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Term Paper Blues

By: KenNicottii



This story makes reference to a once-legal prescription diet pill, officially known as a biphetamine, which is no longer on the market. It had many street names like black beauty, but in the South it was called a black molly. In recent years certain designer drugs, also called Molly, have appeared on the rave scene. They are different compounds than the old diet pill. 

[Many thanks to my volunteer editor LadyVer, whose helpful investment of time made this a much better story.] 

* * * 

The year is 1996. Late at night. In a small, lonely, off-campus apartment. The last week of school before finals. A term paper was due the next day.  

Andrew Vinson was drowning in despair and self-loathing. Despite numerous promises to never let this happen again ... there he was, like so many times before: his mind as blank as the screen he was staring at, cursing himself for not starting the project sooner. The deadline for an extremely important term paper was approaching like a large, ruthless, predatory animal. 

The class: English 436, Studies in Modern American Literature. An upper division course, primarily for junior and senior undergraduate students seeking a B.A. in English. The assignment: a final project of at least twenty pages on one of the authors studied in the class. 

Andrew was a mathematics major. What the hell was he doing in an English class as a senior? He thought it'd be fun when he chose it as an elective. He'd always liked reading, fiction in particular. Maybe exercise some right brain muscles that had atrophied over the last few years while he buried himself in differential calculus and impossibly complex theorems. His math advisor had warned him to take something easier. 

Too late now. This class was the only thing standing in the way of his getting a degree. The finals for his other courses would be a breeze. Why did he do something risky like this in the last semester before graduation? 

There was no final exam for the English class; the term paper would be more than half of his grade. Professor Darden was very strict about punctuality and deadlines. If the paper wasn't delivered by the beginning of the last class at 8:00 AM, the lecture hall doors would be locked—and his grade would be zero. Not even straight A's up to that point would help. 

He had chosen the author William Faulkner. The table was littered with paperbacks and library books. Andrew had the two that were on the required reading list: Absalom, Absalom! and The Sound and the Fury. Plus about a dozen others, well-known and obscure, novels and short stories, as well as Cowley's Portable Faulkner. 

Andrew was from a rural area of Massachusetts. There was no shortage of New England colleges and universities for him to choose from, but his parents pushed strongly for him to attend a school in a different part of the country and in a large city. He had been exposed to several Faulkner short stories in high school, and they were one of the reasons he selected a university in the South rather than on the West Coast. 

Andrew's paperbacks had so many yellow highlights and red underlines as to be meaningless. Post-Its bristled from the pages of every book. A stack of note cards was full of scribblings and random thoughts. All that was missing was an insightful topic. One that could be fashioned into a term paper at least good enough to let him squeak by with a passing grade. But the private scolding he had gotten from Professor Darden after his midterm project haunted his thoughts. 

Andrew had been the only one who didn't get his graded paper handed back to him in class. Professor Darden had asked him to come see him in his office afterward. 

"Mr. Vinson, what grade did you think you got on your midterm assignment?" 

"Uh ... maybe a B?" 

"No, you got a D minus. Actually a 'gentleman's D minus, if there is such a thing. You really deserved an F, but I thought you might get discouraged and drop the course. Not something a senior should be doing in his last semester. 

"Mr. Vinson, this isn't a book club. There are no special favors or relaxed standards for math majors in my class. 

"Your attendance has been steady, but your classroom participation has been particularly uninspiring. You need to do more than just read the books. Wouldn't you agree? 

"You must do a lot better than this on the final project, otherwise you will get an F. Which in your case means you won't graduate, unless you have some other credits I don't know about. I've done it twice before to other students, so don't think I won't follow through on the threat. Both of them had to waste their time and money in summer school so they could finish. And attend a sad little winter graduation ceremony later on." 

Andrew had been overcome with flop sweat that day listening to Professor Darden. Those feelings were welling up again: fear, confusion, shame, panic. Like when you're about to be fired from your job. Or handcuffed by the police. A half-assed term paper wouldn't cut it. 

The refrigerator was filled with Cokes. He had a bag of strong dark roast coffee and water on the boil. Even some caffeine pills. But what he really needed was a "study aid": some speed to keep him awake all night and maybe get the ideas rolling. Like a black molly. They had become scarce on the underground market in recent years. He had nursed a small supply of them until they ran out last semester. Andrew had called everyone he knew to find just one diet pill. No one had any, not even the sketchiest "friend of a friend" types who seemed like people who should have been in jail long ago. 

He glanced at the bank envelope that contained $250 from his grandmother's graduation check he had cashed earlier that day. Andrew would need that and a lot more if he didn't come through. He'd be on his own for summer school tuition, rent, and other living expenses. She was coming to the commencement ceremony; it would be humiliating to tell her to cancel the trip. What if she wanted the money back? 

Actually he wouldn't have hesitated to spend the whole $250 on a black molly right then. Just one to get him through the next eight hours. A heavy rain began falling, perfectly matching his mood. 

Despair was interacting with fatigue, a delirium of exhaustion that no amount of caffeine could conquer. And from which no useful academic ideas would flow. Tomorrow morning at 8:00 would find him asleep, head on the desk, and drooling—without a single word having been written. And his future unnecessarily shot to hell. 

Andrew was startled upright by his ringing phone. It was after 11:00. Who would be calling this late? He thought about not answering. He let it ring—over ten times. In his delusion he thought it might be Professor Darden saying he could take an extra day to finish. Andrew finally reached for the phone. 

* * * 

Earlier that afternoon, in another part of town. 

The Aurora Bakery was an employer of people who needed a fresh start. Ones who had completed rehab or were trying to leave the gang life—or both. Tanja Tomczyk was an ex-junkie in her twenties, four months out of rehab, slowly putting her life back together. She had been at Aurora since she got out. It was the major reason she had stayed clean. The steady work and modest income were rebuilding her confidence and self-worth. And many of her co-workers had been trapped in the same hellhole of addiction. They understood how you could slip into that life and how hard it was to pull yourself back out—and stay out. 

The bakery work was hectic and physically demanding, hot and noisy, dusty and sometimes dangerous. But she liked the act of creating, transforming, providing sustenance. Plus the camaraderie of the other women who helped keep her head straight. 

Getting away from Ethan Nelson had also been a major step—her ex-boyfriend and partner in addiction. She hadn't seen him in months, just before she went into rehab. He wasn't like the lowlifes she usually hooked up with. Ethan was a college senior, ruggedly handsome—and from a solid, upper middle class home. He liked rock climbing, mountain biking, and other outdoor pastimes. And he was a few years younger, which was a first for her. She wasn't sure whether her job as an exotic dancer was something he merely accepted or actually thought was a plus. 

The early months of the relationship were fun. Sure, they got high a lot, but they both seemed to have that under control. Tanja had a "no needles" rule, but she tried most everything else. When Ethan offered her a little snort of "something different," she foolishly trusted him. Ironically, if it had been one of the losers that she typically hung out with, she would have declined. 

But now things were looking up for her. She had impressed her boss enough to land a promotion to a waitress position at their retail restaurant, the Aurora Café. It would be better pay and tips, but she needed a car to work the irregular hours. She was due to start next week. 

Her Uncle Marek had promised to get her old Honda Civic running again if she ever got clean. He had done the labor for free, and Tanja had agreed to split the cost of the parts once she got settled into her new job. She was going to pick up her car that weekend. 

Tanja was also nearing the end of her time at My Second Chance, a sober living residence for women. She had developed a friendship with Alice, who also lived there. They'd made plans to find a place together next month. 

* * * 

Her shift was almost over when her boss said she had a call on the pay phone. 

"Tanja, you know we frown on people getting personal calls here at work, but the guy said it was an emergency." 

She walked down the hallway and picked up the receiver dangling from the phone. 

"Hello." 

"Tanja Tomczyk?" asked a gruff, raspy voice. 

"This is her." 

"You're the one who lived with Ethan Nelson?" 

"Not anymore. I haven't seen him in months." 

"Well, your boyfriend Ethan owes us money, a lot of money. If he doesn't get it to us by noon Monday, we're coming for you. It won't be pleasant. We're going to hurt you. Then after we're done hurting you, we're going to sell you to our friends in Sinaloa. For your new career as a sex slave. A nice, young gabacha like you with big chichis—we may even get most of our money back." 

His cruel laughter sent a wave of dread through her body. 

"But you're not going to like that. It'll be the worst sort of hell you could think of. In fact, you'd be better off robbing a bank to get the cash. A few years in prison would be paradise compared to what we have in store for you if we don't get the money. Hey, that's a plan: you and Ethan need to work together to rob a bank. Some Bonnie and Clyde action, mija." 

"But I don't even know where he is. Or how to get in touch with him," she pleaded. 

"You're not listening, pendeja. If you don't come through with the money, then you'll wish you had. First thing will be getting you hooked on caballo again. You'll be more cooperative that way. People like you never stay clean after rehab anyway. 

"And don't think about leaving town. We're watching you. If you think you can slip away on the Greyhound, we'll be in the seat right next to you. Understand, you pinche concha?" 

Then he hung up. Tanja was nauseous and trembling with fear. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come out. A passing co-worker asked if she was OK, but she didn't answer. She went back to her post and resumed cleaning up for the day, but her boss immediately noticed she was in severe distress. 

"Tanja, you don't have to tell me anything about that call, but you look really upset. I think you should call it a day. The shift is over in ten minutes anyway. I'll finish the clean-up and punch you out." 

Tanja was in a daze; she had to leave town—immediately. Were they really watching her that closely? She decided to get her car that night and pay her uncle as much as she could now. Did they know about him? She hadn't been to his place since she left rehab, so maybe not. 

* * * 

After getting on her regular bus, Tanja transferred to the one that would take her to Uncle Marek. She found a reasonably safe ATM and emptied out what little was in her bank account. A crazy idea popped into her head when she walked by the Goodwill store. Maybe a new look was in order. 

Tanja hadn't worn a dress since she was in high school. No one would expect her in one. She picked out the first one that fit: a much-worn shirt dress from the '50s in a faded pastel plaid. The cinch belt was missing, and her bust strained against the front buttons—but the price was right. A quick visit to the dollar store on the next block added a box of hair dye that would hopefully change her blonde locks back to their normal brunette. She had been growing out her natural color since she entered rehab, but tonight she'd need to do a jump start. No telling how that would turn out. 

