Authors Note: These stories are based on my life experiences. If you haven't read the first part of my story, I'd suggest that you do so... The names (or most of them) have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. By the way, in case any of you are wondering after the end of this story, the answer is: "Yes, Cheryl is still a part of my life – even if we aren't roommates anymore."
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Too damn slow, that was my problem. There was a group of them. College students from Japan, Korea, somewhere like that. We were in the waiting room, in Innsbruck, waiting for the overnight bus to Geneva in Switzerland. They had a couple of older women with them. Lecturers or something. A couple of parents perhaps. Some of the students looked mouth-wateringly cute. Lovely sloe eyes, long silky hair that some of them had in pony tails. Parkas, of course. In some cases almost enveloping them entirely. Some had their hoods up, as it was cold.
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Hi, my name is Mindy and I'm a sophomore college student. Although you won't believe it after reading this, I must say that generally I am somewhat reserved. I was brought up in a conservative household and didn't date much in high school.
About a month ago something crazy happened to me. It was my roommate Ashley's birthday and she had planned a night out with her friend Gina and me.
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We had arrived in my husband's home town. It was really a small village with a main street that looks like it came right out of a painting. The town was decorated for Christmas; all the lamp poles had colored lights running up and down them. A fresh carpet of snow blanketed the town; this place could really get you in the Christmas mood.
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An unexpected package in the post is always a pleasure, and this was no exception. Although if Jessica had foreseen the events that would unfold, she may have been less excited when she noticed, upon her return from work, the box left outside her door.
She scooped it up with the other post and then placed it on the table while she changed and poured a glass of wine.
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I first saw her as she walked from her car towards the supermarket.
She was hard to miss, especially in broad daylight. I was parked two rows away and she walked into the Harris Teeter store about twenty steps ahead of me, her tight ass swaying back and forth in her tiny, designer-label jean miniskirt.
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Thomas picked me up at eight and we decided to go for a drive. It was a hot night; Thomas was just wearing a white shirt, which he had left unbuttoned, showing off the muscles in his chest, and a pair of shorts that stopped above his knee. His clothes weren't anything fabulous, but it never seemed to matter what he wore, he always looked fantastic to me.
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In my 30s, I worked for a company in the east coast for several years. During the time, I met a young woman named Bonnie. She was a Chinese in her early 20s and an entry level staff at our company. We had some occasional flirting, but most of the time we kept it professional, especially with the fact that I was her supervisor. However, that all changed one drunken evening on a business trip. We both had a little too much to drink and wrecked each other in my hotel room that night.
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You have this look on your face of intense concentration as you lock the door to the apartment, like a man on a very serious mission. This makes me giggle because I know what we're about to do, and knowing our dirty little secret makes me giddy. You catch my eye:
"What are you giggling about?"
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I force myself upon my girlfriend about twice a month.
Such a statement sounds so cruel and negative I am obliged to explain it. Ours isn't a common situation and the explanation is quite lengthy. But I want to write about it, as I believe explaining the details will help me feel a little less guilty about the most exciting sexual relationship of my life.
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