THE BIG TITS CLUB 2.0
by bluedragon (bluedragonauthor@yahoo.com)

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-- CHAPTER 53: Sky --

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There was no record scratch sound.

I didn’t black out for a moment. Time didn’t skip a beat. I didn’t feel surprised in the slightest by Skylar’s request for me to take her home and fuck her brains out.

I also didn’t feel remotely inclined to fulfill that request.

“You’ve been drinking, Skylar,” I told her seriously, still panting hard from the force of that breathlessly passionate kiss. “We’ve both been drinking.”

“Alcohol doesn’t make me want things I didn’t already want in the first place,” she insisted, her English accent somehow making her words even more alluring as she tightened her grip around my neck and leaned forward to press her lips against mine once more.

“But it does make you say things out loud you would normally keep to yourself,” I interjected, pulling my head back an inch out of her reach. “It does make you forget about all the potential consequences of your words and actions until the next day when you sober up, realize what you’ve done, and feel full of regret.”

She dropped back down on her heels and pursed her lips. “If alcohol does all that, I’m thinking you *haven’t* been drinking enough.”

“You said you trusted me to not let us get carried away. I won’t violate that trust.”

“Not even if I’m _asking_ you to violate that trust?”

“_Especially_ if you are.”

“Don’t you want me?” she whined.

“Hell yeah I want you. You’re sexy and smart and intoxicatingly _gorgeois_. But IF we were ever to cross this line, I’d want it to be while we’re both sober and making that decision with clear minds.”

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” she muttered in a somewhat bitter tone that nevertheless contrasted with a twinkle in her eyes.

I grinned. “The anticipation of the chase isn’t something we can go back and do again. I want you. Holy shit I want you, and I’ve always wanted you. But a drunken hookup that honestly screams of desperation after a long and arduous semester isn’t the payoff I had in mind.”

Her eyebrows went up. “And what *IS* the payoff you had in mind? In how many different ways have you imagined seducing me?”

“Not a single one,” I breathed. “In every single fantasy, *you* seduce *me*.”

“And in how many different ways has imaginary me lured poor innocent imaginary Matty into her bed?” Skylar husked.

“Too many to count.”

Skylar purred, “I thought you never once masturbated to thoughts of me? ‘Unequivocally’ stated if I recall. Tell me that’s changed.”

“It hasn’t,” I confirmed. 

“Not even after watching me in the shower masturbating to thoughts of *you*?” She pouted. “I imagined you were just outside the door stroking that fat cock of yours Neevie’s promised me.”

I took a deep breath and sighed. “You’re my friend, Skylar, and you’ve told me repeatedly, ‘That’s not our relationship.’ So no, I haven’t been masturbating to thoughts of you.”

She leaned forward to whisper into my ear, “Neevie said she’s fucked you while telling you dirty fantasies about the three of us doing all sorts of unspeakable things to each other.”

“Well… yes she has,” I admitted.

“Why don’t you call her up, invite her over, and turn some of those fantasies into reality?”

“We can’t. Not tonight,” I insisted. “But if you wake up in the morning and in the clear light of sobriety decide you really do want me to ‘rise to the occasion’, I’m pretty sure we can work it out.”

“Sure. Let’s do that tomorrow. But first, you can take me home, rip my clothes off, and pin me to the fucking floor with your big dick then and there.” Skylar closed the gap between us, her hand molding around the bulge in my pants. She bit my ear and husked, “I’m soaking wet for you, Matty. We wouldn’t even need foreplay.”

“Sky…” I muttered mournfully while closing my eyes and shuddering. She slipped her hand beneath my waistband to encircle my rock-hard erection, but her fingers were icy cold, and the shock of them made me abruptly take a step back and yank her hand out by the wrist. “Shit that’s cold!”

Skylar reacted as if an icy cold bucket of water had been tossed over her head. She tucked her elbows in, balled up both fists in front of her mouth, and let out a tiny squeal while trying to hold her breath. An expression of deep apology was etched across her face. “Sorry!”

We were now standing several feet apart, and I raised both hands defensively between us. “I won’t do this while we’re drunk. Period. No matter how much I’m attracted to you – no matter how much we’re attracted *to each other* - there are reasons why we haven’t done this before that have nothing to do with you being my T.A. And I won’t risk our friendship over a drunken misunderstanding while you’ve let your guard down.”

Skylar’s eyes tightened, and as she took a deep breath, I realized she wasn’t going to push me any further.

“You trusted me to not let us get carried away,” I stated seriously. “I’m not letting us get carried away. I don’t want you to feel rejected, because gawd dammit I want you, Skylar. I do. But your friendship is too important to me to risk fucking this up. I don’t want you doing something you’ll ultimately regret. I’m going to walk you home now. I’m going to make sure my friend is safe and sound in her own bed. Tomorrow morning I’ll come pick you up so you can get your car back. And then whatever you need me to be – platonic friend, lover, or even just a willing listener – that’s what I’ll be.”

