Late one evening, Day and Daryl were in the basement make-out room of his fraternity house. Day’s bra was unhooked, her sweater rucked up, and while Daryl’s hands roved beneath Day’s skirt, toying with the waistband of her panties, he asked how she got her name.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Day asked.

“No, no, I’m really interested.”

“When I was born my mom didn’t know what to call me.”

Daryl’s fingers were now beneath the panties, making small circles in Day’s soft pubic curls.

“And my dad,” Day continued, Daryl’s finger now slowly stroking her clitoris, “my d-d-dad said—Oh, Daryl.”

“Your dad said, ‘Oh, Daryl’?” His finger tested the moisture welling from her sex.

“N-no-o, he said, ‘Well, it’s a gr-great day anyway.’ Oh, Daryl. Do you have a thingie? I need you inside me now.”

Daryl sheathed his cock in a condom and pushed Day’s panties aside. Day straddled him and sank down.

“And they decided to call you Day?” Daryl said, pinching her nipples. Pulling and pinching.

“Yes!” Day exclaimed, her head thrown back, her pelvis thrusting, rolling, rocking. “Yes, yes, yes!”

The excitement of her orgasm triggered Daryl’s. He filled the condom.

“Oh, baby,” he said, some minutes later while caressing her back. They were still joined. His penis was starting to stiffen again. “Oh, baby, I love you so much.”

“Shouldn’t you put on a new one?”

“It’ll be okay. You really should go on the pill. Then we wouldn’t need—”

“You know how I feel about that. Put on a new one, okay?”

Day lifted herself off of Daryl’s erection. She watched him remove the condom and tie a knot in it. She watched him fit a fresh condom over the head of his penis and roll it down. Then she straddled him again and began the slow ride. “Do you like my name?” she asked.

Daryl had his hands on her bottom. “I like your name. Heck, I love your name. I love every part of you. Even this part.” His finger touched her anus.

“No,” Day said, twisting and lifting. “Not there.”

“Such a sweet tail,” Daryl whispered.

Day said, “Don’t be naughty,” laughing immediately after. Daryl laughed with her. Then they were serious. “Oh, yeah,” Day said some minutes later. “Oh, Dar, I’m going to again. Oh, yeah.”

Later still she watched Daryl remove the rubber. “Not so much this time, huh?” she remarked.

“Not so much,” he agreed, “but just as good.”

“That’s good.” She hugged him, and they got up and straightened their clothing, and he walked her back to her sorority house.

§

Two days later Day and Daryl were strolling across campus, holding hands. “You know one reason I really like your name?” Daryl said.

“Because I’m so full of sunshine?” Day said.

“Well, that, right. But I really like that your name is inside of my name. Day and Daryl, with two letters left over.”

Day nodded. “But that’s just a coincidence. What if you were named Rupert and I was named Olga? Then you wouldn’t like me?”

When Daryl didn’t answer right away, Day said, “You wouldn’t, would you? You wouldn’t like me if I were an Olga?”

“Of course I’d like you,” Daryl said. “But still I think it’s neat that if you take the r and the l out of my name, we’re the same.”

“R and l, huh,” Day said. “Like in real life. Speaking of real life, I have to work on my English paper tonight. It’s due next week.”

“So I’ll see you in the library?”

“I’d like to,” Day said, “but you’d just distract me. And before you know it, we’d be back in the basement of your frat. I’ve really got to get this paper done.”

“I won’t distract you,” Daryl said. “I promise.”

“Just thinking about you is a distraction. Thinking about you sitting next to me gets me all you know. Now be a good boy and kiss me goodbye. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He kissed her and held her and kissed her again. At last, reluctantly, he let her go. “Say,” he said, backpedaling, “what if I get Josh to loan me his car tomorrow night? We can go out to that steak place.”

“Sure,” said Day. “See you tomorrow.”

§

Driving Day back to campus from the restaurant, Daryl said, “Is everything okay? You seem a little distracted. Didn’t you like the dinner? You hardly said anything all night.”

“No, the dinner was okay. I mean it was great, really great. Thank you.”

“So what is it then?”

“Nothing. Maybe I am a little distracted. That English paper is sort of getting to me. I probably should work on it tonight.”

“Tonight? But I thought...”

“Oh, could you swing by the post office on the way back. I have a couple of letters to mail.”

“Letters?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Day took two envelopes from her purse and handed them to Daryl.

