Before I start into my story, I wanted to add a few disclaimers. This is my very first attempt at writing something on Literotica, so please, please go easy on me 😛
I’ve been a long time reader on here, but until recently I had never seriously considered writing anything myself. But after having by far the most eventful sexual experience of my life last fall, I’ve decided to document that amazing night. Suffice to say, everything I’m about to write is actually true, at least to the best of my recollection from when it happened a little less than a year ago.
Now, I am someone who understands the importance of anonymity, so I will be purposefully vague about names and places. This story takes place at a college, and specifically in a dorm, and I won’t be mentioning the names of either of those. But what I am willing to tell you is that it takes place at a very large public university in the United States. It’s the sort of college where tons of people who have no formal affiliation with the school will still live and die by the success of their sports. But there’s nothing specific about the school that really matters for this story, as it’s mainly about a group of boys I met that night.
All of the characters’ names in the story are fake, but the people are real. My husband’s name is also made-up, and I don’t refer to our son by any name at all. For those of you curious about my Literotica handle, as you could probably guess, my real name isn’t actually Becca. But Becca is a name I’ve loved since I was a kid, and a name I’ve always fantasized about having in an alternate life, and sometimes I’ve even pretended to use it as my alter-ego from time to time. It’s also the fake name I used during this night in question, so I guess you could say it’s the one accurate name in the story, because that’s actually what the boys in the dorm were calling me that night.
Like I said, this is supposed to be a true and faithful retelling, but the one limiting factor is definitely my memory, which I’ll be the first to admit isn’t perfect. But on top of that, at some points in the evening I was a little overwhelmed by all that was going on, so I probably didn’t start out with a full recollection of the night either. So full disclosure, I may not remember exactly how every specific detail and conversation occurred, but I’m going to do my best to fill in the blanks with what I think actually went down. I’m sure not all of the dialog is exactly right, but hopefully I’m giving as fair and balanced a portrayal of the night’s events as I can.
And finally, as I mentioned at the top, this is probably the only true story I have that’s even remotely worthy of sharing here on Literotica. So it’s totally possible this will be both my first and last contribution to this great site. I do have plenty of ideas for fictional stories though, so depending on how this submission goes, maybe there’s a chance I’ll branch out later and try to write something fictional. But for now, I’m more worried about the task at hand, so without further ado… here goes nothing!
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Dormant Desires * Part 1 of 3
Here I am, a 39-year-old woman sitting in a parked car on some random college campus. I’m not that far from where I live, but I don’t think I know anyone at this school, and I have no actual reason for being here. Specifically, I’m in front of what’s supposedly a freshman male dorm, and one in which I’m praying doesn’t accidentally have a resident I know. My hands are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel of my Toyota Corolla, but the engine is off. I have a pretty even mix of nervousness, excitement, and embarrassment coursing through my body. But at least I feel alive, which is something I haven’t felt in years, if not longer. So let me explain how I got to this point…
I got married young, at the age of 20 to be exact. Later that year, I gave birth to our one and only child, a son. And boy am I glad we did, because he’s a joy. He’s turned into such a great all-around young man, that my biggest issue is having to remember to restrain myself in being too effusive of him. I could just sing his praises for hours, even though for both his sake and the people listening to me, it’s probably better that I don’t.
My marriage on the other hand, has not turned out nearly as well. It would be really easy to pin all the blame on my husband, Greg, but that’s probably being unfair. More than anything, I think we’re just not a good match for one another, and to be honest we probably never were. We’re not in love. There’s no romance, and at this point we’ve stopped having sex altogether. Like it’s literally been two whole calendar years since the last time we fucked.
For at least the past decade, our union has been a partnership based solely on raising our son. Which if that was our goal, then I think we’ve succeeded in doing a great job, but I’m finally realizing that’s no way to go through life. It’s so terribly lonely to not be loved in a romantic way, to never be touched by another person, and worst of all to feel unwanted.
And just to clarify, while I’m definitely not blameless for the state of our marriage, the complete lack of sex is one thing that is 100% on Greg. Even if our relationship hasn’t been great, I’ve still always tried to find the time to be intimate, and I’ve always been the one willing to initiate and put myself out there. The biggest difference lately is that while previously Greg would eventually come around with enough persistence, he’s reached the point now where he’s just done with it. Like completely. He’s flat out told me that he doesn’t think he’ll ever have interest in having sex with me again. Which as you might be able to imagine, is a pretty crushing thing for someone to hear from their spouse.
The ironic thing is, he doesn’t even want a divorce, at least that’s what he has always claimed. I guess he has just come to accept the fact he’ll never have physical intimacy with another person again, and is somehow okay with that? I personally can’t even begin to comprehend Greg’s mindset, because I’m living that life right now and it’s downright miserable.