Skylar sighed, pursing her lips and glancing off to the side. I could see she felt a sense of rejection, despite my plea for her not to feel that way. I wanted to believe she’d understand in the morning once she’d sobered up. I feared I’d already done permanent harm to our friendship by turning her down. I was _terrified_ that she’d feel guilty and embarrassed in the morning, filled with regret for her actions tonight even though we hadn’t actually done anything. But there was nothing else I could do right now.

_Let the chips fall where they may._

Skylar took one more deep breath. She exhaled slowly, and once she was done, she finally turned her gaze to look at me. I couldn’t read the expression on her face. She didn’t look happy, but nor did she look upset. Instead she seemed more… resigned… than anything else. And in the end, she nodded and gave me a tight smile.

“Take me home, Matty,” she requested plainly.

I nodded, walked back, and wrapped her arms around my elbow again. I leaned over to give her a friendly peck on the cheek. “Gladly.”

“I’m really sorry about all this,” she told me with a wince.

I patted her forearm. “No big deal.”

****

Even IF Skylar and I had gone through with her request for me to take her home and fuck her brains out, I rather doubted it would’ve lived up to my wildest dreams. It wasn’t a short walk from my house back to her apartment, and she was really tired by the time we finally got there – sleepy, even – and I had to drape her arm over my shoulders for support to help her stagger up the stairs to her floor. Her head was lolling, and she didn’t seem capable of fishing her keys out of her purse, so I had to sort of brace myself against the door to keep us both upright, hold the purse open with my left hand, and fish her keys out with my right hand. And even after I’d fitted the key to the lock and turned the knob, the stuck door wouldn’t initially budge, and I had to resort to holding Skylar up and literally kick it open in order to gain access to her apartment.

I practically carried Skylar into her bedroom and over to the bed. After getting her seated, I lost my grip for a moment and she flopped over lifelessly across her back. For a moment I briefly contemplated what it would’ve been like to have sex with her in this state, and the idea of mindlessly rutting into her half-passed out, barely conscious body did *not* appeal.

Hell, there were better than fifty-percent odds that she’d throw up on me during the process. With that nasty image in my mind, I removed her glasses, folded them and placed them on her nightstand, and then rolled her onto her side and propped her head up with one elbow just to make sure she didn’t drown in her own vomit if that was the case. Then, I sat down at the foot of her bed and waited there for ten minutes until she was sound asleep and snoring to reassure myself she wouldn’t hurl and drown.

Even after ten minutes, I hesitated to leave. I wanted to return home to The BTC girls, of course, but part of me couldn’t bear to leave Skylar alone in this state. Still, I rationalized to myself that she was a big girl and a grown woman who could take care of herself, so I stood up to let myself out the door.

Perhaps she felt the shift of weight on her bed, because she moaned and turned, looking up at me with bleary eyes. “Matty?” she asked uncertainly, as if surprised to find me in her room.

I turned and sat back down beside her, stroking her arm. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Feeling like shit,” she muttered. A moment later, her eyes bulged, her cheeks puffed out, and she pinched her lips tightly shut to hold back her retches. Faster than I would’ve believed possible, she burst from the bed and ran to her bathroom. And by the time I gathered my wits to follow, she was already on her knees trying to hold her hair back while violently spewing sour-smelling slimy pastes of pink, orange, and brown goop into the toilet bowl.

It wasn’t the first time I’d needed to hold a girl’s hair back while she puked into the toilet, so I knelt and gently gathered up her long, honey-blonde locks in my hands. I stroked her spine and breathed through my mouth, trying to not let the smell overpower my own gag reflex. And I found myself pleasantly reassured that at least I didn’t have to worry about her drowning in her own vomit anymore.

Five minutes later, Skylar’s left arm was draped across the toilet seat with her head pillowed on her bicep. The toilet bowl itself was empty for now, since I’d flushed away the remnants of her regurgitated dinner. I’d actually done so twice, given that she’d found a few more pints of puke just a minute ago. But for now, it seemed like she’d finally gotten it all out of her system, and she panted softly with her eyes closed, on the verge of falling asleep again.

I didn’t want her passing out atop the toilet, so I rubbed her shoulder and said encouragingly, “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” 

Skylar groaned and resisted at first with the groggy whine of a teenager who didn’t want to wake up for school. But she sat up straight, cracked one eye open to peer up at me, and muttered, “Help me clean up.”

I canted my head to the side and took notice of the dry vomit crusting the corner of her mouth and cheek. “I’ll get you a wet paper towel.”

“Nnnooo,” Skylar moaned before reaching to the hem of her sweater and tugging it upward. “I need a shower.”

“Uhhh… Are you sure?”

“Fuck, Matty. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Her eyes were closed, there was some drool leaking down her chin, and she was struggling to pull her sweater up and over her prodigious boobs.

