Chapter 5: The Blond Beauty and the Promised Man

'Gooood morning, class! So good to see everybody so happy and well-rested this morning, at such a late hour of...' He checked his watch, 'eight o'clock, can you believe that? Aah, that's wonderful!'

The teacher, happy and joyful, almost jogging from the back to the front of the classroom, went by the rows of students and greeted everybody with his strong, imposing voice on that first day of class.

To be honest, I liked what I saw quite a lot. He was very dashing middle-aged man, much like as if Richard Gere and Marilyn Monroe had somehow conceived and baby and this baby had grown up to be a hot piece of ass even at his fifties. Wow!

'Today, we're starting our journey through the world of corporate finance management. My name is John Lord and I'm going to help you give your first steps on this journey, which maybe will lead some of you to your first million or, who knows, billion dollars. Now, let's get to it!'

Okay, I confess that I became quite numbed by the intense routine of the first few months. The workload of studies and the sheer size of that new universe sure were too much for a small town girl like me to handle or get used to very quickly.

As the days went by, however, I soon found myself wandering through every room, every corridor and every hall, looking from side to side, hungry and horny, after that marvelous hot guy who was going to sweep me off my feet and take me to the stars. That gorgeous, sensual male who was going to grab me tightly by the waist, look me with 'now-you're-mine' eyes and take me with power and ****, not minding any consequences, in an open area, under the watch of hundreds of strangers, leaving me as embarrassed and speechless as aroused and... and as…

Completely surrendered!

'Now I no longer lower my standards!' I said to myself, determined to only be devoured by a man who was at least as good as 'Johnny', my dear, sensual nameless biker boy!

One month of intense studies later, however, I confess that once again I started to get ****. My dissatisfaction sometimes led to anger, giving me the urge to approach the first random person I found and basically demand: 'who is the biggest, baddest, hottest playboy of this school? I want to meet him! I want to be fucked by him! Somebody, please! Anyone just give me one good name, please!'

Oh, I tell you: if men have 'blue balls', us women have 'purple pussies'; this is when our private parts get so bloated and juicy that, like a very luscious and fat fruit, all they need is a little... oww!... a little push to leak their juices uncontrollably.

'You're here again?' A guy asked when I came in to wash my pants and panties one more time.

'Oh, yeah. I had an... incident... with my clothes.'

The truth is that I could barely walk without my love nectar leaking and ruining another good piece of cloth, so horny that I felt on those days of the driest spell!

And then that stranger on the laundry, like most men on my life, found some lame excuse to try and talk to me and…

O, good grief. Look, I have no problem with 'ordinary' men. Not anymore, at least. I understand their pains and try to, whenever possible, be polite, even compassionate when rejecting them, but... good Lord, how annoying they can get sometimes!

«As if there were only two kinds of men: sexy or sticky!» I came to this conclusion after another sad attempt at flirting from that man, the thousandth one in my still so-short life!

Sometimes we burn with anger, you know! We want to sink our fists in the faces of these clingy boys, but we don't do it because, sadly, those sons of bitches tend to be stronger than we are, so we rather not risk it, right?

I mean, better to save our lives than to save our faces.

And even when they aren't strong, well, they can be armed, and God knows how blind and unfair is the anger of a sexually denied young man!

«I think every woman should have a gun. It would compensate for the bigger biceps and pecs these gorillas have over us!»

In short, I was a little bit crazy amidst these wandering thoughts. And horny! My thirst was such that I needed some space very far from my dorm room so I could finger myself without calling anyone's attention.

Sometimes I bit my lips very strongly, almost drawing blood, to hold the savage scream that grew within myself while my fingers sunk in my vagina and made my thighs wet and slippery with so many juices that I leaked all over the woods.

'Oooooaaarrrhhh...!!'

One time I screamed so loud many lights went on in the dorms nearby, and many birds, which rested tidily on the top of the trees, woke up violently and then flew off into the moonlight.

I was sick due to lack of sex and needed medicine urgently. 'Looks like I have no option but to... pff! Look for some generic ****!' I thought to myself, not knowing how dumb, foolish, really stupid I was.

For if I only knew, after all, that I just needed to stop for a while and pay attention to the chit-chats around me, I would soon discover that I didn't need go after the man so that the man came to me.

Or to my ears, at least.

For he landed naturally on the ears of many people, passing from tongue to tongue on the conversations which were as inevitable as they were unavoidable. When people spoke, for instance, it was always in low voices, so that no one heard them, or even with lowered heads, as if they were disrespecting some ancient, unholy taboo.