One thing I’m pretty confident about is that I don’t think he’s having any sort of an affair. I guess anything is possible, but it just feels so unlikely. Greg hardly ever goes anywhere on his own, I’m talking like even for a few hours. He never travels for work or anything, and anything sexual seems to be completely off his radar, like to the point if we’re watching tv and there’s a sexual joke, it will almost certainly go right over his head. Years ago I once proposed that we try watching porn together, and he reacted as if I had suggested we go torture animals for fun. He was simply disgusted with the idea. I can’t even imagine what he’d think of my Literotica habit, but after seeing his reaction to my suggestion of watching porn, I have no interest in finding out. Suffice to say, it would be utterly mind boggling to discover that he’s capable of having an illicit sexual relationship with someone else.
So instead, I’ve just come to the conclusion that he must be clinically asexual. One of my good friends, who I’ve confided in about all of this, is adamant that any wife who thinks her husband is asexual, isn’t actually married to an asexual person, but rather to someone who’s simply gay. Personally, I don’t know. She could be right, but at this point does it even matter? Whether Greg’s asexual or homosexual, the end result for my marriage is basically the same. It’s doomed.
I do need to point out the good things about Greg, too. He may not be a great husband, but there’s no doubt he’s a great father. He’s also a very kind and generous person, and he’s the type of guy that is so sincere, it’s just really hard to ever stay mad at him. He’s always thinking of other people, almost to a fault, and he can be a fun and interesting guy in a platonic sort of way. And while these traits may have led our marriage to last way longer than it otherwise would have, at this point I’ve realized that his being a super nice guy is simply not enough to hold on to anymore.
Less than a month ago, we dropped our son off at college for the first time (again, a different school than the one I’m currently sitting at in my car). But this basically meant that our job of raising him is now officially done. And so I realize just how cliche it is for our marriage to end right after this milestone, but cliches are cliches for a reason. Because they usually make a lot of fucking sense!
The last couple of weeks as empty nesters have been completely miserable. At least they definitely have been for me, but it sure doesn’t seem like Greg is having much fun either. And so after struggling to sleep all last night thinking about us and our marriage, over breakfast I finally told my husband of almost 20 years that I needed some time apart. I didn’t come right out and tell him that I wanted a divorce, because I’m honestly not quite at that point yet. But I did tell him that I didn’t want to live with him anymore, at least not for the foreseeable future. Somewhat surprisingly, Greg didn’t seem the slightest bit upset or surprised at the news, and despite my insistence that I would go sleep at a friend’s place, he told me that by the time I got home from work today he’d be out of the house, and I should be the one to stay.
And so all of this happened this morning, and sure enough when I got home from work a little over an hour ago, Greg had taken a few things and was gone. So what am I now doing outside this college dorm? That’s a great question, and one I don’t even fully know the answer to. I do know it’s about 5:45pm on a beautiful fall Friday evening and I’m roughly a 35-minute drive from where we live, or I guess I should say where I live now.
The main reason I’m here though, is because of one extremely minor thing I saw when Greg and I dropped our son off at college three weeks ago. It’s so small and stupid, it’s embarrassing to admit that it had such a lasting effect on me, but it’s clearly the reason I’m now sitting here at a completely different school.
But anyway, at one point while the three of us were standing in the hallway outside our son’s dorm room, I couldn’t help but notice a handful of doors down there were a couple of guys chatting it up. His dorm is entirely freshman, so it’s safe to assume these two lads were also first-year students.
One of them clearly had just come back from showering as his hair was wet and most obviously, he was wearing only a towel wrapped around his lower body. His shirtless upper body was a sight to be seen though as he was gorgeous. He had the look of an athlete, with both a large frame and a toned muscular look, and despite being less than half my age, he triggered a feeling of lust in me that I hadn’t felt in forever.
The friend he was chatting with was fully dressed though, and this other boy must’ve said something quite entertaining as it caused the towel boy to start laughing uncontrollably. Neither Greg nor our son could see the two of them while all of this was going on, but whatever the joke was, it was enough to cause this adorable half-naked man-child to momentarily lose the tight wrap of his towel, and then force him to readjust while holding on using only his left hand. He then proceeded to bring his right hand up to his mouth and stick out his tongue between his two fingers and wag it around in what I’m pretty sure has always been the universal sign of adolescent boys for licking a vagina.
It was crude, immature, and a stark reminder of exactly the demographic a male freshman dorm is expected to have. And I was fascinated by it all. The scene, the boy, the fact that he was struggling to not expose himself while simulating oral sex all while people he didn’t know were within view. The immaturity mixed with the hormones and the pervertedness, the combination of it all could not possibly have been more in contrast with the man my husband is. It was the exact opposite of what my life had become, and for the next few days, despite being such a brief moment in time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And that all leads me back to where I am right now. A normal woman on her first night of separation would probably look to meet up with her friends at a bar or fancy club and enjoy a night out on the town. But clearly I’m not normal. Case in point, I haven’t even shared the news that Greg moved out with any of my friends yet! I had all day to text them, but instead I spent pretty much my entire working day daydreaming about that boy in the towel. Obsessing not just about the way he looked, but about him pretending to lick a vagina. Imagining him licking my vagina. I had spent the last couple of weeks with this random, nameless, teenager in the back of my mind, but with everything coming to fruition this morning with Greg, he was basically the only thing I could think about the entire day.
