2 comments/ 10453 views/ 1 favorites Ryan, Paul, and Mary Ch. 01 By: songnstory This story has a germ of basis in fact. The sex is pure extrapolation. Chapter One In college, I was neither a timid virgin nor a horndog. Sure, I relished taking the occasional lover to my bed, but I enjoyed the company of women in general. I treated them as true friends rather than potential conquests. I think they picked up on that. It intrigued them to hang with a guy who was "safe" without being gay. So, while my fellow juniors made nuisances of themselves trying to get a girl to talk to them (let alone "give it up") I was at the center of a circle of young women, whether working or playing. If a girl desired something more from me, I was happy to oblige, of course. I seldom refused an invitation for intimacy, never pressed for it, and never, ever bragged about it afterwards. Alright, that's not completely true. I did press for it once. It started when I gave Mary a backrub. I know, you're thinking that's pretty damn intimate. And it is. There's a difference between sensual and sexual, though our culture seldom separates the two. I like making my friends happy, and enjoy the trust they show me in allowing such sensual touching. During exam week, several of my women friends would ask me to work out the stress knots in their backs, or soothe away headaches with a light stroking on their scalps. Some even reciprocated, which was a bonus. Mary was different. At first, she was hesitant when I offered a simple shoulder rub. It took a couple of weeks watching me de-stressing the ladies of my study group that she realized I wasn't making a move on her. When she finally accepted the offer, she was hooked instantly. As I gently squeezed her tight shoulder, she sighed. When I began to work circles down her back with my thumbs, she moaned. Yes, moaned – loudly. I'd never heard a reaction quite like that before (outside the bedroom). She earned us some quizzical looks from some nearby students, and I ended the session fairly quickly. After that, I took her to a more secluded place for massages; there were usually empty classrooms or quiet corners of campus where her vocalizing wouldn't attract attention. But as the sessions got longer and more thorough, I began to notice another reaction. Several minutes in, I detected a very faint musky scent. Being no stranger to a woman's pleasure, I realized that Mary was getting turned on. Her moaning was, in fact, the sexual reaction it sounded like. I didn't know what to make of this new development. It hadn't been my intention to cross the line between the sensual and the sexual. I didn't mention my discovery to her; instead, I gradually began asking her about herself. Mary was about five years my senior, married at 20 and divorced at 22. She confided that she was still a bit of a romantic, regardless of how much a jerk her ex had turned out to be. "I'm a very sensual person," Mary said after a few minutes of companionable silence. "And a very sexual person," she added, with a slight blush. I mentally scrambled to think of the right thing to say, but before I could open my mouth, she glanced up. "I love sex. But the problem is, if I have sex, I fall in love. I'm not ready for that right now." Sorry, Ryan, her eyes seemed to say before she looked away. She wanted it. She needed it. But she couldn't have it. I felt sorry for her. But I also began to desire her. Mary had a fine body, with all the right curves. Even at 21 I was able to appreciate my pretty friends without necessarily lusting after them. But in Mary, things were getting confused. My need to see my friends happy was tangled up with my body's more carnal need. She craved sex, but she would fall in love with whoever had sex with her. She didn't want to fall in love with me. It was something I pondered over the better part of the week, but the problem kept going round and round in my head. Then, I looked at it sideways and saw an absolutely crazy solution. If she couldn't let herself have sex with a friend, then I'd give her a stranger. The plan would likely end our friendship, and might well land me in jail, but my little head was louder than my big head at this point. Ryan, Paul, and Mary Ch. 02 My friend and fellow college student, Mary, had some issues. She loved sex. And her body was very responsive. But she claimed she couldn't have sex with someone without immediately falling in love, and she wasn't ready for that emotion. So, my bright idea was to blindfold her, take on a different persona, and give her what she needed and what I wanted. How could she fall in love with a fictional person? Have you ever realized you screwed up, but all you could do was sit and wait for the consequences to catch up to you? That was me all weekend. I expected a cop on my doorstep to arrest me for rape. I thought some of Mary's friends would come to kick the crap out of me. Perhaps worst of all was not knowing what was going on with Mary right then. Was she sobbing into her pillow? Getting drunk? Getting ready to do