Be it timidly, be it warmly, the truth is that all tongues spoke. No exceptions! When I stopped being so fixated on studies and masturbations and started socializing a bit more (I was always introverted, you know? Especially among other girls, who had always been lukewarm to me even before my... 'endowments'), I noticed this very same topic on the conversations of all students and, mainly, of all the women.

And I don't mean just 'the girls', but really all women! From the most popular girl to the eldest teacher, all of them seemed to share the same rumors as if they were part of some secret female rite within the university:

'The King! He's coming this weekend!

'Hey, girl, where?? He's coming where??'

'His fraternity. Sigma-Beta. He's gonna be the guest of honor, or something like that, ha, ha! That's just what I heard, okay?'

'But the fraternity? You sure?? Where did you heard these news?'

'From Joana, who'll be there. All the girls will.' And she got close to her friend, carrying the look of a million forbidden secrets. 'All the girls!'

And I listened to more. So much more:

'Did that guy went to the party?'

'What guy?

'You know what guy.' And the friends traded looks of both admiration and deep jealously. 'The stud.'

'Ah, I see. The 'King'?'

'What a silly nickname!'

'I have no idea. I don't know anybody from that place.'

'Yes, he went.' Another one answered. 'They say he didn't spend much time there. He just appeared, 'blessed' the freshmen and then got out without saying much.'

'How d'you know that?'

The friend bit his lips, chewing his sorrows.

'Marcella. She's the one who told me.'

The other guys looked at each other, knowing very well what those words meant:

'He fucked Marcela?'

'No. But it seems she wanted to be fucked. Badly. I could tell.'

'So, the guy didn't do anything... or anyone. Did he?'

'Of course he did!' And he drank resignedly the warm beer left on his can. 'He got Cynthia.'

'The Cynthia?!'

All chins fell to the floor.

'Yep. The hottest bitch! He simply walked up to her, spoke some magic words and... well, the rest you all know. They left the house on his car to God knows where.'

'His car??'

'Yep. Seems like the son of a bitch bought a new one now. A Tesla.

'Fucking son of a bitch!'

'Yep. Dude's a badass.'

'And what does Marcella have to do with all this?'

'She wanted to be on Cynthia's place, didn't I say? Cynthia gossiped to a friend, who then gossiped to her... you know: they gossiped all the things the guy knows how to do.'

A silence of deep discomfort ran amidst the group, whose throats swallowed up nervously and whose tongues could barely restrain themselves from asking the shameful question no one wanted, but everyone needed to know!

'What 'things', exactly? What is this guy's secret?'

'As if a guy like him would need any 'secrets'. Just look at the man and see how... nobody... with a dude like that, there's no competition!' And the guy shrunk even further, almost disappearing, laying his lips on the tip of the can and muttering some words I couldn't hear, but could make out thanks to his posture and lip movements: 'How's it that some are so luck, dammit?!'

It was shocking how these conversations dominated every corner of the university, as if this guy was larger than the institution itself!

It was always 'the King did this', 'the King did that', without anybody looking like they've seen the dude, but at the same time as if the man's appearances were the only thing the mattered on everybody's minds —students and teachers alike!

'He never sleeps with the same woman twice, did you notice? Is it just me or that's some quirk of him?'

'It's just you, honey. He slept with Sandra, like, some four times or so, for instance.'

'Oh, really??'

'Yes.' And the girl lowered her head, hiding her look of desire and satisfaction, of fear and tension, one in all and all in one. 'She's the one who broke up with him.'

'What do you mean, 'broke up'? Can anyone 'break up' from a man like that? Is she crazy or what??'

'No. Well, you're right: it wasn't exactly a 'break up', as if they were both engaged or something. She kinda... you know... had to have a 'time off', which never ended.'

'Mmm. Why? Is he dangerous?

Her friend paused before answering. Her eyes, locked in infinity, focusing on nowhere specific, drew clearly in the air the sordid images her mind was so vividly conjuring up.

'Dangerous he must be, but... the right kind of dangerous.' And smiled. 'The kind we love.'

'So... what's the deal with Sandra?'

'She couldn't keep up. There was no way for her to keep up! Whole weekends just of them both on the bed, fucking like there's no tomorrow until she dropped d...!'

'Shoosh!' A old lady very politely hushed them from the other side of the table. 'Silence, please.'

'Oh, sorry!'

I too listened to them from a nearby seat on the long library table. My imagination, by that time, was racing on all cylinders, even though my mind —still skeptic— kept censoring me for believing in what maybe amounted to no more than a big fat lie, told by everyone just to fool little me, poor girl, as the world's most elaborate freshman prank call.