And believe me, I know how weird that is. Why do you think I didn’t text any of my friends the news? It’s because I know that if I told them Greg and I had finally separated, it would become a whole thing. Either they’d come over, or we’d meet up, or something would happen where I wasn’t alone. And I clearly don’t want that. The only thing I wanted to do tonight is to find that kid in the towel, and the last thing I need is my friends around because I’d be mortified if they ever found that out.
Now as insane as I am acting right now, I haven’t lost all concept of reality and consequences. I realize that I can’t go fuck someone who lives in the same dorm as my son. I just can’t. I also know that my fantasy isn’t really about that one specific towel boy, as I barely got a glimpse of him and don’t even know so much as his name.
No, instead my desire here is much broader, and it’s much simpler. I just want someone young, horny, and unabashedly heterosexual to want me. You’ll notice I didn’t even include the word ‘attractive’ in there. Sure, it be great if he’s gorgeous and fit, but tonight it’s much more important that this mystery boy finds me attractive. In fact that’s the most important thing of all. I want someone to want me so badly, that fucking me becomes the only thing in the world they care about.
And so we’re back to obvious cliches, but what better place to find someone like that than in a college freshman dorm? And with that, I open my driver side door and step out into the beautiful autumn early evening air. I take a moment to check the simple black camisole I’m wearing, and despite having worn it to work, it’s perfectly clean and loosely flowing in the modest but warm breeze. I purposefully didn’t get all dolled up before coming here, mainly because it wouldn’t fit with the backstory I started concocting earlier today while contemplating whether I should go through with all
of this. Anyway, to go along with my spaghetti strap top, I’m wearing my favorite pair of jeans, and then a pair of comfy, black Tkee sandals. So needless to say, it’s a very casual outfit.
Now one of the reasons these jeans I’m wearing are my absolute favorite pair, is I think they do a bang up job of showing off the five hours of yoga and other core exercises I meticulously do every week. In other words, they make my butt look great. Ironically, as my sex life became more and more non-existent these past few years, my physical fitness was actually hitting an all-time high. It initially started during the onset of covid, when I signed up for some yoga classes over zoom. But from there I started doing a number of exercises like squats, planks, bridges, and thrusts, and now I’m at the point where I couldn’t imagine not having this workout routine.
When I first started exercising, I certainly wasn’t consciously thinking about how it would be important to look attractive in case Greg and I ever split up. The decision to start working out was mainly about my health, with a side benefit of helping with the boredom of the lockdown. But in the last twelve months, there’s no doubt that I’ve been thinking more and more about how this separation was only a matter of time, and that’s definitely motivated me to maintain my routine so I can keep looking as good as I possibly can. And while I’m generally a pretty modest person, I have to admit it’s worked. My stomach has never been flatter, and perhaps most importantly of all, my arms look amazing, which for whatever reason has always been the part of my body I’m most paranoid about.
But anyway, it’s time to do this, so I take a deep breath and start walking towards the main entrance of this circa 1970s building. While I honestly don’t have much of a plan here, one thing that helps a little bit is the fact that the three of us (Greg, myself, and our son) did take a tour of this school last spring, so I have some idea of the dorm situation. It still doesn’t make me any less of a crazy person for doing this, but honestly part of the reason I want to try to fuck a college kid tonight is specifically because it’s crazy. It’s like the insanity of it all is part of the appeal.
I was a little worried the entrance to the dorm would be locked, but a couple of girls walking out were nice enough to hold the door for me, letting me in without an issue. The dorm has a very basic lobby area, and from here I can see three different hallways to go down as well as a stairwell to the higher floors. Taking a glance down each path, everything seems pretty quiet, but I do hear a few students and can see a number of doors propped open. So I start walking down one of the halls.
Most of the rooms with open doors have people inside, but I do my best not to make it too obvious that I’m trying to look into each one. A number of the rooms have music playing, but it’s mostly quiet. To be honest, I don’t even know who or what I’m looking for here, but I guess I’ll know it when I see it?
I get to the end of a hallway and there’s a back stairwell there, so I take it up to the second floor and start retracing my steps on this new floor. As I turn a corner, I can see down the hall there’s a fair amount of activity. Multiple doors appear to be open and a few boys are milling around. As I start walking towards them, I see one boy in particular notice me, and we definitely make eye contact. It’s more than just a passing glance though, and now I’m a little worried that I know him, or more precisely that he knows me?
As I get closer, I’m wracking my brain trying to see if he looks familiar in any way. Now remember, my son grew up and went to high school a little over half an hour from here, and these boys are his exact age, so it’s totally possible it’s someone he knows or I know. But as far as I can tell, I’ve never seen this kid before in my life.