Her uncle was highly suspicious of her reasons for picking up the car before the weekend and paying off part of what she owed earlier than he expected. Tanja begged him to trust her and not ask any questions. She promised to call as soon as she could. He insisted that she eat some dinner, but she wasn't that hungry and only managed a few bites. A stop to fill up her gas tank took another chunk of her limited cash. 

The riskiest part of her planning came next: she needed some speed, a black molly, so she could leave that night and drive as far away as she could. She wasn't sure if taking it would count as a relapse since that wasn't the drug that got her addicted. But it would be a critical part of her escape. 

The only way to get one required visiting some old druggie acquaintances, a toxic couple that she knew were still heavy users: Downer Don and his girlfriend Patch. Once a person gets clean she should never go back and hang out with people she used to get high with or score from—unless she wants a quick relapse. But Tanja had no choice if she wanted to leave that night. 

When she stepped into their apartment, she got a weird, creepy vibe. Even when she was using she was never very comfortable around them. 

"Where has our friend Tanja been lately?" Downer Don cooed. "Heard you'd left this lifestyle behind. Gone straight on us. Surprised you'd be crawling back here looking for drugs. Didn't think black mollies were your style. Do you need to stay up and study for a final exam?" 

Patch let out a throaty cackle. "Yeah, maybe she's a college girl now. Trying to move up in the world? You should go back to stripping. A lot more money to be made there. You can probably get your old job back at Chez Pussycat. Then you could afford more than one pill at a time." 

Tanja watched the couple dissolve into sloppy laughter. Downer Don held up a prescription bottle and shook the contents. "Got your mollies here. Like we discussed, $40 each. Special price for you, princess. But I gotta check to make sure you're not wearing a wire. Lift up your shirt for me." 

"Ooh, good idea, Donny. I'll pat her down. Can't be too careful." 

Tanja felt sick. She knew she had to play along until she had the black molly in her hand. Patch was bisexual. She always made passes at Tanja whenever they were in the same room. Tanja reluctantly lifted up her t-shirt while Downer Don moved closer and ogled her bra. Patch was running her hands between Tanja's legs, pretending to look for recording equipment. 

"What's the matter, princess?" griped Downer Don. "You showed a lot more than this every night at The Pussycat. I've got to make sure you're not trying to set us up. Ooh, you've got nice tits. If you're off the horse, you must really be getting horny. Why don't you stick around and let me scratch that itch?" 

"That gives me an idea, Donny. Get out that money, college girl. You can pretend you're a customer instead of the stripper now." 

Tanja handed two twenties to Patch. 

"No, no, girlie. Like the guys do at The Pussycat." Patch unzipped her jeans and pulled them down to her thighs and wagged her butt. "Slip one of those bills in my panties. Show me how it's done. Nice and slow." 

Tanja reeled as bile curdled her stomach. She knew they were both sick perverts. Completely capable of knocking the shit out of her, dragging her to the back, and each taking turns raping her—maybe both at the same time. She stuffed a twenty into Patch's undies while Downer Don mocked her, waving a molly inches in front of her face. 

"Put the other one in the front now, girlfriend," Patch ordered as she caressed her panties and lowered them seductively. 

As Tanja stuffed the other twenty in her underwear, Patch grabbed her hand and pushed it down into her crotch. At the same time she pulled Tanja's hair, yanking her into a nasty, wet kiss. 

"Stop it!" Tanja screamed as she slugged Patch in the stomach and pushed her backward. Her fall knocked the prescription bottle from Downer Don's hand, spilling the contents onto the floor. 

"Hey, you little shit. Look what you did," he yelled, kneeling down to collect the pills. 

Before Patch could get up, Tanja leaned over and grabbed one and bolted for the door. "You got your $40. Thanks, but I gotta go study now." She stumbled down their stairway and ran out to her car. She would have thrown up, but Tanja hadn't eaten enough to do a decent hurl. 

* * * 

When Tanja got back, she parked in the McDonald's lot near the bus stop so it would look like her normal walk home to anyone lurking around. She grabbed the hair dye and went to visit Maybelle who lived down the hall from her. Tanja needed a quick makeover, and Maybelle was a cosmetology student. 

Maybelle cautioned that she hadn't done any coloring herself, but she had watched. That would have to do. Tanja always hated the messy process, despite enjoying the privileges of being blonde. It felt funny to think about going brunette again after almost ten years. Tanja asked Maybelle to first cut her chest length hair shorter. 

"Can you do a simple bob? And I want the part moved over to the side." 

"Tanja, I'm not very good at this yet. Are you sure you want to go that short?" 

"It's OK, May. You're bound to do a better job than I would trying to cut my own hair. And yeah, that short." 

When the haircut was finished, Tanja had some of her hair brown with the rest blonde, down to her chin. Maybelle brushed on the hair dye as Tanja silently decided what to take with her. 

"I wish I'd had a chance to practice this before working on you," Maybelle remarked. 

"As long as we follow the instructions on the box, we should be good. Let's cross our fingers." 

When everything was cleaned up and dried off, it didn't look too bad. Surprisingly close to her natural dark brown. Maybelle had missed a few spots, but Blonde Tanja was no more—it looked weird to her. 

She found two reusable grocery bags and a cardboard banker's box and started packing. 

"May, I need a big favor. My car is parked over in the McDonald's lot, a blue '86 Honda Civic. Can you get it for me and pull up in the back alley?" Tanja couldn't say why she didn't want to go outside herself. 

That took some convincing, even if it wasn't that far. Tanja sweetened the pot with $20 and the gift of her radio she was leaving behind. 

Tanja had few possessions other than her clothes. Everything fit into the two bags and the cardboard box. She made sure she had her folder of important papers and stuffed that day's mail in her purse to read later. Maybelle came into her room to return the keys. 

"Tanja, I thought you and Alice weren't moving until next month." 

"Just getting a little head start, May." She felt awful screwing over Alice. That would have to be one of her first calls when she got a chance. But now she needed to contact Ethan's parents. Surely they knew how to reach him, to let him know about the threats. 


Term Paper Blues



Mr. and Mrs. Nelson hated Tanja. Blamed her for their son's drug habit. Thought she was some low-life skank that he shouldn't be seen with, much less live with. And they mistakenly thought she was the reason his nice, classy girlfriend Melissa had dumped him and left town. She dreaded the confrontation that was bound to happen, but she had to let them know. Maybe they'd be happy she wasn't seeing him anymore. His mother picked up on the second ring. 

"Mrs. Nelson, this is Tanja. I need to get a message to Ethan. He's in trouble and I need to warn him." 

Tanja heard Ethan's dad ask who was on the phone. Mrs. Nelson covered the mouthpiece but not completely—Tanja still heard. 

"It's that junkie whore who ruined Ethan's life." 

Tanja felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. It's one thing to suspect how someone feels about you but to have it thrown in your face like that. 

"Don't ever call here again!" And she hung up. 

That would be junkie stripper, Mrs. Nelson, if you please. Yes, Tanja worked in the sex industry but had never turned any tricks or even allowed illegal groping for extra tips when she lap danced. There were always girls who did, and a few of them always got in trouble for it. Not worth it. You have to draw the line somewhere. 

She walked back to her room and looked at the entirety of her possessions sitting there on the floor. Probably could get all of it out to her car in one trip. Maybe $50 left in her purse. And the near rape she had suffered trying to get the one black molly. A torrential rain began to fall. Tanja was overcome with despair and collapsed face down on her bed. 

It was all too much. She had been so optimistic when she went to work that morning. Getting her car back, starting a better job next week, leaving the rigor of the sober living institution, renting her own place with Alice. All turned upside down. It was worse than a relapse. She was now being hunted like an animal by sadistic criminals, for something she had no involvement with. 

Tanja was too beaten down emotionally to make the drive—even with the black molly's artificial energy. Plus the heavy winds that were lashing the rain against her window. She had to find somewhere to stay that night. She needed a safe place and a good night's sleep, but where? All of her options were poor. She didn't know how closely those brutos had been following her. Could she find someone who wasn't part of her current life? She didn't want to get her Narcotics Anonymous sponsor mixed up in this. 

She had broken ties with all her old druggie friends out of necessity. Her close call that night with Downer Don and Patch made her shudder. And she'd burned too many bridges with her straight friends before she went into rehab. There were two that had encouraged her to get clean and knew she was out and working, but neither of them were home. 

It had been months since she'd seen Ethan or any of his friends. They all hated her, too—like his parents, and for the same reasons. Plus she wouldn't feel safe at the big house where most of them lived, even though Ethan had moved out long ago. They were really careless with their recreational drug use and dealing on the side. 

But there was this one other college friend of Ethan's: Andrew Vinson. She didn't know him that well. He lived by himself. Kind of a nerd, but he wasn't mean to her like the others. He understood that Melissa had left Ethan before she came along and didn't hold her responsible. It bothered him a lot that they used smack, but he blamed Ethan as much as her. 

Tanja changed into the shirt dress and slipped the black molly into one of the front pockets. She made a final check around her room. The house curfew was rapidly approaching. She had to get out before then. 

Miraculously, Andrew's name was listed in the phone book; the address was near the university. His phone rang and rang. He must not be home, or maybe he's already in bed. If this didn't work, she'd have to hit the road in this nasty storm. She let it ring some more. He finally picked up. 

* * * 

"Who is this?" 

"Andrew, it's Tanja Tomczyk. You gotta help me. I'm in real danger. I've called everyone else I know, and you're my last hope." 

Her voice sounded panicky and scared. She usually had this tough chick attitude and didn't talk much; something was up. Even so, Andrew couldn't think of any person he wanted to talk to less than Tanja. He hadn't seen her in about six months, which was fine with him. Her timing couldn't have been any worse. 

"Tanja, if you're in trouble, why don't you go to the police?" 

"I can't. They may have a warrant out for me. They raided that place Ethan and I were staying at with those other people. He jumped out the window, and I was able to hide in a crawl space. But they arrested everyone else. This was months ago. I haven't seen him since. I've been in rehab, and I'm clean now. I have a job and—" 

"Tanja, I really don't want to hear about any of this." 

"But Ethan owes serious money to some bad guys, probably from a drug deal. They called today and threatened to kidnap me and sell me to their people in Mexico—to be a sex slave. After they've ... they've ..." She couldn't get the words out. "They want me and Ethan to rob a bank to get the money. I have no idea where he is. I was going to leave town tonight, but I'm emotionally drained right now and ... and this weather. I need somewhere to stay tonight." 

