Chapter 4: Katrina

More of the same the next day. I went out and had breakfast, then bought the texts for my courses, and when I got back Larry was crawling out of bed, bleary-eyed. He’d found a couple of parties, had lots to drink, but found very few women in attendance. I made up a weekly schedule for my courses and the various clubs I was going to try to get a sense of when I’d have to get up and when I’d be free to study. More through luck than anything else I had only one early class, which was a blessing.

I spent some time skimming my textbooks to get a sense of the course organization. The only one I thought might be a challenge was the math course in Real Analysis.

Later in the day, just for the hell of it, I went to the art museum located on campus. I’m no kind of artist and have no pretensions about understanding art, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to “get some culcha”, so I spent a hour or two there. Some of it I liked, some of it I couldn’t get away from quickly enough, and a few pieces made me stop and wonder, which I think is what art is supposed to do.

By the time I got out it was close enough to dinner time that I thought I’d go straight to the cafeteria. I swiped my card and grabbed a tray while I looked over the menu. I settled on pot roast, green beans and mashed potatoes. And pie. Because it was there, calling my name.

After swiping my card at the register, I picked up my tray and started looking for a free table.

“Hey, Carter! Frisbee-man, over here!” I saw someone waving on the other side. Oh, the girl from this afternoon playing Frisbee. Katrina something. I made my way over.

“You wanna join us? Place is pretty crowded.”

“Thanks. You have room for me?”

“Sure. Unload your tray and slip it under mine. This is my roommate, Mindy. Mindy, this is Tom Carter, he of the fast hands I told you about.”

We shook hands, and I said, “My sister’s name is Mindy, so I’ll remember that.”

I hadn’t gotten a good look at Katrina when we were passing the Frisbee. Here in the dining hall she looked quite fit, not muscular but excellent muscle tone, dirty blonde hair in a ponytail, blue eyes, cute. Mindy was a bit taller, I thought -- hard to tell since we were sitting down -- brown hair cut short, hazel eyes, slightly softer looking. Both were attractive, but not beautiful in the Hollywood sense.

We chatted while we ate. Katrina was from Chicago and was probably a French major, she hadn’t quite made up her mind yet.

I said, “Qu’est-ce qui vous a poussé à vous spécialiser en français?” Why did you decide on a French major?

She looked surprised, but after a moment she said, “J’aime le son de la langue. C’est comme de la poésie.” She liked the sound of it, it sounded like poetry. In English, she added, “Ooo, now I’ve got somebody to practice with.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. My accent’s still pretty primitive. Mindy, what about you? Where’s home, and have you got a major yet?”

She was from upstate New York, and was still up in the air about what she wanted to do. Maybe electrical engineering, maybe physics. There were probably a lot of conversations like that going on here today.

They asked about my details, which I provided, and while they were chatting back and forth I studied them. I was still in low spirits about being separated from Karen, but I was also young and horny, so nearly every woman I met got the assessment: I wonder what she’d be like, what turns her on, would she like this or that done to her? It’s a litany that nearly every high school or college guy recites in his mind. Women must find it so tedious.

They finished their meals and Katrina started pulling her stuff together. “I’m still a little sticky from chasing Frisbees, so I’m gonna go take a shower. Listen, Carter, there’s a party planned on the third floor of Collins [that was one of the dorms], it’s a women’s floor but the party’s open to everyone, so why don’t you drop by if you’re not doing anything. Probably won’t start till nine, but anytime after that’s good. Just follow the sound of the music, okay?”

“I’ll have to check my social calendar, but a definite maybe. Thanks.”

They left with a wave and I was able to give my full attention to the pie.

Back in my dorm, I found Larry combing his hair. “Tom, haven’t seen you all day. I heard about a party that sounds promising. You wanna come?”

I asked where, and he said it was hosted by one of the frats. That sounded like there’d be a little too much drinking as a competitive sport for my tastes, so I said I’d pass.

“Your loss,” said Larry, “could be some hot women there looking to create some memories they’d later prefer to forget.”

“Lemme know how it goes. I’m sure there’ll be more of those real soon.”

So he went off to create his own memories, and I read some more, then closed my eyes for a few minutes. When I opened them again it was after nine. There was already noise from several in-room parties on our floor, but I really wasn’t in the mood, so I got up and went out to walk a bit and stretch my legs.