something stupid and permanent? Not an hour went by that I didn't pick up the phone to call; but each time, I put the receiver down. As hard as it was not knowing, actually facing her was unbearable. So two days dragged by. Can somebody feel overjoyed and terrified in equal measure? That's how I felt when I saw her in class on Monday. My seat was to the side and three seats back from hers. I watched her like a hawk for the next hour, looking for some sign. But she never looked back. She never spoke. She barely took notes. And when class ended, she quickly packed up and walked out without looking my way. Well, I knew the risk to our friendship, though it grieved me deeply. I just hoped I hadn't scarred her. Days went by. The classes we had together were much the same. She didn't hang in the lounge anymore, nor in the student center, nor in the quad that was filled with girls soaking up the warmth of late spring. With her continued absence my heart grew heavier. I told myself it wasn't worth it; I shouldn't have tried that stunt; should have just leave things as they were, with her wistful and lonely but still my friend. But sometimes I just can't leave well enough alone. Monday came around again, and I was early to class. Just as everyone was settling in, Mary walked in. She locked eyes with me, for a fraction of a second, before dropping her gaze and heading to her seat. She stayed eyes-front for the rest of class, but I replayed the brief look in my head all hour. She didn't look angry or accusing, but whatever message those eyes held was beyond me. After class, she packed as quickly as before. Then, Mary half-turned. Her eyes flicked up at me. "Hey," she said softly, and with tight little wave, she merged into the crowd filing through the door. Well, that was interesting. All the fear and grief I felt diminished considerably. So, things may be strained, but she didn't seem to hate me after all. * * * * * Although I saw her a couple of times on campus, we weren't face-to-face until the class met again on Wednesday. We both arrived early, and bantered a bit as our classmates straggled in: how hard the professors were working us, grad student gossip, which of our acquaintances made fools of themselves on Friday night – all safe subjects. Then the professor went to the lectern and we settled in. I actually took notes this time. When everyone made for the door an hour later, I took my time loading my pack. So did Mary. I stepped up beside her. "So, got any lunch plans?" She kept her eyes on the folders she was pretending to shuffle through. "I'm going to go through some notes for a quiz tomorrow." Her hands stilled, but she still didn't raise her eyes. "And... then I'm walking down to the botany lab to practice keying out flowers for the exam." She paused, and... was that color coming to her cheek? "I'll be heading down around one o'clock." Mary zipped her pack shut. "See ya." And she nearly bolted out the door. Remember all the fear and grief? Because at that moment, I sure didn't. The lizard brain in my head read into that short conversation only what it wanted to hear: that Mary was saying she wanted Paul, and where he could find her. * * * * * One would think that a lab containing hundreds of plant specimens – pressed, dried, and mounted on glass plates – would be in the vicinity of the botany department. But no, it was in a refurbished storage building at the bottom of a hill, waiting for a building grant that never materialized. The shortest route from our corner of campus involved cutting through some hedges and along a descending wooded path. Privet bushes ran rampant here, offering many hiding places. It was a dangerous locale, if you thought about it. Easy for a dangerous man to lie in wait. And at the appointed hour, I was doing just that. She was well along the path and about to start her descent when I stepped out behind her. "Don't move," I commanded in Paul's low voice. She cried out and stumbled, then caught herself and froze. Two steps and I came within reach. She began to tremble as I tied the blindfold in place. "Now, go right." I grasped the loop at the top of her pack and guided her deeper into the brush. We halted on a moss-covered open patch, about seven feet wide. We were less than forty feet from the trail – if Mary cried out when someone happened to use the trail, that would be that. I slid the pack from her shoulders and leaned it against a sweetgum. Silently, I stepped around her, watching as she stood, uncertain, trembling. I heard nothing but the rumble of traffic filtered through the shrubs, and the blood rising in my ears. "Mary. You remember me, don't you." It wasn't a question. A pause. "Yes." "What's my name?" A far longer pause. "P-Paul." "And you know why I'm here?" "Yes." "Why am I here?" She didn't speak, but a new tremor ran across her body. "I'm going to take you. I have needs, and I will use your body to satisfy them. If you're good, I'll give you what you need too." Her mouth opened but no sound came out. "So here's what you must do. You