"Why don't you hop on a bus and split?" 

"They said they were watching me, to make sure I didn't do that. Besides, I have my car again. I feel like I have more control if I'm in it instead of a Greyhound bus." 

"Oh, right! You want to lead them over here to my place? Smart plan, Tanja. You think I might have a tiny, little objection to that? 

"I'm having a big meltdown right now. I can't deal with your shit. I've fucked myself by waiting until the last minute to write this term paper that's due tomorrow morning at 8:00. And I haven't even started. And I have no idea what I'm going to write about. I'm totally fucked because I'm not going to graduate on time if I don't get this done. And I couldn't find any speed to do an all-nighter. Anywhere. So I'm sorry about your kidnapping thing, but I've got problems myself. The last thing I need is your coming over here now. Find some other chump. It's really fucking rude to call out of the blue and ask me to do this!" 

Tanja had one more card to play. 

"Andrew, I have a black molly. I was going to take it tonight, to help me stay awake behind the wheel. But I'm too beaten down to leave now, especially in this storm. Even with the speed. You can have it if you let me stay at your place tonight. You'll be able to write your term paper." 

They both fell silent as the offer hung in the air. 

"Tanja ... can you get over here without these guys following you?" 

"I think so. It'll be hard to see me in this weather. I know a few tricks, too." 

Andrew gave her directions but didn't want her coming in the front. 

"There's an alley that runs behind the building. Park at least two blocks away on the north side and walk to the alley. There's a dumpster halfway down. Hide behind that to make sure no one's after you. I'll be at the locked gate back there in thirty minutes. Is that enough time?" 

"I'm out the door now." With five minutes to spare until curfew. 

* * * 

Tanja slipped into her ratty old Army surplus poncho and gathered all her stuff, a grocery bag in each hand with the box in the middle. It had to be one quick trip to the car. The house monitor on duty spotted her and called out. 

"Hey, you! You're not supposed to be in here now. Guests should be out a half-hour before curfew. Who were you here visiting? No, not that way, Miss. You need to use the front door." 

Tanja quickened her pace. She couldn't believe the monitor didn't recognize her. 

She darted out into the deluge and ran to her car. It was awkward trying to unlock the door and get all her stuff in, but she managed. She pulled away but kept her lights off when she saw the monitor run out the back door. Tanja almost hit a telephone pole in the dark but swerved at the last second. 

She tried several evasive driving maneuvers seen in countless TV cop shows and movies. The heavy rain made it hard to tell if anyone was on her tail anyway. Tanja thought about running the light that had just turned red—a cliché of every chase scene—but skidded to a halt. 

She reached in her purse to get the letter from Parkland Clinic that had arrived that day. Results from her second AIDS test after leaving rehab; she had been negative on the first one. Finding out she had AIDS now would be just peachy—a perfect end to a perfect day. She tore open the envelope: negative. She burst out crying with relief. Several loud, impatient car horns reminded her the light had turned green. 

One thing Downer Dave was right about: she'd had a major ramping up of her sex drive since getting clean. Her rehab counselor had warned that could happen, and it was critical she get tested for AIDS more than once before she had unprotected sex with anyone. Safe sex only until she was in the clear. 

Tanja had been looking forward to getting back into the dating scene once she and Alice had their own place. Masturbation was a poor substitute for what she really needed. At last, some things were going her way now: she had her car, the disguise fooled the house monitor, her HIV test was negative. And she had a place to stay that night. 

As she carefully made her way over to Andrew's apartment, she thought back to the mistakes she had made with Ethan. They met at a party thrown by the dealer they both bought coke from. She was looking for a new place to stay, and Ethan's offer to crash at his place temporarily seemed like a safe choice. 

Sure, the heroin buzz felt good. They were just snorting at first. And only on the weekends. Lying to themselves that was as far as it would get. Sex was glorious in the beginning, especially when they were high. Then the first skin pop. Inevitably, the needle went directly into the vein. The rush was so much stronger that way. 

One of the reasons Ethan's friends shunned her was thinking she was the reason for his breakup with his old girlfriend. Even if they knew better, she could never replace sweet Melissa—who they all probably had a secret crush on. She had seen a framed photo of her and Ethan, taken at the top of some mountain peak. Melissa was a sun-kissed real blonde, beautiful and classy. They looked like models on an outdoorsy magazine cover. She left town a week before Tanja met Ethan. He hadn't been around his friends much during that time, so it looked like she had broken up the couple. 

Ethan dropped out of school right after Tanja met him. His academic problems and drug use may have had something to do with Melissa giving up on their relationship. Ethan's parents never bothered finding out the truth about the timing of the breakup. 

The day of the police raid was the turning point for her. It happened early in the morning, just after sunrise. Ethan helped Tanja wedge herself into a narrow crawl space before hurling himself out a second story window. She cowered there as the police tromped through the house arresting the other residents and collecting evidence. 

It was a crawl space all right—crawling with vermin. Tanja had been sleeping in nothing but her panties and hadn't had time to grab any clothes before Ethan rushed her into the hiding place. She was face down in dust, cobwebs, and pellets of rat shit, with spiders tickling her legs and face. Rusty nail points had torn her flesh when Ethan pushed her back into the tiny opening. It was intensely claustrophobic. She was cold, hungry, thirsty—and dying for a fix. She wasn't even sure she could pull herself out without help. Tanja was in there for hours until she finally had to piss on herself. That was when she knew she had hit bottom. 

Clean now, but on the run. Once she hit the road in the morning, where could she go? The only people they wouldn't know about might be the distant Louisiana relatives of her first stepmother. They were outside of Abbeville, deep in Cajun country. Could she even find the place? It was definitely off the beaten path, out in the bayous, toward the Gulf of Mexico. They had been very welcoming the one time they visited, back when she was in high school. 

Tanja finally reached Andrew's place and parked several blocks away, like he asked. She dreaded walking that far in the rain, but she wanted to obey his instructions. Tanja decided to take all her belongings with her, despite the hassle. Finding her car broken into the next morning would be devastating. She trudged through the storm with her bags and box, finally seeing the dumpster down the alley. 

Tanja ducked behind it and looked to see if anyone was following her. Realistically, she couldn't have run away at that point anyway. She crouched down to try and keep her things dry and wait for Andrew. Her journey was just beginning. 

* * * 

As he hung up the phone, Andrew felt beyond uncomfortable. For getting himself in such a sordid position where his only salvation was letting a junkie stripper hold his future in her hand—in the form of a bootleg diet pill. Well, to be fair, an ex-junkie ex-stripper. 

It was his own fault. Andrew had thrown himself into the well of academic failure. Shouldn't he grab onto the rope that someone else had lowered down to pull him out? 

Tanja Tomczyk—what a piece of work! Lifeless, thin, white-blonde hair, always with a noticeable expanse of ugly dark roots showing at the top of her head. Pasty, blemished complexion. Painfully thin yet top-heavy with big boobs. Tanja had that dull, strung-out look of someone who had slipped into serious drug use. She wasn't that bad looking, but the arch of her upper lip and her uncorrected overbite created the appearance of a permanent sneer when she wasn't smiling—which was most of the time. 

Andrew knew Tanja danced topless at Baby Dolls. There was some gossip she'd been fired from there for drug use and had been working at some lesser clubs like Chez Pussycat. His buddies had hosted his 21st birthday party at Baby Dolls, but that was long before she showed up with Ethan. He had been mildly curious about what she looked like naked when he first met her. She didn't look so wasted back then. 

And Ethan—what a fuckup he was! Andrew knew things had reached a low point when he called a few months ago and asked if he could borrow his pistol. 

"Borrow my pistol? What the hell do you need a gun for?" 

"I have this business meeting coming up. I'd feel safer if I had it. I probably won't need it, but I'd like to be prepared." 

"You're kidding me, right? First off, my pistol is a single action six-shooter, scaled down for .22 ammunition. You have to cock the hammer for each shot. It's for plinking out in the woods, not a gunfight." 

"That'll be fine. It's better than nothing." 

"Really? Why don't you walk me though this, Ethan. How is this all going to play out? Where is this 'business meeting'?" 

"It's near Ardmore." 

"Fuck, Ethan! Across state lines? Nothing like having Oklahoma, Texas, and the Feds coming down on you." 

"No, they do it on the Choctaw rez. Non-Indians can do business there without getting arrested by the tribal police." 

"For starters, Ardmore is Chickasaw country. And there're no reservations anymore—tribal jurisdictional areas is the proper term. So you'll be meeting someone at a location they've selected?" 

"Yeah, I'm supposed to use a pay phone at this diner out on the highway. And get further instructions." 

"So I'm guessing one or more guys will come get you and take you to the location where the deal is going down? Wouldn't these guys search you for weapons first?" 

"Well, I don't know that." 

"They'd have to be ten kinds of stupid not to. So let's say they don't. Where would you have the gun? In your waistband in front, so they could see it? Or in the back where they couldn't? Maybe in your boot? Inside your jacket?" 

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it." 

"And would the gun be loaded? Cocked?" 

"Shit, Andrew. I don't know. Just let me have it, OK? You don't want to have my death on your conscience, do you?" 

"Ethan, do you think none of these bad-asses are going to be armed? If they rip you off, do you think you're going to whip out a .22 pistol and have a room full of these guys back down? 

"The kindest thing I can do as a friend is to not let you have the gun. It would only increase the likelihood of your being killed. And why are you doing this anyway? And why the fuck are you doing business with people you're afraid of unless you're packing?" 

"I owe people money. If this transaction works out, I can get even." 

"I assume your parents won't help you?" 

"No, they've cut me off. If I don't do this deal, I'm toast anyway. The guys I owe have threatened some really nasty things. They're the ones that set me up with these people in Oklahoma." 

"If you're that cornered, why don't you sell your Camaro?" 

The Camaro was Ethan's prized possession, a classic pony car that had accrued considerable value in the collectors' market. It was a high school graduation present from an eccentric rich uncle who had bought the car when it was new: 1969 Super Sport, 396 cubic inch engine, rally green with white vinyl top and thin racing stripes. Sure, anyone would be reluctant to sell a car like that, but if it could get him out of the hole with a bunch of criminals? 

"I'd need two Camaros to fix this problem. Actually more than two." 

"Shit, Ethan! You are fucked. You better hope this meeting goes down the way you planned. Sorry, I won't lend you the gun. It's for your own good. And, please, don't try to buy some Saturday night special to take with you. It'll only get you shot." 

