by Sandy Lowe
That was new. These two were the talk of the school, and I didn’t think they gave anyone else the time of day. Lila was a Pepperdine girl and Diane was a Berkeley grad, but neither had the grades I did, and their most distinguishing fact was their jaw-dropping beauty. Lila was a tall, tan, breathtaking blonde, and I had an easier time imaging her on a surfboard than in a courtroom. Equally stunning, Diane was the perfect contrast with fair skin and full waves of shiny jet-black hair. I’d nicknamed them Salt and Pepper, but they didn’t fit into my criteria for success, and I had no desire to know them. I nearly tripped over the steps rushing out of the room, anxious to get away from their scrutiny.
An hour later, I was sitting in the library, reading up for tomorrow’s classes, when I sensed someone behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw two someones. Salt and Pepper. Before I could say anything, they took a seat on either side of me. Even seated, they towered over me. Lila scooted her chair closer. My breath hitched and my heart started pounding. I wrote off my reaction to a bout of claustrophobia, and I started to push back from the table when Lila leaned toward me, her breasts gliding along my arm, and my escape was derailed by the sudden realization that the room was freezing cold and Lila wasn’t wearing a bra.
Damn. I tore my gaze away from her stiff nipples and turned toward Diane, who was licking her lips like she’d just eaten a very delicious meal. I was in the middle of a sexpot sandwich. I had no idea what they wanted, but I decided to head them off. “I’m studying.”
“Alone?” Lila asked, her voice low, sultry, and not at all studious.
“Yes.”
“What happened to the rest of your elite group?” Diane murmured.
I shrugged rather than answer. I had lots of pages to read and no interest in rehashing why I was going it alone. Creating a course outline that covered a semester’s worth of work was a daunting enough task without being distracted by silly questions, no matter how gorgeous the interrogators.
“I hear they all bombed their exams,” Lila said, speaking to Diane over my head before turning to me. She placed a hand on my arm. “What about you? How did you do?”
I shot a look at her hand, but I’m fairly certain I accidentally spent a few seconds staring at her breasts instead. Too damn distracting. What the hell was this? Some kind of “gang up on the used-to-be-head-of-the-class girl” day? “Look, I’m trying to study here. Maybe you could find someone else to gossip with.” I showed them I was serious by moving my arm. A little.
They exchanged knowing smiles and stood up, like they’d rehearsed their departure. Before they left, Lila dropped her voice to library low and whispered, “You’re super smart, but smart isn’t everything. If you’re going to be successful, you need to surround yourself with the right people, and you might need to look into some different study methods. When you’re ready to admit doing it on your own isn’t getting the results you want, give us a call.”
Before I could respond, she tossed an envelope on the table, and she and Diane flounced away. I waited until they were out of sight before inching the envelope closer. When I turned it over, I saw my name written in flowery cursive on the outside and spent a few minutes pondering what might be inside. For a brief moment, I let myself bask in the awe of receiving a personalized missive from two hot women, but then my rational brain kicked in and I dropped the envelope to the table and pushed it away. Whatever it was, it—like them—was a distraction, and one that I could ill afford.
But maybe the unknown was the distracting part. Unable to stand the suspense, I ripped it open and shook the contents out onto the table. Three things. The first was a notecard with a few lines in the same flowing cursive as the writing on the outside: If you want grades like these, come and check out our study group. We think you’ll like our special method. Every Tuesday and Thursday at seven p.m. I recognized the address as one close to campus.
Special method. Right. I started to toss the homemade invite aside, but first I picked up the other two slips of paper that had fallen from the envelope. I held one in each hand and looked between them in disbelief. Lila and Diane’s first semester grade reports. Straight A-pluses. Each of them had a perfect 4.0. Maybe there was something to their special method after all.
