Chapter 3

The next morning, a knock woke me.

I went to sleep pretty late pondering Melisa's actions, mostly fantasizing what it would have felt like to be inside her. I knew she tested me, or at least my self-control. She offered herself, but only a part as if to say 'Tonight, but no night after!'

I did not know what my options were but I wanted more than one night.

I looked up hoping my roommate was going to answer the door, but he rolled over to face the wall.

"Damn," I exhaled.

I got up slowly hoping the person would go away, but she did not. I knew it was Melisa. There was little pleasure in finding out I was learning my steps in their dance. I opened the door slowly.

She was looking bright and beautiful, even early in the morning.

"Hi," she said holding up a bag from which I could smell the sweet scent of flavored coffee.

"Breakfast," she continued, smiling at me. The innocence had made a comeback in her demeanor and clothing; no nice shorts and no tight t-shirt.

The smile changed to a feminine teasing 'I know what you're thinking' smile. I was seeing that smile too much; it was disconcerting to have Melisa read me so easily. She seemed to know how I would react to different situations.

"No classes today," she said half-brushing, half-pushing by me into the room. It was not an unpleasant experience. I turned and the knowing smile was on her face again.

I sighed.

I watched as she put the bag with the wonderful coffee smell on my desk. Blue jeans and a thick, white button-down shirt were not a bad substitute for shorts and t-shirt I thought to myself while trying to figure what she might have scheduled for me that required getting up early. I gave up with a quick shake of my head. I was perfectly capable of figuring out the steps while she was executing them; I could not hear the music we were dancing to though.

For now, I had to let Melisa lead.

"You have a very important appointment today," she told me opening my closet.

"Oh, really," I smirked at her, half in question.

She turned and smiled with a slight tease to her lips. She took a step half into the closet to move hangers back and forth, looking for something appropriate. Her tone of voice suggested that my appointment with Professor Ryan was actually an interview.

"That 'interview' isn't until 3 pm," I told her pointedly. "It's only 8 am, Melisa."

I got into bed and lay on my stomach. I put my chin on my folded arms and watched her.

Watched her ass mostly.

Melisa was 5 inches shorter than me and had an extremely nice ass. The jeans did not hug her curves, they just showed where curves began and traced their routes gently.

"Yeah, but you have to shower and shave. Grab breakfast," she answered pulling out a white shirt from the closet that almost exactly matched hers. She put it against her chest and looked down. I smiled positive that if she and I became a combination wherever they were taking me, I would only be wearing that shirt enough to keep it broken in the way she liked.

"I thought the bag was breakfast," I said, looking at the bag on my desk.

"Nope, just coffee."

She put the shirt back in the closet but away from everything else. She sorted through my clothes again; it looked like she was ordering things by what she would and would not wear.

I sighed to myself.

"So I'm to shower, shave, go to breakfast and then what?" I asked sitting up looking for my towel.

"Work," she said withdrawing a pair of informal tan slacks from the closet. I guessed the interview would also be informal.

"How do you know so much about my schedule?" I asked forcefully. She was in most of my classes so I expected her to know that but even with Melisa, I avoided talking about myself.

"Tsk, Tsk" she said, bending down to pick up the towel at the bottom of the closet. Another reason I liked jeans that fit the way these did, they hugged her butt a little bit more with any movement in that area of her body. She looked at the towel and tossed it back in the closet. She jumped up to pull a different one down from the top shelf. She tossed it in my general direction and returned to searching for a suitable shirt. I guessed explanations were going to be Professor Ryan's department. I walked over to my desk and picked up the small bucket containing my toiletries. I opened the bag, and took the coffee out to take a quick sip. I hoped that it was black because she figured better to let me add to it if I liked it differently, but somehow I doubted it.

Melisa probably knew what my favorite everything was.

I walked out of the room, making sure not to stomp, part of whatever this was, or at least her part was about my attitude to the situation. While blonde hair and green eyes was waking me up in the morning, I could deal with it, or at least better than if Professor Ryan had wake up duty.

I let some of my temper drain out with the cold shower. When I entered my room, Melisa was sitting on my bed, next to the layout of clothes she wanted me to wear. I stared at her while taking another sip of coffee to give her the opportunity to look away.

I wanted her to look away. All that having her watch me change would accomplish was turn me on again.

She smiled, refusing to take the hint.

I sighed.

I have never been sure how attraction for a woman works. I only got as far as if she expressed a like, it was generally safe to go in that direction, the opposite for a dislike. Melisa seemed willing and desirous of watching me dress. There was no reason to refuse her, and maybe the favor of frustration that she had done me could be returned.

I took the towel around my waist off giving her my back at the same time. I took my time drying.

After a couple minutes on my hair, I faced her, still using the towel to dry my hair. Her eyes riveted to my crotch; I got harder and harder under the pressure of her stare. I dried the rest of my body as her eyes traveled and absorbed different parts of me.

The military tried to put its stamp on my body; large torso for power with long muscular legs shaped for distance. Unfortunately, I was too short for the long part and they had to settle for muscular. I was utilitarian in my workouts; martial arts classes supplemented by thrice weekly weight work. I was abnormally strong so I worked nearly a hundred pounds higher than most men with my weight regimen and size. I was toned, and had the natural width to show it well.

Melisa did not hide her appreciation.

I finished drying and leaned back on the desk. I picked up my coffee and studied her. I wanted to see how much would be enough for her. After my hard-on ached in its insistence for more than being looked at, I decided to get dressed.

Melisa had an incredible gusto for looking and I was the only one suffering. She watched as I put on deodorant and got dressed. She sighed almost forlornly as the last button on my shirt was buttoned.