“Fat ones,” Daryl said. “Were you up all night writing them instead of working on your English paper?”

“Not really. They’re just to my mom and dad and to a friend from high school.”

“High school, huh? A girl friend?”

“Yeah, a girl friend. Jeannie. We write back and forth all the time. I’m sure I mentioned her.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention. Remember when we saw those kids squirting each other with the hose and I said it reminded me of running through the lawn sprinkler with Jeannie?”

“Oh, yeah, the lawn sprinkler.” Daryl swung the car into the drive-thru drop-off lane at the post office. He twisted toward the window. One of the letters slipped from his hand and slid down between the door and the seat. The other letter he thrust into the letter box mail slot.

“Thanks,” Day said.

Back in front of Day’s sorority, Daryl got out of the car and went around to open the passenger door for Day. “You sure you don’t want to come by the house for a while?” he asked.

“I’ve really got to get that paper under control,” Day said. “You know how it is. Thanks again for the dinner. It was really great.” She gave Daryl’s lips a peck of a kiss and hurried up the sidewalk to the sorority house.

Daryl drove back to his house, but in the parking lot he didn’t turn off the engine. He fished Day’s letter, it was the fat pink one to Jeannie, from where it rested at the side of the seat and stared at it. He set the letter on the passenger seat, shifted the car to drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. In a few minutes he was back in front of Day’s sorority house.

He was about to pull up to the curb in front when he noticed Day on the sidewalk walking briskly away from him towards campus. He stopped the car in the middle of the street and watched. She didn’t have any book or notebooks with her.

A car behind Daryl honked. Daryl pulled to the curb. Day was down the block, almost out of sight.

§

In his room at the fraternity house, Daryl studied the fat pink envelope. It was addressed to Jeannie Anderson at a college in a different state. Daryl frowned. The envelope was thoroughly sealed. He went to the bathroom down the hall and filled his coffee pot with water. Back in the room he plugged it in. A few minutes later steam was rising from the spout. Daryl ran the sealed part of the envelope back and forth through the steam. It took ten minutes, but eventually the seal gave to the light pressure of Daryl’s fingers. Daryl took the folded sheets of notebook paper out of the envelope.

The first short paragraph was about some boy Jeannie was seeing. The paragraph ended: “If you don’t love him, you should dump his sorry ass, that’s what I would do.” The next paragraph started: “Speaking of being in love...”

Speaking of being in love, I am. Head over effing heels. The only problem is he’s married. And he’s my English professor. Professor Rupert Benjamin. He’s a visiting professor from England, and has this deep and creamy British voice that’s been driving me crazy all semester. Tonight I went to his office to talk about a paper I have for his class. He is so wise. So caring. And so effing hot!!! I was standing at his deck while he was going over my paper, and before I knew what was happening his hand was on my bottom. Just resting there for a while, but then circling and squeezing a little and then squeezing harder, and I knew I shouldn’t let him, but I was helpless, and one thing led to another. I just got back from his office. I’m still trembling. I can hardly hold the pen. No, we haven’t actually made love yet, but only because he didn’t have any condoms. But we kissed so sweet and deep. And we touched each other. His penis was so nice and warm. And big! I think he’s bigger than Daryl. I was so tempted to kiss his penis. His prick. It was so cute and hot and big!!! And when I squeezed it just under the head a teardrop of clear stuff pulsed up from the slit on top. I was so tempted to let him put it in me. But that damn condom. He said next time he would have one. Next time is going to be tomorrow night. I can hardly wait to feel him inside of me. Maybe I ought to do what Daryl wants and go on the pill, but I understand that takes a couple of months before it’s safe and I don’t have a couple of months. Tomorrow!