*
I stared at the walls in my apartment. Bare, white walls. The walls of a student who was steadfastly focused on her studies. Until last week that had been me. Since the visit from Salt and Pepper in the library, I’d been completely and utterly distracted. The words on the pages of my textbooks swam in lazy circles, encouraging me to ponder things I shouldn’t. Lila’s perfectly round breasts and Diane’s luscious lips topped the list. I shifted in my chair, but the friction of my clothes was almost enough to send me over the edge. I’d abandoned last semester’s study group and the safe zone of the library to home in on my work, but distraction still dogged me and I was doomed to failure.
A cold shower, a cold drink. I craved something to calm my raging hormones, something to quell the ache pounding between my thighs and blocking my ability to absorb anything having to do with Torts or Property or Con Law. I walked the six feet to my tiny kitchen and grabbed a bottle of cold water. While I stood at the counter, alternately drinking the water and rubbing the icy bottle on the back of my neck, I spotted it. Its pretty pink edge poked out of the pocket of my day planner. The envelope Lila and Diane had left behind at the library. The envelope I should have tossed in the trash on my way out of the building, but instead had tucked inside the planner where I kept all my important notes. I’m not proud of the fact I’d opened the envelope no fewer than a dozen times over the past seven days, but up until this moment I could brag that I hadn’t acted on my impulses.
One more time. I shucked the note card out of the envelope and traced my fingers over the page, strangely drawn to the pretty paper, the flowery script. I held it close to my nose and inhaled the light citrus scent. Was it Lila’s or Diane’s? I shook my head as if that would clear the disjointed and very non-studious thoughts floating around inside, but I knew it was useless. There was only one way I was going to get back on track. I tore at the barrette I relied on to keep my hair from being a nuisance and shook out the unruly waves. Before I could change my mind, I shoved my books in my bag, grabbed my jacket, and scanned the address on the invitation one last time. I needn’t have bothered. I’d committed it to memory days ago.
*
“She’s here.”
Lila stood in the doorway of the apartment facing me, but she spoke the words over her shoulder. I stood on tiptoe, but was still too short to see who else was inside. Was it Diane? Was it only Diane? Secretly, I hoped no one else had received the pretty pink invite.
I heard voices. Several of them. Damn. A small part of me wanted to back down the hallway and scurry back to the safety of solitude, unwilling to admit I wanted, let alone needed, any help. I’d started the school year with so much promise that it seemed insane that I was standing, books in hand, at the door of the pretty girls, hoping they would be the solution to my straight-B blues.
I took a step back, but Lila’s long, soft fingers slipped around my wrist and tugged me toward her. With one foot in the doorway and one ready to flee, I wavered, but her whispered voice dripped silky promises against my ear. “Let us show you what we have to offer. You won’t be sorry.”
Years of discipline hadn’t prepared me to resist the charm of a beautiful woman, which was probably why I’d made a vow to avoid them until I’d accomplished my professional goals. Juris Doctor, judicial clerkship, associate at a high-power firm, partner. The natural progression had been my guiding light, but if I didn’t get my grades up I’d be working out DWI pleas at the public defender’s office. I took a deep breath. Thirty minutes. That was plenty of time to figure out if this little side trip was worth my time. I looked up at Lila and nodded.
Diane was perched on the couch with Oki Nakamura, which did not compute. Oki was the top student in our class, on track for the best clerks
hips, the most coveted job offers, and the last person I would have expected to see sitting here with the West Coast contingent. I’d always assumed Oki studied alone, thinking no one else could offer anything in exchange for access to her massive brainpower, but here she was, her unbuttoned blouse juxtaposed with the books by her side. While I tried to form a question that didn’t sound impertinent, Lila motioned to the living room. “Go join the girls while I get you something to drink.”
She disappeared around the corner and Diane waved me over, patting the couch cushion on her other side. “Annie, join us. I promise, we don’t bite.” She accented the words with a wide and gorgeous smile, and as I gazed at her perfect winter-white teeth, I had a flickering thought. Too bad.
“Hi, Annie.” Oki smiled too, but her expression was more cautious than inviting. “I have to say I’m surprised to see you. I know Lila and Diane can be convincing, but you seem a little high-strung for our group.”
