Chapter Twenty

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Cole groaned, knocking on the door again.

Giovanni's only had one bathroom. Segregated toilets were probably reserved for the unwashed masses who couldn’t be trusted to relieve themselves in a civilized manner and not daub excrement on the walls.

He impatiently danced from foot to foot, replaying the date thus far in his head.

Rachael knew. She knew everything!

Well, strongly suspected might be more accurate, but that revelation alone sent him into a gut-clenching panic. At least his erection wasn’t a problem anymore. That had wilted faster than a daisy in a blast furnace.

So she strongly suspected his involvement with two incredible women–including a faculty member–and came on the date to confront him?

No, no. That didn’t align with her flirty behavior and airy demeanor.

Rachael hadn’t condemned their plural relationship. In fact, she’d lauded Krystal and Lita’s merits, then made a none-too-subtle pass of her own.

Cole’s racing heart slowed. Was he overreacting?

Whatever the case, his bladder was fit to burst and…

A lock clicked, and the door swung open.

“Apologies for the wait!” A boisterous voice boomed. Cole goggled at the two figures exiting the washroom. “Cole? How serendipitous that we should cross paths. Good to see you, my boy. Good to see you!”

None other than Viktor Von Gloot stood before him.

The hawk-nosed stork of a man beamed, grasping Cole by the shoulders like a proud parent.

He noted the Dean’s rumpled smoking jacket and unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, then eyed his companion, a stunningly full-figured matron with mussed silver hair smoothing a wrinkled evening gown back over her wide hips.

She dabbed the corners of her mouth where the lipstick had smudged.

“And what precious flower do you court tonight, lad?” Viktor wrapped a bony arm around Cole, spinning them to survey the restaurant. “I’m yet to receive a art piece from you. Has a muse finally presented herself or are you merely testing the waters? Men such as we should dip our toes into many pools… ah, I see young Rachael awaits your company. A fine choice, my boy! A very fine choice.”

Cole squirmed under the ancient lecher's touch. “Hello, sir. Sorry, I urgently need to use the bathroom…”

“A moment, my boy, but a moment. Let us examine your companion's many fine qualities together.” The Dean insisted. His grip was surprisingly strong. “Truly, she is a ripe fruit ready for sampling. Short yet juicy, like the sweetest melons, which she doesn’t lack either, eh? A man’s mouth does water at a vision of youthful beauty with a peach that tasty.”

Cole wished he could evaporate into nothingness. Mortified by the old goat’s horny summary of Rachael’s… assets. Or being associated with him in any way, really.

His salvation appeared in the form of a voluptuous cougar.

“Vik, let the poor boy go. Can’t you see he’s about to burst?” Viktor’s date batted her lashes at him. “Our meals will be getting cold after our… distraction.”

“Certainly, my dear, certainly.” The bombastic perv released Cole with a flourish towards the door. “Have at it, lad. Punish the porcelain. Show it who’s boss. I have a flower of my own to entertain. A rose by any other name, as the bard once said. Shall we, my dear?”

“Oh, you charming devil.”

Cole scrambled to escape, slamming the door behind him.

Rachael looked subdued when he returned to their table. Her habitual vibrancy dimmed, her posture slumped.

Cole felt bad. He’d reacted poorly to an imagined threat and ruined the mood. After peeing away the anxiety, he recognized her actions as those of an interested party, not a hostile one. His knee-jerk reaction had spoiled their evening.

“Cole, I wanna say–” She began, but he dismissed the impending apology with a gesture.

“Please, it was entirely my fault. You did nothing wrong, Rachael. Can we forget my little freak-out and start over?”

Her expression lifted, that thousand-watt smile returning with a happy nod. “I’d like that. Hows about ya tell me what ignited your passion for painting?”

Another drink rested beside his empty plate, refilled in Cole’s absence. He took a sip, pondering the request. The **** warmed his belly.

“It’s not very interesting compared to your journey—no unionized showgirls or touring the countryside. My childhood was boring. Just school and the usual stuff. My parents are great; I love them to ****, but art didn’t feature until high school, when I met an incredible teacher.”

“Oooh, is this gonna be like Good Will Hunting?” Rachael scrubbed her hands together excitedly. “Did a mentor discover your talent and take you under their wing? Spill the tea already.”

“That movie is older than we are but you’re not far off the mark.” Cole chuckled.

“It’s a classic! How do you like them apples? Quit stalling.”

“Well, Ms Bennet was an artist turned teacher—a post-impressionist with definite opinions concerning the Renaissance. She taught me to work in oil paints and acrylics. Her devotion to the craft sparked something in my younger self. The desire to create. To capture life on the canvas.”

“Was she hot?” The curvaceous short-stack leered, propping her elbows on the table. “Were you hot for teacher, mule boy?”

“She was my senior by thirty years. We’re talking about high school, remember?”

“Yeah, where boys are horny and dumb. Driven by their raging hormones.”

Cole couldn’t muster a solid defense against that argument. Especially since she wasn’t wrong.

“There were some… one-sided emotions.” He admitted. “She never took advantage. Never crossed that line. No matter how much I wished she would.”

Clara Bennet had been a blazing beacon of womanhood, even in her middle age. Brimming with vigor and energy, she outshone the girls in Cole’s class like the sun blotting out the stars.

He’d been smitten as only a schoolboy could and studied diligently to earn her praise. Ms Bennet fostered his blossoming talent, gentle when turning down his clumsy advances. Looking back, Cole wasn’t confident she didn’t harbor some affection for him. If so, she’d hid it well.

That was for the best; he’d been a stupid teen and the power dynamics were unbalanced. However, part of his heart would always ache for Clara.

