Finding a Place - Cover

Finding a Place

Copyright© 2002 by Don Lockwood

Chapter 3

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Sheila and Brendan are freshmen at Stanford. He's a brain, she's a jock. Warning: do *not* eat anything sweet while reading this story. You *will* go into sugar shock. And, yes, it *is* supposed to be this sweet and sappy, OK? *grin*

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   First   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Petting   School  

I helped her out a few times in the next couple of weeks. She wasn't dumb, not by a far long shot-she was very smart, actually. She just wasn't intuitive about math, and the professor didn't help. It was a good thing I was intuitive about math, or he would've lost me.

So, I was helping her. I didn't see it as anything more than that. Though I did enjoy her company. We always took breaks to de-Calculus our brains, and I enjoyed chatting with her. But that was it. I was helping her study, that was all. That we got along decently just made it easier.

That's why I was surprised when, about three weeks after I had started tutoring her, she came to where I was sitting in the dining hall and plopped down in front of me. "Hi! Want company?"

"Sure," I said, surprised.

"You looked lonely sitting over here all by yourself," she giggled.

"I usually eat with my roommate, but he's in Oregon at the moment."

"Oregon?" she asked.

"He's a football player. Away game tomorrow." This was on a Friday. "They go up there a day early."

"Ah. Well, am I an acceptable substitute for your roommate?" she giggled.

"Well, you're a hell of a lot better looking than he is," I said, surprising myself. She just giggled again. "However, if you want to talk sports-which is what Jake talks about most of the time-be advised that, while I know a lot about football, I know little about swimming."

"Well, what's to know? It's a rather uncomplicated sport," she smiled. "You get in the pool, you swim, whoever swims fastest wins. Football's a lot more complicated.'

"Especially here," I grinned. "Jake's playbook is bigger than our Calculus textbook."

"Welcome to Stanford," she laughed, "where they even expect the athletes to know how to think."

As we chatted-easily, especially for me-I noticed something. Sheila was a very popular girl. Ten seconds didn't go by before someone passing by us yelled out a "Hi Sheila" or a "Hey, Sheila, how's it going?"

After a few minutes of this, I looked at her, bemused, and said, "What, do you have your own fan club or something?"

She laughed. "I just know a lot of people, that's all."

"You're a social butterfly," I grinned.

"Sort of. And you're not, are you?" she asked astutely. "You should be. You're a good person."

"I'm rather shy, actually."

"Not with me," she smiled.

"Well, you got me where I live," I grinned. "Flattered my brains. I'm a complete sucker for that."

"Ah," she laughed.

"And you're easy to talk to, imagine my surprise. Even though you asked for my help, you talk to me like I'm a person, not a computer with legs."

"You are a person. A nice one, even," she grinned. I think I probably blushed! "However, I was wondering, do you have time this weekend? What with that exam coming up Monday..."

"Of course, I have time. Any time you need."

"Tomorrow afternoon?"

"That's fine. The game is tomorrow night. I have to watch my roomie kick Oregon's butt."

"That's cool, I'm going to a party tomorrow night. 1 in the afternoon OK? I have to swim before that."

"That's fine," I said.

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