Chapter 2

"I can't forget about him," I sighed.

Susan sat on a kitchen chair in her underwear, cleaning the cleats of her soccer shoes. We were pretty casual by ourselves, especially when we were drinking. She'd had a game the other day and it had been muddy, I guess. At least she put some newspaper down to catch the mud she was prying off the soles with a butter knife. My roommate could be a little messy at times, even by college standards.

"God made a lot of boys, Jen," Susan shrugged and took a swig of beer. "No sense getting hung up on one."

"Yeah, I know." I lifted a beer of my own and took a bitter swallow. My third bottle in half an hour, sitting on the kitchen counter in a pair of shorts and nothing else, and whining like a little dick. I felt kind of pathetic.

"You still got a few days. Find a different guy," she said, looking up with a grin. "Just make sure he's a virgin."

"Ahhhh..." I made a face, waving her off. "It isn't that. I shouldn't have fucked what's-his-name, the guy at the party."

"What? Why?" Susan asked, stabbing at her shoe as if she held a chisel.

"Because, I mean I should have been with William, not at that party at all. If he finds out..."

"What? He's Mormon?" Susan looked at me.

"Huh? No! Of course not."

"Well, so what if he finds out then?" She laughed and shook her head. "You're not married anyway, Jen, and the only ones I know of who get pissed about that stuff are the Mormons."

Mormons were sort of strange, believing that women shouldn't have sex with more than one man. They were big time monogamists and their beliefs started as soon as a person hit puberty, which was right about the time everyone else was saying go out and have fun. Girls were supposed to be sexually adventurous, at least until they were married, while boys were supposed to tease and play hard to get. So far as most people were concerned, it wasn't just okay for a single girl to have sex with different men; it was encouraged ... unless you were Mormon.

But knowing I had right on my side didn't make me feel any better.

"I think I love him," I sighed, taking another big swallow of beer. Cold condensation dripped off the bottle, falling on my right breast. "I don't want to lose him."

"Love?" Susan shook her head. "You just got here, frosh. Don't fall in love yet."

"What happens at the initiation?" I asked.

"You'll find out." Susan shrugged.

"No. I'm serious, girl. I need to know. Cause I don't wanna find a different guy, okay? I want the one I have," I told her truthfully. "But I'm not gonna hurt William just so I can be in some club."

"It's not a club, it's a sorority," Susan sighed and dropped her shoe on the floor. "We've got 3000 members all across the country, the world even, girls who will be your sisters, helping you meet people, get the right job, find the right house, whatever..."

"Yeah, yeah..." I nodded. I'd heard it all before. From Susan, from my mom, from everybody. "They're lawyers and bankers and used car dealers, I get it. But I love him, so..." I held up my hands, " ... I gotta know."

"I can't tell you." Susan looked genuinely sad, but I think she might have been a little hostile too. I wasn't exactly embracing the Phi Kappa Beta party line or anything.

"Who can?" I challenged her and Susan hesitated. "Come on, Sue. I'm serious, okay? I won't do it if I don't know."

"You gotta ask Kylie probably. If someone can tell you, it'll be her," she shrugged. "The rest of us, we'd just get in trouble if we said anything. Trouble for us and for you, Jen."

We were quiet for awhile then, Susan going back to her shoes, and me just drinking beer and rubbing cold moisture around my breasts, remembering the way William liked to kiss them.

"Or..." Susan said suddenly, like a thought had just occurred to her.

"Or what?" I stared at the girl.

"You could always ask your mom." Susan looked at me. "The initiation hasn't changed in like fifty years or something, so..."

"It's the same thing my mom went through?" I blinked at that, mostly because I just hadn't thought about it.

"Yeah. Pretty much," she nodded. "Try it."

It was Saturday night and I'd been thinking of calling William all day, or at least since I'd woken up at noon. It had been a very long, and very drunk Friday night as I'd tried to drown my sorrows. I was still paying for it and I wondered if my hangover would ever go away. Drinking more beer probably wasn't helping, but it didn't seem to hurt either.

" ... leave your message after the beep..."

"William? Hey, are you there? It's me again. Um ... I'm sorry, okay? Can we talk? Call me, please." I left my third message in two hours, wondering where he was. One more and I'd get a free toaster.

"Still not there?" Susan asked, she'd put on some jeans and a t-shirt.

"Nope," I shrugged.

"Well, uh ... I sort of figured you'd be going out tonight..."

"Yeah, me too."

" ... so I hate to do this but..."

"But?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

"But Lance is coming over and I kinda wanna get him, you know ... alone."

