Chapter 18

David
Later the following morning, David still had a goofy smile plastered across his face. It was the smile of a man who had been thoroughly satiated, and he doubted it would leave his face any time soon.

There was nothing like a night in bed with a very willing woman to put a little zip in his step. Never mind the fact that less than an hour ago, Colleen had been screaming his name when she woke up to the sight and feel of his mouth pressed to her sex. And never mind the fact that less than a half hour ago, he had her bent over in the shower while he took her from behind.

Sex with Colleen was a lot of fun. David’s typical type was thin and athletic. Colleen was a good thirty pounds overweight but in a good way. She had more junk in the trunk, which jiggled each time he thrust deep inside her. She was also soft. What came to mind was the sensation of squeezing a marshmallow.

David had spent quality time with many women, but Colleen was unlike most of them. She was an animal in bed. This quiet, almost shy girl simply worshiped his body and was up for anything. Colleen liked it rough just as much as she enjoyed it slow and loving. She wanted him to talk dirty to her, but she also liked it when he showed her respect.

They both agreed that they wanted to enjoy each other’s bodies again—very soon. After David’s extended dry spell, the thought of regular sex was a ‘hell, yes!’ He sighed contentedly at the memory as he exited the townhouse to go about his morning.

David woke again later that afternoon to a commotion.

“Oh, God ... oh ... oh my God,” Colleen cried out as she jumped out of bed, looking both adorable and frantic.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

She was running around his bedroom, hunting for her clothes. After his classes had finished, she’d shown up while David was planning some activities for the evening’s voluntary football practice. It was a practice he’d arranged, and he wanted to be on top of things for it, but she’d somehow lured him into bed.

Honestly, it hadn’t taken much luring. In fact, they’d both jettisoned their clothes in a race to get naked. After three rounds, they’d drifted off to sleep.

“What time is it?” Colleen asked.

“I don’t know. Five something,” David said as he tapped his phone, which was on his bedside table.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot, why did you let me fall asleep?”

He was confused.

“I wasn’t aware that we were on some kind of clock.”

“I can’t believe we did this,” she added.

“Did what?”

“Did this ... Were you not listening to me when I was complaining that all guys want is sex?” Colleen griped. “I need my shoes. Do you see my shoes?”

David vaguely remembered something about that, but that was right before her top had hit him in his face. He thought she was joking.

“Where did you have them last?” he asked and instantly cringed.

He sounded like a dad.

“I’m late. I’m supposed to be meeting my friends now. They’re going to be pissed.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” David offered.

“No,” Colleen said and frantically looked everywhere. She even got onto the floor and looked under the bed. “Can I borrow your shoes?”

He really tried not to laugh, but he could just imagine her feet in his shoes. It would make her look like a clown.

“They won’t fit,” he said reasonably.

David swung his legs out of bed as she bent to look under it. She fell back onto her butt when she saw he was naked.

Colleen looked just like little Carol when she had a meltdown. So David did what he would have done for his daughter as he crouched down next to her.

“Slow down. Easy. Take a deep breath,” he said in a soothing voice.

“What?”

“I’m not going to act like nothing happened here, and you shouldn’t either,” he said, giving her his sexiest smile.

Colleen froze for a moment, stood up, and pushed him back into bed for round four.

“I thought...”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she ordered.

David guessed that her friends would just have to understand. Luckily, his teammates wouldn’t be aware he hadn’t planned practice as thoroughly as he’d have liked.

The next day, despite a very rewarding practice, David’s teammates were giving him crap. Cassidy had obviously been talking because he found all the freshmen surrounding him as he prepared to do the bench press.

“I heard you hooked up with your TA yesterday, and you didn’t even say anything last night,” Chuy said, kicking off the postmortem festivities.

“Why don’t you introduce your top lip to your bottom one and shut it? I think they’d be the best of friends if you gave them a chance,” David shot back.

“Didn’t you admit to a vow of celibacy just a few days ago?” Bear asked.

David stood up and popped his chest.

“Listen, I’m easy to fall in love with, all right? I mean, who wouldn’t want all of this?” he asked, obviously joking.

“You’re such a Hollywood douche,” Oliver offered.

He glowered at Oliver like he wished Oliver would inadvertently stumble into a nest of angry fire ants.

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch-black today?” David shot back.

“Give it a rest, knob,” Bear said to Oliver.

The punter flipped them off and mumbled something about having better things to do as he stomped off.

“Is it even allowed for you to bone your TA?” Chuy asked with a smirk.

“I never said I did. That was just Cassidy making assumptions,” David said.

Then again, he never said he didn’t.

“Bitches always be trippin’,” was Nick’s opinion.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Chuy agreed.

David felt his first vodcast was going well. His first segment had been with Cassidy, who shared how women’s rowing was going. His next guest was Oliver. Everyone else on the football team had been too chicken to show up, so David had resorted to bribing the Aussie.

Oliver hadn’t made it easy. He’d demanded David provide an Australian lager named Victoria Bitter, or VB. When he’d filmed down under, the locals working on the film called it ‘Vomit Bomb.’ David had been smart enough to avoid it, but his buddies Tim and Wolf had tried it, and they’d proven the nickname accurate.

David had finally found VB online in Ontario. He paid an astonishing amount to have a six-pack overnighted. Oliver, the knob—which was Aussie for ‘dick’ or ‘idiot,’ as everyone was calling him—had made David show him the beer before going on. David had hidden it under a buffet table so the other degenerates who’d ‘volunteered’ to do his show wouldn’t drink it.

That was an entirely different issue in David’s mind. He’d gone out and obtained advertisers to help pay for professional camera operators and the like.

Getting the commercials had only taken him a couple of phone calls. First, the studios were more than willing to have ads for the movies he was in shown on his vodcast. Then his grandmother had told Ron Pennington about it, and Ron was incensed that David hadn’t called him for ad time. David sold all but one of the remaining commercial slots to Pennington Trucking.

The final slot he’d given to Doreen, his favorite coffee-shop owner, as a thank-you for all the free food and tea she’d given him.

One of the other groups had decided to make commercials as their project. David talked them into shooting one for Doreen, and it turned out pretty well.

David’s thoughts returned to the ‘volunteers’ and why he had a problem. Some idiot in the USC bureaucracy had written into the contracts that the ads would pay for people’s time that they put in to create his project. That is, unless those funds weren’t used, in which case the extra money would go into the general fund of the USC School of Cinematic Arts budget.

However, it turned out that getting skilled people to volunteer their time wasn’t all that hard when they found out that they’d be working with David A. Dawson. Professor Blum had assured David that it was sure to be added to their résumés when they applied for jobs.

David had meant what he said about you got what you paid for. He didn’t mind that TAs and other staff got experience. What he cared about was that if they did a good job, they should be compensated.

Since they were working for free, the professor suggested that David might want to have food available, hence the buffet. David wasn’t about to spend his own money, so he used USC’s food services. They were more than happy to cater, so David had it billed to the department. When Professor Blum saw what he’d done, he just smiled and signed for the food.