will take off your clothes and hand them to me, until you are naked before me." Though she couldn't see me, she turned her head away from my voice. I watched her reaction, then added, "Oh, and just so we're clear, you must never look at me. That blindfold is your protection. If I ever catch you peeking...I will make you hurt. And you will not get what you need. Just so we're clear. Now, start with your shirt." Slowly, she reached down and grasped the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head and holding it out in the direction of my voice. I checked that the bandanna was secure. "Very good. Now, your bra." With that dexterity I always found fascinating, she reached behind her back and in a moment the straps came loose. She held the cups in place for a moment, then handed the garment to me. "And now, your shoes." She kicked off her sandals. Without taking my eyes off her, I bent down and collected them. "And now, the rest." Slowly, she brought her hands to her waist. Her delicate hands unfastened the button and lowered the zipper. She bent slightly, and slowly, so slowly, pants and panties slid down over the curve of her hips, the curve of her butt, down her thighs. They settled on the ground, and she stepped out of them before picking them up and handing them to me. Then she stood there, head slightly down, and let my eyes roam over her very appealing body. Her breasts (which were slightly more than a handful), her waist, her hips – all well proportioned, and thoroughly arousing. My eyes stopped at the cleft of her legs. The thick dark thatch was neater than it was at our last encounter. Mary had trimmed her bush! She wanted to look pleasing for Paul, it seemed. Coming back to myself, I quickly but quietly shed my own shorts, shirt and slip-ons. "You have a very attractive body, Mary, did you realize? Now, put your hands behind your head." She did so. I stepped to her, the head of my stiff cock nearly touching her belly. Then I reached out my hands until they very, very lightly touched the sides of her breasts. Mary sucked in her breath. Sliding under them, I lifted, feeling their weight, watching the nipples contract. She hissed as I flicked my thumbs across the nubs. I leaded forward until my mouth was an inch from one nipple, and blew on it. She began to pant, but I held her breasts steady and continued to tease her. When she tried to push her nipple forward into my mouth, I pounced. She groaned loudly and swayed as her knees nearly gave way. "Quiet! If someone hears, I'll have to go away, and leave you like this," I warned after I finished suckling. "Or, I may just take you anyway, and let them watch. Would you like that? Having them see a stranger rutting on you while you wail like a cat in heat?" She shuddered but kept her next moan firmly behind her clamped teeth. "Good girl. You may just get a reward for that." I ran my hands slowly along her arms, then down her sides; I barely brushed her breasts. Around her hips and thighs, teasingly stroking her pubic mound with one hand and gripping a buttcheek with the other. I stepped behind her and pulled her against me. My throbbing cock pressed between her cheeks and into the small of her back. From there my hands roamed across her front, now cupping her breasts, now reaching between her legs. If I hadn't supported her, she would have fallen. "Please," she whimpered, "I need to lay down." If this were any other love encounter, I would have done whatever she asked. But that wasn't how this game was to be played. Paul had to grant her release, but not on her terms. "No. Don't forget who I am. I'm not your friend. I'm not a lover. I am the man who is going to fuck you. I'm using your body, and you want to be used. You don't get any other consideration. Do you understand?" She nodded weakly. The harshness of this persona surprised me. I had never done this sort of roleplaying before. It was becoming rather easy. She shook and writhed as my fingers played between her legs. Knowing she would soon be on the ground whether I let her or not, I said, "Down on your knees and elbows. Cover your mouth." I let go and she sank to her knees on the moss. Then she bowed, and fell into the proper position. "Arch your back. Offer your pussy to me". She did so. She was wet and open, and the scent of her lust washed through my brain. I placed the head of my cock against the lips, and then slowly eased in. I pulled out and pushed all the way in. I watched her pussy grip at me as I pulled out, as if it were reluctant to let me go. She moaned into her hands. "I hear someone on the trail," I breathed as I rocked her body with each thrust. "Should I call them over?" Mary, still covering her whimpering mouth, shook her head. I increased the speed and force of my movements, hips slapping against her flesh. "Maybe they can hear this. Maybe they'll want to do you too." That sent her over the edge. Her body spasmed, and a low, muffled cry slipped through her fingers. I continued to pound into her until one hand flew back and flailed against