Maybe I was not the only one that suffered.

We walked to the student cafeteria for breakfast. I grabbed a quick, healthy breakfast and found us an isolated place to sit.

We ate quietly.

After we finished, I looked at the clock. It was only 9:30 am, an hour before my computer lab shift. I sat back and stared at Melisa.

"Last night's," I searched for a proper word, "incident is going to be talked about. My roommate is in one of the frats that popularized your nickname. They also spread the rumor that you and Doris Alex are 'involved'."

"The school is too big for it to affect me," she replied calmly. "Anyone that matters to me and the assholes will know whose bed it was in."

"What difference does who's bed it was in make?" I asked.

"The bus," she replied in a voice that said I should have known that.

There had been an incident the last semester; three guys harassing two girls on a bus. One of the girls got slapped, so I slapped the dickhead with the happy hand. It did not sit well with any of them.

In a closed space, it was not much of a fight.

"The big assholes know there will be a confrontation if they talk too much. The girl he slapped was one of our pledges. My sorority sisters know who you are. Do you know how many times I've told one of my sisters 'Yes, I would mind if you went after him'?" she continued.

"It wasn't much of a fight," I said looking around. I took her question to be rhetorical.

"They were drunk and in a confined space, everything was to my advantage."

"Modest, too," she replied with a tiny feminine smile.

I was not though.

Trouble rode shotgun to a reputation. I did not need to deal with assholes that wanted to prove their manhood; I was too well-trained. Outnumbered, I hurt two of the three guys bad and only their non-student status saved me from arrest. Pressing charges against me would have put the city in a bad light when a busload of witnesses stepped forward to testify the three thugs were assaulting a co-ed when I got involved. Too many businesses depended on the school for the incident not to be smoothed over.

Hospitalizing a drunken frat boy, even in self-defense, would have different results.

"No one I care about will say anything, David," she said seriously. "We've hung out a lot together. They'll think either it's been going on for a while or that I finally decided I didn't want to be 'just friends' anymore. Even if my sisters wouldn't defend YOU, they won't allow a sister's love life to be someone else's entertainment."

She turned her green eyes on me.

Her sorority was the most influential organization in the school. They had the full support of their status equal brother fraternity. Combined with deep ties to the administration and community, Melisa's sorority did not have to take kindly to open attacks on a sister. My roommate's frat would back off at the first sign of backlash; the least of which would be the University Police raiding every one of their parties looking for underage drinkers.

I smiled at her.

We talked about our schedules for the next school year until I had to leave. She walked me to the lab and told me not to be late to my appointment with Professor Ryan. She placed a quick kiss on the base of my neck before walking away. I stared in the direction she left for a good while before going inside.

I left the lab at 2:30pm and visited the student center for a bite to eat before heading to Professor Ryan's office. Rachel was sitting in front of the pizza stand; she said hello as I passed by. She was someone I wanted from my first day at college. She never gave a hint she held the beginning of a belief that I was male in her pretty blonde head though. Unfortunately, every time I thought I stopped wanting her, I saw her and realized 'Nope, still want her just as badly, maybe more.'

I did not sit to talk to her. I said hello, got a slice and left. I was reduced to that with Rachel; smile, say hello, and walk away.

I ate on my way to the English department and worked my way to Professor Ryan's office. His door was wide open; I smiled widely as I walked in. He was sitting in his chair facing the door.

"Hello, David," he said. "How are you doing today?"

"I think I'm okay," I replied sitting down at the chair across from him.

He watched me for a few seconds, I watched him back. I did not know what was going on so silence was the best policy.

"Any questions?" he asked me with a voice bordering on the smug.

I stared at him. The foster homes taught me how to be quiet and wait. I waited for years at times, and I could wait for whatever was about to happen.

He took the ring off and tossed it to me.

"Go ahead," he told me.

He watched as I studied it carefully.

The band was not gold like Melisa's; platinum, I guessed, not shiny enough to be silver. The stone was black like an onyx but I did not know rocks well enough to determine if it was. It was a much simpler band, without the etchings on Melisa's ring. The crest on the stone was exceptional. The beauty and detail of the artistry was evident even from a cursory study. I tried to inspect the crest deeply but I could not quite get to where the detail ended. Crest might have been the wrong word; it was more a painting of a gold dragon bathed in red flame. I could not tell if the dragon was reveling in the heat or being consumed.

I stood up, walked to Professor Ryan and handed the ring back.

I sat down, and looked at him. I wanted to know what it was all about but we were still dancing. I put it on them to take every first step.

"The rings, mine and Melisa's, are the keys, David," he said, his eyes growing quiet.

"Let me tell you a story," he continued, "Then you tell me if you believe it or not."

"A movement began in ancient Greece, arising from philosophical teachings. Plato wrote about them in his books; the elite. Some men are the center of society driving progress. Society works constantly against them, to hold them down, to protect itself against them."

He stood up to pull down an Ayn Rand book from his shelf. He tossed it at me. I looked at the cover and smiled.

"The mediocre naturally seek to destroy the elite among them," I said tossing the book back. It was not everything the book was about but that part stuck with me.

"Yes, that's how the movement ended," he said staring at the book.

"The masses destroyed the few that banded together, erasing any mention of them," he smiled to himself.

"The movement did not die though, it went underground. Several purges later, the movement's fundamental values changed. Secrecy and survival became more important than power. The profile of the members altered to people that sought to build a network, allowing them to live as they defined life. They sought to ensure their heirs would enjoy the same privilege. A more focused and easier goal to hide from the mediocre."

Chapter 4 »