''King'! Oh, will you give me a break!' I muttered to myself, maybe a bit too loudly. 'What a joke.'

And then a bit dry, kind of timid voice answered by my side:

'Ain't no joke. It's the pure truth, fortunately. Or sadly, I don't know.'

I looked to see who spoke. A girl with a lofty pose and serene complexion, turning the pages of a few books while scribbling on the notebooks betwixt her arms, also paid attention to the gossip without straying too far from her studies.

'Oh, sorry!'

She looked at me, a bit intrigued.

'For what?'

'The noise. I didn't want to…'

'Forget it. I was also irking to talk too.' She bit the back of her pencil. 'They're unavoidable once you spend just a little bit of time here. You know: the rumors.'

Two empty chairs stood between us, and I felt compelled to jump over them to finally get the much better intel from that stranger.

'Excuse me, but can I...?'

'You want to know more details, right?' She smiled. 'You curious?' I lowered my head and, not knowing why I felt so much shame, swung it up and down. I could feel her rolling her eyes, delighting herself on my awkwardness. 'Alright, then. Come closer, come.' I rose up and went to her. 'Alright, what do you want to know? If you're after that man, I must tell you that…'

I didn't hear much, for a weird sensation got me when I saw her like... that.

Sat down. Studying.

Oh, who am I kidding? She was beautiful. So beautiful, actually, I myself felt a little bit intimidated, even scared by her tremendous looks.

She was no petite girl. She must have been some 5.64ft tall, more or less, being much taller than most women, but still very short, of course, if compared to me.

Her face, oh yeah!, that's where the fun began! Mine was of a typical Arizona wildness mixed with Colombian features; a beautiful, caramel-colored blend which, nonetheless, was a few notches away from European beauty standards, especially those measured by Victoria's Secret angels.

But her face, oh, that one took those standards and crushed them! «A diva's face», I thought, loosing myself on her meaty full lips, almost as big as mine, but very scarlet, almost aggressively red out of fiery embers, amidst that snow-white face of a porcelain doll.

A Chinese vase wouldn't be as delicate as that girl's skin!

She had charming freckles on her cheeks, by the sides of her pretty, perfect model-like nose, so ideal a surgeon could use it as an example to their less genetically-blessed patients, and her big, wide eyes... really big, starry as if they had their own light, tiny little suns within her iris, not to mention the baffling beauty of their intense green color surrounded by a halo of light-blue hues.

Those were such beautiful crystalline eyes they simply hypnotized me, locking my face on hers and preventing me from seeing, at the moment, the rest of her imposing physique.

For before I could naturally lower my gaze to the rest of her... f#cking body!... I was awaken by her warm honey voice:

'Hey! You there?'

'Oh, yes... yes, I'm still here!'

'You looked frozen for a while.'

'Studies. Tired.' I made an excuse. 'Classes barely begun and they're already eating me up whole!'

'Uh-uh, yeah, I see.' She raised her upper lip, giving me a fancy smirk. 'You weren't thinking about him, were you?'

'Mmm... not much,' I didn't lie. 'There's not much to think about, honestly. I barely saw this guy everyone talks about.'

'Mmm. Maybe it's for the best.' And she went back to focusing on her notebooks, nevertheless without writing a word on them. 'There's indeed a lot to think about on that man.'

I reached out to her.

'My name is Tara.'

'Hi, Tara.' She greeted me back with a handshake. 'Mine's Jessa.'

'Jessa, huh.'

Her touch was such a lovely thing! She was so warm, like a Teddy bear left near the fireplace. She gave me a courteous, though a bit reserved smile and kept talking while sometimes looking at me, sometimes at her notes.

'So tell me: are you really going to chase this hunky piece of a man?'

'Mmm... you were saying something about him before, you know, I lost my focus?'

'Indeed I was. I was saying that you'll not find him easily. After all, here's rarely here, on college.'

'He's a student or...?'

'Yes, he studies here. Officially, but not so much on practice. All points towards him leaving, sooner or later.' She sighed. 'It seems inevitable, given what he does.'

'What do you mean?'

'He does many... things, you know? He's got many enterprises, many fingers on too many pies. I was lucky to get a glimpse of a few of them and... enjoy them a little bit...' Her serious complexion gained a little bit of levity before plunging once again in tedious darkness: 'But after that life came back to normal, and I came back to boredom.'

'I still don't get it. Is he some kind of business person, something like that?'