my arm. I held still, listening to her suck down great gulps of air. After her breath returned to not-quite normal, I resumed my efforts, ignoring her moan of protest. Soon I felt the familiar tensing drawing to the base of my cock. I leaned down and spoke through labored breaths. "I'm ready to come. Should I come inside you? Or should I spray all over your back? Or maybe your hair? A pearl necklace would be difficult to explain to your friends." "No.. in..inside... come inside me!" came her muffled reply. Moments later I exploded into her, gripping her hips and pushing my invading member as deep as it possibly could go. When my eyes rolled open again, I released my hold, noting the white imprint of my hands on her pale hips from my ecstatic death-grip. I pulled back, my slick cock falling out of her reddened pussy. Apart from panting, she didn't move as I rose unsteadily to my feet and dressed. When I could muster the breath to speak calmly, I said, "I want you to count to one hundred, slowly. Don't move until you finish counting. Then, best get straightened up. Don't want to have to explain this to Ryan, do you?" And with that, I slipped through the tangle to the trail, and walked up the hill. At the top, I completed my own mental countdown and sauntered back down the hill. Mary was on the trail. She was flushed and somewhat disheveled, but smiled at me. "Want to study together?" she asked. Most folks wouldn't have heard the nothing-to-see-here tension in her voice. Nor would they have noticed the balled-up bandana poking out of her pocket. * * * * * The afternoon slipped by unnoticed in the windowless lab. Along with a handful of other students, Mary and I quizzed each other about scientific names and leaf characteristics until hunger got the better of me. I told her I was heading on to grab a bite and would see her tomorrow. Mary waved and went back to her notes. I stopped at the door, then turned and watched her for a moment before slipping back to stand behind her. I spoke just loud enough to be sure she heard me, but not quite loud enough for anyone to eavesdrop. "It's probably good you and I never hooked up, you being a romantic and all." I saw her back stiffen. "I love to make love," I continued in a lower voice. Then I leaned in close and whispered, "But I have it on good authority that Paul is all about the fucking." If any of the students in the hall saw my mischievous smirk, they didn't say anything. Ryan, Paul, and Mary Ch. 03 My friend Mary needed to get laid, but sex and love were so mixed up in her mind that she couldn't sleep with anyone, not even a caring friend. So, I invented a faceless persona -- Paul -- to satisfy both our needs. The first experience was . . . well, I've never forced myself on a woman, and that was harder to deal with than I had expected. The second opportunity for sex, while still in the guise of coercion, was on much better terms. She was willing, and, if you can believe it, the encounter was practically at her request. The following week was hectic as the semester drew to a close. While Mary and I spent time together in study groups, I had no time and no real inclination to trot Paul out. But by the weekend, the stress of finishing projects and studying for finals was getting to me. It was time for a diversion. It was time to bring Paul out to play. With the end of the semester coming up, the school left the botany lab open for students to get in their last-minute studying. On this drizzling evening I was in there around 5:00, before the after-dinner crowd made their appearance. I was pretty confident about the course material, but there was another reason to show up early. Each student had a drawer to keep notes and equipment in. Mary's now included two additional items: a sleeping mask and a folded piece of paper. The note read: "Here are your instructions. At precisely 9:00, you will be in your seat, completely naked except for the mask. You must be completely blind. You will do this regardless of whether there are any students in the room. If you fail to follow these instructions precisely, you will come to regret it." Over a dozen others were rummaging through the specimens when Mary walked in. I was pretending to quiz myself on plant identification, while surreptitiously observing her walk to her chair. I watched her put down her pack, open the drawer. . . and freeze. After a moment, she pulled out the page and quickly closed the drawer before anyone could see the mask. As she read the short note, her cheeks flared scarlet. * * * * * Even the hardcore students started packing up around 8:20. I put away my papers when I saw my friend Rob reach for his backpack. Saying goodnight to the group in general (and not even glancing at Mary), I walked out with him, sharing complaints about the upcoming exam. We separated in the parking lot. I got in my car, flipped on the radio, and settled in to wait. After five minutes, three more students walked outside. At 8:40 the last one left. It was misting rain. I waited. She didn't appear. At