Growing Up College Ch. 1

I waved good-bye to my family and my boyfriend for what seemed like the last time, ever. I felt abandoned, alone, and quite afraid. I turned and looked at the lofty building, which, by all rights, was my new home. To me, despite the lush landscaping and beauty of the aging, ivy-covered building, it looked like a solitary confinement prison. Well, solitary, except for one detail — my new roommate.

Yes, I was going to be attending college. Alone. And very, very far from my closest friends and my beloved boyfriend, Paul. And, I had to share my already too-small space with another girl, Elizabeth.

It was bad enough I had to leave him that day, but upon meeting the newest inconvenience in my life, Paul’s eyes practically fell out of his head.

“Call me Liz, please. Elizabeth is too, well, it’s just blah.” she had said to Paul, myself, and my parents, while shaking each of our hands in turn.

“She’s sweet,” my mother commented to us over lunch, after we’d unpacked their SUV and my low-slung Mustang. Yeah, sweet. Also, drop-dead gorgeous. With curves that put Pam Anderson to shame, a perfect Baywatch tan, and blonde hair to boot, she may as well have been Satan. Paul assured me that he’d only be thinking of me until the next time I got to see him. I wasn’t so sure.

Feeling as though my long perfect life was over, I reluctantly climbed the stairs to my new “home,” Beech Hall. I was attending a prestigious university, nestled into the Appalachian Mountains of Pennsylvania. The topnotch school boasted ski lodge-like housing, private bathrooms, “gourmet” dining, a private lake, gym, pool, tennis courts, and miles upon miles of secluded nature reserves, as well as a top-rated professorial staff and academic program. To me, it was Hell dressed up like Club Med, with the Devil herself as my tour guide.

My attitude about college wasn’t always so glum. In high school, I was a star cheerleader, member of the orchestra, cast member in the school’s spring musical, and salutatorian. Basically, I was your typical overachiever. And, in comparison to my buxom roommate, also known as competition, my looks aren’t at all horrible. My 5’5″ frame, though not very tan (I tend towards sunburn and freckles), did boast round, pert breasts and a slender waist tapering to a pretty great ass and lengthy legs. My hazel eyes that reflected whatever color I wore were a perfect compliment to my dark brown hair. I generally didn’t hear any complaints, especially from Paul, who had been the star pitcher/valedictorian in school. Sighing, my smile slipped a little when I stopped in front of my second floor room.

Peering through the doorway, I saw that Liz’s family had left, and she was unpacking some boxes, oblivious to my scrutiny. As she moved and turned about our cell, I couldn’t help but glance at the graceful sway of her hips and athleticism or her leg movements. I wondered if she had been a dancer in her former, also known as high school, life.

I entered the room, and she immediately stopped unpacking and looked at me, her face immediately clouding.

“Jessica, you’re crying,” she said, concerned.

I reached up to my cheek, and my fingertips dampened. A few renegade tears must have slipped through my hard-as-nails college girl veneer, while I was thinking about the abrupt loss of my family.

Caught unaware by her apparent concern, I mumbled something like, “Yeah,” and she handed me a tissue.

She cleared a space on her bed, not yet covered in what I was sure would be a floral Laura Ashley abomination. I sat, not wanting to seem horrid, at the forefront. She sat next to me, her bare thigh barely touching mine. “Look, Jessica, I don’t know how to act. I don’t know if we’ll be best friends or worst enemies, but I’m hoping for the former, or at least friends. I’m pretty scared about being away from home. And away from my family. But, if you’ll try, I think we can make the most of this itty-bitty space.”

Feeling a stab of guilt for mentally calling her Satan, and for comparing her to Pam Anderson, I faked a smile and patted her hand, which she had laid on the bed near mine. “I think we can do it. Although, those curtains have to go!” I said, noticing for the first time the khaki-colored burlap sacks passing for curtains.

Liz nodded. “I know what you mean. And we desperately need another rug. This carpet may serve in an ER waiting room, but I wouldn’t want orange plastic chairs in here, and I don’t want that, either.” I smiled my first happy smile for the first time since Paul and I celebrated our last night together with a bottle of Captain Morgan’s and some silk sheets.

“What do you say we ditch the unpacking for a while and go explore the local mall?” Liz asked, her whiter-than-white teeth showing in a model smile.

“I say you hit the nail on the head with shopping. It is one of the things I do best!”

***

Later that night, after the mall had produced a pair of silky white sheer curtains, a soft throw rug, some new dresses for ourselves, dinner, and a much needed time for bonding, we lay in our separate beds, still chattering to one another over the noise of the television.