I knelt beside her, took hold of her sweater, and tugged the hem outward from her chest in order to clear those massive melons. Her arms were limp and unhelpful as I raised the sweater up and up until the sleeves came free. And then Skylar flopped back against the toilet bowl sideways, nearly toppling over onto the floor.

I wound up leaning with my back against the wall with Skylar’s towel behind my head, my legs spread to the sides while I propped up the semi-lucid blonde back against my chest. Reaching around her torso, it took me a second to remember that women’s blouses were buttoned in the opposite direction of men’s, but I managed to undo all the buttons in short order. I left the blouse hanging on her shoulders while I reached down to unsnap her jeans and drag down the zipper.

The Engineering major inside me calculated that I’d need to roll her onto her back, lift her legs and butt, and then drag her jeans and panties off. But Skylar summoned the energy at that point to plant her feet and raise her ass off the floor just long enough to tug her jeans and panties down to mid-thigh. I then left her propped against the wall and circled around to the other side of her, blinked and shook my head at my first sight of her blonde-tufted mound, and then forced myself to focus on dragging her jeans and panties off. Next, I gently tugged on her hands to pitch her torso forwards and off the wall so that I could remove her blouse. And last but not least, I unsnapped her bra and then drew the shoulder straps down her arms, revealing her massive Double-D mammaries that surely rivaled Sam’s for size.

My logical brain told me this wasn’t a remotely sexual moment, and yet the drunken horndog inside me couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at my first frontal glimpse of Skylar’s naked breasts. She’d said it wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but that wasn’t really true. I’d caught some side-boob in the foggy mirror’s reflection when she was masturbating in the shower, plus an incredible look at her bubble butt, but all of that was more of a PG-13 kind of glimpse of her body. I’d certainly never been able to get _this_ kind of view before.

Still, I didn’t let myself linger. After a quick yo-yo with my eyes to her naked breasts, I focused my attention on Skylar’s face and her rather vulnerable demeanor. I quickly realized that she still didn’t have the strength to stand, and in less than a second I made up my mind.

I let Skylar rest against the wall while I turned on the shower and adjusted the knob to get the hot water flowing. Then, I stood up and matter-of-factly took my clothes off. I didn’t glance down to see if she was looking at me, considering it far more likely her eyes were shut with weariness and alcohol fog. And once I’d finished stripping down, I found that her head was bowed over her forearms, which were braced atop her upraised knees.

And then I tenderly helped her into the shower spray.

There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about what came next. She still lacked the strength to stand, so I put her in the same position on the floor of the tub: knees up and head bowed over her forearms. I’d spent a LOT of time in the shower bathing and rinsing the girls in my life, and I returned to muscle memory while doing the same for Skylar. Her seated position on the floor of the tub was somewhat unusual but not impossible. I didn’t try to do a thorough job cleaning her more sensitive regions, even though I was holding her shower pouf so that my bare hand didn’t even touch her skin. Instead I focused on shampooing her hair, washing her face, and cleaning up her shoulders, back, and arms. The rest of her body merely getting rinsed would have to be “good enough”. Next, I turned off the shower, wrapped Skylar’s big towel around her body, and used the hand towel hanging by the sink to get myself (mostly) dry. Finally, I dried her off as best I could, kept the damp towel wrapped around her body as I scooped her up into a bridal lift, and then very carefully stepped out of the tub and carried her into the bedroom.

Her arms were wrapped around my neck as I gingerly laid her down across her bed, and she wouldn’t let go even after I’d set her head down. I stared down into Skylar’s light-blue eyes from only inches away, finding that she was staring up at me with an expression I couldn’t really read. She looked different without her glasses on – a little more open, a little less guarded. And when I tried to pull my head back, she whined a bit, tightened her grip, and wouldn’t let me go.

I didn’t speak. I merely raised my eyebrows and gave her a reassuring smile. Skylar pouted cutely like a toddler being told she had to let go of her favorite stuffie so that it could go into the laundry, but her grip slackened. I reached up with both hands to gently take hold of her wrists, and she allowed me to tug them away. I quickly left the bed, went back to the bathroom, and then returned holding her hair dryer in my hands.

Skylar looked up at me with a smile of relief. Maybe it was just the shower, or perhaps purging her stomach had emptied out a lot of the alcohol fogging her brain, because she looked much clearer-headed now. She was able to sit herself up without requiring my assistance while I knelt down to find an available electrical socket behind the nightstand to plug in the hair dryer. And then I took a seat on the edge of the bed beside her, gathered up her darkened, damp locks, and started to blow dry her hair.

It was something I’d done for Naimh quite a bit lately. My personal redhead was perfectly capable of blow drying her own hair, but she rather enjoyed the intimate nature of having her boyfriend do it for her. Occasionally, she delighted in giving me a different kind of “blow job” as a way of saying “thanks”. It was one of the many little things we’d made the time to do over the last few months while growing our relationship, and I’d almost taken it for granted.