five 'til, I stepped out of the car. The hall was empty, and quiet except for the hum of lights, the quiet whoosh of the heaters, and the steady squeegee of my wet shoes on the tiles. Reaching the door, I waited a few breaths until my watch said 9:00. Then I cranked the handle and opened the door. She sat there at her station, her clothes neatly folded on the chair beside her. Her eyes were covered by the mask. I observed her for several seconds. Even from here I could see her trembling. She jerked as the door thudded shut, and again when I flipped the lock with a decisive click. I shed my clothes and piled them on a workbench, then padded to her. In spite of the heating system, the room was cool; the linoleum felt cold against my feet. Leaning forward, nose almost in her hair, I breathed in, smelling scent of her skin, her hair, and the musk of her arousal which permeated the air. I blew gently on her neck, eliciting a shiver. I wanted to be gentle, thorough, discovering all the sensations I could give her. I wanted to kiss her, feel her wrap around me. But my role up to now was as a predator, a taker. To change now might ruin everything. So I deepened my voice and assumed the persona of Paul. "You follow directions well. Although I wonder what would have happened if Marty had stayed, just a few more minutes." I lightly traced a finger along her collarbone. "What would you have done?" She spoke softly, like a timid student who wasn't sure if the professor was being rhetorical. "I would have. . . done what I was told." If my cock was erect before, her answer made it stand rigid and hard. I waited for six breaths to be sure my voice wouldn't betray the sudden rush of excitement. "That's good. You are learning your place in this." I put my hands on her shoulders, then slid them down to cup her firm breasts. I gently squeezed, hefted, and felt their weight. I saw her lips grow tight and her face darken as she stifled a moan. "It's alright, Mary. Tonight, I want to hear you." I was immediately rewarded by a shuddering moan as she let me know how she felt. My hands roamed across her skin, sliding along the curve of her waist and hip, dipping in the hollow by her collarbone, delving through the damp fur of her cleft. Her musk intoxicated, making it harder for me to concentrate on anything but getting on with the fucking. "Please," she whispered, as one wet finger left the furry nest and traveled back north across her abdomen. Her plea reminded me that Paul, not Ryan, was supposed to be in charge of this game. My hands stopped their perambulations. "I'm enjoying the feel of your body, Mary. Do you think I'm doing this for your pleasure?" "No," she said after only a slight hesitation. "I'm sorry." "That's better. Remember who I am, and why you're here. When I'm ready to take you, I'll tell you what to do." I resumed my roving, and her whimpers and moans began anew. I didn't hurry, holding back my increasingly impatient body through force of will. Eventually, her panting warned that her climax was not far off. I decided I couldn't wait any more. I straightened and stepped back. "Stand up." When she complied -- however unsteadily -- I pulled her chair out of the way. "Now, reach forward. Grip the power stand with both hands, and don't let go." She groped until she found raised surface on the table top, and gripped it firmly. I spared a moment to admire her body: her firm legs; backside slightly in the air; her pert breasts hanging down, the nipples barely touching the black table surface. Mary's forehead rested against the table as well. Her breathing was steady; there was no fear in her, only anticipation. It was time. I moved in behind her, and set the tip of my cock at her open, inviting entrance. I left it there a long moment while my hands gripped her hips to keep her from pushing back against me. Then, I thrust my full length into her. She wailed as her body spasmed from her immediate climax. I gritted my teeth as she clamped down on my shaft, bringing me closer to my own release. She quieted, and when her breathing was again regular, I found Paul had a slightly sadistic streak. "I see," I said in the disapproving tone of a professor disappointed by an inept student's answer. "You let yourself have gratification so quickly? Maybe you don't really understand after all. I think we're done here." I began to pull out. "No!" Mary's head lifted from the table. Her voice was frantic. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean for it to happen. Paul, please....en-...enjoy my body." When I paused my withdrawal, she continued, quickly but without the note of desperation. "I... I know you have needs. Please, use my body to satisfy them. Take what...what you need. I won't resist you." And I couldn't resist that. I pushed back in, and began a steady rhythm that would bring me my release in short order. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on the table against her sides, so I could feel her breasts rocking across my fingers. She grunted with each thrust. I felt the tension crescendo, and grabbed her hips hard as I pounded my last thrusts into her. I saw the muscles rippled with the impacts, heard the slaps of skin against skin, heard Mary cries rise and join into an undulating wail, and then everything narrowed to the eruption in my cock. As my vision cleared and my breathing steadied, I ran one hand along Mary's back with the tenderness of the beginning of a sensual back massage. I felt her legs trembling, so I slipped out of her and told her to sit. She found a chair and flopped into it, still breathing heavily. From another chair, I watched her silently as she came down from our coupling. In the cool room, the heat of her exertion rapidly dissipated. Her nipples were erect from the chill rather than arousal, and her tired muscles trembled from cold as much as from exhaustion. I wasn't ready to end it. In fact, I really, truly wanted to take her again, not as a rutting dominator, but as a proper lover. But that would ruin everything for her, wouldn't it? Of course, Mary knew it was me, but there were enough veils and deceptions to let her fool herself -- so I hoped, anyway. How much further could I go to satisfy our needs and still keep her heart safe? "Paul?" I looked back at her. Her legs and arms were crossed. She was chilly, sitting on a chair seat slicked with our combined juices, and waiting for my instructions. I made my decision. "I'm not done with you," I said, my voice deeper again. "You really do have an attractive body. I'm surprised more men haven't been given the opportunity to enjoy it. You've been stingy with your favors, Mary. I'm going to enjoy what others have missed." I paused, my voice affecting a slight weariness. "Of course, I'm a little tired now. I'll expect you to do more of the work this time." I paused to gauge her reaction. "What do you want me to do?" she spoke with equanimity, as a servant accepting of any task given her by the master. No suspicion or feigned fear, just a willingness to play her part. "Stand up. Come to me. Keep your hands at your sides." She took a few hesitant steps towards my voice until she bumped my knee. Her lovely breasts were just above eye level, so with my hands I explored the contours, the weight, the softness of them. Her breaths came a little faster now, and I saw her hands twitching to reach out to me. The strong smell of sex was augmented by a fresher musk as her excitement renewed. I trailed one hand down between her breasts, along her abdomen, and into the still-trimmed triangle where her legs came together. "Don't squirm," I admonished as I slipped one finger into her slit. Pushing it slowly in and out, I soon had what I wanted. I pulled out my dripping wet finger, held her head with my other hand, and drew the drenched digit above her upper lip. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent aroma from the slimy trail. I hoped the strong odor would mask everything else, including my own male scent. For I had determined I wasn't settling for doggie style this time, and I didn't want her lizard-brain recognizing Ryan through the endorphins. Before she could ask what I had done that for, I resumed her instructions. "Now, kneel before me. Pleasure my cock and balls with your hands and mouth. Get me in the mood to take you again." Leaning on my legs for support, she dropped to her knees, and then slid her hands up my thighs until they met at my mostly-flaccid member. One hand gently stroked it while the other hand fondled the pouch below it. I responded, and after only a minute I was fully erect. She continued to stroke me until I put my hand behind her head. Mary got the message and leaned over, taking the tip in her mouth. I don't think giving head was her favorite activity, or perhaps she didn't like tasting herself on it. Whatever the reason, Mary stroked the shaft with her hand, but only held the head in her mouth. Her ministrations felt good, but I was soon ready to move on. "Good. Now, come up and straddle my thighs." She did so, and I immediately attacked her breasts with my hands and lips, enjoying her shuddering sigh at first contact. I also relished the texture of her smooth skin contrasting with her rougher-yet-tender areolas, and the taste of salt on her flesh. My need, though not as sharp this time, grew more insistent. "Now," I growled as I leaned back, "impale yourself." She obediently -- no, eagerly -- rose, reached down to position my member, and sank moaning until she again rested on my thighs. "Begin." With her feet on the ground and her hands on my shoulders, she raised herself and then let gravity pull her down. Slow up, fast down. Her hard nipples dragged against my chest as she moved, and her panting breath filled one ear. I ran my hands along her sides, felt the muscles tensing in her legs, and grasped the sides of her bouncing breasts. After some minutes, I could tell she was tiring. While I was enjoying the experience, I needed to take a more active part in the coupling if I was going to spark a second climax anytime soon. I put my arms