Diane slid a hand down Oki’s bare thigh. “Now, Oki, be nice. I think Annie will round out our group nicely. Her answers to Professor Millwood’s questions are always spot-on, and even you have trouble with the finer points of property law.”
Oki blushed a shade and started to scoot away from Diane, but before she made it an inch, Diane pulled her back and kept her close by delivering a movie-star kiss that melted Oki into a puddle of goo.
Oki Nakamura morphed from better-than-everyone-else scholar to cuddly sex kitten, but I could not look away. Truth was, for a brief moment I imagined it was me Diane was kissing. I closed my eyes and fell into the fantasy of soft lips, hungry with desire, claiming me and shooting pulsing surges straight to my core. When my eyes fluttered open, Diane and Oki were staring at me with teasing smiles. I was flushed and wet and so completely out of my element that I wished I could melt into the floorboards and disappear. Realizing I could accomplish a much less dramatic exit, I turned to walk away and stepped smack into Lila’s arms.
“Wait, don’t go,” she said “We haven’t even cracked a book.”
Her sultry voice made “crack a book” sound like a euphemism for something that would only interfere with studying, but I desperately wanted to do whatever that was. Really badly and right now. “But…” I waved at Diane and Oki, who were no longer staring at me, instead finger-feeding each other snacks from a tray on the coffee table.
“But what?” Lila didn’t wait for my answer before grabbing my hand and leading me to the sofa across from Diane and Oki. “Here’s how it works. We’ve developed a system for learning the material based on risk,” she stopped and traced a finger along my neck, “and reward.”
Before I could ask one of the many questions that came to mind, her lips were on mine, soft and gentle and then hungry and fierce. I stiffened for a second, but instinct is a strong force, and next thing I knew I opened my mouth and invited her in. As our tongues touched, I groaned and shifted on the couch. My clothes were too tight, the room was too warm, I was on the verge of exploding when she pulled back and licked her lips like a sated feline.
“That’s the reward,” she murmured. “You’ll earn plenty of them if you dare to employ our methods. See,” she slid her hand along my thigh, “all you have to do is study with us.”
Her long, soft fingers were stroking the crease of my thigh and I could barely breathe, let alone process her words, but my brain kept insisting that I try. “So, we like quiz each other and if we get the answers right, then…”
“Something like that,” she said.
I pointed to Diane and Oki who, locked in a torrid kiss, had abandoned any pretense at being polite. “Doesn’t look to me like there was any quizzing going on there.”
“Here, let me show you how it works.”
Instantly, Lila’s lips were back on mine, but this time, her hands tugged at my sweater and she pushed it up over my head. After a moment, she broke the kiss and leaned back and studied my expression, which I’m positive was a cross between “fuck me now” and “what is the relationship between the pounding between my legs and the future I’ve dreamed about.” Heat rose off my skin, and the involuntary arch of my chest toward her signaled the “fuck me” thought was winning, but as I moved closer, she scooted away and settled back against the couch, an aggravating few feet away.
“Wait.” I struggled to keep the desperation out of my voice.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re not done. So, Ms. Ardmore, tell me the difference between replevin and repossession.”
“Wait, what?” My brain struggled to shift from highly aroused to highly confused, and I barely registered the out-of-context words.
She slid closer and traced a single finger along the edge of my bra. Her light touches left a blistering trail and I groaned, but my relief was short-lived. “Tell me,” she said again, her voice sharp and commanding.
I pulled out of my haze long enough to glance over at the other couch. Oki was sans blouse and bra now, reclining against a pile of pillows. I heard her whisper something about duty of care followed by Diane tonguing her way from Oki’s navel to her taut nipples.
Hot, wet heat shot between my legs, and I swear my arousal heightened my mental acuity. I sensed a pattern. This time, when Lila asked me to tell her the answer, I did, delivering memorized definitions from my Property Law text, punctuated with short breaths. “Repossession. Self-help. Take it back yourself. Replevin. Go to court. Ask a judge to give it back.” Spent, I held my breath and waited impatiently for what came next.
