Gwendolyn
Copyright© 2026 by yfnsp
Chapter 2: Dating
What are these heavy books I’m schlepping for her? I tried to read the faded spines as we began our walk across campus to the lot where I was allowed park my car. They appeared to be studies on matriarchal and matrilineal cultures.
“So what are you majoring in?” I asked, doubling my pace to catch up. Gwendolyn evidently knew the way to Lot Six.
“Anthropology.” She gave me an appraising glance. I guess I looked genuinely interested - I would have hung on every word that might issue from those exquisite lips - so she deigned to converse further.
“I was going to do Gender Studies - that’s what Ms. Greenleaf suggested - but that turned out to be way to political. God, I hate politics!”
Another sidelong glance confirmed my rapt attention.
“Did you have her? She was pretty useless as a counselor, I thought. Except for the jocks. She was all about scholarships for them. Especially the girls. She tried that on me. Creeped me out a little.”
“No, mine was Abernathy. Also useless.” I was glad to hear her reaction. There were rumors about Greta Greenleaf and the girls’ basketball coach at our rival school.
“So, Anthropology?” I said, to keep up the conversation. “Is that what these books are for? Do you have a report to write?”
“What? No, not a report. I just want to get out ahead on this subject. I got into the Individual Studies Seminar - it’s a 400-level - anyway, I want to do my study on alternatives to male-dominated societies.”
That appraising look again. I hoped I appeared merely interested. I felt something visceral.
“Did you know that in some Native American cultures, the women elders are the governing council that chooses their chief?” Her zeal was palpable.
“No, that’s amazing!” I encouraged, loving her passion as well as just listening to the sound of her voice.
“Do you know much more just and peaceful those egalitarian societies are compared to patriarchies?”
Maybe that was rhetorical, I didn’t know, but we were approaching the car and I was reaching for my key fob. I unlocked the doors remotely. It was a ten-year-old hand-me-down, the four-door sedan that my dad replaced the year before.
I quickly stacked the books on top of the roof so I could open the passenger door and hold it for Gwendolyn. She waited for me to do the honors and then seated herself. I closed the door, opened the back door, moved the books to the back seat, and hurried around to take the driver’s seat.
“Take College Avenue to Elm Street. It’s two block down on Elm.” she directed. “I was lucky to find a place so close to campus. And I can bring my cat.”
A cat. That explained why she hadn’t taken a dorm room.
I was silent until I had maneuvered us out past the dorms to the campus gate, where I turned right on College. Stopping for the next traffic light, I kind of blurted out the question that had been weighing on my mind since the moment I saw her.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She was silent for a moment. The corners of her mouth curled in a little smile. The traffic light changed. She turned her torso to face towards me. There was a polite honk from behind us. I started the car forward, my eyes back on the street ahead.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
That was a surprised! I wasn’t even sure she liked boys.
“Uh, yes!” I said once my mind grasped what she was asking. I colored a little, hoping I didn’t seem as foolishly eager as my reply sounded in my ears.
“Okay. You can be my boyfriend,” she said simply. She spoke so easily that I began to doubt she’d actually said it.
I forced my mind to focus on my driving despite my racing heart and my sweaty palms on the wheel. In silence, we drove a couple more blocks and I made the turn onto her street.
“It’s the blue one on the left. Number six-twenty-three,” she said, watching me struggle to maintain control.
I pulled into the driveway and turned the engine off. “We’re here,” I said, turning to look at her. My new girlfriend! I had so much to say, but my power of speech was tenuous at best. I think I just gazed at her, drowning in her beauty, probably merely looking stupid. But her pretty mouth was smiling. What did it mean, I wondered; her face, her eyes, a complete enigma. Could she read my longing?
“You can kiss me if you want,” she said softly. What I feared was only fantasy had become reality by mere pronouncement.
Miraculously released from my trance, I eagerly leaned across the console in a surge of joyful gratitude to meet her precious lips. She reached up and pulled me to her, bringing my mouth to hers. I felt her teeth graze my lips as hers parted. Her hand on the back of my head pulled me down, mashing us together, our mouths merging ravenously. I had been kissed before, but never like this!
Our tongues tangled. They wrestled fiercely until hers took my mouth by force, invading it, filling it, pressing deep and owning it. I was reduced to sucking it. Gently at first, caressing it with mine, and swallowing her saliva, I sucked on her tongue with growing urgency. She was relentless; she was conquering me with her tongue and with her spit. I sucked harder, hungrily. I whimpered, surrendering to her, confessing my need.
“There!” she said, triumphant, suddenly releasing me. “I knew you would be a good kisser. A boyfriend should be a good kisser, don’t you think?”
I sat up, dazed and deliriously happy. “That was amazing, Gwendolyn!” Saying her name was like an incantation.
She reached into my lap and found my fervid erection. “Yes, definitely boyfriend material!” She giggled, giving it a proprietary squeeze. Later I would wonder if she saw me as a project, a work in progress.
“Anyway, thanks for the ride, Mike.” She pronounced my name with a certain care that gave a boost to the euphoric pride I was feeling. She unbuckled her seat belt. “Want to take me to dinner? Pick me up at six thirty?”
Of course I did, but apparently a reply was unnecessary, because she went on happily, “You decide where to go. I like everything. Whatever you can afford is fine.” She sat with her hands in her lap. “I know it’s our first date, but we’re just starving students after all.” She smiled beneficently, and sat.
I suddenly realized she was waiting for me to do the gentlemanly honors. I rushed to attend; I opened, held, and closed the door for her. Then I retrieved her books from the back seat.
“Want me to carry them in for you?” I asked hopefully.
“Aw, you’re so nice,” she said with a twinkle that implied that she thought I had ulterior motives. “No thanks. I’ll take them from here.” All I wanted was to be near her and not have to go away.
I gave her the books and watched her walk up the steps to the porch. I could have watched her forever. She turned and waved.
“See you at six thirty!”
“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking!” said Gwendolyn, her eyes wide in mock indignation.
“Mff, No,” I sputtered, almost choking on a mouthful of noodles. That wasn’t exactly what I was getting at, though it was good to know. “I just don’t understand. You don’t date and you’ve never had a boyfriend before?”
“Well, have you? I mean, a girlfriend?”
“No... “ I hadn’t thought of it like that. “You meet a girl, maybe at a party, and you might even have sex, but when you meet up again, it’s ... there’s just no spark. You just have nothing in common.”
“So why would it be any different for me?” she reasoned patiently.
“Because you ARE different,” I countered. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous and sexy and funny and smart and...”
“And you have a crush on me,” she interrupted. “It isn’t that. It’s what we talked about before, gender roles and power dynamics. That’s what it is.” She looked at me, penetrating me. “Isn’t it?”
I nodded. She is so amazing, I thought. She knew me better than I knew myself.
“So you’re worried that I’m a lesbian, or a man-hater, or some kind of frigid freak, right?” she said, laughing.