But I’ll tell you one thing, he’s devilishly handsome. He definitely has kind of a rich, frat boy look to him, but he’s also adorable. He’s wearing fitted khaki shorts and what I think is a Balmain shirt that must cost more than my entire outfit. As I finally reach the point in the hallway where he’s standing, I deliberately slow my pace, turn my head and smile.
Adorable Boy (while smiling back): “Can I help you with something?”
Me: “You know what? Maybe you can.”
Adorable Boy: “It would be my pleasure. My name is Chris by the way.”
And then he offers his hand out. We shake and both lock eyes while simultaneously grinning at one another. It’s clear there’s something going on here, but I have no idea what. Could he possibly be flirting with me? Or is it that he actually does recognize me? Or maybe it’s neither of those and he’s just a super friendly person?
Me (breaking out my fake name): “I’m Becca.”
Chris: “How’s it going, Becca? Now what can I help you with? I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re looking for someone?”
Me: “Yep. But I’m also kind of lost? I’m looking for Room 2620, but I can’t seem to find it.”
Remember before when I mentioned concocting a plan? Well, it’s pretty pathetic, but this is my master plan. I’m pretending to be looking for a dorm room, but it’s for a dorm on the opposite side of campus. Brilliant huh? I know it’s ridiculous.
Chris (looking confused): “2620? Are you sure you’re in the right dorm?”
I then proceed to give him the name of that other dorm. In my defense, the two names kind of sound similar? Like maybe a little? In all honesty, they really don’t, but they do start with the same letter at least, so I’m sticking with that as my explanation for supposedly getting them confused.
Chris (now realizing I’m in the wrong building): “Ahhh… That’s actually nowhere near here. We don’t even have rooms with 4 digit numbers in this dorm.”
Me (pretending to be annoyed): “Ah fuck. I’m an idiot.”
Chris: “Oh stop. Don’t sweat it. So who lives there anyway that you’re trying to find?”
Me: “It’s my son’s room. He’s a freshman here.”
Chris (reacting very strongly): “Get the fuck out!”
Me: “Woah.”
Chris (now looking apologetic): “Sorry, strong reaction. But I’m sorry, there’s just no way you could have a kid in college!”
This instantly brings a big smile to my face, and honestly, this right here is it. That comment is exactly what I came here looking to find. Keep it coming, young man.
Chris (acting as if he’s genuinely confused and not just like he’s trying to charm me): “I mean it must be your stepson, right? Or is your son some sort of super genius who went to college at 12 years old? Or did you have him when you were 8?!? I’m not a math major or anything, but I’m pretty sure looking at you, the math just doesn’t work.”
Me (feeling so good on the inside right now but trying my best not to show it): “Ha. No, my son is definitely not a super genius. And he actually is really my son. You certainly do know how to flatter a 39-year-old woman, though.”
Chris: “Well trust me, you don’t look a day over 30. But I gotta ask, how is it possible that you don’t know where your son’s dorm room is?”
Me: “Ughhh. Long story, but his father and I are recently separated, and I travel a lot for work, so I wasn’t here to drop him off last month, and so I thought I’d come surprise him tonight and finally see his room and maybe take him out to dinner. But I’m already realizing this might not have been the best idea.”
Chris (with a little chuckle): “Because you don’t know how to use Google Maps?”
Me (with a mocking laugh): “Ha ha very funny. No, because I texted him a heads up an hour ago asking if he was around and he hasn’t texted back. So I don’t even know if he’s in his room right now or not!”
Chris (making a pained wincing face): “Eh, yeah no offense, but a parent showing up unexpected on a Friday night isn’t really a good look.”
Just then, another student pops out of the room across the hall from where Chris and I have been standing and chatting. This student is wearing flip flops, athletic shorts, and a t-shirt that simply says “BALLS DEEP” in plain text with nothing else. He appears to be of Indian descent, but with no accent.
Indian Kid (to Chris): “Hey any word back from that Fucker?”
Chris: “Nada. Radio silence.”
Indian Kid: “Fuck. How long ago did you text him?”
Chris (turning his head back to me to include me in the conversation): “Speaking of waiting to hear back on a text…”
Chris (turning back to his friend): “I texted him initially at like two. And then again like an hour ago.”
Indian Kid: “Okay, well we probably need to start thinking about a backup plan then. And who’s this? Is this your older sister you had talked about?!?”
Chris: “Ha no. Definitely not my sister. This is Becca. And Becca is trying to find her son, but her son lives all the way over on North Campus.”
Indian Kid (looking very perplexed, before sticking out his hand): “Okay. Very weird… but anyway, I’m Raj. Nice to meet you.”
Me (while shaking Raj’s hand): “Nice to meet you too, Raj.”
Raj (after tapping Chris on the shoulder before walking back into his room): “Ok well let me know if you hear anything.”
Chris: “Will do.”
Me (to Chris with genuine curiosity): “So who is this ‘Fucker’ you’re trying to track down?”
