Chapter 6

Wednesday April 26

I experienced magical sex today. A part of me very much wants to explain it away as hypnosis or drugs, but no, it was fucking magic. It was amazing, but I’m seriously freaked out.

When I checked my tracker this morning, I learned that Laurel had visited the sorority house again last night - this time at about 1:30 AM. I decided I should pay them a visit and see what I could learn.

It was about 9:30 when I got there. The girl who answered the door was named Jessica. I introduced myself as Allie with the cover of writing a newspaper article about Laurel, but Jessica didn’t know who she was.

I showed her a picture of Laurel. “Oh, that girl!” She exclaimed. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. I wouldn’t know if she was here last night though - I live in a dorm. But I definitely remember her.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Well, she’s kinda a walking contradiction. She’s sort of nervous and awkward, you know? Not to be mean, but she is. But all of the older girls treat her like some revered alumna, which is obviously uncomfortable for her. I heard from one of the other freshmen that she pledged last year but was blackballed.”

“So they kicked her out of the sorority, but they’re all still on friendly terms?” I asked skeptically.

She shrugged. “I think it’s a ‘Then how the reindeer loved him’ kind of thing. They used to not like her, but something happened. I’m not even sure they actually like her now, really - it’s more like she’s royalty or something.”

“Any idea what changed?” I asked.

She shook her head. “You could ask Avery. Oh, or Hector - I bet he would know!”

“Who is Hector?” I asked.

“He’s our housefather. He manages the sorority house and takes care of us. Come on! I’ll introduce you!”

Hector was a curly-haired man in his late twenties who would have been very much in his element on the cover of GQ. He was at a large table just finishing breakfast with two sorority girls. He was wearing a blazer with a button-down shirt that was half open. He smiled in greeting when we came in.

“Hector? This lady has some questions that I don’t know the answers to,” Jessica told him.

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed. “Have you had breakfast? I can have the girls whip something up for you.” He turned to face the girl on his right as if about to make a request.

“Oh, no thank you,” I told him. For some reason, I think I was blushing. “I’m sorry to disturb your meal. I’m Allie Ainsworth. I was hoping to interview you about Laurel Reiser for an article I’m writing.”

“No bother at all.” He stood up and nodded to the girl to his left, who cleared the table. “Why don’t you come to my office? We can talk there.”

His office was a bedroom with a king-size bed. There was a desk, a bookshelf, and a second chair, so I suppose “office” wasn’t a lie, but it seemed like a strange choice of words. In a gentlemanly gesture, he moved behind me and took my jacket. Then, in another gentlemanly gesture, he put his hands on my shoulders and began to rub them. I melted.

“So, you take care of these girls?” I asked. My mind danced with giddy notions of what exactly that meant.

“Yes.” His hands made my muscles sing. The door closed and some cautious habit born from many frat parties told me it was time to reevaluate my situation. But everything was fine.

“That seems like an unusual arrangement,” I said, slower and softer.

“It is. But it works for us.” He kept rubbing my shoulders, and I felt his body draw closer to mine. I was having trouble concentrating.

“What’s the relationship between the sorority and Laurel?” I asked. He began to lift my shirt. “I ... I understand she pledged?”

“Yes,” He told me. He was rubbing my bare skin now. “Many of the girls liked her. Some didn’t. But they all eventually agreed that she wasn’t a good fit for the sorority. Social graces - I say this with great respect - are something of a challenge for her.” He laid me on the bed and straddled me, rubbing my whole back. “That was before I was here.”

“But something changed?” I asked. Whatever trance I was in was deepening. Words were unimportant. My mission was unimportant. He unhooked my bra. I worried that someone would come in and interrupt us - interrupt whatever this was. I wanted it.

“She rescued them from a demonic sex plant.”

“Demonic ... sex ... p...” That’s as far as I got. I was lost to his touch. My higher brain went away and let me focus entirely on feeling his hands digging into my skin and muscle, all over my body. Let me be clear: this wasn’t like being pass-out drunk - more like meditation. My mind was still there, but I had set it aside.

I don’t know how long the massage went on. I only barely noticed when he removed the rest of my clothes. I didn’t notice at all when he removed his own. But I wasn’t at all surprised or displeased when he slipped his dick into me. And the massage went on: he continued to treat my muscles to his relaxing touch even as he fucked me impossibly slowly. I didn’t come like that, exactly. Everything he was doing released waves of euphoria through my whole body. It was actually more massage than sex.

Jessica knocked and then immediately cracked the door. “Hector? Professor Lindman says her flight got moved up. She’s wondering if you can make time for her this morning.”

“By all means. Send her in,” he said.

Hector changed his rhythm. Still upright sitting on my legs, his hands held my hips while he smashed my pussy at a more conventional pace. I was coming by the time the door opened again: clutching at the sheets and probably drooling as I softly moaned.

What happened next was rather confusing. Someone entered the room. I felt Hector get up off of me and off of the bed. I turned to watch him approach a forty-year-old woman in the skirt suit and take her into his arms. And yet, I could still feel him pumping inside me. Hector was still fucking me even after he left. I kinda freaked out - partly because it was impossible, and partly because I worried that thinking about it would make it stop. I felt like one of those cartoon characters hovering in the air after walking off a cliff, reluctant to look down.

I turned face-up and opened my legs but there was nothing to see. I hesitantly waved my hand in front of my pussy and found nothing there. And yet I felt it, moving inside me - not just a thing, but a living piece of a man I was sharing an experience with. The rest of my body, too, seemed to feel a phantom presence, like the heat of another body. It was the ineffable but entirely familiar experience of being with someone. But that was nothing as tangible as what my vagina was experiencing.

Professor Lindman watched me and then remarked, “She’s new, I take it?”

Hector set her on the edge of the desk and lifted her skirt. “She’ll catch on.” Then, louder, “Jessica? Do you think you could find someone to keep Allie company for a little while?” He pulled the professor’s panties aside and began fucking her on his desk, muttering degrading things to her that she obviously enjoyed quite a lot.

I summoned my courage and stuck my fingers inside my pussy. My fingers felt no foreign presence, but my pussy still experienced Hector’s driving cock. I withdrew my hand and stared at my come-covered fingers. Hector had come inside me. Just then a short but shapely brunette sorority girl wearing a towel walked in. She wasted no time crawling across the bed to suck on my fingers with a knowing grin. She climbed on top of me and we started kissing. I came with my arms and legs wrapped around her, wailing in confused satisfaction.