I hadn’t planned on coming this way, but found myself in a dorm quad, four buildings facing a green in the middle, and there in front of me was Collins. I looked upward, counting floors, and on the third there were open windows and music filtering down. I’m here, let’s see what’s going on.

I took the stairs and as soon as I opened the fire door I was assaulted by the cacophony, the music, a dozen loud conversations, someone shouting, and others singing a different song from the recorded music. One room seemed to be the center of the chaos so I headed there.

As soon as I stepped in I could see it was not really my kind of party. This was not much different from what was going on in my dorm, except it was mostly women. There were a number of guys on the periphery watching, amused, probably waiting to separate the drunkest ones from the herd.

In a corner, Katrina waved. “Tom, over here! Watch the empty bottles!”

She was right, there were empties on the floor and if you stepped on one you could take a header.

“Looks like everyone got an early start.”

“Well,” she said, “some of them started this afternoon. Me, I prefer a slower, more methodical approach. You want a drink?”

“I’m not much of a drinker, but I’d have a beer if there are any.”

She looked around and then pointed, “There.”

I saw a cooler under a desk, pulled out a beer, and popped the tab. I raised the can. “Here’s to higher education.”

A few people shouted, “To higher education,” and took a swig.

We found a spot and sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. Across the room, three girls were doing body shots, licking vodka out of each others’ navels. The other men were looking on hopefully, wondering if this might develop into something more.

Katrina leaned over toward my ear to be heard over the crowd noise. “My mother warned me about parties like these. I told her, ‘Just what kind of a girl do you think I am?’ Now we know.”

“Well, so far you’re just the U.N. observer, a non-combatant. Your mother’s trust is safe. But you’ve got another four years to poke at it.”

“That’s the spirit! But I’d like to ease into it a bit. They may have started practicing in high school,” she said, nodding toward the girls doing body shots.

“So, Tom, what’s your plan? You looking to blaze new trails in debauchery and dissolution in your college days?”

“I’m not big on public displays of dissipation and lewdness. I prefer to keep those private, among a small, intimate group of friends.”

She laughed. “Okay, we’ll have to cross orgy and public drunkenness off the list, then. You aspire to a higher class of intemperance, that’s good, it sets the standard for the rest of us. So what else do you do for amusement in your spare time?”

I told her I mostly read books, wasn’t much into sports, but I did do Hapkido, which she hadn’t heard of, so I had to explain. She asked about girlfriends, and I mentioned Karen and how she was in California.

“And you? Boyfriend from high school who sends you deep, moving poems he’s written about you? In French?”

She smiled. “No, nothing serious. Je ne suis pas attaché.”

She repositioned herself to get more comfortable and I found that she was leaning into me, hip to hip, and started talking about the classes she had on her schedule. It occurred to me, while she talked, that I hadn’t really used my talents at all since I’d arrived on campus. I hadn’t had the need to. But now I wondered about her. Was this just alcohol making her relaxed and friendly, or was there something else going on here?

She was focused on me so I was able to sense the link and followed it back to her epicenter, the part of her mind that held her current focus and thoughts. It showed what she was thinking about, what her motivations were.

As usual when people are drinking, it was blurry, like a camera that was out of focus, the image indistinct with fuzzy edges. But she hadn’t drunk that much, so I could see what she was thinking clearly enough. She was happy to be away from home, to not have someone judging her (her parents, I assumed), to do what she wanted even if it was something her parents would not approve. Hence the alcohol.

And she was also a bit horny. Apparently it had been awhile, since her high school boyfriend if I read it right, and that was before she had graduated. So she was looking for possible hookups, not a romance. I was one of several possibilities. One of the guys leaning against the far wall was another.

I looked at him from across the room. He was still eyeing the girls doing body shots, probably wondering which one he should try for. I thought he was better looking than I, certainly he was taller and more muscular.

But I had an edge. I channeled a greater sensitivity in her skin and just the lightest brush of a virtual tongue on her nipples. I felt her stiffen just a little. Right now, she’d be wondering, “Where did that come from?” While she was puzzling over that, I linkcast her a sense that I was good-looking and a bit sexy. I’d let that percolate for a while.

She got up to get another drink, saying, “Be right back.” And she was. She plopped down again on the floor, and this time it was a definite move to get in close to me, legs and hips touching. We talked a bit more and I channeled the sense of a gentle feather circling her clit. I could hear her breathing get a little shallower and faster. She was starting to stumble over the occasional word now.

I said, “Isn’t that your roommate, Mindy, over there?” She’d just come in the door.