'Entrepreneur. Tooo many good ideas he's having, judging by the frequency of his trips. I think he only comes back here to 'taste' some of the novelties.' And she looked at me attentively, from top to bottom, covering up her emotions under a rigidly blank expression. 'Or maybe it's the business contacts he's got around here, I don't know.'

'You...' I looked sideways, fearful for venturing into such a topic.

Every time the man was mentioned, the surroundings seemed to close upon those who spoke, as if the forbidden subject was a secret behind a hundred keys kept safe by entities of mystic powers.

A heathen subject: the woman who spoke it would be thrown into dungeons; at the very least, into the most maddening depths of her sordid imaginations!

'You...' I kept saying, 'slept with him?'

She turned her face, drawing an arc with her head to hide the smile she could barely resist on her lips, as if the sweet memories moved then regardless of her will.

'Yes, I did. Not that that's a big deal.

'Ah...' I stopped and stayed looking kinda silly, with my bottom lip lowered, while I gathered enough courage —or little shame— to ask what I truly wanted to know: 'how was him?'

She didn't answer immediately.

Regardless of how many nights they spent together, her memories of that guy seemed too much for her to handle all at once.

They overwhelmed her, stole her breath away, and I was awed to see her once icy, tidy, frigid pose now melting away into that of a purring, lovely kitty, as if the mere remembrance of that sordid, steamy bad boy was enough to provoke a complete transformation on her core!

While she took her time to answer, I took the chance to see the rest of her, finally proceeding with my eyes on the course she had blocked a while ago:

«Gosh, she's gorgeous. Extremely so!»

Breasts!

Oh, I could —and should!— start describing her in so many different ways, right? That's usually the recommended path: you start at the least noticeable features and keep climbing up, climbing up, describing bit by bit the more interesting parts until you reach the climax, holding your reader's attention right up until the end —in a phenomenon some writers call 'gradation'.

Oh, yeah, that's how I should begin, starting at her legs, rising to her waist and climbing further and further until the most voluminous and spectacular features of her bust, yum!, but I'd be a filthy hypocrite and a liar for not saying that her breasts... those big, bountiful beauties!... weren't the very first things I noticed.

«Jesus. They're big.» I remember having thought, and it was sure truth! Not just big, but bigger than my own —which was all the more impressive considering a delicate, white-ish frame such as hers, something like the world's hottest Barbie doll!

I was stricken by jealously. Really! Thanks to many biases from childhood, I always saw darker skins like mine as 'stronger' than light skins such as hers, and considered 'mulato' girls like myself as the only ones capable of carrying the true, envy-striking features all men drooled for.

Seeing those bountiful tits of a Latino girl on such a skinny Caucasian body, therefore, filled me with quite a childish jealously and resentment.

«Bitch,» I immediately though, only to as quickly accept that that 'bitch' had also managed to get something I could only dream of: sleeping with that mysterious stud!

And that, quite frankly, only increased his own mystique, for if he was capable of getting a girl like that and still leave her dreamy and thirsty even after so long a time since their last hookup…

Then what couldn't he do, huh??

The gorgeous breasts defied the girl's shirt, whose fabric was stretched to the point of creating a unintended cleavage. Even if that shirt was quite modest and well meaning, those incredible boobs distorted it into the attire of an exotic dancer.

I could see the sprawling surface of each breast caving into that tight vale in the middle, as if both tits, being so compressed against each other, hurt deeply in the contact.

Once I looked to the tip of each breast, I could see the skin getting pinker, pure snow-white skin tone of spoiled little city girl! Oh, I was sure that girl was one of those who, with just a little bit of activity, got all reddish on their private parts!

I kept lowering my gaze, very hungry, until her waist, where I saw that…

Oh, come on, that was ridiculous! Didn't that girl have ribs?! Even taking the proportions into account, her waist managed to be skinnier than my own!

It was that skinny waist, you know, you feel you can squeeze and wrap around with both hands completely! Catwalk models living off bread and water could not match a waist like hers —and remember that she had a lot of cloth covering her body on that day, which certainly made her 'squarer' than what she truly was!

To my not-so-surprised surprise, I found myself undressing her with my eyes! Admiring her as much as envying her, drooling for her like some random horny dude, something I never imagined myself doing even for any men, let alone another woman!

What the hell was happening...?!

By lowering my gaze even further, my heart sank deeper into my bust. I was scared by that beauty, like a commoner before royalty, and I couldn't prevent my chin from falling when my alerted mind, as startled as my eyes were widened, screamed to the very depths of my soul: 'what an ass!'

