feeling I had been set up, but the chance to get away from the party seemed worth it. I wondered just how well she knew Chuck.
She grabbed my hand and dragged me about two houses down to a beautiful metallic blue Ford Probe. With a bit of fishing, she found her keys in her cavernous purse and unlocked the passenger door. I got in and sat down in the comfortable black leather seat, as she walked around the car and let herself in. As soon as she put the key in we were blasted by Jimmy Buffett singing about Margaritaville, while Kathy put the car in drive and headed for the dollar theater.
"So, if you don't like frat parties, what were you doing there tonight," I hollered to be heard over the stereo, as she drove.
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied coolly, as she turned down the radio, "of course that wouldn't be polite."
"Ok, I'm only kidding," she smiled, "I was asking some of my friends in our history class about you and Chuck's name came up. My old roommate Denise is good friends with a lot of Tau Omega's including Chuck. Since she had seen you with Chuck, she told him I was interested in you and convinced him to drag you to the party so I could get to know you better. I needed to enlist his help since your notebook indicated that you weren't interested in going."
"So your way of getting to know me better is to drag me off to a movie? Couldn't we just go somewhere to talk?" I was a bit confused as to her motives.
"After the movie. I needed an excuse to get you out of the house, after all. I really hate the way frat boys just assume that you're easy because you came to one of their parties, and have a beer or two."
I could sympathize with that statement. I'd seen Chuck at enough parties to understand exactly what she meant. Of course, with her body, it wasn't too hard to understand why they would hit on her. I think most probably hit on her drunk or sober, although they were probably a little braver about it when drunk.
To this day, I can't recall what movie we did see. I guess I was too enamored with Kathy to pay much attention. I also was trying to figure her out. I didn't get very far