Seduced In College (Campus Dorm Room School student One Night Stand Erotica Girl Romance Sex Stories series) (10 page)

“Want some music?” Jack asks.

“Sure,” I say.

“Your favorite?”

“Anything you like.”  I want him to enjoy his music
so he can focus more on his driving.  I worry after the long hours last
night, he may not have much energy left.

He picks Classic FM.  It’s playing Beethoven’s
Symphony No. 2.

Odd.
  Why doesn’t he like hip hop or something
really energetic and exciting for
young
people?   My
grandparents like to play those old classical music albums.  Oh, yeah,
they like the country music, too.

“Jack, do you like the country music, too?”

“Sure!” Jack sounds excited.  “Why?  You like
it, too?”  His hand reaches for the radio buttons, ready to switch.

Oops!  Wrong question.
  “I prefer the
classical music.”  If I have to pick, this is definitely less boring.

My iPhone beeps when we reach Philadelphia.  It’s a
text message from Anthony.  “Emilie, where are you?  Please let us
know.”

Those
we
bitches are still together.  I’m sure
Anthony is wrapping his legs around the body of the other
we
, like he
always did to me.  His ugly dick is giving that
we’s
ass a good
massage, too. 

I almost throw up at this thought.  I press the
delete button right away.  I really want to put everything behind
me. 

Ten minutes later, a new text message comes.  It’s
Anthony again.  “Emilie, please talk to me.”

“Drop dead!” I text back.

“We’re glad you’re okay.”

Sure!  You are glad.  I get really angry. 
“Bitch,” I murmur.

“What?” Jack turns his head and looks at me as if I came
from Mars or something.  “What did you say?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I close my eyes.  My life is a total screw-up
now.  My stupid boyfriend hurt me last night.  And now, he is trying
to hurt me again.  Isn’t he the one who turned my world upside down and
forced me to run into the darkness and deadly cold?  What am I going to do
next?  Am I going to be a waitress in Miami for the rest of my life?

I never had the time to think about this.  Now I feel
like things can be more complicated than I thought.  The college may
realize I’m missing.  What if they call my parents?  What if they
call the police?

Suddenly, my iPhone beeps again. 
Is it from the
college?  Or is it from that bitch Anthony again?

I pick up the phone.  It’s MOTHER.  Yes, my
ice-queen mother is calling me.

I look at the phone.  I can’t decide if I should pick
up the call.  What am I going to say to my mother?  I never lied to
her in my life.  But I can’t tell her the truth this time.

Eventually, the phone is quiet.  Mother must be very
disappointed because she can’t leave a voice message.  I can only afford
the very basic service.   I received this iPhone as a Christmas gift
from Mother but I insisted to pay for the service myself—maybe I should have
let her pay.

Sorry, Mother.

“Why didn’t you pick up the call?” Jack asks.

“It’s a commercial promotion,” I come up with a little lie.

“Oh, yeah,” he smirks.

I am a bit angry. 
Look, this is none of your
business.
  “You don’t believe me?” I try to keep silent but I just
couldn’t.

“Why not? It’s a promotion, as you said,” he smirks again.

This Jack is too nosy.  Maybe I should have taken the
Greyhound.

I close my eyes.  I need to find a way to explain
everything to Mother.  And quickly.

The phone beeps again.  I open my eyes and see the
same number. 
Please, Mother.  Stop calling.

I stare at the screen until the beeps stops.  I know
she is worried now.  Is she going to call the college?  …Or the
police?    I don’t know.  But I really don’t know what to
tell her.

“Another promotion?” Jack’s voice is flat and
matter-of-fact.  But I can hear the sarcasm right away.

“Whatever.” I really feel sorry for taking this
ride. 

Two minutes later, the call comes again.  Now it’s
obvious my mother is going to keep calling until I talk to her.  If I
don’t, she may become really panicked and call the college, or the police
instead.

I take a deep breath and press the button.  “Hi,
Mother,” I try to sound cheerful.

“Oh, hi, honey, did I disturb you?  Are you still
sleeping?”

“Oh, no, Mother, I have been awake for a while.”

“Did you have a good sleep last night?”

“Not really.  I have to study.  You know, so
much work.”

“Emilie, your father and I are going in town for fun this
weekend.  Do you want to join us?”

“I would love to, Mother.  Unfortunately, I
can’t.  I have to prepare for my exams next week.  I have two big
ones coming up.”

“Oh, sure, kids are all smart there.  Emilie, we are
so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“How about we get together for a dinner on Saturday?”

Oops!
  “Um…, Mother, as you said, kids are all
smart here.  I have to work really hard.”

“Honey, it takes only two hours.  Or we can make it
shorter.  I’m sure you are going to be totally refreshed after a nice
dinner.”

“Okay, let me check my schedule and then call you back,
Mother.”

“Take care, Emilie.”

“You too, Mother.”

I peek at Jack.  He has that smirk again—a big
one.  “Why are you laughing?”  I feel really annoyed.

“Miss Strong is hiding,” Jack sounds amused.

“I’m not Miss Strong.  And I’m not hiding,” I’m
becoming angry.

“You are not?” Jack turns to me. “Why don’t you tell your
mother what’s happening?”

“What’s happening?” 
How much do you know?
 
I'm beginning to hate this guy.

“Not much, huh?  Did you run away from a fancy
college all the smart kids are fighting to get into?  What happened? 
You couldn’t stay at the top, huh?”

“How much do you know about the college life?”  I
know this sounds rude.  But Jack hurt me first, so I’m fighting
back.  “College students aren’t like those fighting on the street. 
No one has to be the number one.”

“Sure I don’t know.  I wish my parents had the money
to send me to a college to learn all the shit.  But they didn’t.  I
fought on the street, too.  So what?  I won.  And I found my way
to make money.  A ton of money.  Now I can send
my
kids to the
college and spoil them like
you
.”

