The Date with Helen

The rest of the day—psych class, a few hours holed up in the library, a quick jaunt to the supermarket and then Emma’s room—goes by in a blur, your mind focused on little else but your upcoming date with Helen.

And just like that, as the clock strikes eight, you find yourself standing outside her door with a basket in your hand, dressed in a button-down and fresh pants. You’re about to knock, when the door swings open, revealing Helen herself.

She’s wearing a cute summer dress, the long slits running down her sides revealing her shapely legs, while the thin black straps over her shoulders hold her top up with casual grace, drawing your eye to the curve of her bust. She undoes her hair-tie, letting her golden hair down, and then she steps out of her room, closing the door quietly behind her. Seeing your spellbound expression, she cracks a smile.

“Not even a hello for me?” she says.

“You uh… look great…”

You’re spared from properly answering her question by a guy hollering from down the corridor: “Oooh, has little-miss-perfect got herself a date?”

“Shut up, Darren!” Helen yells back in his direction. “I’m not going out with you, and that’s that!”

“That’s what they all say,” Darren says in a sing-song voice, before ducking into the men’s room.

“Playing hard to get with him, are you?” you tease, finally finding your voice.

“Keep it up and I won’t play with you at all,” Helen laughs, grabbing hold of your free arm as you make your way out of the dorms. She looks over curiously at the basket dangling off your other arm. “So, what’s the surprise?”

Helen kicks off her heels, sinking her feet into the soft grass. A creek gurgles at the foot of the knoll, while off in the horizon, the sky begins to turn a pale orange. A jogger runs by on a nearby park pathway, giving the two of you no more than a glance before she’s gone by.

“Nice view,” she says, looking out at the setting sun.

“Uh-huh,” you say. “Very nice.”

She turns around to catch your eyes trained on her delectable figure instead of the breathtaking sunset.

“Are you going to show me what’s in the basket?” she asks, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“I’m sure you’ve put it together by now,” you say, gesturing to your surroundings and then at the basket, “but here you go.”

You open up the basket-lid, and Helen peeks in, eyes aglow with delight.

“Let’s get this picnic started,” she smiles, and the two of you begin spreading out a checkered blanket over the grass.

You can’t resist stealing a glance or two up her dress as she bends down to flatten out some of the bumps in the blanket, getting a healthy eyeful of her shapely ass and white panties. Helen winks back at you, smoothing her skirt back down over her ass as she seats herself down on the blanket.

“I thought we could enjoy this sunset together,” you say, pulling a platter of assorted crackers, cheeses, and cured meats out of the basket.

“I like you when you pretend to be classy,” Helen laughs. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any wine, would you?”

“I would have gotten wine, but, you know,” you look at your basket awkwardly. “Still haven’t figured out how to get that around here.”

“That’s a shame,” she says.

“I did get this though,” you say, pulling out a bottle of apple cider. “A close second?”

“A close second,” Helen agrees, although you can tell that she’s still just a tiny bit disappointed.

You pour out a drink into each of the two chipped mugs that you’ve brought along, and pass one to her. Ah well, may as well make the best of the situation.

“To the lady of the night, Helen,” you say, raising your mug at her.

“To my lovely ass, you mean,” she replies, and you cough to the side. “Come on, I’ve caught you looking more than a few times.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you laugh, and you clink your mug against hers, taking a heavy swallow of the cider.

Helen sips from her mug in a way that somehow seems dainty, and then she nibbles on her crackers and cheese, contentedly staring at the setting sun, which has by now cast the sky in a deep array of purples and mauves.

You sidle up next to her, munching on a cracker yourself, and place an arm around her shoulder. She smiles at you, scooching tighter against you, and the two of you sit on the small hilltop, watching the sun go down.

“This is the life, isn’t it,” she sighs.

There’s something bittersweet to her voice, a longing for something you can’t quite place, but you nod along, keeping quiet. One chew, then another, the taste of the cheese and cider lingering in your mouth. You get another cracker and top it with some salami, washing it down with another drink from your mug.

Helen sits next to you, arms wrapped around her knees, still looking out at the sky. Minutes of quiet pass. You keep silent, not wanting to spoil the moment.

You look down and notice that she’s drained her mug at some point. You grab the bottle and gesture at her cup. She nods, eyes flicking down to your hands for only the briefest of moments, before returning to that faraway point in the distance. You fill up her mug, and the two of you sip your wine, watching the clouds and the sun and the occasional bird flit across the sky.

“But nice things never last,” she eventually says.

The sun has just about crested the horizon, the last tendrils of its glorious light fading. She shivers, body vibrating against yours. It is starting to get chilly.

“All we can do is enjoy it, isn’t it,” you say, glancing at her again.

You see the soft smile playing across her lips.

“I guess that’s right,” she says, and then she kisses you.

Her lips are tender as the night, slow but urgent kisses drawing the two of you closer together, until at some point she’s in your lap, your arms curled around her, her tongue still faintly sweet.

“And maybe even if they don’t last forever,” you whisper into her ear, “they can last long enough.”

You can feel her smile through your next kiss, a fragile thing that almost quivers, and the two of you make out under the moonlight, not quite drunk, but certainly not sober.

Helen +10