It wasn't as big nor as hard as mine, of course, and it was difficult to judge it properly when the lucky girl was still so elegantly sat down with her long, luscious legs beneath the dark table, yet I could still then see that she had been almost as blessed on her bottom as she had been on her bosoms!

The jeans she wore got so tight with those generous bullocks that I could feel their firm, shapely outlines guiding my eyes down until her even more elegant and sensuous legs, as long (or longer) than those of many multimillionaire models I'd seen on TV.

«It's legs like those of Rosie Whiteley or Rihanna!» Yes, quite on this style: not muscular and not very thin either, but very well-toned with firm voluminous thighs, good to satiate the touch of any man, very well-delineated and certainly very smooth, without a single stretch or orange peel mark, judging by the pitch-perfect skin flaunted by their lady.

Out of her 5.64ft height, the legs alone must have accounted for 3ft at least!

I pressed my tongue again the palate while I admired her, being overtaken at once by absolutely novel (and a little bit scary) sensations, not all of them wholly pleasant.

Unaware of my movements, I crossed my big legs, hitting them underneath the table and almost getting stuck in the middle of the motion.

During this ungraceful move, my buttocks squeezed tightly, sending all my waist upward in a powerful thrust, and my arms grabbed the sides of the chair so as to tie my body down to it, avoiding that —I dunno— I launched myself into the air like a rocket.

I stared intensely at the girl, and soon realized I was getting all wet and fuzzy between the legs. My nipples got harder still, to the point of defying the pressure of my bra and showing off a slight undulation beneath my shirt, all while that incredible women was still paused, for the briefest of moments, gathering strength to finally answer my question:

'Look, sweetie... I know you're new around here and you're looking for new experiences and what else, but... from girl to girl, or better yet,' she touched her own bust and then pointed at me, 'from senior to freshman, I tell you... give it a rest. Don't go after this treasure so avidly, for it will break you much harder than you can break it, believe me.' She stopped to wait for my response, which didn't come. I was just too scared by her words and intimidated by her looks to say anything at the moment. 'Alright? You think I'm saying that just because of... oh, you know: jealousy or spite?'

'N-no, no!' I coughed, for my throat was so dry that my voice got out of it like a train wreck. 'No, no way, that's not it.'

Again she measured me from head to toe, not even minding to take down from her lips that little smirk, both a lofty and a resigned one at the same time:

'Don't you worry: you really are his type.'

'I'm not jealous. I have no problem with nobody.'

'Then do yourself a favor and... give it a rest. Wait at least another semester to see if you really want this... god.' Even she couldn't handle herself. The word slipped between her lips against her will. She bit them and turned her head, admonishing herself for being so foolish. 'Oh, just... just give it some... sweetie, get to know other... men!... first... before getting to this... this...!'

Only then did I notice that she was gasping for air, and that her breasts moved with such a **** as to tear her shirt apart, so quickly as they throbbed to the beat of her heart!

'Mmm...' I provoked her, 'you okay?'

'No. Not really, no.' She leaned forward, almost trashing her body against the table, and grabbed the wood like a sailor holding tight on the mast of his ship in the middle of a storm. 'Ooh-mmm...!'

Some people nearby looked at us, already distracted by our gossiping, which gained loudness and intensity on the most indecent moments without either of us noticing.

'He can't be this good.' Still skeptic and naive, I confronted her with the facts: 'No man can be this good!'

And she laughed, breathing deeply through her mouth, whose beautiful, fiery red fat lips she then bit with ****. Looking at me with in way that perfectly translated the words she eventually had the strength to spit out, she told me slowly:

'You know nothing, newbie.'

I stayed shut. I thought about saying something, but something bigger stole away my breath: that woman was burning so much in between the legs that she then crossed them indiscreetly by the third or fourth times, looking desperately for some way to reduce her discomfort.

'Well...' I told her, 'then teach me. Just a little.'

She raised me a naughty look.

'Beware the curiosity, newbie!'

'Seriously, how is he?'

'I prefer not to talk about that... not now. Not any longer.' She seemed to barely restrain her own body. 'I got tired of thinking of that... boy...!'

Again, she crossed her legs, but now with an audible gasp, as if she couldn't any longer hold the pleasure that grew within her. All her posture changed so as to fit the immense heat that seemed to consume her.

«She is hot. I mean... hypnotizingly hot!» It was dusk by that time, and the twilight beans passed through the windows of the library and refracted on the mahogany varnish of the table, giving her both a golden and a scarlet aura, quite a really angelic sight!