Andrew glanced at his watch. Time to go down and look for Tanja. Damn, it was really pouring out there. He walked through the ground level parking area toward the back. He saw a huddled figure behind the dumpster on the other side of the security fence. It had to be her. 

She had on a heavy, wrinkled Army surplus poncho that probably belonged to some grunt who didn't make it back from 'Nam. Her face was lost under the poncho's hood. Two worn-out grocery bags from Fiesta Market and a banker's box were between her feet. 

"Tanja, it's Andrew. Were you followed?" 

"No, I don't think so. I couldn't see that well in this storm. But if they were out there, wouldn't they have grabbed me by now?" 

Andrew unlocked the back gate and let her in. She declined his offer to help with her load. Once they were inside he locked and dead bolted the door. Her red tennis shoes were soaked. 

"I'll get a towel so you can dry off." 

When he came back, he wasn't sure who was standing in his living room. Some strange woman in a dress with short dark hair. 

"Is that really you, Tanja? No more blonde? And what's with the dress? Doesn't look too bad on you, actually—very retro. Did you get it from Goodwill?" 

Her brunette hair was in a short bob. It was full, with a natural, soft wave—and a few odd wisps of blonde halfway down. The cut complimented her face better than her old limp hairdo, even though it seemed a bit hurried and unprofessional. Despite her anxiety, Tanja looked clean and healthy. Her skin had cleared up, and the old garish, extreme makeup she favored was gone. 

The frock was so unlike her. It was more unexpected than if she had showed up in a gorilla suit. Some old house dress that had been washed too many times: pink plaid, below the knee, buttons down the front, belt missing. Her braless boobs were straining against the worn material. It looked like the top buttons could give way at any time. 




Term Paper Blues



Tanja sat down on the sofa and began drying off. "Yes, I did get it at Goodwill. It's a disguise. I wanted to fool them since I never wear one. And I've been planning to stop bleaching my hair anyway. It was making it fall out." 

She looked at the books strewn across the table, all by the same author. 

"So what's your paper about?' 

"I'm still struggling with that. I'm hoping to get some inspiration shortly. I've been completely blocked. For days now. Do you have that black molly?" Boy, if she was scamming him on that, he was going to push her back out into the rain. 

"Sure, here it is." She dropped it in Andrew's outstretched hand. "I know it's the only reason you let me come over tonight, but that doesn't change the fact I can't thank you enough for giving me a place to lay low until tomorrow morning. Then I'll be out of your life forever." 

"Well, we both had something that the other one needed. I'd say the thanks are mutual." 

Andrew threw the pill into the back of his throat and washed it down with the lukewarm remains of his Coke. 

"So who's this Faulkner guy? He wrote all these books?" 

"He's one of the most important American fiction writers. A giant of twentieth century literature." 

"Why's that?" 

"A lot of things. He was very prolific, wrote short stories, novels, poetry, novellas, screenplays. He was an influential figure of the modernist period, using experimental forms of fiction: multiple narrators, interior monologue, shifts in narrative time. And stream of consciousness." 

"I don't really understand what you're talking about." 

"Well, his subject matter, too. Almost all his work dealt with the South, in particular the decline of Southern life after the Civil War. And after the turn of the century. He gave readers a look at a way of life unique to the South. And its conflicts of class, racism, poverty, man versus nature." 

"That's your problem right there. No offense, Andrew, but you're the biggest Yankee I've ever met. No wonder you can't get it. You weren't born here." 

"I've been in school here four years now," he countered. "And I've gotten a lot of insight about the South from Faulkner. It's been transformative." 

"So that's why he's famous? Even the most clueless Yankee like you can understand the South after reading his stuff." 

"I guess you could say that. I knew very little about the history and culture of this part of the country. I got a little taste of his work in high school, and now I've read all these books you see here—most more than once. They've made me see a South that's still in the grip of the aftereffects of slavery and their military loss to the North. But has a hope for a different future." 

"OK, I promise I won't bother you. I know you need to get going on this. Can I read one of his books? Maybe I could learn something, too. I've lived here all my life, but my grandparents were from the Old Country. They fled to America right before The War." 

Tanja reached over and picked up Andrew's old paperback Signet edition of Sanctuary. The one with the lurid cover like a trashy '50s detective novel. 

"This looks interesting. I could use a distraction about now." 

"No, that's not a good choice." Certainly not for a woman who was worried about becoming a sex slave. Andrew grabbed Go Down Moses and turned to "The Bear." "This one's about a bear hunt. It's one of his more famous short stories." 

It was past midnight. Tanja looked so worn out; she probably wouldn't make it through the first section. 

"Thanks. If you need it back, just let me know. I may fall asleep soon anyway. Wake me up fifteen minutes before you head out." 

"I need to leave here no later than 7:30 tomorrow morning. That's assuming I have something to turn in." 

"You seem like a smart guy, Andrew. You'll figure it out. And that pill should help." 

A few minutes later she was on her side, fast asleep. Andrew reached over and carefully lifted the book from her hands. He couldn't help but notice a nice exposure of cleavage as she lay there on the sofa. 

As he waited for the molly to kick in, Andrew felt a surge of paranoia wash over him. What if those guys were outside? Waiting for things to settle down before they burst in. They wouldn't know he planned to stay up all night. If they smashed down the door, what would he do? He got up and moved her stuff and placed it up against the door. 

Andrew started to feel the effects of the speed ramping up. Oh, what a glorious sensation. She was right: he wouldn't have let her come over if she hadn't offered the molly. Let her fend for herself out in the jungle. But she was here now, asleep on his sofa. Once all his animosity and condescending labels for her were put aside, it was another human being in serious trouble, one who needed his help. Was there anyone he knew that would put themselves on the line for him if he were mixed up in something dangerous like Tanja? 

Maybe she was completely innocent. Maybe it was Ethan who corrupted her, got her hooked, put her in peril due to his weakness and stupidity. He was the only one he knew who had gone over to the dark side of hard drug use. And why? Ethan had more going for him than any of his other friends. 

And then, just like that, it hit. The "a-ha" moment. A bolt of inspiration. What Tanja had said. About him and Faulkner and the South. How he had gotten such rich insights from reading Faulkner's prose that it opened the window of understanding about the South. That was the hook he could hang his analysis on. But it had to be written in the first person. It was a very risky ploy for an academic paper, but he felt confident. 

Ideas pinged around in his head. Lots of ideas, insights, creative angles, connections. Pouring out of nowhere. Bits and pieces of dialogue and prose from every book laid themselves out in front of him. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to harness and categorize so many thoughts, but an intangible force took over the process. It was like a hurricane in reverse had lifted up chaos and set down perfection and order. 

A working outline quickly fell into place. Andrew churned out a first draft as the hours melted away. There were almost too many great ideas to fit in. He made several passes to edit the draft, then polished a final version. After the second proofread, he locked it down and was ready to print. He looked over at the clock: 6:15 AM. 

Tanja's sleeping body stirred as the printer's mechanism started up. Andrew saw a button pop off the front of her dress, allowing a breast to almost fall out. A surge of blood stiffened his penis. He knew that speed made him horny, often requiring several jerk-off sessions during an all-nighter. If Tanja wasn't there, he'd probably want to rub out a quick one—or two—before heading out. He carefully retrieved the button and put it on the table where she could find it. 

After he put together the first copy, he realized he had time to print a second one for himself. While each page slowly worked its way through the printer, he gazed down at Tanja's bosom, nearly spilling forth from her dress, and contemplated his limited sexual history. 

In high school he had a knack for stumbling into dates with the dwindling subset of women who were saving themselves for marriage. Not even a hand job, much less anything nastier. How did he manage to always end up with "good girls" that didn't want to put out? 

Fortunately, the first week of college fixed that. He nervously crawled in bed with Macy Nylander, a fellow freshman he'd met at an orientation week mixer. She was a genuine free spirit about sharing her body; he didn't let on he was a virgin. Although the first night was awkward, they dated a few more times; but she eventually got bored with his callowness. He spent the rest of the school year in a sexless wasteland. 

Things picked up that summer when he began an unexpected torrid affair with Zandra Meadows, a senior class favorite who had ignored him in high school. They were both volunteers on a grassroots political effort her mother had some involvement with. He was stunned that a popular student like her was interested in a math club nerd like him. She was actually a rule-breaking wild child, orchestrating their first fuck in her parents' living room while they were out of town. That was when she introduced him to oral sex, going both directions. Andrew became a big fan of cunnilingus after that, almost as much as being on the receiving end himself. 

Their only opportunity for screwing was during summer breaks and school holidays. He figured she wasn't being exclusive when she went back to her college, but he tried not to think about it. Andrew's love life was non-existent during the school term. None of the other women he could have dated measured up to Zandra, so he ended up being celibate by default. This went on for two years until she broke up with him right before he went back for his senior year. He really missed her. 

The only sex he'd had recently was the occasional fling with Naomi Stevens, a plain-looking fellow nerd who was in some of his math classes. They were "friends with benefits." Naomi was probably using sex to counter her low self-esteem; she always phoned him. He knew other guys in the math department had been to bed with her. It bothered him when they made fun of her for being so available. Naomi had several demands when it came to sex: she insisted on doing it at her place, lights off, and with most of her clothes still on. But she was quite enthusiastic once her conditions were met, although she was very narrow in her sexual repertoire. Naomi was usually up for a little fellatio, but she was much too self-conscious to allow a man to go down on her. Too bad. 

All three had one thing in common: they were all small up top. Not like the busty women in the nudie magazines and porno videos he had seen. Or like the busty woman who was asleep on his couch right then. He turned away to watch the other pages print out so he wouldn't have to look at Tanja's almost exposed titty. Or think about what he'd like to do to her. 

The noise of the printer finally woke Tanja. It took a few cloudy moments before she realized where she was and how she got there. Andrew had his back to her as he printed out his report. There was already a finished copy on the coffee table in front of her. She could see the title: "A Massachusetts Yankee in William Faulkner's South" by Andrew Vinson, English 436, Dr. Kenneth Darden ... 

She hoisted herself on one elbow to get a better look and her left breast spilled out. What the fuck? She saw her button sitting next to the report and realized what had happened. She wondered how much he'd seen. But she also felt a sharp surge of sexual desire for Andrew, knowing it was his courage that gave her a hiding place from the drug gang. A surge that snaked around her thighs and flowed down from her breasts, converging strongly in the depths of her pussy. 