“Yeah, it is. She was off visiting one of her friends at another party. Guess she’s back.” She took another swallow of her drink, then said, “Hey, I just want to have a word with her, don’t go anywhere.”

She jumped up and went across the room, stepping over the empty bottles on the floor like an expert. She put her head close to Mindy’s and the two whispered in each others’ ears. Mindy’s eyes darted over to me, and she nodded my way.

Katrina threaded her way back and again dropped down next to me. “Sorry, had to make plans for some last-minute shopping tomorrow. I’m good now.” Across the room, Mindy kept glancing our way, trying to keep it casual.

She finished her drink, then said, “Y’know, it’s getting a bit rank in here with all the people. How ‘bout we get some air, stretch our legs? Whaddya say?”

“Sure, let’s go buy a case of air freshener while we’re out.”

“That’s the ticket, let’s go.”

She jumped up and said, “C’mon,” extending her hand. I took it and she helped pull me up, then put her arm through mine as we negotiated the empty-bottle minefield.

In the hall, she asked, “D’you mind if we take a short detour so I can get a sweater from my room? It might have cooled off some outside.” I looked into her epicenter and, sure enough, that was not the reason for the detour.

“No problem. You on this floor?”

“No, next one down, just take a sec.” I changed the feather on her clit to the lightest finger brushing it. She stumbled. “Oops, maybe just a tad too much alcohol. You’ll keep me vertical, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I said. At least for a couple more minutes, I thought, though I didn’t say it.

“So is living on a floor with all these women as noisy as it is in my dorm with all those guys? It’s like they never shut up.”

“It can get a little raucous, but so far it’s been mostly tolerable. I think it’ll level off once classes start. Except for weekends. That’ll still be loud.”

We came through the door on the second floor and she pointed, “It’s just here.” She stepped in to the room with me behind her, then pushed the door closed. There was a single desk lamp on so they wouldn’t trip over all the boxes on the floor when they entered.

“Looks just like my room, except for more bras and skirts.”

She snorted. “Is your roommate a cross-dresser?”

“No, he’s just hoping that some of the girls he’s planning on inviting in will leave some behind. As mementos.”

She laughed, then grabbed onto me with both hands.

“Whoa, sorry, just got a little light-headed there for a sec. I’ll be okay in a moment.”

I put my arm around her, saying, “Take your time. Do you want some water?”

“No, maybe if we sit for a minute...”

I guided her onto the edge of the bed and sat next to her, my arm still around her. “Okay, it looks like maybe you need a drinking exercise plan so you can build up your tolerance over the next couple of months. Shall I prepare something for you?”

“Thanks, I think we’ve got a few experts on this floor already, I can get tips from them.”

I changed the pressure of the virtual finger so it was rolling her clit. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Carter, I don’t know it it’s the alcohol or it’s just been too long or what, but if I don’t get some loving in the next few minutes I’m gonna go nuts. Maybe it’s you, but I’m so turned on right now I don’t know what to do.”

“I think I do. But I want to know that this is something you really want to do, that it’s not just the drinks making you do things you’ll regret.”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t regret this. Are we gonna talk or are we gonna fool around?”

“I’d vote for Plan B. Definitely Plan B.” I laid her back on the bed and got my tongue in mouth, while she tried to do the same with me. One of her hands moved down my side and when it reached my hip slid over and grabbed my dick through my pants. I must have choked, because she asked, “Feels okay?”

“That was a rhetorical question, right? Yeah, just keep doing that.”

She had a pullover top and I pulled it out of her slacks and slid it up her torso. “You’re going to have to raise both hands, Katrina, if this is ever going to come off.”

She pulled her hand away from my crotch, reluctantly, and raised both arms. I worked it over her head and her arms. She wore no bra. She didn’t have big tits, but her nipples were really prominent. I leaned in and took one in my mouth while I rolled the other between my thumb and index finger, which caused her to moan.

I peeked into her epicenter again and tried to look for the things that got her engine running. She liked aggressive fucking, being entered hard and fucked fast, a few slaps, some symbolic choking. Not a fan of anal stuff, which she found a little scary. She liked being told what to do, being ordered about, but not quite as much as a submissive might. She’d done some oral, but wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. Oddly, it didn’t seem that anyone had done it to her.

I worked my lips down her torso and realized that she still had her slacks and sneakers on. “Don’t move,” I said, “be right back.”