Just not as angelic as the way she behaved —or, better still, the way she struggled to keep her 'good girl' façade: her lips, she bit them all the time; and her chest, from moving so much, pulled down her shirt, revealing even more of the tender skin of her fantastic, full, formidable breasts, where I could even see bits of her reddish, peppery aureole.

'And those nipples!'

I was aghast. Even under such thick fabric, her nipples were making small humps over her shirt. Or maybe it was just my impression, for her anxious breathing also left me in a trance.

'Oh... ooouhh!…'

She leaned lower once again and spread her legs quickly on a very wide angle, hitting one of my thighs with her knee.

'Ouch!' I woke up. 'You're alright?'

'Didn't I say I'm not? You made me remember this guy and now I'm all like...' She shook her head, trying not to conjure up that image once more. 'Was this your leg?'

'Huh?' I looked down. 'Oh, yeah. I think you hit on it.'

'Really?' She looked shocked, and I'd soon know why. 'Let me see.' And, looking under the table, she hit her knee again on my thick leg. 'Seriously, are these your legs?'

'Well, yeah, I think so. Didn't steal them from anybody, as far as I know.'

'Oh my gosh, they look like concrete! Hey, do you...' And she looked at me in a funny way. 'Do you mind if I touch them real quick?'

'Mmm... no, no. Please, go ahead.'

'It's gonna be just a peck.' And she pressed her two fingers against my right thigh. 'Holy shit! They don't even... give way, you know.' And pressed them again, leaning towards me, so much so that I had a better look of her fantastic cleavage. 'Hey, congratulations, girl! You're one of those ladies who like working out a lot, right? Hey.'

She called me, but I was too lost amidst her tits.

They defied belief and disbelief. Seriously! Never have I though such a pretty white doll like herself was physically able to boast such strong and firm trophies.

That little c*nt! Colombian models wouldn't have tits that perfect!

What impressed me the most, you know, was how hard they seemed to be! When she leaned down, one would expect those boobs, if they were normal, to swing and leave more space between one another; to relieve a little bit of the pressure from the shirt, you know, which would loosen up and leave more space also for the boobs to swing frontwards and backwards.

That's how it would be if those were just your regular "big boobs", but hers...! Oh, no, hers...! Her boobs instead...!

«They. Don't. Move!»

Quite the opposite: they looked like stone. Whatever their position, they stretched the shirt's fabric as if someone was grabbing it by the sides and pulling on opposite directions.

Yet still, they looked so... meaty! You get what I mean? Hard as rocks, yes, like my ass when the buttocks are flexed, but also soft as silk, so pleasant to cup with each hand and compare each one's size in front of a mirror —as if that woman, of course, even needed to make comparisons or fear that her prizes were somehow small.

«This girl was blessed.»

I licked my lips, imagining how great would it be to have those boobs and come home, at the end of each day, and finally release them from the bra, see them fall and bounce while looking to the mirror and finally to admire... you know... to see how much of a goddess I looked.

«By God, this bra... surely it must be squeezing the boobs, which means that... it means that...!»

I could barely complete the sentence, fearful of what my mind would conjure up next: «which means they must be so much bigger!»

Meanwhile, my colleague waited for my response.

'Hey.'

I cleaned up my throat and answered:

'Yes, I work out, but not a lot. I'm no professional.'

'But do you want to be? You've got the looks, you know.'

'Mmm? What looks?'

'Ahh, you know: the body.' She looked straight into my eyes, tilting her head upwards, finally giving me a bit of an admiring smile, a smile of someone who admits defeat. 'You're tall and, you know... big. In a good way, I mean!'

'Oh, well... yes, I know. Thanks.'

'I could swear you worked out professionally.'

'I like sports. I was always very active.'

'Mmm.'

'And you?'

'Me? Oh, I only study.'

'Uh-mmm.'

'Not all the girls can have a body like yours.'

'Not all need to.' I looked deeply at her, incapable of taking my focus out of her face, her boobs, her... her... frankly, her everything! 'Can I know just one thing?

'Oh, Jesus!'

'Seriously, just one thing. It's quite essential, you know.'

'Huh.' She crossed her arms. 'What thing, may I know?'

Oh, sweet Jesus, her with her arms crossed...! Her tits...! My heart did a back flip! I was afraid her shirt would tear itself off —and disappointed that it didn't!

'Focus, focus!' I remember to have thought. 'It's no time to be thinking about that!'

With all the might of my soul —and trying to make sense of all those confusing emotions—, I asked while biting one lip:

'Is he big?'