She pushed her boob back inside her dress, but she really wanted to tear the damn rag off altogether and present herself to Andrew. Tanja felt a swell of wetness between her legs, for the first time in ages. She hadn't been with a man for much too long. But she doubted Andrew wanted to be seduced by a junkie stripper, ex or otherwise. She would have to be clever about it. 

"Andrew, it looks like you were successful with your paper. Is it any good?" 

"Tanja, I have you to thank." He gathered up the printed pages and began assembling the second copy. "You gave me the idea for the subject. You saved my ass, big time. And the black molly. If you hadn't called, I'd be asleep with no paper started. And no graduation ceremony." 

He looked over at her. The missing button revealed an astonishing amount of cleavage. "I can't thank you enough, Tanja," he added, hoping his erection wasn't too obvious. 

"I've got an idea how we can thank each other," Tanja said. She stood up and approached him, slipping her arms around Andrew's waist and pulling him closer. She glanced at the clock. "It looks like we have plenty of time." 

"Umm ... 7:30 was a drop-dead time. We should leave before then." 

"Were you going to park in the student lot? I can give you a ride, drive you right up to your building. You can find a way back, can't you?" 

Andrew knew where this was headed. It was all he could do to keep from throwing her back down on the sofa and pushing up her skirt. But there was no way he was going to have sex with a former IV drug user. Even if he had a condom, he still wasn't sure about oral sex, giving or receiving. 

"There may not be enough time, Tanja." 

"C'mon, we've got over an hour." Tanja pressed her waist against his, feeling a solid column of arousal inside his jeans. "Part of you is telling me this is a good idea," she teased. 

Tanja realized what was holding him back. She reached down and pulled the clinic's envelope from her purse. 

"This is the last piece of mail I got." She unfolded the report and handed it to him. "I'm very lucky. I was clean on my six weeks AIDS test before. This is my three month test. I'm still negative." 

Andrew looked over the letter: 

Parkland Clinic ... Tomczyk, Tanja ... Age: 24 ... Immunology ... HIV 1 & 2: non-reactive ... 

"I've been celibate since going into rehab. I had a battery of STD tests along with my six weeks AIDS test. All negative. I know, you'd be taking my word for it ... the celibacy. And the other test results." He continued to look over the lab report. 

"Andrew, how about this? Safe sex only. No fucking or oral. Just get each other off with our hands. I'm guessing you might be really horny on that black molly. Ready to screw the entire cheerleader squad." 

Andrew looked up and smiled. "At least twice." 

Tanja pulled herself closer. Andrew could feel her stiff nipples through their thin clothes. It seemed a little silly at that point to go with his earlier plan of disappearing into the bathroom and tossing off a quick one. 

"Tanja, I sometimes have trouble finishing when I'm speeding like this." 

"Don't worry. I know a few things." 

Tanja contemplated what was about to happen. She really needed to get off. And she wanted to get off right. What if Andrew was an inexperienced lover? Her needs were so strong that she wouldn't be able to refrain from aggressively correcting any clumsiness or hesitation on his part. That could end up a disaster. A brilliant plan came to mind. 

"Andrew, an hour from now we'll both go our separate ways, never to see each other again. I've got an idea about how we can send each other off, in a good way. Are you willing to work with me on this, keep an open mind, and not get freaked out or defensive?" Andrew nodded but seemed unsure of what would follow. 

"Be honest with me now, how many women have you been with?" Andrew wasn't expecting such an intimate question. He flinched. 

"I know, maybe not a fair question, but hear me out. I've been doing this a few more years than you have, although my number of partners is probably a lot lower than you'd think. I remember the fumbling and frustrations from those early inexperienced lovers. How I wished I had the courage to tell them what I needed. And the courage to ask how I could please them. I was too afraid to speak up when things weren't going right." 

Andrew responded timidly. "Only three so far. You're right, I'm still learning my way." 

Tanja stroked his cheek. "That's good. Honesty works really well in sexual situations like this. Communication is the key. I wish I had learned that earlier. And I'm sure you'll have a few things to teach me about what turns you on. 

"So today, why don't you let me guide you? Show you how to touch me. How to get me off and make me satisfied. Sure, every woman is a little different, but pay attention to how I respond. I'll bet what you take away from this will be very useful in the future. It's certainly not something you're going to learn in the classroom, but it'll get you a lot further in life than reading those books. Someday you'll say it's worth more than gold. 

"So here's what I'm proposing. I'll show you how to get me warmed up. That's important. If you do that right, a woman won't have to pretend she's liking it. Then I'll take over and make you come. And after that, you can finish me off. Sound like a plan? So sit down on the sofa and we'll get started." 

Tanja stood in front of Andrew and looked down at him. "I have a little confession to make. Like you, I'm unusually horny right now. It happens to most people who go through rehab. While you're using, sex is dulled. It becomes a secondary priority, then it stops altogether. So when you get clean, your libido goes into overdrive. Don't worry about your technique. I'm going to be a very enthusiastic partner, no matter what. 

"So start by putting your hands on my hips. Good, now move them up and down slowly. Caress me. Look into my eyes while you're doing it. Watch my reactions. Mmm ... it's been so long since a man's touched me." Tanja felt her insides start to warm up, merely from a few seconds of contact. Moistness seeped from the walls of her vagina. 

"Now keep doing that, but also move your hands around and stroke my ass and the backs of my thighs. Oh yeah, that's it. Now massage my ass cheeks. Squeeze them a little. Ahh, yes. OK, let your fingers curl around the backs of my legs while you stroke me. Get them near my pussy but don't touch me there ... yet. 

"Good. Now spread your thumbs out and let them curve around the front of my thighs while you stroke them up and down. Oh, Andrew, that's how you do it. I'm getting wet already." 

Andrew hadn't been sure earlier about what was going to happen with Tanja's plan, but he was totally on board at that point. He could feel precum drooling from the end of his prick. 

"Andrew, have you ever gone down on a woman? Do you like doing that? A lot? OK, good! You'll get far in this world if you like to eat pussy. Here's an advanced tip for what we're doing now. You've been looking up at me while you stroke my legs. Now gently put your face up against my belly. Move it around slowly. Oooh, that's right. Now let your fingers go behind my legs and stroke my ass. And move your face down near my pussy and press in ... and move it around. Aaah, fuck! Perfect!" 

Andrew let out an involuntary groan when he felt her mound twitch against his lips. He had some regrets that cunnilingus wasn't going to be part of the lesson that day. 

"OK, Andrew, look up at me again. Whew! You're a good student. You see what that did? When you ease into it? Otherwise women can get freaked out when a man starts chewing away down there without any preliminaries. When you nuzzle her through her clothes like you did, it lets her know you're not afraid to put your mouth down there. Gives her a nice little preview of what's to come later. 

"And another tip. Don't ask 'Do you want me to suck your pussy?' Tell her: 'I want to suck your pussy.' Either she'll moan with approval or suggest you do something else. Telling is always better than asking. It's confident and masculine. Asking makes you sound weak and unsure. 

"And we're ready to move up higher. Keep stroking but move your hands up to my waist. Good. Now a little higher on my body. As you go up let your palms graze against the sides of my boobs. Ahh, nice, nice. Same deal as down below. Ease into it. Don't start mauling her tits right off the bat. 

"Now here's where you let your hands come around, but not across the nipples right away. Spend some time touching the other parts of my breasts. Most men haven't a clue about this. Stroke underneath ... mmm, yes ... and the sides. I know, I've got a lot of territory to cover. And it's all natural, by the way. 

"OK, curve your fingers around the tops of my breasts with your thumbs underneath. Now stroke front to back, but still stay away from the nipples. Squeeze and caress the flesh ... mmm. 




Term Paper Blues



"Now it's nipple time. Like you did down below, press your lips gently against one nipple through my dress. And then let your stroking with the other hand go all the way out and massage the nipple. Oh, yeah! Aaaah!" 

Andrew was getting very hot. Maybe it wouldn't take that much to finish him off after all. He spontaneously switched sides without a prompt from Tanja. Nuzzling her other nipple while he stroked and squeezed the breast that had been in his face a few moments ago. Her nipples were thick and hard, pressing against the worn fabric of her dress. He gave one a little nibble with his lips while gently pinching the other one. Tanja threw back her head with a loud moan and grabbed his hair. 

"Oh, Andrew!" Tanja looked down at him. "That's exactly the reaction you're looking for when you do this. Excellent. Let's pause for a second here, but keep caressing." 

Tanja stroked his face with both hands. "I loved the way you switched sides, right before I was going to tell you do it. Good sense of timing. But you can't always be sure about when to change. You have to follow her signals. And breast sensitivity is an issue. Some women like it gentle, others like it rough. And it can depend on what time of the month it is for her, too. You could find yourself with a woman who barely likes to be touched there. And there are some that want you to slap their tits and pinch their nipples hard while you're fucking them. 

"Keep in mind many women may shy away from being that talkative. We've all had it drilled into us that good girls don't speak up and ask a man to do things to her. Or ask him to change it up from how he's doing it. Only sluts do that. Good girls are supposed to lie back and let the man use her until he's shot his wad. But inside most good girls, her inner slut is just waiting to be unleashed. That's why I'm showing you all this. It helps the woman feel comfortable with you. And if you follow her cues, she won't be able to keep that inner slut from taking over." 

"Tanja, I'm so fucking horny right now. You were right. I needed a tutorial like this. I've been fumbling around just on instinct." 

"Alright, it's almost time for me to take over. But you can start unfastening a few buttons on my dress now. Look up at me while you slowly undo each one. Go as far as my waist. And let your hands move around on my breasts while you unbutton—keep me squirming. Or you could unbutton with one hand and go back to stroking my thighs with the other. You always have options. And there'll be times where she wants you to rip the buttons right off and start fucking her hard. You'll know." 

Andrew was more aroused than he thought possible. He had never been this studied and methodical with foreplay before. His underwear felt soggy with precum. And her tits! He'd never been with anyone who was that voluptuous. He was seconds away from the reveal. 

"Nice work, Andrew. Now open up my dress and have a good look. A lot of the time men have to feel guilty about leering at a woman's boobs, but this isn't one of them. Let me know how turned on you are when you see them." 

"Tanja, they're magnificent. I've—" 

Andrew's jaw dropped open. Tanja had huge pink areolas topped with thick, erect teats. There were two tiny silver BBs stuck to each side of her nipples, but on closer inspection he realized they were the ends of a metal bar piercing through each one. It startled the hell out of him. Tanja realized that was a first for Andrew. 