Chris: “Eh, it’s this guy who lives down the hall. We’re trying to find someone to buy for us this weekend.”
Me (after moving in closer to Chris and lowering my voice to a barely audible whisper): “Drugs? You’re trying to find someone to buy drugs for you?”
Chris (breaking out into laughter): “Ha. No. Booze. We’re trying to figure out who can buy alcohol for us.”
Me (realizing I’m so lame): “Ahhhhh… gotcha. That makes more sense.”
Chris: “Yeah this guy on our hall has a perfect fake ID. Well, actually it’s a real ID of a different person, but it looks just like him so it’s pretty much guaranteed to work. And so he bought for us last weekend and we were hoping he would be able to do it again tonight. And as I’m saying this, I’m realizing how weird it is that I’m explaining all of this to someone else’s Mom. Ha.”
Me (laughing): “Oh your secret is definitely safe with me. I’m actually flattered that you trust me enough to share!”
Chris: “Ha. No problem. I’m sure it’s because you don’t seem like a mom. But anyway, his ID doesn’t do us any good if he never texts us back.”
As he says this, he lifts his phone in the air to make a point that he needs to get this text, and right as he does, his phone vibrates. Chris perks up excitedly at the notification, but as he reads it I can see the expression on his face start to drop.
Chris (yelling across the hall into Raj’s room): “It’s a no go! He’s already gone for the weekend! Fuck.”
Me (sensing their disappointment but trying to make light of the situation with a smile): “That Fucker.”
Chris (smiling with a laugh): “Exactly. That Fucker.”
Me (now it’s my turn to hold my phone up to make a point): “Well, at least he texted you back. Unlike my son that is.”
Chris: “Ha. Exactly. How can he not text his own mom back?!? On second thought, I’m terrible about texting my parents back so I probably shouldn’t talk.”
At this point, I realize what I have to do. In all honesty, for as ridiculous as this plan was to just randomly wander through a dorm, it could not possibly be going any better than it is so far. Chris is fantastic, extremely cute, and doesn’t seem to be judging me at all for striking up this conversation. In fact if anything, I’m pretty confident he’s actually flirting with me. And now, I’ve been given a golden opportunity to keep this interaction going, so there’s no way I’m going to pass it up.
Me (with a very mischievous smile): “You know… I also happen to have a real ID that looks just like me.”
Chris (with his eyes instantly becoming as big as saucers): “No fucking way! You would do that for us?”
Me: “Honestly? What else do I have to do right now? I feel like a fool for trying to surprise visit my son, so hopefully there can be something good to come from all of this.”
Chris (with full-blown appreciation and excitement): “Oh my god. That would be so amazing. You have no idea. Here! Come with me.”
Chris then leads me into what I assume is his room, and as I walk in, I can see someone who appears to be his roommate sitting at a desk playing some sort of a computer game. The kid has gigantic headphones on and seems to be totally immersed as he’s frantically moving his mouse and pressing buttons on his keyboard.
Chris (yelling and trying to get the attention of this kid): “Ethan. Ethan!!”
Kid whose name is apparently Ethan (while pushing his headphones down around his neck): “What?”
Chris: “How much money do you have on you?”
Ethan (looking kind of annoyed): “What? You mean like cash?”
Chris: “Yeah. It’s for alcohol for tonight.”
Ethan: “I don’t know. Not much probably. Can’t we just Venmo Tristen again?”
Chris: “That Fucker isn’t here, unfortunately. He left for the weekend.”
Ethan (looking less annoyed): “Oh. Who’s buying then?”
Chris then gestures towards me as I’m standing just inside the doorway to their room. Apparently, Ethan hadn’t noticed me until this point, because when he turns and sees me, he acts very surprised.
Ethan: “Oh wow. Who’s that?”
Me (giving a friendly wave to Ethan who’s still sitting in his chair): “Hello there, I’m Becca. I’m a friend of Chris’s.”
I then turn and look back at Chris, and he has this wry smile that’s making his eyes squint up in the cutest way. I’m guessing he’s reacting to the part where I said I was a ‘friend’ of his?
Chris (after a brief moment of direct eye contact with me): “Hey, can we pay you with Venmo or Zelle or something? I’m worried we don’t have much cash on hand.”
Me (wanting to make this as easy as possible on them but knowing there’s no way I can give them any actual personal info): “Ooof… I wish you could, but just with the fact that I’m buying some underage kids some alcohol, I really don’t think I want any sort of way to trace that to me? Is that okay? Or is that lame?
Chris: “Oh of course. That’s not lame at all. I totally, totally, get it.”
Ethan (holding a few bills that look to be mostly ones): “Here, this is all I got.”
Chris (grabbing his roommates money): “Cool. Lemme see if Raj has any cash. Be right back.”
As Chris darts out of the room, I see Ethan turn back to his computer, but not to resume playing, but rather to close his game altogether. He takes off his headphones and stands up.