Skylar seemed rather amused by the novel situation, as she kept glancing back at me over her shoulder while I went about blow drying her hair in a workmanlike manner.

Three times, I gave her a stern look to turn back around and let me finish.

Twice, I couldn’t help but notice that the towel had slipped from around her midsection, exposing her bare breasts.

Once, she glanced down at my crotch, which was the first time I remembered that I was completely naked as well.

Yes, I had a hard-on. Sue me. I’d already made up my mind that the gorgeous blonde bombshell and I would NOT be having sex tonight, but she was still a gorgeous blonde bombshell. And did I not mention that *her bare boobs were out*? Still, when she rather obviously ogled my erection, I shook my head and gave her a stern look that she should just ignore it. If we ever crossed that line – and that was a very big IF – it would have to happen while both of us were completely sober and following a rather more significant discussion regarding the future nature of our relationship.

Yeah, yeah… More _talking_. I knew some dudes would call for me to turn in my Man Card for choosing to *talk* instead of *fuck*. But the truth was: I could get laid at any time. The potential for ruining my friendship with Skylar was far too great a risk for me to blindly rush ahead just to get my dick wet.

So I managed to completely dry the blonde’s hair without ogling her naked body (too much). I finished up, knelt by the nightstand to unplug the hair dryer, wrapped up its cord, and then returned it to the bathroom sink cabinet. And when I came back to Skylar’s bedroom, I found her right where I’d left her, looking at me expectantly.

Her towel was open in a loose U-shape around her lower back and along the sides of her legs. She’d perched her heels on the bed frame two feet apart, separating her thighs so that I’d have a perfect view of her plump, pink pussy, with parted labia glistening with moisture that had nothing to do with the shower. She leaned back with her palms flat on the mattress behind her, a position which proudly thrust her big bare breasts forward into the air. And she regarded me with a coy, mysterious gaze that seemingly invited me to come ravish her spectacular naked body.

Nothing had yet been spoken. The last time either of us had said a thing, ages ago, Skylar had made a groggy statement that I’d already seen her naked while insisting that she needed a shower. Since then, neither of us had uttered a single word. And I wasn’t about to break the spell by saying anything now.

Instead, I moved to take a seat beside her, careful to keep my leg from touching hers. I leaned over and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. She shivered and leaned a little closer to me, trying to increase the pressure of my lips against her skin. But I withdrew quickly, and she turned to look up at me with a forlorn expression.

And only then did I speak.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

I gave her a warm, reassuring smile, and then I stood up from the bed. I made it as far as her bedroom door before she complained, “It’s after midnight. That means it IS morning now. Come back to me, please?”

I paused, turned to glance back over my shoulder at her, and flashed her a wink.

And then I got dressed and left the apartment.

****

I’d told Skylar I would see her “in the morning”, and I kept my word.

Barely.

My watch read 11:58am when I knocked on her apartment door, and the time had probably ticked over to 11:59 by the time she opened it looking rather worse for wear.

“Morning! Ready to…” I started greeting before I fully realized that Skylar was wearing a house robe and slippers. She didn’t have her glasses on, wore no makeup save for the remnants of whatever I hadn’t washed off last night in the shower, her hair was a mess, and she was scraping crusty bits of dried-up sleep dust from her eyes.

Apparently, this was the first time she’d gotten out of bed, which surprised me because I’d texted her a half-hour ago asking if it was a good time for me to come pick her up. She’d replied, _Come on over._ So I’d assumed she’d be ready to go.

Evidently not.

“Morning, Matty,” Skylar greeted me softly, her voice so quiet and raspy that I could barely hear her. The words caught in her throat, perhaps the first words she’d spoken aloud this morning. So she coughed twice, took a deep breath, and tried again, this time much more clearly, “Morning, Matty.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked with some concern.

“Been better,” she muttered before turning away from me and slowly walking back into her living room.

Only then did I enter the apartment and close the door behind me. It got stuck on the jamb the first time, so I had to try again to get the latch to click. And when I turned back around, I found that Skylar was heading back into her bedroom.

I followed after her, and as I got to the doorway, I saw that Skylar had crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up and over her shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her forehead was furrowed, and I could only imagine how badly her hangover must be affecting her.

Rather than enter her bedroom, I turned and went into her kitchen. I already knew my way around, having puttered around in there several times over the past semester. I filled a mug with water and put it into the microwave for two minutes to quickly heat it while fetching a bag of tea from a different cupboard. I filled a glass with water (but no ice). And after squirting a bit of honey into the hot tea once it was finished, I carried both mug and glass into Skylar’s bedroom and set them both down on the nightstand next to her cell phone.

Her body was curled on one side but not so tightly as to be called a fetal position. There was a gap in front of her midsection wide enough for me to sit on the edge of the mattress, and I soothingly stroked her shoulder, upper arm, and back. Skylar’s eyes remained closed, but the furrows in her forehead lessened at my touch. And the slight grimace on her face slackened until her lips became a relaxed straight line.