"You've probably never seen a pierced nipple before, have you? Not in real life anyway. Yeah, it hurt like stink. But once they healed, I was glad I did it. They feel incredibly sexy. Even just knowing they're there, hidden from view to the outside world. When I worked topless, I had to wear pasties, so the only people who saw them were the other dancers backstage." 

"Your breasts, they're beautiful, Tanja. The biggest ones—and the nicest ones—I've ever seen. In real life ... or in a magazine." 

"Thank you, Andrew. They're back up to a 34F like they used to be. I guess you could call me an exhibitionist. I love showing them off—for money or otherwise. You never came to see me dance, did you? Well, none of those customers ever got this close. Boy, they waved a lot of money at me to go beyond the limits, but I never did. 

"Why don't you caress my bare breasts and use your tongue to stimulate my nipples. Push the barbell around with your tongue. Suck on it. Let it click against your teeth. Oh, fuck yeah! Like that!" 

Andrew got a strange tingle between his legs thinking about the searing pain she must have felt when the needle pierced her tender flesh. He reached up and began flicking the other one with his thumb. She groaned her approval and ran her fingers through his hair. 

Tanja was in ecstasy. If he was playing with her kitty right then, she probably could have come. But that would have to wait until after his cock unloaded on her—right where he was sucking and tweaking. She reeled herself in and pulled his head back. 

"Time for one other lesson. Taking my panties off." 

Andrew leaned back and waited for further instructions. He now noticed that there was an additional piercing: a jeweled arc of metal through her navel. He'd seen that on women at the swimming pool—no big deal. Now he wondered how many of them had something else going on under their bikini tops. 

"Like before, let's start out slow. Now this dress is longer than what most women wear these days, but reach under there and put your fingertips behind my knees and softly stroke me. Up and down, slowly, gently. Look up at me, let me know you're getting off on touching me. Give me that look that says your fingers are going to be up in my pussy soon, but you're going to tease me a little first." 

Without any further prompting Andrew began caressing her bare hips and the back of her legs, like he'd done outside her clothes. Tanja closed her eyes and whispered "Yes!" Now his hands went across her ass cheeks, rubbing and squeezing, fingers curving around the tops of her legs, ever closer to her warm kitty. 

"OK, here's another move. Cross your wrists so your right palm is on my right inner thigh and the same for the left. Now that your hands are inside my skirt, see how easy it is to slide them up and down between my thighs like that? Ooh, you're getting close. You can graze either thumb against the front of my panties. Go ahead, a light touch. 

"Now when a woman opens up her stance a little—like this—you know you're on the right track. Yes, flick your thumbs across my panties as you keep caressing my inner thighs. Aaah, that's what I like. 

"This is where she whispers, 'Take them off.' Or you could just do it without any prompting. Be bold." 

Tanja explained how he should slip his hands up under the elastic, spread his fingers wide around her hips and ass, and pull them down slowly. 

"Oh, perfect! You've done this before, haven't you?" 

Andrew liked the way Tanja kept it humorous but arousing. He slid her skimpy panties down to her ankles, and she kicked them aside. 

Tanja helped him up from his knees. She whispered close to his ear. "The next time you reach under there you'll feel a steaming wet cipka that's going to need some serious finger fucking. Remember that. Now we'll switch positions." 

Tanja sat down on the sofa and began to undo Andrew's belt buckle. She lowered his white briefs, and a lovely erect cock sprung out. Not much more than average length but thick around and hard as oak. Oh, would she go crazy having that thrusting into her from behind right then, with the big swollen head dragging across her G-spot with every stroke! Tanja now regretted limiting the sexual menu, but she felt obliged to stick to the plan. 

"Ooh, you're as wet as I am! Look at all that precum. Why don't you take off your t-shirt now, Andrew?" She smiled. "While I see if I can figure out where you liked to be touched." 

While her hands moved between his thighs, Tanja looked up and inched her face closer to the wet tip of his cock. She did say no oral, right? His prick jerked helplessly each time her fingers rubbed against his balls, hanging loose and heavy between his legs. 

Tanja wanted to shove that cock in her mouth so bad, feeling that sweet precum coat her tongue as she slowly sucked him toward a climax. She was seconds away from doing it but decided to satisfy her oral craving another way. Tanja lifted his scrotum with her flattened hand and fed one of his balls into her mouth, sucking it gently and caressing it with her tongue. Andrew let out a loud, guttural groan. She moved her fingers up his shaft and found the glistening knob. Tanja carefully spread the copious precum around his sensitive glans, making sure to keep her thumb slowly rotating around the frenulum. 

"Tanja! My god!" 

Andrew couldn't believe what was happening. He was expecting some perfunctory, quick tug job, but this was astonishing. Like the difference between running around in his backyard as a little kid with a plastic rocket ship and actually hurtling toward the moon in a N.A.S.A. spacecraft. Tanja took his other nut into her mouth and massaged it with her tongue while her fingernails found those incredible spots on his scrotum he never knew existed. 

He grunted as he felt another involuntary release of precum from his penis. It spilled from the tip and oozed down onto Tanja's cheek. He was horrified, soiling her face with his goo like that. But her reaction was quite the opposite. 

"Oh, fuck, baby! Look at you! Wetting me like that. Give me a taste. Please!" 

Tanja repositioned herself so she could catch the next drop in her mouth. Andrew watched the precum dribble from his penis, shiny and clear. A long strand settled on her outstretched tongue. 

"Mmmm, Andrew. Oh, I want more. Show me how wet you can get. And how much you like the way I'm touching you. I can't suck you, but I really want to. Drip down on me, Andrew." 

Tanja sought out the hard root of his penis behind his balls. Thumb and middle finger stroking along the sides as her forefinger massaged that special area right before his anus. She pressed his leaking cock up against her face, letting the sticky fluid decorate her cheeks. Tanja was surprised how intense things had gotten. Her pussy had the sweetest aching throb. God, would she love to impale herself on his hardness right then. 

"Andrew, does it get you hot seeing your dew on my face like this? I know you're going to let loose with a strong one pretty soon. I'll be ready for it. I want you to come all over my big tits. We can both watch and see how much you shoot out. I've got some deep cleavage, but I bet you can fill it up." 

Tanja looked up at Andrew. He had his palms pressed against his butt, head thrown back, eyes closed. He was whimpering and trembling. Real close now, real close. 

Andrew was burning with lust, white hot between his legs. No woman had come close to making him feel like this. The way she was touching him. Stroking him slowly behind his balls, letting them graze her palm. Rubbing his cock on her face. Plus that constant little teasing brush of her fingertips, back and forth across his glans. And her thumb causing a steady tingle of pleasure at the end, right under his cockhead. He could feel the initial stirrings of his climax—swelling, growing, building toward a release. 

Tanja knew he was about to spew. It wouldn't take much more before he emptied out onto her chest. His throbbing purple knob dripped steadily at the end of his swollen shaft. The precum was getting thicker and a little cloudy. 

"Tanja, please. I need to come. Please ... I want it so bad." 

She had one more surprise for him. She ceased her hand work, placed his cock between her breasts, and began slowly massaging the shaft and head with her considerable cleavage. 

"Oh, Andrew. I can't wait. All hot and sticky on my tits. I know you've got a big load for me. I'm so turned on watching you, knowing how close you are. Isn't this sexy, fucking my titties like this? So naughty. But I know you like it. 

Andrew couldn't do much other than nod his head and gasp. 

"Any moment now. It's going to feel so good, baby. We'll watch it together." 

Andrew couldn't last another second. He cried out his warning to Tanja as a hot surge of pleasure spread down from his prostate and through his entire pelvis. Tanja felt the first little outflow from his cock in her cleavage and reacted quickly, using her forearm to lift up her heavy breasts as a target for his ejaculation. She grasped his shaft just below his cockhead, keeping the slow, steady rhythm unchanged. 

Andrew let out an anguished scream as his initial jet of cum roared out like a firehose, down onto Tanja's undulating breasts. His body jerked and twisted as he tried to keep his balance. Each subsequent spurt felt like a massive wave crashing on the shore. He looked down and saw Tanja carefully milking rope after rope of thick, white cum onto her chest. 

"Tanja... Tanja ... oh, god ... stroking my cock ... making me come all over you. Oh, that's so fucking sexy, all over your tits! Oh, Tanja ... so good ... s-o-o good!" 

"Yeah, look at it, Andrew. I can't believe how much I'm jerking out of you. I've never seen anyone come this much. You don't know what's that's doing to me ... between my legs. I can almost feel every spurt like it's going up into my pussy right now. Oh god, you're really wetting me down. Nice and warm. Oh yeah, baby!" 

He'd had his cock tugged before but not to completion. And he'd certainly never come on a woman's breasts while they both watched! Tanja shook out the last few drops from Andrew's dick as she stared into his eyes. He began swaying. 

"Don't faint on me now, lover. Quick, sit down next to me and catch your breath." Andrew fell onto the sofa next to her with his pants still around his knees. 

"Oh, reach over there and get me that towel from last night. You poured a quart of cum between my tits. It's way too much to just rub in." Tanja was pressing her breasts together with both hands. 

Andrew felt light-headed but grabbed the towel and held it under her boobs. "OK, I'm ready to catch it." 

Tanja let them fall, spilling Andrew's huge load of spunk down onto the towel. 

"That was amazing, Andrew. What a stud! 

"You know, I couldn't help but think about how hot it would have been for you to fuck my mouth, but I never could have swallowed that much cum. Most of it, probably, but a lot would have still ended up on my boobs." 

Tanja desperately needed a release, too, but she let Andrew rest for another minute. 

"Andrew, as soon as you're up to it, I'm ready to go. More than ready. I almost came spontaneously while you were spritzing all over me. That was intense. 

"I can do this a little different than I was planning earlier. Just stay where you are and I'll straddle you. Not so much of a training session as needing you to start on me right away. I'm going to have you do all the pussy fingering, so let's do a quick lesson." 

Tanja put her knees on either side of Andrew's legs and lifted up her skirt. Andrew saw she had a tattoo of a rose near her mound. That must have been a lot of pain so close to her treasure. It gave him that funny feeling in his groin again. 

"You'll notice I have very prominent inner lips." Tanja spread herself open so Andrew could see clearly. 

And he also noticed she was completely shaved down below. His first time seeing that. 