"Oh," I nodded. "Right."

"Hey! Take my motorcycle and go have some fun. Go up to the House and hang for awhile, that's what it's there for." Susan hated asking me to leave, but she wanted to get laid too.

"Nah. I'll walk." I waved off her keys as Susan held them out. "The exercise will do me good."

I dressed quickly, if not carelessly, pulling on some khaki trousers and a big Property of WSU sweatshirt in the school colors of gold and red. I combed my brown hair, which was starting to get a little long, just over the ears, and reminded myself to get a haircut one of these days. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go, but Susan would definitely need some time alone, probably a lot of time, so...

I wandered off campus, into the small area of stores and bars and coffee shops that constituted the local hangout. The place was already crowded, being a Saturday night in a college town. The nearest real city was some three hours away, so business was always good, even an hour past sunset. There were a lot of couples, women and men walking around together, smiling, holding hands, exchanging little kisses. It made me feel even more lonely, as if that was possible.

Girls weren't supposed to pine for boys, but that's what I found myself doing. Every time I heard a boy giggle I'd turn my head, half-hoping and half-dreading that it might be William, out with someone else, some other girl, but it wasn't. There were more guys than girls in the world, that's a scientific fact, and it affected society in small barely understood ways, but all it really meant to me was that I had a smaller chance of finding the perfect guy, than he did of finding me. And that seemed like a pretty deep thought for a girl shuffling past closed shops with her hands stuffed in her pockets.

I ended up in one of the nicer places, a downstairs jazz club that didn't really get started until late. I wasn't a big jazz person, but William was, he loved the old stuff and we'd come down there once in awhile, drinking coffee spiked with Irish cream, talking about how the world turned. It was dim and sexy and full of good memories, so I sat at the bar, listening to an anorexic waif of a man playing the piano, and watching eager young students solve the world's problems around me.

All I needed was a cigarette and I'd have been the picture of loneliness.

"I hope this seat's not taken," a pleasant, masculine voice surprised me and I looked to see an attractive young man sliding onto the barstool next to mine. We were the only ones at the bar, everyone else in the place sitting at tables or in booths.

"Uhhh ... No, it's..." I smiled and shrugged, turning my rum and Coke on the bar, spinning the coaster beneath it.

He seemed tall, perhaps because of his heels, with a firm body that he'd dressed a lot nicer than most college boys would, but not overdoing it either. He wore a one piece mini, navy blue with spaghetti straps and a hemline that barely came mid-thigh as he crossed his long legs. I looked down, of course, because all girls are dogs, especially the lonely ones, and I could see the lump pressed upward between his tightly closed thighs. He had a beautiful face too, being very attractive like I said, with dark green eyes and golden hair in a French curl around his bare shoulders.

This guy was definitely out of my league and I envied whoever the girl might be that he was waiting for. I'd never been the most outgoing person anyway, and so this was precisely the sort of situation designed to drive me away. Sitting alone at a bar with a stunning young man, listening to some piano jazz; it wasn't normal and I decided to finish my drink and get away before I did something really stupid, like forget who I was and try to pick the guy up.

"Do you have a light?" the man asked me just about the time I started to stand up.

"Um ... No. Sorry." I turned to him, smiling apologetically, and of course he was so beautiful just sitting there I felt like an idiot for not carrying a lighter for exactly this sort of situation.

"That's okay. I'm trying to quit anyway." He smiled, putting the cigarette carefully on the bar and flicking it a few inches away with one long red fingernail. I just watched it roll. "It's a dirty habit. I'm Valentine."

"Valentine?" Pretty boys made me feel particularly stupid and I was barely aware that he was holding his hand out. I took it, feeling his fingers soft and dry. "That's a pretty name. I've never met a Valentine before."

"My friends call me Val," he said with a slight nod of his chin as I let his hand go.

Val was a girl's name, short for Valerie, and he didn't look like a girl at all, so I had to smile with some disbelief. I didn't know what sort of friends he had, but I couldn't ever picture myself calling anyone who looked like that Val. Of course, I couldn't imagine having a friend like him anyway. I opened my mouth to say something to that effect, but he beat me to it.

"I know," he giggled lightly. "It's a girl's name, but I don't mind. What's yours?"

I groaned inwardly that he had to ask. "Jennifer, uh ... Jen," I cleared my throat self-consciously. "I mean, you can call me Jen."

I offered him a sheepish smile, very much afraid I was going to blush, and so I did, naturally. Valentine was nice enough to pretend not to notice.