We remained like that for several minutes. I kept idly stroking her, not saying a word. Her face continued to relax, and eventually I thought she’d fallen asleep. Figuring I could go back home and just let her call me later whenever she woke up again, I took a deep breath and stood up to let myself out the door.

Perhaps Skylar felt the shift of weight on her bed, because she moaned and grasped my forearm. “No, don’t go.”

I smiled kindly at her and sat back down. With closed eyes, she curled both arms around my lower back with her hands gripping my side and tugged herself forward to pillow her head in my lap, her nose almost touching my belly. And then she sighed and snuggled in closer, apparently with no interest in ever letting me go.

I ran my fingers through her honey-blonde hair and lightly caressed her scalp. Despite her somewhat haggard appearance, her expression was quite peaceful and at ease. And I contented myself with remaining exactly where I was for as long as she needed me, even if she fell back asleep.

But she didn’t fall back asleep. She remained as she was, curled up around my body, but after a few minutes, she turned her face upwards and opened her eyes.

“I can’t remember the last time I cuddled up like this with someone,” she muttered softly. “I know it must’ve been Peter, but I still can’t remember when that was.”

It took me a second to remember that Peter was Skylar’s ex-boyfriend, but I nodded silently and went back to caressing her hair.

“Good lord I drank too much last night,” she sighed. “I feel so embarrassed about how things turned out.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I assured her.

“Not my best look: hugging the loo with drying puke on my face.”

“While you’ve looked more physically attractive to me in other situations, I don’t think any less of you just because I saw you ‘hugging the loo’. I feel much better about our relationship today, actually. I’m glad I was able to be there for you last night.”

She buried her face into my lap. “Still so embarrassed that it had to be under those circumstances.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I repeated.

“I didn’t ruin your evening, did I? I’m sure the girls were wondering what was taking you so long.”

“They were, but I called Neevie as soon as I left your apartment and explained the situation.”

“Did you tell her I threw up all over you?”

“You didn’t throw up all over me. I told her you threw up in the toilet and I had to help clean you up.”

Skylar’s eyes opened as she looked up at me again. “Did you tell her exactly _how_ you cleaned me up?”

I blushed and glanced away for a moment. “Ah, no. Well, at least, I tried not to. I didn’t think that information was particularly relevant or needed to be shared.”

“Define ‘tried not to’.”

I blushed again and sighed. “Belle noticed that my hair was damp. She sniffed me and then asked, ‘Did you take a *shower*?’ So then Neevie promptly asked if you and I had shagged, and… I… uhhh…”

“You told them the truth.”

“I did.”

Skylar winced and buried her face in my lap again. “Soooo embarrassed.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I repeated once again. “All the girls have been in that situation before. Well, not Neevie. But I lost track of how many times I had to hold Belle’s hair back while she puked her guts out. Sam, Alice, Mari, Holly. I don’t think Zofi ever got so wasted, but we had a pretty wild and crazy summer before college. None of them was remotely judgmental about you. They all just wanted to know if I’d gotten my hands on your naked body.”

“Well, you did.”

I winced. “I really did try to make sure only the shower pouf was making contact with your skin. I’m sorry if you feel at all like I took advanta--”

“Goodness gracious, Matty,” she interrupted. “You didn’t take advantage of me. Quite the opposite. You were a perfect gentleman, considering the circumstances.”

I gave her a serious look. “Your trust means everything to me. I would never knowingly break it.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Although admittedly, a large part of me wished you would’ve last night. Heavens I was horny.”

“Should I invite Izzy over here to take the edge off?” I teased.

“Ohmigawd, Isabela.” Skylar blushed and buried her face in my lap again.

For the first time, it occurred to me that her nose was pressed up against my prick, with only my jeans and boxer shorts between us. But I quickly dismissed that thought and went back to stroking her hair.

Skylar sighed and muttered, “I don’t know how I’m gonna look that girl in the eyes the next time I see her.”

“What happened to ‘No harm, no foul’? No big deal, right?”

Skylar looked glum. “I don’t have the relationship with Isabela that I have with you. I can’t cuddle up with her like this and talk about what happened. Next time I see her, I’m going to feel terribly awkward.”

“Well you _could_ cuddle up and talk with her. Just sayin’…”

Skylar rolled her eyes at the smirk on my face and then sighed. Her eyes took on a faraway look, with a contemplative expression on her face. And I waited her out rather than intrude on her thoughts.

“Thank you for… for not letting me get carried away last night,” she said quietly. She slowly uncurled herself so that she was no longer wrapped around me, stretching her legs towards the other side of the bed while rolling her head off my lap and back onto one of her pillows. Biting her lower lip, the blonde took a deep, calming breath, and then stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not entirely sure how I’d feel right now if we’d gone through with it.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t want us to go through with it,” I stated seriously. “You’re far too important to me. I would’ve hated myself if you ever thought I might’ve taken advantage of you.”