She unbuttoned my jeans and within seconds her insistent fingers slipped into my cotton briefs and slid through my soaking center, over and over. I gripped the couch cushions tight and pressed hard against her hand, torn between the pleasure of her touch and the dread of knowing another question was on its way.
It wasn’t long, but this time she didn’t stop stroking while she asked. Her voice in my ear was a buzz threatening to derail my sure path to orgasm. Something about mortmain, testator, future interests. My brain knew these words—I was sure, but I was more sure the increasing pressure against my clit was obliterating my ability to put together words beyond “I’m going to come.”
Her strokes braked to a featherlight pace, enough to tease, but not nearly enough to give me the release I absolutely had to have. My eyes fluttered open and Lila was right there, her blond waves falling forward against my shoulder, her mouth pouty with want. “You will come, but first you have to answer the question.”
She licked her way down my neck to my chest, pausing to unfasten my bra and pinch and tease my aching breasts. The question. Some words. They’re all linked somehow. A common theme. My mind ticked through its library of knowledge while my body arched and shook and moaned. She was back between my legs now, this time with her hands and mouth, and her hot breath blew circles of ecstasy over and around my swollen clit. She paused there, like she was waiting for the magic phrase to unlock my orgasm, and just as she started to pull away, the answer came to me in big, bold, capital letters and I shouted, “RULE AGAINST PERPETUITIES!”
Before the last syllable left my lips, Lila’s mouth enveloped my clit and her velvet tongue delivered firm strokes. I bucked beneath her and vaguely remembered hearing light applause from the other couch as the orgasm roared through me.
When I finally opened my eyes, Lila lay next to me and Diane and Oki were lounging naked on the other couch, tangled in each other’s arms. Lila’s smile was unquestionably smug. “See how much easier it is to recall what you’ve learned when you’re relaxed?”
She was right. This study group would take me places I’d never imagined.
Playing with Romeo
Robyn Nyx
I can do this. I play for ninety minutes in front of hundreds of people every week—this is just a five-minute performance for one guy.
Ryley clasped her hands together and cracked her knuckles. She stepped onto the polished-to-perfection boarded stage and looked out into the theatre. The director sat three rows in, legs cross
ed, with his fluorescent clipboard at the ready. He looked like the previous twenty or so auditions had made him want to pluck out his eyes and stuff them in his ears. Shakespeare. The language of poets. It wasn’t like his words were made to roll off the tongue of the average American, but it was something Ryley had felt a passion for since junior high. Sad though it was, she could still quote the opening act of Othello on command.
“Ryley Donovan?”
“Yes, sir, that’s me.”
“Alara—our Juliet—just stepped out for a moment. Would you tell me why you’re auditioning for the part of Romeo, please?” His voice grew louder with each word so that by the time he got to please, he was shouting.
“It’s my favorite tragedy, closely followed by Othello. Romeo and Juliet’s love transcends societal conventions—that idea appeals to me, given what I am.” At I am, Ryley had motioned to herself, as if she needed no further explanation. “I don’t like social boundaries.”
The director smiled, and Ryley thought her words might have meant something to him. He was in his late fifties, and with a camp Southern accent that couldn’t have been easy to grow up with.
“So you’ll turn the Elizabethan tradition of boys playing female characters on its head, then. I like it. You make a handsome boy.”
Now Ryley smiled. There was a certain power in being a beautiful girl and a handsome boy. So many options. So many straight girls wanting to dip their toes…and tongues…in.
Enter stage right, a most stunning Juliet.
“Okay, let’s do this—this is the last Romeo for today? Please make it so, Dida.”
Perfectly straight blond hair reached her ass and swayed from side to side like a hypnotist’s watch, mesmerizing those who stared too long. Eyes the color of Five Flower Lake in China. The sharp strut of a young woman comfortable in her own skin. If only the audition included a kiss. As she stopped a few steps away, Ryley saw her gaze pass over her with ennui.