It was as if all her breath had left her body once again. Her eyes —gorgeous! So big, so aggressively handsome!— faced me frozen, almost in an expression of thinly veiled fear, and her big scarlet lips opened so she could retrieve the air in one deep breath and say, without losing her balance:

'Yes. He is quite fit, indeed. Tall and muscular. Really big guy.'

I laughed, but not much, for I could feel the severity of that subject; the life-or-dead vibe that simple mention provoked on the surroundings.

The lights seemed to dimmer and the whole world stray from us. Soon, I found myself alone with her in the dark, as if only us two could hear the subject that no one, absolutely nobody could ever know:

'I didn't mean that.' And looked down at my crotch, then at her own waist. 'So? Is it big?'

She looked to one side smiling, almost even laughing, and fearing that was the moment she was going to go crazy!

Her expression went from joy to terror. I heard pages being crumpled, then looked at her hands and saw it was her tearing apart the pages from the notebooks and kneading them, trying for the sake of her life to grab to anything that could keep her grounded in reality.

Her breathing, slow and deep, broke off a few times, as if some kind of erotic despair consumed her from her inside.

'Big.'

This was all she had the strength to say.

«How big?» I asked without making a sound, only moving my lips, and she, once past her intense heat wave, put down both palms on the table, each facing the other, and measured the size right there the best way she could.

I looked at the table, shocked, and thought she couldn't be serious. In the space between both palms one could fit a whole textbook... and then some! The length of a textbook, yeah, and then the width of an iPhone 7 Plus, with enough space left for the width of a finger and a half.

That couldn't be right! I first gave her a confused and surprised look, then an ironic one, but soon I trembled once I saw the way she kept her confident complexion.

'It's big.' And she inhaled so, so deeply. 'The biggest!'

A needed a few seconds to take my eyes out of hers, for I myself was breathless.

As soon as I lowered them, I kept staring at her hands, still on the same position, without believing the size her palms implied.

She eventually retracted her arms and straightened the lower brim of her shirt, which had climbed up her thin waist after so many stretches of her body.

'So, newbie?' She asked, looking down to her books. 'Anything else you wanna know?'

My throat was so dry the words barely left:

'I-I... uh-mmm, I... I... look, I didn't come... mmm…'

She looked at me by the sides of her eyes, but very deeply. I could tell she was curious to hear what I still had to say, and that she found my obvious discomfort quite funny.

I crossed my legs constantly, and for a brief moment I pulled the upper flap of my shirt to better fit it on my body, giving a little bit of breathing room to my breasts.

Her eyes inadvertently fell over my cleavage. I didn't notice at the time, but could sense her demeanor getting more modest and submissive, as if her tough 'senior student before freshman' attitude could no longer resist my plentiful... endowments.

At the same time, my own head raced against itself: I was divided between her and that bloody man!

A man I've never heard of and of whom I had even less concrete information! A man who was no more than a dim profile amidst the darkness, with nothing beyond the spacing of two palms as an accurate description of his physique.

That man, who might still be just some collective delusion, took over me completely, to the point I could barely pay attention to the beautiful woman in front of me.

A woman whom I owed respect to, of course, for I was disrupting her reading and study hours with such silly things!

Silly, yes, but so dear to my heart!

'You have any contact of... parties?'

I tripped over my own tongue while trying to build a full sentence. She tilted her head like a confused puppy and raised an eyebrow before asking:

'What do you mean 'contact of parties'?'

Gosh, how stupid I must have sounded!

'Look... Jessa... I know I barely know you and you must be, like, really annoyed with me being here…'

'No, not a bit.' Her smile, though still distinctly arrogant, grew as she replied. 'I was here for over three hours, studying all the time.'

'Is it some urgent work?'

'No. It's still the first quarter, right, so there's not a lot of real work to do.'

'Yeah, but I didn't know it was the same case for you. You look like a woman who has everything figured out on her life…'

'Oh, please! I wish!'

'...and I thought that, well, you could be working on something outside of, you know, graduation and stuff. Mmm... you're still on undergrad or...?'

'Yes, newbie, I am. Economics. And you?'

'Management.'

'Science & Engineering?'

'That's right.'

'Cool. Wanna go the big biz route?'

'You betcha.'

'Oh, not a surprise. You do look like someone who's good dealing with big companies, big corporations, I can tell.'

'Thank you.'

'Wasn't a compliment, newbie.' And she turned her head, pretending to insult me. 'You know how these people can be bad!'