Ethan (sticking his hand out): “Hi, I’m Ethan.”
Me (shaking his hand while smiling): “Nice to meet you, Ethan.”
I hadn’t noticed it until he stood up, but Ethan is surprisingly tall. He’s well over 6 feet, but he’s also very skinny. He’s not as good looking as Chris is, at least not in a traditional way, but after the way he just stopped doing what he was doing to introduce himself to me, he’s giving off a vibe of being an extremely nice and polite kid. In fact all of these kids seem so polite, and despite this post-covid world we live in, I think I’ve managed to shake all three of their hands! It’s quite refreshing, and not to be overly hyperbolic, but a pretty good sign for this upcoming generation.
But anyway, Ethan is wearing a pair of khaki shorts with a bunch of pockets, which to be honest aren’t really in style these days, and he has on kind of a nerdy short-sleeved collared shirt with a checkered pattern. He does have a very distinguished jawline with some cute dimples, as well as a pronounced Adam’s Apple, and a very deep voice that seems to fit his tall frame.
Ethan: “So how do you and Chris know each other?”
Me: “Ha. I actually was joking about Chris and me being friends just now. We only met a few moments ago. I was wandering down your hall completely lost and Chris was trying to help me out. I know it’s so weird, but he was just so nice, and then I overheard that you guys were trying to find someone old enough to buy you booze, so I figured I would return the favor of his kindness.”
Ethan (nodding and smiling): “Ah okay. That’s awesome. And so who or what were you trying to find that had you so lost?”
Me (with a grimaced and sheepishly embarrassed expression on my face): “Eh… my son?”
Ethan (totally surprised): “Oh wow. Really?”
Me: “Yeah, believe it or not I have a son who’s a freshman.”
Ethan: “Holy fuck that’s crazy. And your son lives in our dorm?!?”
Me: “Ha. You’d think that, but no. That was problem number one. Apparently, I’m not even on the right side of campus.”
Like that other Raj kid a few moments ago, Ethan seems a little weirded out by my story, which probably isn’t surprising since I’m completely full of shit. But thankfully, his attention is momentarily redirected when Chris comes hurriedly back into their room, holding a large number of dollar bills. Raj is right behind him.
Chris (handing me the money): “Okay, we got 52 dollars. Should be enough, but sorry for all the small bills.”
Me (accepting the wad of cash): “Okay great. So where’s the closest liquor store and what do you want me to get for you?”
Chris (pointing out the window): “It’s like a half mile right down this street. You can’t miss it on the corner where the traffic light is.”
Me: “Sure. Got it.”
Chris: “So do you know what a handle is? Like the really large bottles of alcohol?”
Me (having no idea what he means): “Handle?”
Chris (demonstrating with his hands): “So you have like the normal sized bottles of liquor, like a fifth. And then you have the big ones, those are handles. Handles will have 1.75 liters in it, so if you’re not sure just check the quantity on the bottle. 1.75 is what you want.”
Me: “Sure. Got it. So what kind of liquor do you want? What brand?”
Chris (after a very brief discussion with Raj): “Can you get three handles? One vodka, one whiskey, and one rum. Just get the cheapest brand they have. But make sure it’s a full handle.”
Me (doing a little mental math): “Is this really enough money for three huge bottles?”
Chris (looking apologetic): “I hope so? That’s all the cash we were able to round up right now, but if it’s short, would you mind still getting the three bottles and we’ll make up the difference as soon as you get back?”
Me (not caring at all about a few dollars): “Oh it’s totally fine. I was just curious, but yeah I’ll get three of the big bottles for you no matter what.”
Chris (very affectionately): “Oh my god. You are the best. But definitely let us know if you had to overpay for any of it and we’ll get you back for every penny. I swear.”
Me (kind of excited about my little shopping trip for the boys): “Okay, I’ll be back with your booze in a little bit!”
Raj (looking not nearly as excited as Chris is right now): “Can I just go on the record and say something? Am I the only one who thinks there’s like a 50% chance that we’re all getting conned here? Ethan? Back me up.”
Chris (giving his friend the total stink face): “Dude?!?”
Raj (turning to me): “No offense, of course.”
Chris (looking quite pissed at his friend): “Do you seriously think this woman came in here with this elaborate story just to scam us for 52 fucking dollars?!?”
Ethan (looking at me): “Yeah, Raj, I’m with Chris here. If this is a scam, then please, by all means, enjoy our 52 dollars. But maybe I don’t care because I only put in 7? Ha.”
Me (trying to alleviate his fears): “Raj, Raj… I promise you I really do have an 18-year-old son, and I really will come back with your alcohol. But how about this… when I do come back, you’re gonna do two shots right off the bat. Just as an apology for doubting me, okay?”
Raj (now smiling): “Okay, okay. Fine. If, and that’s a big if. If you come back, then I’ll happily do a double shot of whiskey. But what do I get if you don’t come back?”