"And you can see I have a big clit, too. It's really swollen and sensitive right now. And this skin covering it—or it usually covers it when I'm not this close to an orgasm. That's my clitoral hood. Now watch how I take two fingers and put them on each side and rub the hood up and down. Kind of like stroking a cock with a foreskin. So you're not touching the clit directly." 

Andrew was still in a stupor after his orgasm. It was surreal what he was watching. A woman baring her most intimate parts and showing him the secret of making her come. He really would have liked a taste of her quim, but that wasn't in the playbook. Maybe he could suck on his fingers afterward. 

"And see how I can squeeze my outer lips together with one hand so they trap the clit and hood between them? My palm is flat over my mound, and I can do an up and down stroke. Or side to side. And even a circular motion. All without touching the hood or clit directly. And while my palm is stroking away, my fingers are free to slip inside, like this. God, I'm just soaking wet! Mmmh! 

"That's a secret that will put you out in front of all the other guys—trust me. The same issues as before: don't go stabbing your fingers up her pussy right away. Ease into it. Like I'm showing you." 

Andrew was fascinated. This was like "playing doctor"—but much better. He wanted to touch. And feel her wetness. Usually he would be completely uninterested in doing any of this right after blowing a huge load like he did. But not that day. 

"And this is how I play with my clit when I need a little more stimulation. Just a light flicking back and forth. Now you try it. Dip into my pussy and get your fingers wet. 

"Do the hood stroke. Start slowly and deliberately. Like how I stroked your cock. Use your thumb and middle finger. Oh, Andrew, that feels divine. Squeeze a little more, babe. Oooh! 

"OK, next. You can see your forefinger is free to do the flicking. Try that. Eeek ... yes, YES! Perfect. 

"So I'll give you some help while you're diddling me: faster or slower, stroke or flick, direct or indirect. I think you'll get the hang of it pretty quick. And I'll need something up in my pussy, too. Just rest your hand on your thigh and point the middle two fingers up. I'll lower myself and move around on them, however it feels best for me. Let me shift over and straddle that leg. If I need some extra movement from your fingers, I'll call it out. 

"Meanwhile, I'll be playing with my titties. I was going to give you more lessons on that, but I need to come so bad that we need to get going now. So watch how I stroke my boobs and pinch my nipples. It'll start soft then get rougher as I feel my orgasm get close. Take some mental pictures." 

Tanja noticed that Andrew's cock had swelled up while she was talking. Oh, mama, would she like to stick that up inside her instead and ride it hard! 

"If you're ready, put your fingers upright and let me ease down on them." 

Andrew positioned his hand like she requested. He couldn't believe his cock was getting stiff again. Only a few minutes after the most intense, explosive orgasm he'd ever had in his life. If Tanja changed her mind and wanted to sit on his prick, he'd be OK with that. After all, she did show him a clean lab report. 

"Oh, Andrew, Andrew ..." Tanja gasped as she let his fingers penetrate her vagina. She began to slowly move around on them. "Oh, that feels really good, babe. It's not going to take much to set me off. So grasp my hood with your fingers and start an easy, gentle stroke. I'm real close, so I don't need much stimulation. It'll be a nice, slow build until I can't take it anymore." 

Tanja felt his fingers softly caress her clit through the thin membrane. The sensations shot all through her body like a crazed sexual electricity. If she wanted, this could be over in thirty seconds; but she intended to stretch it out for a few minutes. Feel it build slowly until she just couldn't hold it in any longer. 

Andrew inhaled the rich scent of her sex. He was barely suppressing his yearning for a taste of her kitty. He thought about telling her how much he wanted to do it. But it would be too embarrassing to blurt out something like that. Yet there he was, fingers invading her juicy channel, stroking her sensitive nub, and watching her arousal go into orbit. He had to say something. 




Term Paper Blues



"Tanja, you know I thought about eating your pussy when you mentioned it earlier. Of course, we said safe sex only, but that didn't stop me from wondering how you taste. I guess I'll just have to settle for licking my fingers after I've made you come." 

"Really?" Tanja was shocked but wanted to hear more. "How were you going to do it? Give me details." 

"I'd ask you to open yourself up like you just did for me. Then I'd get the tip of my tongue wet and slowly tease your lips with it. Suck and nibble on them." 

Tanja wasn't expecting this, but it lit another burner deep inside her. "Then what?" 

"I'd probe around the opening of your pussy with it. So I could hear you moan and call out my name." 

Andrew wondered what had gotten into him. He'd never said stuff to a woman while having sex. No running commentary or dirty talk. He wasn't even sure women liked that sort of thing. They could easily be turned off by vulgarity like that. But it just made Tanja grind more forcefully on his fingers. 

"Then I'd shove it up inside you and get a good taste. As far in as I could stick it. In and out. And I'd lick you all over. Press my tongue on your clit and move it around. Like I'm doing with my fingers now. Just like you showed me. Am I doing it right, Tanja? It sure looks like it." 

Andrew couldn't believe the filth that was spewing out his mouth. Was he possessed? Tanja was being much rougher with her breasts than he thought any woman could be. Squeezing them hard. Pulling on her nipple piercings. She pushed her boobs together, leaned over, and thrust them in his face. 

"Suck on them. Like you were going to do to my pussy. Bite them. Push me over the edge now, baby. Oh, Andrew! Andrew!" 

Tanja knew her orgasm would hit hard in a few seconds. Like a freight train that went too fast on a tall trestle and careened over the edge, starting its plunge below. Those few seconds before hitting the ground with a massive explosion. Oh, shit! Does he have more fingers going up inside me now? I'm so fucking wet! He probably could shove his whole hand in my pussy if I asked him to. 

The force of her climax almost knocked the wind out of her. Searing jolts of sexual energy curling her toes. Waves of pleasure surging up from her kitty and down from her breasts where he was roughly sucking and biting her sensitive nipples as she requested. At first, Tanja could only manage a few wheezing grunts and moans as she let herself give in to the sensations washing over her. As she rode the swell of her orgasm, she called out his name repeatedly, praising his sexual skills. 

Andrew had never been so emotionally close to a woman in the midst of her orgasm. Talk about not holding back! He was almost smothering in the bounty of her breast flesh as she leaned into him. His own precum drooled freely from the tip of his penis and down his hip. 

Tanja enjoyed the lengthy pleasant ebb of her climax. "Andrew, please let me have a minute here," she gasped. "That was months of pent up sexual frustration that needed to get out. I'm not sure I could even stand up right now, much less walk." 

There was no rush—still time before they needed to leave. And he hadn't forgotten about licking her cum off his fingers. Maybe he should do that in private. 

"OK, Andrew. Lesson's over. You get an A plus, no question. I'll see if I can get that on your report card. Mmm, that was the best. 

"Alright, slowly coming back down to earth now. Do you have a little mending kit so I can sew my button back on? Or a safety pin? I can be taking care of that while you get ready." 

"Sure, I'll get it," he said, yanking off his jeans but stowing his leaking cock back inside his briefs. "I'm going to hop in the shower while you do that." 

When Andrew returned with the sewing kit, Tanja was sitting on the sofa with the dress off her shoulders and down to her waist—button in hand, ready to sew. That pose and the early morning light made her look gentle and romantic, with her full breasts and satisfied smile. His half-hard cock was straining against the front of his underwear, threatening to point upward again. Andrew couldn't believe how quickly his desire had retuned. His inner animal wanted to fuck her properly, nice and hard. He'd better get in that shower now and calm down. Stroke one out, if necessary. 

Tanja opened up the kit and threaded a needle. She got the button sewed on quickly and checked the others to see if they needed mending. Her libido was still simmering. Those months of sexual frustration weren't eased entirely. Even with that outstanding orgasm, she felt like she needed more: a stiff cock inside her, giving her a good seeing to. 

It was a little before 7:00 AM. It would be nice to take a shower before she hit the road. Washing off all that anxiety from the night before. They had time. And time for more than showering. She wasn't sure Andrew would be interested in that, despite the bulge in his briefs. But she knew how guys think with their middle leg. It should be fairly easy to convince a naked man in a shower stall. She slipped off her dress and marched toward the bathroom. 

Andrew was luxuriating in the warm water cascading over him. All the angst and negativity from his term paper panic was slipping away as he ran the soap bar over his body. What a crazy outcome! He shampooed his hair and put his head under the shower, letting the suds spill over his shoulders. 

But he had a fire in his groin that was still smoldering. There was probably time to rub out a quick one. Andrew lathered up his penis and began to stroke it while he sucked on the fingers that had been inside her quim. 

"Hey, is there room for two in there?" 

Andrew barely had time to compose himself before the shower curtain parted and Tanja's bare body stepped in. 

"Let me get wet, babe." 

Tanja slid by him, feeling his soapy, erect cock slip across her belly. Hmm, why was it so hard? Had she interrupted something? She returned to the back of the tub, grazing her hand along his stiffness as she squeezed by. Tanja decided to go for it. She turned her back to Andrew and leaned against the tile wall, placing her hands above her head. 

"Rub that soap all over me, Andrew. Get me good and clean." 

Andrew was having a little trouble breathing. Seconds ago he was stroking his cock solo. And now a wet, busty, nude female was asking him to soap her down. Who was he to refuse? Remembering the sensuality lessons from earlier, he carefully slid the soap bar over her shoulders and arms and across her back while caressing her with his other hand. 

Tanja closed her eyes and moaned softly. Andrew had his lower body pressed against hers, nestling his raging erection in the cleft of her ass. She squirmed in frustration, wishing he'd just jam his prick in her. When he soaped up her armpits, she felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing she needed to shave there. But she realized that of all the intimacies she had shared with men over the years, no one had ever offered such a private act of grooming as he was doing then. 

She turned around to face him and placed her hands behind her so he could have full access to her body. "OK, get my front now. All over, top to bottom." Tanja glanced down at his erection which only seemed bigger. His face was filled with lust as he soaped her heavy, slippery tits. 

"Make sure they're really clean," she admonished with a coy smile. "I know I didn't quite get all your cum off with the towel." 

As he washed her, Andrew knew his cock was throbbing against her body. There was no reason to hide his desire. He kneeled down to clean her legs and feet, causing her to tremble when he included her pussy lips. 

Tanja was seething with an uncontrollable need. She lifted him up and took the soap from his hand. 

"Andrew, were you washing yourself off down there when I stepped in the shower? Let me finish that for you." 