around her, holding her still, and ran one hand down to support her butt. I clenched once to thrust into her, and then stood with her still impaled on me. I lay Mary across the table, leaned over, and began driving into her. Her legs rose and wrapped around my waist; her small hands spanned the sides of my chest. I loved the way her breasts swayed beneath me, the way her lips parted as she sucked in the cool air, the warm flush of her skin that signaled her mounting excitement. I could feel the tension building in me as well. "Mary...I'm... close!" Her hands gripped my sides. "Please... take what you need..." I gripped her waist and drove as deep as I could, and felt the dam burst. Moments later, as I rose back to the surface of awareness, I heard her own keening wail tapering off. The room was quiet save for our panting. Her arms dropped to her side; her legs hung uncomfortably off the table, though she seemed in no hurry to move. I wanted to take her in my arms, to kiss her and hold her through the afterglow. It was all I could do to resist the urge. When my lungs were no longer laboring, I spoke in a quieter version of Paul's authoritative tone. "Mary. You exceeded my expectations. I meant what I said. I feel sorry for the men who don't know what this beautiful body can offer. You really should take lovers -- as equals. Then you might never have to submit to me again." I placed my hand against her warm cheek, and felt her push against it. I sighed. The time had come to end this encounter. "Alright. I am going to dress. When you hear the door close, count to fifty. Then you may take off your mask and dress. The rest of the night is yours." I released her and stepped to my clothes. While I dressed, she sat up but made no other move. I wondered what she was thinking. . . or perhaps she merely listened to the rustle of fabric on skin. Standing at the door, I looked back at the naked woman, sitting on the table's edge, head slightly cocked as if still focused on the sound of my departure. "Goodnight," I whispered, then flicked the lock and let myself out. I hurried into the night, wondering if the pouring rain wash might away some of reek of sex. I didn't look back. * * * * * That was the last time the three of us -- me, Paul, and Mary -- were together. The semester ended, and Mary went for a graduate degree in another state. The last time I saw her was at an after-finals party at a friend's apartment. She motioned to me and then headed outside. In the relative quiet of the parking lot, she turned. "I just wanted to let you know how much it meant, having you for a friend. When I came back to school after the divorce, I thought I wouldn't fit in. I was older than the other students, I'd made big, stupid mistake, and I was used goods." She held up a hand, forestalling my denial, and hurried on. "I know you accepted me the first time we met, though I didn't let myself realize it. Because of you, I don't just have acquaintances, I have friends." "I saw you as a friend worth having," I replied softly but with conviction. In the parking lot's uneven light, I saw her mouth twist. She reached out and I pulled her to me. She held me tight, as if throwing all her being into her fierce embrace. I returned it, measure for measure. After a full minute, she eased her grip but didn't relinquish it. "I think my heart will be safe," she whispered, "for one kiss." In response, I leaned my head forward. It was a gentle kiss, but it said more than she would allow herself to say out loud. When our lips parted, she rested her head on my shoulder for a few moments more before letting go of me. "I'm going home. It's been a long week." Her gaze dropped to the side as she fished a folded envelope out of her purse. "If... if you happen to see Paul... could you give him this?" The shift from open and intimate to awkward took me a little by surprise. She was at ease with our friendship, but not with the physical intimacy we shared. Or perhaps her heart was struggling to keep the fiction of the act separated from the reality. I took the paper. "I'll get it to him. Although I don't know if he's coming back to school next year." She nodded. After a moment, she again looked me in the eye. "Goodbye...Ryan...my friend." "Goodbye, Mary. Be well. Be happy." * * * * * There were other friends to console or congratulate, and other goodbyes to make. It was after midnight when I got to my place. With my heart racing, I ripped open the envelope and extracted the note. It read: "Dear Paul, I didn't want you. I hated you. I hated myself for letting you. I wasn't sure which hate was stronger. But when you came to me the second time, I realized how I was coming to need you. You were giving me something I craved, and protecting me from what I was afraid of. I've forgiven you, and now that it's over, I can bring myself to thank you for what you've done. I think in the future I will be more trusting of my friends, and more willing to follow my heart. I hope that I will never need you to find me again. Sincerely, Mary" --The End