Zach sighed as he leaned back on the soft living room couch, his eyes trained on his classmate, Dylan. The stupid lug was never more annoying than when he drank, and was currently bragging loudly to anyone in the vicinity about how huge his cock was. Something about it being a “fucking python” and how no girl could resist him once she felt it. Rolling his eyes to himself, Zach recalled the time he had heard the beefed-up asshole whispering to a girl in their class about what he’d do to her if he got her alone, while they’d been trying to listen to the lecture. The time Dylan had been moved by the professor like a common high-school troublemaker, and immediately leaned into the role, blabbering to anyone and everyone who would listen to him about how many girls he’d fucked this past weekend.
See, Zach was friends with Dylan’s roommate. And from what he heard, the dude hardly pulled anyone at all. Maybe one or two girls in a month, if he was lucky. And apparently his room smelled like dead fish. Dylan’s big-guy talk was clearly an act he put up to make himself look like the hottest guy on campus. Zach wished someone would –
“Hey! Get the fuck off of me!”
A shrill, irritated voice dragged Zach back to the present, and he saw Dylan holding a beautifully average-looking woman by the waist. He had handed his beer to someone nearby, gripping the woman tightly as she struggled and thrashed in his arms. Many of the partygoers around them turned the other cheek in a disgusting display of apathy, ignoring her protests as she smacked Dylan’s chiseled chest over and over again. “Come on, babe,” he purred, “you know you want it.”
She tried to twist out of his grip and he removed his arms from around her waist and instead put his hands on her shoulders. “I said get off! Let me go, you stupid fuck!”
“Aww, she’s playing hard to get,” he cooed, and a few of his fellow drunkards laughed. “Don’t worry about that, babygirl. You don’t have to fight it.”
She spat in his face.
Zach watched intently, not realizing he was halfway out of his seat in an effort to go help her, as Dylan screwed up his face against the wet, sticky saliva splattered over the side of his nose and part of his eye. He held the woman by one arm as he wiped his face with his other hand, and there was a defiant flame in his eyes as he gripped her even harder. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled, and now the crowd around them was beginning to dissipate as the drinkers and smokers backed away, scared to be involved in what was quickly about to become a police case.
“I told you to let me go,” the woman said smugly, her tone spelling out the words, I warned you this would happen, idiot.
Dylan huffed, giving her a sharp, violent shake by her shoulders. “Listen, you little cunt, you’re coming home with me wether you like it or not.”
She struggled more as they argued back and forth, with Dylan spitting insults and orders for her to go home with him and to just obey, and the woman demanding – not begging, demanding – for him to let her go. Then it happened – a roaring chorus of laughter and cheers rose up from the crowd as Dylan suddenly released the woman and doubled over in agony, his hands cradling the precious space between his legs as he dropped to his knees. Zach’s jaw dropped as he watched, but the woman seemed unbothered by the damage she had done. She was standing defiantly over Dylan’s crumpled and choking figure. “I told you to let me go,” she purred. “Should’ve listened.” Then she strutted away in her tight blue jeans and black high heels, without so much as a single stumble.
The water was cold, but the soap in the guest bathroom smelled sweet and flowery. The scent stood out horribly against the visual – there were mismatched panties, bras, boxers, and other garments littering the tub and floor, even a thong hanging from the shower head. Trash was scattered in a circle around the trashcan, and there were remnants of a suspicious white dust on the counter. Zach scoffed to himself and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes looked disproportionately tired compared to how he was feeling, and his lips were stained red from the two cups of wine he’d had a few hours ago.
A knock on the bathroom door. He straightened his shirt and opened the door, ready to leave – only to be greeted by the same girl he’d watched Dylan try to take advantage of. “Oh – uh, hey,” he stuttered out.
“Um… hi?” she answered, giving him hardly a glance as she waited for him to move out of her way. “Are you done in there?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He stepped to the side, then cleared his throat. “Hey, you’re that one chick from earlier, right?”
She looked over her shoulder and gave him a strange look. “There’s a lot of girls here, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Zach coughed. “Right, sorry.” Stop apologizing so much. “The, uh… the girl who – y’know – the one with Dylan?”
“No – fuck, sorry.” Dumbass. “You’re the one who, uh… you… um, you’re the one who -”
“The one who kicked him in the balls for trying to rape me?”
“Yes! Sorry. Sorry, I, um…” he trailed off, deciding for a moment how to continue. He wanted to talk to her – and it was clear that she did, too, from the way she turned to face him – but he had no idea what to say. Finally, he swallowed and continued: “That was pretty cool of you.” That’s all you can think of? he chastised himself.
The woman smiled a little, glancing away for a moment before brushing a stray copper hair out of her face and meeting his eye again. “Yeah, I guess. I just hate when assholes can’t take no for an answer.” Her eyes darted downward for a moment, so quick that he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been making eye contact. Was she thinking he might be an asshole, too? No, of course not. Right?
Zach snapped himself out of it in an effort to not seem weird or creepy for just staring. “Yeah, no, I get it. Don’t worry about him, though. You for sure put him in his place. I think I saw him, like, five minutes ago – he was still crying,” he joked, and glowed a little when she laughed.
“Yeah, that sounds like him. I’ve seen him around, he’s a fuckin’ loudmouth. Good dick though, from what I hear.”
“Who, exactly, did you hear that from?”
“Him. You’re right,” she giggled. Again, her eyes shot downward for half a second. Was she sizing him up? “So, what’s your name?”
“Zach,” he said, almost too quickly. He was nervous. She was very pretty – he never liked the overdone look. Her long brown hair and honey-colored eyes were much more attractive to him than the blue-eyed blonde bimbos walking around campus or the lace-clad goths with platform boots and sharp eyeliner. He didn’t hate those girls, they just weren’t his type. Something about this Pinterest-born beauty, with her cool confidence and her knowing gaze, stirred something in him that made him feel immensely small, and he loved it. “You?”
“Heather.” She smiled softly, and he shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly. Once again, she glanced down, and this time, she didn’t let it go unmentioned. “And, uh… who’s your friend?”
Fuck! Zach had been too in-his-head to notice just how badly his dick was straining against his jeans. He’d felt it since she started talking to him, but he didn’t realize it had made itself so known. “Uh -” he gulped anxiously. “Sorry, I don’t – I’m really sorry, I can’t control it, I just – oh.”
Her hand was cupping him.
“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I’m not a whore,” she said with a gentle grin. “I came here looking to get fucked, simple as that. Just not by a complete pisswad like Dylan.”
“Y-yeah?” he stammered. “Is that why you -”
“Kicked him in the sack? Yeah. Duh.” Her gaze moved to his bulge and her mouth dropped open a little as his dick responded to her words. “Did it just…?”
Zach made a soft, incomprehensible noise as he stood there, frozen in place by the feeling of her hand on him. He hadn’t gotten laid in months. “I can’t control it,” he repeated, his mouth suddenly dry.
Heather smiled, stepping closer to him, until her firm-looking breasts were pressed up against him in the white crop top she was wearing. Her lips brushed his ear as she said quietly, “How about we go somewhere more private?”