Okay, I’ve calmed down a little and I’ll tell you a little more. Tonight while he was kissing me I was stroking him, and suddenly he shot out all over the desk. So much stuff! I was a little embarrassed. I actually apologized. He said, “Don’t worry, my dear, it’s easily mopped up, and there’s plenty more where that came from.” But I was still embarrassed because some of the stuff had splattered some of the papers on his desk. “Shouldn’t we do it before it dries?” I suggested. “Oh, yes,” he said, “an excellent plan. I think I have an handkerchief somewhere.” That’s how he talked. An hankerchief without the H. He patted his pockets, but then he looked at me and said, “Or maybe you could mop it with your knickers? Do you think that would work?” It took me a moment to realize that knickers meant panties. As if understanding my confusion, he said, “Oh, that’s right, you call them panties on this side of the pond.” I nodded, and he said, “Good girl,” obviously understanding that I meant it was okay to use my panties. I couldn’t very well correct him. He watched me as I took off my panties. I was really embarrassed, because I knew there would be a wet spot in the center, and sure enough there was, and he noticed it. “Looks like the knickers have already seen some service,” he said, “such a spunky darling girl you are, would you like to do the honors?” So I mopped up the spatters as best I could. He seemed to have much more juice than Daryl, but I guess that’s because he’s a man. The stuff on the desk came off easily enough, but I think the mopping only made the papers worse. I can’t imagine what whoever’s paper that was will think, all stained with Professor Benjamin’s cum. Gosh, Jeannie, I’ve never written that word before. A couple of times I’ve seen Daryl’s cum, but only in the condom afterwards. Professor Benjamin said, “Good girl. You did such a good job, maybe you should have a little reward.” Before I knew what was happening, he lifted me up on his desk and put his face between my legs and kissed my vagina. It took me about two seconds to have an orgasm, but Professor Benjamin didn’t stop. He kissed me and kissed me until I almost fainted with pleasure. I think I must have had at least a dozen orgasms. When he finally stopped, he helped me sit up and he kissed my mouth. His mustache was soaked with me, and I think I had one more orgasm just kissing him. I glanced down at the desk where I’d been, and there was a puddle. A puddle—it was a lake! “Such a juicy little cunt,” Professor Benjamin said in his dark, rich, chocolate covered English accent. He smiled at me and said, “Same time tomorrow, what?” I nodded meekly, and I walked back here in a daze. I realized only as I was writing this that I forgot my panties. I wonder what Professor Benjamin will do with them, all shiny with his mopped up splatter. Probably he used them to mop up my little lake. That would be fitting. And then what? Tossed them in the trash? Put them in his desk drawer to keep as a souvenir? Maybe tomorrow night I’ll find out. Yes, I have to meet him again. Just one more time, that’s all, I promise, cross my heart and hope die. And one more time after that. And one more. Or am I getting ahead of myself? Take things day by day—my dad’s old joke. Oh, Jeannie, my heart is hammering and my middle is melting just thinking about it.

The only problem is now I have to decide what to do about Daryl. He’s a sweet boy, really, but he’s so immature. Like today he was going on about our names being almost the same. Like that’s a reason I should love him. How silly! But he was the first one—and until tomorrow night the only one—to make love to me. But he keeps pestering me to go on the pill so he won’t have to use a condom. Like I’m going to want his stuff inside me even then! Get real! Well, I’m not going to think about him now. Maybe he’ll go away. Right now I’m going to think about which panties to wear tomorrow when I see Professor Benjamin. I’m thinking the baby blue bikinis.

Sweet Dreams, Day by Day

Daryl folded up the letter and fitted it carefully back into the envelope.

The next afternoon Daryl met Day outside her English class. “Hey,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course I am. Just surprised. Don’t you have econ now?”

“I’d rather be with you,” Daryl said. “Want to get some coffee or just walk back?”

Day hesitated. “Coffee would be okay, I guess.”

As they walked to the coffee shop, Daryl asked her how the English paper was coming.

“Oh, it’s a work in progress,” Day said.

“A day to day thing?” Daryl said.

Day chuckled. “Very clever.”

“I’m a clever boy,” Daryl said.

Day didn’t respond. They sat in the coffee shop. Daryl had ordered coffee. Day had ordered tea. She stirred in two packets of sugar.

“The English drink milk in their tea,” Daryl said.

“Really?” Day replied. “I didn’t know that.”

“They do,” Daryl said.

“I believe you. I guess you could get used to it.”

“Not me,” Daryl said. “I’m not sure how anyone stands tea at all. I wouldn’t touch the stuff with a barge pole.”

After a sip, Day said, “Maybe I will try a little milk, just to see. Could you get it for me?”

Daryl went to the order counter and came back with a carton of milk.

“You didn’t have to buy a whole carton,” Day said.

“Say when,” he said, starting to pour.

“That’s good,” Day said, but Daryl kept pouring. The milk overflowed the tea cup.

“Stop!” Day said. “Daryl, stop, what are you doing?”