Tanja grasped his cock; it felt hot and alive in her hands. She soaped his shaft and balls and drew a sudsy finger around the rim of his asshole. 

Andrew reached down and slipped his fingers between her swollen labia and put his face close to hers. "We're not done yet, are we?" 

"No, we're not," Tanja gasped. 

They kissed for the first time. Hungrily, burning with desire. Tongues thrusting and swirling, hands between each other's legs. 

Andrew was amazed he was so horny again after such a short break. The time for safe sex was over. He wanted to get up close and personal. 

"Put your leg up on the edge of the tub," he commanded. Andrew knelt down, spread her open, and looked up. 

"I'm going to suck your pussy now." 

She shuddered when his mouth touched her. His tongue teased her lips and pushed up inside. Andrew wasn't sure he could make her come like that; their bodies were positioned awkwardly. But beyond satisfying his own urge to eat her out, he also saw it as a gesture—of thanks, of respect, of trust. 

Tanja's taste was warm and earthy, slick upon his lips. She shivered and groaned as he sucked hard on the protruding folds and dragged his tongue across her swollen clit. 

"If you keep doing that, you're going to have to fuck me," Tanja moaned. "Good and hard. From behind, like a dog." 

Andrew had no intention of stopping. Either she was going to come on his mouth or bend over for a frenzied coupling. 

"I warned you," she cried, pulling him up and grabbing his rock-hard penis. Tanja kissed him urgently as the water streamed down on them. She whispered in his ear: "I wasn't kidding about being rough. I need you to fuck me like you hate me." 

Tanja broke free and bent over, grasping the faucets with both hands. Andrew didn't hesitate a second. Doing it from behind seemed animalistic, which suited his mood perfectly at that moment. He'd never had sex in that position before, though. Woman on top was the only variation he had experienced. He was a bit clumsy as he probed her opening with his cockhead. 

"Push!" 

And so he did, burying his cock inside her warm sheath. It only took a few strokes before Tanja let loose with her first scream. 

"Oh, fill me up, baby! That's what I need." 

Andrew grabbed her hips and began a vigorous thrusting, smacking against her ass with his pelvis. Tanja's tits swung wildly, bobbling and swaying from side to side. She was rocking back into him, meeting his every stroke. He'd never fucked a woman who was so raw and uninhibited. A sweet sexual sensation began tingling between his legs. He knew he might not come as quickly as he did with her hand job, but it was going to be stronger. Andrew stopped thinking about what was happening and let his animal instincts take over. 

She was adding a steady stream of profanity between her frenzied shrieks. It was dirty talk at first but soon became a flow of unintelligible sounds. He savored the slow build of those tingling sensations down below his waist, warm and pleasurable, as he rammed into her hungry pussy. 

Andrew sensed that Tanja was getting close to coming herself. He noted telltale clues from her earlier climax. Her screams echoed off the tile walls, drowning out the roar of the water splashing down on her shoulders. She barely got out the announcement of her imminent orgasm. 

"Andrew ... I'm gonna ... I'm ... I'm coming ... now ... now!" 

He held on tightly as her body bucked wildly on his prick. Strong contractions milked his shaft as he kept thrusting up inside her. His own climax wasn't far off. 

"Keep fucking me, Andrew. Don't stop, please. It's ... it's so good ... so good. Oh, baby ... so good!" 

Damn, she was hot! Incredibly hot. His balls were bouncing around between her thighs, ready to let loose. Tanja's moaning subsided as his grew louder. Andrew felt a hot surge of pleasure spreading down from his inner core. His ejaculation was seconds away. 

"You're going to make me come, Tanja. You're so sexy ... I can't help it." 

Tanja had to react quickly. "Don't come in me, Andrew. I'm not on the pill. Here, let me do you." 

She abruptly pulled away, turned around, and kneeled in front of him. Tanja grabbed his cock and shoved it in her mouth. She sucked him aggressively, stroking his shaft and massaging his balls. Her wet finger probed his anus, pushing him past the point of no return. 

He wasn't sure it was OK to come in her mouth, but it was too late. Massive spurts of semen surged from the end of his cock as she took it all in. Andrew let out ragged shouts as her lips and tongue amplified the pleasure of his climax. Wave after wave poured into her eager mouth. Tanja's eyes locked into his as she swallowed his thick load. She smacked her lips and lapped up the final drops, squeezing his prick and groaning with lust. 

Andrew had only seen nasty blowjobs like that in porno films. It was so intense he began to lose his balance. Down came the shower curtain and rod; but Tanja grabbed his hand, barely keeping him from falling over. She let out a little giggle, causing the last bit of spunk to ooze from her lips. He slumped against the shower wall, struggling to catch his breath. They looked at each other wordlessly, hand in hand, both wet and raging with the afterburn of sexual release. 

Andrew didn't know which was the more unlikely image that morning. Was it his "might even get an A" term paper, completed and ready to turn in? Or was it a naked, wet Tanja Tomczyk collapsed on the bottom of his bathtub? With her big, glistening, pierced titties heaving on her chest and his cum dripping off her chin. They both let it sink in for a long time while the shower continued to rush into the tub. 

Tanja looked up at Andrew's thick cock, still half-hard and covered with both their juices. "That's a good one to go out on, don't you think?" she said. "But we should get moving," as she pulled herself upright. She gave his cock a final rinse and shut off the water. 

They shared his only clean towel as they dried each other off. Andrew left the shower curtain and water on the floor to deal with later. 

Tanja grabbed a bra from her bag and strapped herself in. She was in too much of a hurry the night before, but she knew she'd need the coverage when she hit the road as a lone female—especially if her dress lost another button. As Andrew was pulling on his jeans she decided to offer one more bit of feminine advice. 

"I have a suggestion for you, even if it's only one woman's opinion. You know, Andrew, you're a grown man now. Old enough to vote, to buy a drink ... and to fuck a woman senseless. So I think you're old enough to start wearing boxer underwear instead of those tighty whities." 

Andrew looked a little stunned. Maybe it was the realization he should have made the transition long before a half-naked woman had to tell him. 

"Hey, it's just a thought, Andrew. I know you can't make the change overnight." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "But think about it when you go to buy your next pair." 

* * * 

Andrew pulled on his backpack and opened the front door. The rain had stopped; blue skies and sunshine were forcing away the gray clouds. He felt a twinge of alarm, wondering if a sniper's scope was trained on him right then. Or maybe the bad guys were waiting to jump them as soon as they left the safety of the apartment complex. But that was crazy paranoia, the coast seemed clear. Surely they would have made their move before then. 

They each grabbed one of her grocery bags and carried the banker's box between them. Down the stairs and through the back gate, past the dumpster and out onto the street. They walked silently at first. There were lots of downed tree limbs and debris after the previous night's storm. An earthy, wet smell dominated the neighborhood. Andrew finally spoke. 

"Tanja, I know you can't tell me where you're headed—and you shouldn't—but let me ask you something. Suppose you had money and didn't have to worry about looking over your shoulder for those guys. Where would you go? Paris? Rio? Tokyo?" She took longer to answer than he expected. 

"This may surprise you, but I want to go to Poland. To Silesia, where my family was from originally. It's been over five years since the Berlin Wall came down, so I think it's OK to go now. 

"It's been so long since anyone has seen behind the Iron Curtain. I want to experience it before it becomes too Westernized. All of it, the good and bad. Even the extermination camps." 

"You're not Jewish, are you?" Her choice of sightseeing locations was unexpected. 

"No, Polish Catholic. But they persecuted them, too. Imprisoned at first. Eventually marched to their deaths like the others. The Nazis had their irrational hate for a lot of people: Jews, Roma, gays, the mentally ill. People they considered subhuman or defective. But they got rid of us mainly because we were in the way. They needed our land for lebensraum." 

Tanja had to laugh. "Andrew, you look surprised I know anything about this. I had to find out in the library. Lots of reading up on World War II history. My grandparents never wanted to talk about it. And I really can't blame them. They were the only two who made it out safely. They were very lucky. Everyone else in the family died during the war, mostly in the camps. 

"Oh, that's my beater car over there. The blue Honda Civic. I wasn't sure we were on the right street. That was a crazy storm last night." 

Tanja and Andrew hopped in her car and headed over to the university. Neither of them saw the rally green Camaro parked a block and a half up the side street when they walked by. 

* * * 

As Tanja and Andrew neared his drop-off location, she asked if there was somewhere where she could make some phone calls before she headed out. 

"Sure, turn into the faculty lot. It'll be OK to park in there for a few minutes. You can come in and use one of the pay phones in the lobby." 

They walked through the back entrance, and Andrew pointed out where the phones were. Class was starting in less than thirty minutes. 

"I'm going to see if Professor Darden is in his office so I can hand in my paper directly to him. I'll meet you back here before I head to the classroom. Do you have enough change for the phone?" 

"Sure, I've got plenty. I hope I can reach my N.A. sponsor. I need to tell her the whole story about why I'm leaving town. She'll be able to notify my employer, my sobriety house, and the friend I was planning to get an apartment with. I need to call my Uncle Marek, too." 

Andrew bounded up the stairs to Professor Darden's office, but it was locked and the light was off. He didn't want to risk shoving his paper under the door, so he went back down to the classroom and put it in the lockbox. The teacher's pets and brown-nosers were already in the front row as usual. They probably had their projects finished weeks ago. Andrew walked back to the lobby where Tanja was finishing up the call to her uncle. 

"Were you able to contact everybody?" 

"Yes, but they both were really worried about me. I promised to let them know when I arrived safely at my next destination. Say, I saw some vending machines back where we came in. Let me buy you breakfast before I head out." Tanja offered to split a pair of Hostess Sno Balls with Andrew. 

"I'm really not that hungry, Tanja. I'm still speeding a little. But I am thirsty. I will have a Dr. Pepper." 

"Andrew, you have to eat something. I'll give you half of one." 

Tanja tore apart one of the large spongy hemispheres—chocolate cake with a marshmallow coating—and fed half to Andrew. It was messy, leaving flakes of pink cocoanut and bits of crème filling on his lips and chin. She wiped them off with her fingers and let him lick them clean. Not exactly a wedding cake ceremony, but it still felt sensuous to her in a humble sort of way. 

"Thanks, Tanja. That was kind of you to share." And they had shared quite a lot that morning. The pleasure of her sweet fingers in his mouth lingered as he checked his watch. "I've got time. Let me walk you to your car."