It turned out that Liz had come from Philadelphia, from a family of strict politicians, and she too had been a cheerleader and the salutatorian at her high school. And, indeed, she had been a dancer. Her mother made her take ballet, but she really liked jazz, she confided. She loved animals (as I did), and often hid kittens, puppies, rabbits, and whatever else she came across in her room, because her father wouldn’t allow pets in the house. We were both in our school’s production of “Guys and Dolls” (she as Sarah Brown and I as Adelaide), and we both had a crush on Richard Gere. Liz was very entertaining, and I was beginning to forget my earlier misery, and beginning to look forward to the year.

Long after the television programming turned into paid advertisements, we finally drifted off to sleep.

***

Over the next few days, Liz and I got very little time, other than bedtime to learn about each other, because we had started classes, and the coursework was already enough to have us both in the library for hours on end.

During one of our nighttime chats, about two weeks after our initial meeting, I found out that her boyfriend from home had gone to a school in Louisiana (Paul had won a baseball scholarship for a school in Boston). She seemed very ill at ease when she spoke of him. I asked her why.

“Well, I think Keith will cheat on me. I mean, did you notice that he didn’t even come to say good-bye to me?”

“Yeah,” I answered, “but, maybe it was too hard for him. But, I also worry about Paul. I think he’ll try, but, in the end, boys will be boys.”

“No. I don’t think so. I could see in his eyes that he was desperately unhappy to be leaving you. I don’t think I’d cheat on you, either.” She said, looking down at her hands. I followed her eyes. Her revealing chemise and lack of a bra left me to see the cleft between her full tits. I was surprised by what she had said, but even more so by how I suddenly felt turned on. I know I blushed.When she finally returned her gaze to mine, I could see the color touching her cheeks. It made me even hotter.

“I mean, I don’t mean to overhear you on the phone together, but I do. Her never fails to call you. And when you’re on the phone, it’s for a while. Keith has called me once, and it was to ask if I had taken his practice jersey.” Liz said, frowning.

“I’m sorry, Liz.” I said, truly meaning it. “Maybe it’s for the better. You could always find some nice, ripe college guy here. I know I saw Josh from 208 looking at you in the common room today.”

Liz blushed again and her chest heaved, causing my lust to resurge. “I guess. I don’t know. I think I’m gonna get some sleep. Eight a.m. comes far too early. And so does Professor Glenn!” I giggled at the thought of our shared chemistry professor, a stooped elderly woman with a sharp tongue and eye, and a complete focus on atomic numbers, balanced equations, and entropy … and nothing else.

“I guess I’ll go to sleep, too. ‘Night, Liz. See you in the morning.”

“Yep. ‘Night, Jess.”

With the light out, my thoughts floated from Liz’s bouncing tits to Paul’s throbbing cock. I was definitely feeling the pain of no sex. My fingers just weren’t doing the trick, though when I thought of Paul, I was at the height of arousal. Finally, my loss slipping away, I was near sleep. I was nearly gone when I heard a small moan come from Liz’s side of the room.

Well, at least someone can get off, I thought dreamily as I finally drifted off.

***

It was almost a week later when I came in from my Friday night film class to find Liz sobbing into her pillow, the cordless phone lying next to her, looking strikingly like a venemous snake. Instinctively, I sat on the bed next to her and gathered her into my arms.

“Shh, Liz. It’s all right. Hush, baby. Calm down. What happened?” I murmured, as she clung to me. Even her flimsy tee shirt was damp with tears. With the air conditioning on High, her nipples were poking through the damp cotton, into my arms.

Between sobs, she gasped out, “Keith broke up with me.”

I continued to rock Liz like a baby, cursing Keith aloud and my gathering lust silently until she was calm enough to talk.

“He called just twenty minutes ago. I was so excited. He ended it quickly, thanking me for the fucking during high school. He said he found a new whore. That’s how he put it, the bastard! He called her a ‘new’ whore. I guess that makes me the old whore, huh.” She laughed sarcastically.

“No, Liz. You couldn’t be a whore if you tried. You’re perfect. He had no right to…” my sentence was broken off by one of the singularly most shocking experiences of my life. Liz kissed me. Full and hard on my mouth.

I backed away in surprise. Immediately Liz apologized.

“Oh, God, Jess! I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” she trailed off as she looked into my hungry eyes.

“I’ve never done anything like this,” I confessed, eager to try and nervous at the same time.