Her legs were hanging over the edge of the bed, resting on the floor. I got down on the floor, unlaced her shoes and pulled them off her feet.

“Give me your hands, Katrina. Stand up.”

She allowed herself to be pulled off the bed and stood up beside it. She looked a little nervous. I moved in close and ran my hands up her hips and back over her ass, giving it a little squeeze. “Nice butt,” I said, “feels really firm. But these pants are in the way.”

I found the button for the waistband and a zipper over one hip, and as soon as I loosened them the pants fell down to her ankles. “There. Progress.” She smiled.

I got on my knees and told her, “Put your hand on my shoulder and lift your left leg.” She did and I slipped the pant leg off.

“Now the other side.” The pants slipped off her and onto the floor, leaving her in only her blue panties. Still on my knees I licked her from between her breasts all the way down to the elastic of her panties. I slid the elastic over her hips and they fell to the floor, too.

She was trimmed, a sculpted vee on her pubis, her labia shaved. I continued moving my tongue lower until it was at the top of her slit and she was breathing quickly, but the angle was all wrong.

“Lie back on the bed, Katrina. Let your butt hang over the edge, and spread your legs a little.”

I realized that I was still dressed, so while I watched her I got my clothes off as fast as I could. And while she watched me strip, she rubbed one finger up and down her slit, which was starting to get a little damp, I could see.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, I think we were right about ... here.”

On my knees, I leaned in and gave a lick from as low as I could go to the top of her slit. Her labia were still closed, so it wasn’t intense yet, but she still moaned. I kissed my way back down to the bottom, then put my thumbs on her labia and pulled them apart, exposing the inside of her pussy.

This time when I got my tongue in there, she gasped and said, “Oh, shit, oh, what...”

I moved my tongue in circles as I moved higher slowly. I channeled a finger pressing against her G-spot and she slapped her hands on the back of my head. “Jesus, Tom, what are you doing? Oh, fuck.”

I moved higher, my tongue darting back and forth, until I was just below her clit, and I idled there while her hands tried to pull me higher up. She was just making sounds now, gasps and chokes, but I knew she was begging me to move just a half inch higher.

But I wanted to draw this out, because I loved seeing how many variations of orgasms I could give them and how they reacted. I got such a rush out of watching women cum.

I had developed a stable of standard, named visual metaphors, each of which would induce a specific type of feeling or orgasm in women. It was still pretty crude, I was sure, but it was a work in progress. So for her first, I sent her one I called Mineral Spring, which induced a slow orgasm like falling into a warm pool with a surge of pleasure washing over the body, then dissipating to a state of contentment while she wound down.

And to set it off, I moved my lips onto her clit and tugged it and let it snap back, over and over, no tongue at all. The orgasm hit her and she cried softly, “Oh. My. God, YESSS, oh, yes, oh, good.” She shook for a few moments and lay back, depleted. I continued kissing her pussy and around her clit, being careful not to touch it because it would be still be really sensitive.

She got two hands around my head and pulled me up closer to her, looking me in the eye. “I gotta say, Tom, that was pretty impressive. I don’t usually get off like that, they’re usually a little, I dunno, quieter, I guess. And to tell the truth, I haven’t had a lot of guys go down on me. Mostly they just like to squeeze my tits and my ass, then get their dicks in.”

“Just my opinion, Katrina, but they’re missing a lot of the fun. Maybe it’s me. I like watching women get off, and helping them get there. It gives me a bit of a rush, but that’s my particular kink.”

“Well, yay for kinks, that’s all I can say. You ready to get humped dry?”

“We’ve got time, let’s take it slow. I think I’d like to play with your body a little more. That okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay. My social calendar is clear till tomorrow, so have at it.”

It was a single bed, so there wasn’t a lot of room for the both of us, but we squirmed around until we were lying wrapped in each others arms, trying to see how far we could get our tongues down the others throats.

I asked her to lay on her stomach and I started working my way down her back with my lips and tongue. I should have done it before but I forgot, so I linkcast her the Foundation image.

Like I said, I have a stable of these visual metaphors. Each of them is a collection of specific feelings, which her mind then interprets accordingly. If I were trying to induce an orgasm I would send her a specific image or visual metaphor which her mind would interpret by way of her collected experiences. So, for example, for a Mount Vesuvius image, which I used frequently, she would feel the climax rising up inside her until it seemed to explode and wind down slowly as if the lava were falling back to the ground.