"Okay, Jen." He smiled back. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah," I nodded, being clever as a doorknob. "Do you, um, go to school?" I asked, which was only slightly better than asking what his sign was, I suppose. But not by much.

"Uh-huh, I'm a psych major," Valentine shrugged with a little self-deprecating smile. "Predictable, huh?"

"Uh, no. Not at all," I answered seriously and he giggled at that.

"How about you? Mmmm..." he looked at me closely, making me suddenly very uncomfortable, especially when his green eyes found mine, " ... you look like a serious girl ... Law school?"

I swallowed hard, wondering for a brief second if he knew me from somewhere. "Yeah, I'm..."

"Get you another?" the bartender interrupted me, a short woman dressed like an old time New Orleans doorman, complete with the red dinner jacket and ruffled bow tie.

"Yeah, um ... and..." I looked at Valentine and he smiled, asking for a glass of wine, " ... white wine, please," I echoed, just in case the bartender missed it.

"You were saying?" He touched my knee and I forgot entirely what we were talking about for a second.

"Oh, yeah ... Uh, I'm pre-law," I nodded and cleared my throat a little. "First year."

"I knew it!" he laughed lightly. "I'm good at reading people," Valentine said and I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

"Reading strange women alone in bars?" I smiled, hoping I sounded as clever as I thought I did.

"Especially them," Valentine agreed, running the tip of his pink tongue across his lower lip. He had extremely red lips.

The bartender brought our drinks and Valentine held his glass up for a bare second, tilting his head in a silent gesture of appreciation before sipping it slowly. I just watched him, appreciating the effortless grace of the simplest act you can imagine. Valentine, perhaps like all beautiful men, made the rest of us mere spectators. He possessed a dramatis personae that I would never fully understand, nor would I want to, in all honesty. I rather enjoyed the male mystique.

I rolled my eyes at myself and I looked down quickly, stirring my own drink with the little plastic straw that came with it. I had a small thought of trying to call William again, to invite him out and find a table with a candle on it so we could lean close together and whisper. I felt guilty sitting with Valentine, not so much because we were talking, or sharing a drink together, but because I found this other man so attractive. It makes little sense, I know, but right then I didn't want to find anything else beautiful, nothing but my memory of William.

"You're thinking of a boy now," Valentine's voice jerked me back and I looked at him. "But not me."

"I'm sorry," I sighed, trying to smile and having no clue as to what I was supposed to say right then.

"How do I change that, I wonder?" he asked somewhat petulantly, looking at me again, fixing my eyes with his. It wasn't very fair at all.

"I..." I shrugged helplessly, " ... I have a boyfriend, sort of."

"But not right now." He licked his lips, not smiling, but still giving me impression that he was playing with me.

"No." I lifted my glass. "Not right now." I took a drink.

"We could go someplace, if you want." Valentine leaned closer, touching my leg, rubbing my thigh. "I have a place up the stairs."

"You have a place?" I had to think about that for a second, and it suddenly hit me all at once.

My eyes widened and he smiled, giving me the barest nod.

"You're a..." I didn't want to say it, for fear of getting a glass of wine in my face, as if I hadn't said too much already.

"A hundred dollars," Valentine whispered, so close that I could feel his sweet breath on my face. His hand found my crotch and his fingers seemed to stroke my clit, his fingertips pressing down just enough. "I'll help you forget him for a little while."

I knew there were prostitutes in town. I mean, I'd heard they were out there, but I always imagined them standing on the corner, dressed in leopard print pants and feather vests, dressed like peacocks with too much makeup, chewing gum, and...

"Alright," I said softly, wondering what I was doing.

Was I that desperate? And did desperation have anything to do with it really? Valentine was incredibly beautiful, stunning in fact, and I felt my stomach knot up with the realization that he wasn't really interested in me at all, but only in my money. And yet...

I had to go with him, for no other reason than I wanted to punish myself, I suppose. William loved me and now I was going upstairs, into some anonymous little room with a man whose name I might, or might not know, for no other reason than to be special for an hour or so. His eyes promised me that much at least; Valentine was a very good actor.

I paid for the drinks and we walked up the stairs to the sidewalk, and I felt a momentary flash of panic. What if everyone walking past knew I was with a prostitute? An honorable profession to be sure and perfectly legal in every state, except Utah, but still ... My real worry, of course, was that William would happen along, just at the precise wrong moment in my life, and see me with this beautiful man. Would he be jealous? Probably and not unreasonably, but what if he wasn't? That thought frightened me terribly and I hoped Valentine's apartment wasn't very far.