'Oh, not so much. I came here to prove the stereotype wrong.'

'Oh, really? I don't know.' She looked at me from the head to the waist, on which she fixed her gaze for a long time before looking straight back at my face. 'You do look like a bad girl. '

I turned my cheeks and held my giggles. «What is happening?» I looked back at her with less innocence and more haughtiness. Sooner or later, after all, I had to act my size:

'It's been quite some time since I don't... get to know anybody. You know?'

She moved a little bit away from me, smirking knowingly.

'You mean you don't fuck?' And giggled cutely, but still loud enough so I could feel my skin burn. 'Look, newbie, I'm not... exactly your type.'

'Oh, no, it's not that!' But wasn't it really? 'I just wanna... look, I'm just looking for a good man. Not that I have a lot of trouble getting men, if you know what I'm saying.'

'Uh-uh.'

'But it's good men I want! You know, quality guys.'

'And who doesn't want those, big girl? We all do. But, you know...' She crossed her legs so slowly, oh-so slowly that my head nearly tilted to the side while following them. 'Good men are the rarest commodity!'

'This guy... this King…'

Out of nowhere, she returned to seriousness:

'No. This son of a bitch does not deserve your time, nor anybody's.'

When she turned her face away, I noticed her biting her lips out of spite.

'Did he hurt your feelings?'

'Newbie, newbie! Stop playing with fire, fresh girl!'

'Just curious. Just wanna know.'

'Yeah, yeah, I see. Well, I don't. It's past waters for me!'

'Was he good?'

'Shut. Up!' She whispered a bit severely, a bit playfully. 'I almost needed to go to therapy to take that bastard out of my mind and now you come here reminding me of that devil all over again.'

'Well, it's not as if the school or the whole world made it easy to forget.'

'It's precisely because of that I don't wanna hear another word of him!'

'Look, you... you know anybody here?'

'Anybody what?'

'I don't know, anybody who... you know, anything or any place with really hot men... I mean, really hot men, truly hot, god-like ones, who can make me... discover new stuff.'

I crossed my legs once again, and once again I hit the table with my knees. No longer I crossed them, however, because of the vision of that man; every time I crossed them, really, was because I couldn't take my eyes of... her!

'I've been studying far too much and socializing far too little.'

'Well, that's college for you. Welcome to the club! Look, I'm seasoned here. I know one thing or two around here. Let's try this: me and some good folks from class are going to…'

And then, just like that, she invited me to a date with her friends. Nothing fancy, just a group of five other people having fun on Downtown North that weekend.

I accepted, even knowing I had work with some harsh deadlines to complete. When I said 'yes', I wasn't even in control of my own lips, to be honest. She was.

'Okay, cool. I'll be there.'

'If you want to bring somebody with you, it's no problem.'

'Mmm-mmm.'

'No, go back to study, you. And take your mind out of these bad, bad thoughts.'

'After what you've shown me,' I looked at her hands, 'it's kinda too hard to forget now.'

'Go, newbie, go. I've gotta study now.'

'My name is Tara, okay?'

'Your name is new-bie until I say otherwise.'

'Oh!'

'You've gotta respect your seniors.'

'Soon we shall see who's senior to whom.' And I kept still, with an idiot smile on my face, for far longer than what would've been considered normal. 'B-bye.'

'Good bye, big girl.'

«What the hell was I doing?? Sh#t, what the f#ck had gone on my head?»

I clumsily got out of that chair, my heart beating so fast I didn't know why, and felt that her eyes kind of sneakily followed me, clearly measuring up my height as soon as I got up and rose with my head up to the clouds.

Still unable to think clearly, I turned around and found myself stuck, undecided, or better still, pressed against several indecisions.

'Oh, shoot!' I said to myself before turning back and returning to her with timid little steps.

'Hey, sorry.'

'Oh, god, newbie, what do you want?'

'It's about him.'

'Oh, gosh! Don't you tell me you're already addicted to him! Oh, no!'

'Seriously, it's just a silly question.'

'Ah, I see. Another silly question.'

'For real, it's nothing too important.'

'Okay, go ahead, newbie, go. We've already spoke too much, haven't we, so I guess another little chat won't hurt.' She paused and thought for a while. 'I guess.'

I leaned over her, arching my body without bending my knees, and holding the back of her chair so that the weight of my boobs didn't make be lose my balance and fall over her beautiful lap.

I kind of wanted her to see my hard, spectacular breasts; to notice them, to…

Respect them!

It was something competitive, but also... so much more... primitive...!

'Why 'King'? Why do they call him... King?'