Me (giving him a smirk): “In that case, you’ll have to take two shots of water, because you won’t have any liquor.”
Ethan: “Ha! That’s pretty funny.”
Chris (also laughing): “Becca, thank you. You. Are. A. Godsend. And don’t worry about Raj, he’s just a paranoid dude.”
And with that I exit their room and make my way out of the dorm and towards my car. As I’m walking, I can’t help but take a little skip step of excitement that would be more appropriate for an elementary school girl than a woman pushing 40. But fuck it, I’m excited, and just as I was so desperately hoping for, I feel completely alive. In fact, while I’ve felt many positive emotions at various points over my adult life, from the pride of seeing our son graduate as his class’s salutatorian, to the elation of watching him find out he got accepted to his first choice of college, to the tremendous honor of walking my little sister down the aisle when she got married. All of those have felt great. But I’ve never felt as excited and downright giddy as I do right now. At least not as an adult. I know it’s pathetic, and I know it’s silly, but I don’t care, because it feels amazing.
But anyway, I need to focus on the task at hand! I get in my car and head in the direction Chris had pointed, and sure enough there’s a small store with a huge LIQUOR sign on it. As I walk in, the first section I see is vodka, and the bottles appear to be loosely organized by price. There are a number of extremely cheap options, none of which I’ve ever heard of before. There’s a giant bottle of something called McCormick for $14.89, but then I find one even cheaper called Popov for $12.89. It’s basically a giant plastic jug that I confirm is exactly 1.75 liters, but just thinking about drinking this paint thinner gives me a shudder. I am by no means a food and drink snob, but is this really what these boys enjoy drinking?
At this point, I get an idea. I’m not actually going to buy these kids this bottom of the barrel rubbing alcohol, but rather I’m going to treat them to something decent. So instead of that $12 jug that looks like it’s leftover from the Soviet Union, I grab a 1.75 liter bottle of Tito’s vodka instead. I move to the whiskey section and grab a giant bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and then I pick up a big glass bottle of Bacardi as well. I mean after all, while I’m not planning on getting super drunk tonight in this dorm room, I obviously plan on having at least a few drinks with these boys, so I’d much prefer having something halfway-decent available. And better yet, maybe they’ll appreciate the free upgrade on their liquor and I’ll get a few brownie points as well! If nothing else, it’ll make Raj look like a fool for doubting me.
So I check out at the counter and the three bottles cost me roughly double the amount of cash they’d given me. Money well spent in my opinion. I head back to the dorm, find the exact same parking spot I was in before, and grab the two bags of booze from my trunk.
As I start walking towards the main entrance of the dorm, I see Chris is standing outside waiting for me. How sweet! As soon as he sees me, he starts a light jog to come meet me.
Chris (in a soft yell because he’s still a few yards away): “Becca, you are amazing! Here, let me grab those. You don’t have to carry ’em.”
Me (handing off the three clinking bottles to Chris): “Why thank you. You didn’t have to come meet me!”
Chris (looking as charming and cute as ever and oh my god I really want to fuck this kid tonight): “Oh of course I did. It’d be rude not to… and wait a sec. Are these glass bottles? What did you get?!?”
Me (slightly embarrassed that I spent my own money on them): “Oh that’s a little surprise. I saw what you meant by the cheapest liquor in the store and I just couldn’t. It looked too gross. So I upgraded you guys. My treat.”
Chris (looking into the bags stunned): “Oh my fucking god. Tito’s? Jack?!?”
Me: “Sorry, sorry. That was weird of me.”
Chris (looking back up and directly at me): “You are just the nicest, most perfect… mom… goddess… fuck I don’t even know how to describe you.”
Me (helpless to not blush at his complements): “It really was not a big deal.”
Chris (looking like a begging puppy dog): “Will you please, please come up and join us for a drink? Did you ever hear back from your son?”
Me (continuing with my fake backstory): “Yeah he finally did text. It’s safe to say you were right about the surprise Friday night visit not being the best idea. He asked to reschedule for tomorrow and I said that was fine.”
Chris (perking up): “Oh perfect, then you should absolutely come up and have a drink with us!”
Me (trying damn hard to hide just how excited I am at the offer): “Oh I don’t know… If I don’t have any reason to be here tonight, I should probably just head home.”
Chris (downright despondent): “No, no, no, you can’t go. Please just join us for one drink. Just one.”
Me: “I’ll tell you what, I don’t think I need a drink, but I’ll at least come up for a minute to prove to Raj that I didn’t steal your money.”
Chris: “Okay, awesome. And yeah, he had better be pretty damn apologetic when he sees you!”
We start walking towards the entrance, and when we get to the door, Chris, who’s holding both bags, spins around and lines his back pocket up against some sort of electronic card reader and it buzzes us in. I guess I was lucky those girls were walking out to let me in earlier today as it appears the door is in fact otherwise locked.