“Pssht. I’m the older one. The more mature one. I’m supposed to be responsible and consider the consequences.”

“Age is just a number, and maturity isn’t measured in years walking Planet Earth. Between the two of us, I’d consumed less alcohol.”

“Or maybe you simply held your liquor better than I did.”

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad I tapped the brakes. Probably for the best, anyways. I don’t think I do my best work while I’m drunk.”

Skylar turned her head to evaluate me. “Is that what the girls said last night?”

I blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You’re claiming now that you don’t do your best work while you’re drunk. Did Alice or Holly or anyone else have reason to complain about your performance? I have a feeling you ‘rose to the occasion’, if Neevie’s bragging is to be believed.”

I blushed and shrugged, momentarily thinking about last night’s orgy. I’d walked back into the house to find the girls had already gotten started in my bedroom without me, as expected. Sam had pinned Holly to an armchair with Matty Junior, the silver-haired babe’s feet flailing up in the air. Alice and Naimh were in a sixty-nine on my bed, with Belle giving Alice a rimjob at the same time. And my impish pixie had been quick to burst off the bed, rip my clothes off, and drag me over to join them with all the force of The Incredible Hulk on a rampage.

“I did alright,” I muttered, trying to act cool.

“Care to share the details?”

I shook my head immediately. “You know I won’t do that.”

“Would I have enjoyed myself if I’d stayed at your house?”

I waggled my head. “I’m certain the girls wouldn’t have stopped until they made sure you did.”

Skylar’s hand drifted across my thigh. “Would I have finally gotten to feel your big dick deep inside me if I’d stayed at your house?”

I took a deep breath, slid my hand over the back of Skylar’s, and held it firmly so that she stopped caressing my thigh. “Would it be selfish of me to say I’d rather our first time just be you and me and not in the middle of a six-girl orgy?”

Skylar snickered. “Shouldn’t that exact question have come from me, worded exactly as you just said it?”

I arched an eyebrow. “_Would_ you prefer our first time be just you and me?”

“We’re alone right now,” she stated softly. “Just you and me.”

I took another deep breath and squeezed Skylar’s hand. I couldn’t help but frown, and she sensed my reluctance without me having to say anything.

“You said that you’d be whatever I needed you to be,” she began quietly, “be it as a platonic friend… or as a lover.”

I nodded slowly. “I also said that if we were ever to cross that line, it could only be while we were both sober and clear-minded.”

“I’m sober and clear-minded.”

“Sober, yes. Clear-minded?” I arched both eyebrows. “*I’m* not clear-minded right now. I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. But you’ve gone out of your way over and over again to make clear that our relationship wasn’t meant to cross that line. What suddenly changed last night, a scant few hours after the semester ended? Is that *really* all that was holding you back? The fact that you were my T.A.?”

Skylar bit her lower lip and looked away from me again. She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead with one hand, collecting her thoughts.

This time, I didn’t wait her out. My own mind was racing, and I couldn’t help but ask, “What happened between you and your family? What did you do that got you disowned in the first place? You asked me not to tempt you. You said something to the effect of, ‘I can’t do this again.’ And you made it seem as if having sex with me would be the same as whatever got you disowned.”

Skylar went back to staring at the ceiling. “Sort of.”

“Well _that’s_ clear as mud.”

She sighed and went back to rubbing her forehead, once more collecting her thoughts.

I took a deep breath and looked away, muttering, “I won’t force you to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with. If you say you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to talk about it. My whole life I’ve made a point about not pushing girls beyond their boundaries. I’ll be a willing and sympathetic listener if you’re comfortable unburdening yourself. But if you’re not comfortable, ‘harmless Matty’ would never pressure you.”

“I appreciate that about you.”

“But I can’t just be ‘harmless Matty’ forever,” I continued, turning to stare directly downward at Skylar with a serious expression. “You thank me for being a good friend, but sometimes being a good friend means caring enough to step forward and pressure you a little bit into accepting my emotional support rather than getting stuck inside your own head for all eternity. I’m willing to help you. I *want* to help you. You say you trust me, but if you can’t find it in yourself to trust me enough to share some of this stuff with me, then are we really good friends after all?”

Skylar blinked in surprise, her lips parted open, and she just sort of gawked at me for a second.

“You say you appreciate having an emotional connection with me, and I’m pretty sure you want our _physical_ relationship to become more intimate as well, but that kind of intimacy isn’t gonna happen just because you’re incredibly sexy and outright _gorgeois_. The only way you and I are ever gonna cross that line is if I feel like you are *actually* going to open up to me instead of continuing to be a mysterious cipher who wants to know every little detail about MY personal life but refuses to share what’s going on in hers.”

“Matty…” she began, looking apologetic.