"Welcome home," Valentine smiled as he unlocked his door, pushing it open for me, and that seemed like an odd thing to say.

His apartment consisted of a small loft, just three rooms probably, but I didn't get the grand tour or anything. The main room was small, but cozy, nicely decorated and much more tastefully so than what I might have expected. Prostitution must have paid pretty good. There was a bathroom just off to the left, the door slightly ajar, and what I assumed to be the kitchen off to the right. A large bed dominated the place, old fashioned brass and made up prettily with lavender sheets and silk pillows. There was no television, and just enough books in a large bookcase to make the place look lived in, but mainly the apartment seemed to be filled with porcelain figurines and dolls.

Valentine closed the door, locking it behind us, and picked up a remote control from a wicker end table. He used it to turn on a stereo and offered me a satisfied smiled as soft classical music began playing. It seemed simple and somehow elegant all at once and I just stood in the middle of the room wondering what it would be like to really come home to something like this every day.

"Do you like Vivaldi?" Valentine's mouth moved against my right ear. His hands encircled my waist as he pressed himself against my back.

"Sure," I replied, hoping he meant the music and not something else, but the name did seem to ring a small bell in the back of my mind.

"Me too, it's so romantic, but..." he turned me gently, looking almost level into my eyes, he was so tall, especially in heels, " ... let's take care of the unromantic part first."

He wrinkled his nose, smiling at me as I nodded dumbly and reached for my wallet.

A hundred dollars didn't seem like very much for a boy who looked like Valentine, but then I'd never paid for sex before either. That was another thing that made me vaguely uncomfortable, knowing I was with a professional and hoping I knew what I was doing. I mean, everyone knows how to have sex, but I really wanted to be good at it suddenly, because standing there looking at Valentine? Yeah. There was little doubt in my mind that he'd be very good at whatever we did together.

Once Valentine had my money safely in his purse, it seemed as if we'd been together for years. Whatever I might have expected, a cold businesslike aspect, or a rush to get me off and out the door, that wasn't what Valentine was about at all.

"Let's relax a little," he said, and every movement he made was slow and deliberate. No hesitation, none of the nervousness that I felt, just an amazing calm.

We didn't sit down, we didn't even undress, he just let me take him in my arms and we danced slowly, if dancing we could call it. We moved together, and feeling him against me was wonderful. He smelled soft, so masculine and sweet, and I buried my face in Valentine's silky hair while he kissed my cheek and neck. The musk seemed to rise from his skin and I had to believe it was all him. Not soap or cologne, but a man beneath my lips.

This was foreplay like I'd never experienced in my life. Sex without being overt or aggressive. We merely touched each other and kissed lightly, and used all of our senses to explore each passing moment. My breasts ached the way they hadn't since I'd hit puberty and they'd started their slow painful development. My nipples flashed hot and cold under my sweatshirt, and the warm fleece rubbed my skin as we moved. My sex had grown tropical, hot and humid and tingling, my vagina literally trembled with anticipation, and my clit hardened noticeably, sending little shocks of electricity through my entire body.

Valentine had me flushed and breathing hard with such little effort on his part that I might have felt embarrassed, like a teenage girl on her first date. I could feel his penis, a distinct hardness trapped under his skirt, coiled in his panties, pressing against me. I wondered how he felt about doing this with me. It couldn't have been an act, not all of it. Valentine moved his hands along my back, murmuring in my ear and tickling me with his tongue and lips. His every touch felt like magic and it wasn't long before my lips found his for a real kiss.

I pushed my tongue into Valentine's mouth, trying to be gentle, to treat him like the beautiful, delicate man he was. I brought my hands down his spine, feeling the curve of his back, down to his pert round ass. I felt his narrow hips and waist moving beneath me, the contours so subtle and manly. My breasts pressed themselves against his flat chest and I hungered to see his nipples, to know if he felt as excited as I did. But first we kissed, listening to the fragile strains of violins and cellos, moving in that small room in the soft golden lamplight.

"Do you want to undress me?" Valentine asked, smiling and licking his lips. I could see his lipstick barely upset by our long kiss. He remained perfectly beautiful, or even more so perhaps, as I'd forgotten everything else completely.

"Oh yes," I nodded and he waited patiently as I gathered my strength.

Valentine watched my eyes as I slipped the thin straps of his dress off his pale shoulders so they fell loose down his arms. He held me steady, reassuring me with an occasional squeeze of my round hips. He didn't protest at all, but allowed me to pull his dress slowly down, revealing his body inch by inch while I held my breath. It seemed very much like opening a particularly delightful present and I wanted to make it last as long as possible.