We get inside the building and Chris leads us right to the stairwell. We head up to the second floor and as he starts ascending a few stairs in front of me, I get a perfect view of his calf muscles, and they’re ridiculously defined. Like the strongest legs I’ve ever seen in my life. His arms, carrying all the liquor, don’t look too bad either, and as I’m admiring the entire back half of his body, I realize that since I’ve been here I haven’t once thought about that towel boy from my son’s real dorm that was my original motivation. It’s crazy how in just the past hour, now that Chris and I have a real, flirtatious connection going on, I couldn’t possibly care any less about that other nameless, half-naked kid from before.
When we get to the second floor, even though we’re still a ways away from his room, we start hearing quite a bit of commotion coming from both his room and Raj’s across the hall.
Someone yells: “You realize there’s no fucking way the divorced milf is ever coming back, right?”
And then a deep voice from a different room that I think must be Ethan: “Dude, I’m telling you she was fucking hot!”
The two statements were a little muffled, but there’s no doubt Chris and I heard both of them.
Chris (turning to me as we approach the rooms): “I’m so sorry. I really am.”
Me (finding this whole situation extremely entertaining): “Well at least I’m about to prove that first guy yelling doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Chris: “Ha. Yeah. But the second guy definitely does.”
Me (thinking back to what the second guy had just said): “You do know I’m literally more than twice your age, right? What are you even, 18?”
Chris (holding sustained eye contact): “I’m actually 19 as of a week ago. So there!”
He then laughs adorably, and I get a euphoric shiver through my entire body. This barely 19-year-old is absolutely going to be inside of me later this evening. I can feel it. I know it. It’s happening.
Chris then returns me to the present, by gesturing with his hand that we should head into his room.
Chris (walking in triumphantly carrying the bags of liquor up by his head): “Let’s get this party started!!!”
I follow him in and see there are a number of new faces that weren’t here before. There are at least four people in addition to Chris, one of whom is Ethan. There’s an enormous and muscly black dude with a baby face wearing mesh shorts and a thin white tank top that’s only covering a small portion of his massive upper body. And then there are two much more average-sized guys, who both look very excited that their liquor has arrived.
Ethan (with a shocked looked on his face): “Holy shit she came back.”
One of the random new guys (in kind of a whisper but still pretty loud): “Wait… this chick is really some student’s mom?!?”
The enormous black dude (after walking over to me): “Hi, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Trevor.”
Me (noticing this trend of super polite students is still going strong): “Hello Trevor. I’m Becca.”
Just then, a couple more people enter the room, one of whom is Raj. He immediately looks at me, then kneels down and peeks into the bags of liquor.
Raj (looking up at me): “Oh my god. I am so sorry for doubting you. And you got the good stuff?!? How much do we owe you?”
Me: “That was all my treat. You don’t owe me anything. Actually wait… that’s not true. You owe me two shots, right?”
Raj (smiling and nodding): “For sure. God Becca, I am so sorry. Here, let’s do this.”
Raj then walks over to one of the desks, opens up a drawer and pulls out some shot glasses. He places three of them down on what looks like a cheap IKEA coffee table in the center of the room. He cracks open the giant bottle of Jack Daniel’s and fills up two of the three glasses.
Raj (looking up at me): “Okay Becca, what would you like for yours?”
Me (laughing): “Oh ha. That’s very kind of you but I can’t stay. My son and I rescheduled for tomorrow night so I’m about to head home. I just wanted to make sure I saw you take your two apology shots before I left!”
As soon as I said that, I realize that maybe it’s time to finally give in. Part of me is worried that if I play too hard-to-get or act too disinterested in staying for a drink, they’ll end up just agreeing to let me leave. Then what would I do? One thing’s for sure though, this entire room of freshman boys is very interested in Raj’s and my interaction right now, as they’re all crowded around this table watching us.
Raj (still kneeling and waiting to pour me a shot): “So Chris said that you’re recently divorced, right?”
Chris (interjecting to correct): “Separated! I said separated.”
Raj: “Okay, recently separated. And do you have any other kids waiting for you at home?”
Me: “No, my son’s an only child.”
Raj: “And so you have no other plans for tonight?”
Me (trying to hide a smile, but unable to): “I do not.”
Raj (whose persistence is kind of cute): “Okay Becca, then I think the only question is, what kind of shot would you like?”
One of the random guys I haven’t met yet (quietly at first and then a little louder): “Do it! Do it! Do it!”
Most of the room now (chanting louder and louder): “Do it! Do it! Do it!”
Raj is staring up at me waiting for an answer. In fact the entire room is now chanting and looking at me. There are at least seven of them, maybe eight, and the amount of testosterone I’m surround by is just exhilarating. And best of all, they’re all singularly focused on me. They all want me to stay and drink, and I’m pretty sure some of them want me in other ways, too. This is exactly what I wanted and precisely what I needed.
Me (waiting, waiting, waiting, and then finally): “Fine. Gimme a shot of Tito’s.”
The entire room of 18 and 19-year-old boys collectively raise their hands and cheer.