“I’m not angry with you,” I stated seriously, taking a deep breath to help calm myself down. “I’m not. I just… I’m feeling a little frustrated, alright? I want to help you, however I can. I want to get to know you better, to return the favor of being my confidante and friend all these months. I AM getting mixed signals, from admitting you wanted me masturbating to thoughts of you, to leaving the bathroom door cracked open, to outright pleasuring yourself in the shower to thoughts of me, and drunkenly asking me to take you home and fuck your brains out last night. Like you said: alcohol doesn’t make you want things you didn’t already want before. So why claim otherwise for all these months? Why insist over and over again that our relationship wasn’t like that and would never be like that? Why were you playing games with me?”

“I wasn’t playing games with you,” Skylar insisted defensively. “I never meant to… I mean… Did it feel like I was toying with you?”

“Cracking the door open? Twice? I mean yeah, it felt a little bit like you were toying with me.”

“I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t my intention. I was honestly torn about my feelings for you. I never *wanted* to be attracted to a guy who already had four girlfriends and was shagging however many more. I never meant to get so close to someone with such a complicated sex life, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. But even more importantly, you *were* my student. For me to have an affair with you was *forbidden*.”

“Well, actually, there aren’t any school regulations forbidding student/T.A. relations.”

Skylar looked surprised. “Really?”

I nodded. “Belle went and looked it up. It’s certainly frowned upon, and you might’ve had to recuse yourself from my class, but you couldn’t get kicked out of school for it or anything.”

Skylar shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Legal or not, the optics would’ve still been bad. It certainly _felt_ forbidden to be attracted to you.”

“True.”

She gave me a helpless shrug. “Part of my attraction to you was the forbidden nature of it. The fact that I wasn’t *supposed* to be attracted to you, in much the same way I wasn’t *supposed* to be attracted to him.”

I blinked. “‘Him’?”

Skylar blushed and looked away from me again.

“Does ‘he’ have something to do with why your parents disowned you?”

She closed her eyes, grimaced, and gave me a single, short nod.

“You don’t want to talk about him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Not really,” she admitted. “But then again, if I can’t really trust you with this stuff, then are we really such good friends after all?”

I took a deep breath and measured my words. “I won’t *make* you tell me the story, but I will state plainly that I want to know. I’ve opened up and shared a lot of my personal life with you. That doesn’t obligate you to open up and share your personal life with me. But fair or not, I don’t know how much further our relationship can go if you’re going to keep that stuff closed off.”

“I _want_ to tell you. I do.” She paused for a moment, collecting herself. “I want to tell _somebody_ - if for no other reason than the fact that keeping this secret makes me feel all alone. And nobody likes to feel alone.”

“Does Aisha know what happened?”

Skylar snorted. “They ALL know what happened.”

“Well *-I-* still don’t know what happened.”

Skylar sighed, staring up at the ceiling, biting her lip and slowly shaking her head. Despite her statement that she wanted to tell me, it was clear that she was still having a hard time saying things out loud.

So I fell back on an old trick the girls had pulled on me: speculate in front of Skylar and watch the way her expressions gave her away.

“Well you said you weren’t supposed to be attracted to him. Can I at least rule out you hooking up with a family member like a cousin or…” My voice trailed off as Skylar sat up a bit and shot me a look of utter disgust that I’d even suggested she might’ve committed incest. So I shrugged and finished, “Let’s go ahead and rule that out.”

Skylar rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the ceiling.

“Older guy?” I ventured.

Skylar winced but didn’t confirm my guess. But after a moment, she went ahead and nodded tightly.

“So they blamed you even though he was the older one, the more mature one, the one supposed to be responsible and consider the consequences?”

She shrugged and rolled her eyes again.

“Teacher? Coach? Hmm, while quote-unquote ‘forbidden’, that kind of thing wouldn’t have gotten you disowned. Friend of the family? Ooh, dad of one of your friends?”

Skylar scowled and shook her head.

“Business partner?”

Skylar winced but didn’t otherwise react. The lack of a head shake made me believe I was on the right track.

“Married business partner. Someone with whom your little affair not only caused a social scandal, but also impacted your family’s livelihood.”

Skylar winced again.

My voice got low as I asked directly, “Did he hurt you? I mean physically? Did he coerce you or assault you in any way?”

She read the veiled threat in my voice and turned to look at me, stating aloud, “No. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“Did he abuse his position of power or influence to manipulate you into--”

“No, Matty, nothing like that.”

“So what, he just… seduced you? Married, but when he saw the young, hot blonde, he decided he wanted to--”

“It wasn’t like that. I mean… It was a mistake, obviously. But he… I don’t blame him. Hell, nobody blames him. He was married. I was the young, blonde seductress pursuing him. Of _course_ they blame me, and I don’t blame them for blaming me.”

“You seduced *him*?”

Skylar covered both of her eyes with her hands and exhaled slowly. She shuddered slightly, and her lower lip quivered in a way that I was pretty sure she’d started crying.

I reached down to gently rub her shoulder. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

“I have to,” she muttered, jerking both hands down and looking up at me through tear-streaked eyes. “You won’t be friends with me anymore if I don’t tell you, right? And if I lose you, Matty, where would I be?”