Her cushiony chest, slim waist and flaring butt–all her mature dimensions–had imprinted on his adolescent brain. Instilling the baseline by which he measured future love interests.

“Holy crap, I was right!” Rachael cheered, then stalled. “Wait, does that mean you’re only into older…”

“I’m into real women.” Cole quickly clarified. “Women of substance and conviction. Women with ambitions and passion. Brains and personality trump age or anything else.”

“I’d normally call that out as total cheese but you mean it, huh?” She wagged a breadstick at him before licking the end suggestively. “Helps that those girls of yours are also smoking hotties, though.”

“I meant what I said, and won’t deny there’s a strong physical attraction.”

“Oho! Things are about to get spicy.” Rachael glanced about, pausing on something behind Cole with a frown. “Ugh, is that the Dean? What a crusty ol’ weirdo.”

Cole’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “Probably, what’s he doing?”

“He keeps waggling his eyebrows and nodding at me while pointing to you. Like he’s trying to send signals.” She sighed, dropping the breadstick in disgust. “Wanna get outta here? This place is schmick and all. Thanks for bringing me, but I know a joint around the corner that serves a killer desert.”

Standing, Cole offered the buoyant blonde his hand, which she took with a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“This is more my speed,” Cole said, digging into his McFlurry. “Makes me a cheap date, I guess.”

“Pffft… it doesn’t have to be fancy to be good.” Rachael crunched on an M&M. “Giovanni’s was ritzy and the food was amazing, but that’s more Farrah’s style than mine. Too many different forks. Which do I choose? Let’s get barbeque next time. Brisket and ribs, yummo!”

An image of the cutie tearing into a rack of pork ribs, sauce dripping from her chin, did things to Cole.

They were strolling through campus, the night veiling the gardens and exhibits in silver starlight. It was quiet, intimate, and far away from the daily hustle and bustle. Lampposts cast pools of illumination on the path at regular intervals; their glow glimmered in dew-kissed petals and leaves. A cool breeze carried the scent of jasmine and lavender.

It was undeniably romantic as they walked side by side.

“Next time?” He asked softly. “Still interested despite my… non-traditional arrangement?”

“Duh. Like you said, you’re a cheap date and not half bad-looking.” She snorted, hip-checking him. “Seriously though, how does it work between you three?”

Cole stared up at the moon, giving the question proper consideration.

“Honestly, I never dreamed of finding myself in this situation. I didn’t seek out multiple partners. I was a one-woman man until recently…”

He laid everything out for her, from losing his first love, Lisa, to the following year of loneliness before his unforeseen enrollment in Von Gloot’s Academy. Rachael listened intently, shedding a single tear for his pain.

He recounted meeting Miss Laurier–Krystal and their instant, turbulent physical chemistry and the inclusion of Lita in their budding relationship at the MILFs insistence.

Cole withheld the more intimate details. He wouldn’t expose his girlfriends’ deepest kinks or secrets, yet no lie passed his lips.

It was a relief to tell someone. Unburden himself to a sympathetic ear. Cole hadn’t realized how much the emotional load wore on him until he–and the McFlurry–was done.

“Oh, mule boy. You’re sort of a dolt when it comes to girls and feelings.” Rachael sighed, caressing his cheek. “Lucky you’re so handsome and earnest; otherwise, I’d call you a scrub. Let’s take this chat indoors.”

They stood outside a residency block. The multi-storied structure reflected the art-deco theme of the campus in brick, steel and glass. Large windows punctuated the façade, hinting at the vibrant activity inside. A decorative awning framed a central entrance. Above the door, a sign with the building's name in bold proclaimed it the ‘Tally-ho Hall.’

He followed her, watching that thick booty sway enticingly in her slinky evening gown as she climbed the stairs. Cole’s loins lurched at the sight.

Rachael led him through an empty foyer, up more flights of stairs then down a corridor to reach a plain timber door marked 3C. Inserting a key, she paused to look over her shoulder at Cole with an unexpectedly coy smile.

“FYI, Ebony’s my roommate; however, she’s cleared out for the night to give us some privacy. It’s not much, but it’s ours, so don’t judge us too harshly. We’re not on free-ride scholarships like you.”

“I can be respectful.” He promised, and she showed him in.

What greeted them resembled a loft apartment more than a college dorm. A shared common area held a kitchenette, a small dining set, a single sofa and loveseat combo. What dominated the space was the studio at the center.

Plastic sheeting protected the floors from the mix of heavy equipment and supplies the girls used in the pursuit of their crafts. A pottery wheel coated in clay, water tubs, dirty rags and a messy workbench littered with shaping implements represented Rachael’s calling.

The other side of the studio held neatly arranged shelves and draws stuffed with screws, bolts, brackets, and god knew what else. There were power tools and a portable acetylene kit organized on a steel worktop beside a standing drop saw.

“This is remarkable.” Cole could picture the unlikely duo squabbling amicably as they built, molded and designed together—a whirlwind of chaos and an agent of order clashing to create true wonders. “You get to work so closely. Swapping concepts and ideas as you go. In my studio, it’s just me and maybe a model.”

“Yeah? Well, we make do. Ebony is a smidge compulsive, so don’t touch anything.” Rachael flopped gracelessly onto the sofa, patting the cushion beside her. “Come sit, mule boy. I wanna talk about your… what’d you call it? Um, your non-traditional arrangement.”

A big thank you to the anonymous supporter who commissioned this fun tale. You know who you are. Chapters are posted on my BuyMeACoffee page weeks in advance. Supporters can read them for the price of a single cuppa joe. Cheers for reading!