I winced. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I’d abandon you just for holding onto a secret. That wasn’t my intent. I want to help you. I want to understand you. I’d never walk away from you over something like this; I’d just… be patient and wait a little longer, that’s all.”

She sighed and gave me a forlorn look. “I don’t want to wait any longer. I don’t want to feel alone anymore.”

“You’re not alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got Neevie. All the rest of the girls would gladly welcome you as well. We’re here for you if and when you want us, and we won’t bother you when you don’t.” 

“Are the rest of them still at the house, waiting for you right now? I kept you from them last night, and I’m keeping you from them again.”

I shook my head. “There’s no rush. Everybody’s gone now. Neevie, Belle, Sam, Alice, and Holly all drove back to our hometown. Isabela and Lily went to the dorms to pack and head home as well. Lily and Eva are flying back to Kauai.”

“So now *you’re* all alone.”

“I’m right where I want to be.” I gathered Skylar’s hand between both of mine and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m your friend. Regardless of whatever else may be going on between us, bottom line: I’m your friend.”

She gave me an almost shy smile. “Thank you, Matty.”

I smiled back. “No big deal.”

****

“Bye, Matty. Thanks for being such a great listener. Thanks for being such a great friend.”

Skylar and I hugged each other on the sidewalk next to where she’d parallel parked her ’67 Z/28 on the curb outside my house. She’d gotten dressed after we finished up our conversation at her apartment, and we’d first driven out in my minivan to get lunch together downtown before returning here so she could collect her car.

“You’re welcome,” I replied warmly. “I’m glad to be your friend.”

Skylar kept her arms around me for an extra second, and I could feel in her grip a reluctance to let go. But in the end, she sighed and dropped her arms away before looking up at me with a bit of a forlorn, lonely expression.

“Don’t be a stranger,” I told her sincerely. “I know you said you’re gonna hole yourself up in your apartment for the next week writing your technical documents, but you know where I live. Don’t be shy about calling me up to say, ‘Hey Matty, you busy? Wanna grab some food?’ And you’re always welcome to just come hang out.”

She gave me a shy smile, nodded twice, and then pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll do that.”

I reached up to hold her hands and gave them both a gentle shake. “See that you do.”

She smiled again, and when I let go of her hands, she stepped back and circled around to the driver’s side of her car.

I watched her get in, start up the engine, and give me a final wave. She put the car into gear, pulled out into the street, and drove off. And only after the car disappeared around the corner at the next intersection did I turn around and head back into my house.

I found myself in a contemplative mood as I kicked off my shoes and set them onto the rack by the door. The house itself was eerily quiet, without the usual bangs, noises, or chatter of people doing whatever they needed to do within the confines of our decidedly NOT soundproofed building. The shoe rack by the door was likewise rather bare, and it was almost depressing to see the empty spots where Naimh’s, Belle’s, and Sam’s walking shoes would’ve been.

And I found myself suddenly wishing Skylar would turn her car around, come back to me, and fling her arms around my neck while desperately crashing her lips into mine.

But I shook that thought away as soon as it entered my brain. Skylar and I were friends – just friends – and mere loneliness shouldn’t be reason enough to change that.

I didn’t want to be alone – that much was obvious. I didn’t want to be alone while growing up as a kid in my big empty house, and I didn’t want to be alone right now. But Mother was in New York and all of the BTC girls had returned to their families.

It was fine.

I’d be fine.

I could handle it for a couple of days no problem. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t going to see the girls soon. The plan was for me to drive down to our hometown on Sunday so we could get together as a group on Christmas Eve. That was less than forty-eight hours away. I could survive on my own just fine until then.

Belle had tried again to convince me to go home with her this morning, insisting that she was somehow failing me in her promise that I’d never have to sleep alone, but I’d gently turned her down. I really *wouldn’t* feel comfortable sharing a bed with Belle overnight while Mr. K was in the house, and the idea of crashing on the couch didn’t appeal either.

It was fine.

I’d be fine.

But the house still felt a little too quiet right now. And the selfish part of me wished _someone_ would come back to me.

And then the doorbell rang.

I’d gone into the living room and turned on the N64, cueing up _Perfect Dark_ just for old time’s sake. But I hadn’t actually started a game, and when I blinked and looked up, I found that the screen saver had kicked in on the TV.

And then the doorbell rang again.

Startled from my stupor, I abruptly got up and quickly went down the short hallway from the living room. I checked the peephole, half-expecting to see Skylar on my doorstep and trying to decide for myself whether I’d be excited or worried if she was actually standing there. But it wasn’t Skylar, and I suddenly jerked my head back in surprise.

Hastily, I flipped open the deadbolt and unhooked the chain lock before twisting the doorknob and yanking the door open.

The model-esque, elegantly graceful, dark-haired beauty on my doorstep gave me a beaming smile as she greeted me.

“Hello, darling.”