“What make you think I’m a spoiled kid?  I pay for my
college.  I work hard to pay for everything.”

“Oh, sure, that’s why you bought that piece of shit—the
car that almost killed you last night.  Don’t you think your life deserves
a safer car?”

This really hurts.  As a student, I did my best
already.  I’m not the only one who is short on money.  This Jack is
bad mouthing my hard work.  I really hate him.  “Look, Jack, there
are thousands of students just like me.  We work hard to pay for our
education.”

“Tell me you paid for everything.”

“That’s exactly what I did.  I paid for everything.”

“Everything?”  Jack questions.

“Everything!”  I’m so confident.  And I’m so
proud of myself.

“You made every penny from the low paying jobs, right?”

“Right.”

“How about your designer shoes?  How much did your
parents pay for them?  Two thousand bucks?  Five thousands? 
More?”

Oops! 
This guy knows what he is talking
about.

“How about your watch?  Isn’t that a Gold
Rolex?  Don’t tell me it’s not twenty grand before tax.  How about
that Cashmere wool scarf?  I bet you waited for at least a year before it
was made for
you
.”  His eyes are wide open when he says “you”.

“Those are gifts, okay?”  I protest.

“Sure, ‘gifts’.  They don’t count, right?  How
many parents can afford those ‘gifts’?  Did you receive gifts like cruise
vacations, too?  How about those fancy shopping trips?  Did your
mother pull out the credit card?”

“You are just jealous, Jack.”

“I’m not jealous.  Why should I?  But I don’t
hide things from my family.”

“Tell me you are not.  Did you say you are on the run
as a murder suspect?  Did you tell your parents that?”  I become so
angry I don’t care if this is going to make him do anything bad to me.

“My
family
, not
parents
,” he puts lots of
focus on the word “family”.

“Oh, sure,
family
,” I mimic his tone and put the
focus on the word “family”, too.  “How about your parents?  Did you
tell them where you are heading and why?”

“I don’t tell them a thing.  I don’t talk to them at
all.  Are you happy now?”

“So why do you think I should tell my parents everything?”

“Because,” he looks into my eyes. “My parents are dead but
yours are not.  You are going to make them worry.”

This is really a surprise to me.  I feel really sorry
for him.  But I’m so angry now I don’t want to show my sympathy at
all.   “They are not going to be worried.”

“Oh, yeah?  You are going to find a great job and
then call them, right?” he switches to a high pitch voice and then continues.
“Hey, Mommy, I got this great waitress job and I’m making way more than a
medical doctor.”

“Why do you think you can make a ton of money but I
can’t?”

“Because,” He stops for a moment and then says, “you don’t
know how to find food in the garbage.”

“I can learn,” I shot back right away. 
Oops.

“Huh…” he laughs really loud.

“What’s so funny?  I can learn all the skills to make
money.”

“Oh, yeah,  Miss Strong?  The real world is
ugly.  You have to be tough.” He raises his fist.  “Tough. 
Understand?”

“I am tough.”  I raise my fist, too.

“Look, being tough needs strategy, too.  What if
something really bad happens, like being stuck in a stalled car with no one
coming for the rescue?  What if something even worse happens?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Sure, I don’t.”

This
conversation was unpleasant.  But I begin to like him more. 
Why?  I don’t know.

We stop to gas up.  Jack smiles at me like we never
argued.  I smile back.  To be with him is still pleasant.

“Jack, let me pay for the gas, okay?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry, Emilie,” Jack shakes his head. “You
need the money for later.”

“But this is not fair.”

“People helped me, too.  You can always help others
in the future.”

“Thank you so much, Jack.”

“Not a problem.”

“Do you know anywhere we can get some good food?” Jack
asks the cashier, when paying for the gas.

“Oh, sure, try the Sam’s Café down the street.  They
serve a special Couple Meal.”

“Couple Meal,” Jack look at me, smiling.

We walk down the street.  Jack holds my hand.  I
let him do it.  “Jack.”

“What?”

“Do you really want to try the Couple Meal?”

“Why not?”

“But we are not a couple.”

“So?”

“We can try that but I will pay for the food, okay? 
You paid for the gas already.”

“Oh, no, I will never let my girl pay for the food.”

“But I’m not your girl.”

“Pretend,” he looks at me.  His blue eyes are
irresistible.  I smile and nod.

We walk into the Sam’s Café.  This is a small
town.  This small restaurant might be the largest in town.  It’s a
beautiful Victorian wooden house.   
“This way, please,” the waitress leads the way to a window seat.  “Anything
to drink?” she asks.

“Water for me, please,” I say.

“Me, too,” Jack says.

We sip the water.  “Pretty nice,” Jack looks around
and says.

“Yup,” We have a cottage house just like this.  It’s
an hour away from Boston.  My parents managed to find some antique
Victorian furniture, too.  So everything in the restaurant looks really
familiar.

“Have you used an oil lamp?” Jack asks.

“We have a few like that,” I point at a small lamp in a
square glass and metal box. “But they are all for decorations in the cottage
house.  How about you, Jack?”

“Oh, those oil lamps smell like shit.  You get your
nose all dark because of the black smoke.  I used them when I was little.”

“Oh.”  I can almost see a little kid tumbling in the
dark, blowing his nose.

“Are you ready to order now?” the waitress comes
back. 

“Sure.  How about your Couple Meal?” Jack asks. 
His eyes flip back and forth between the waitress’ face and breasts.  This
makes me jealous.  But I have to agree the waitress has gorgeous, firm and
perfectly rounded breasts.   I also have to agree that hers are
bigger than mine though I’m gifted with my mother’s big-boobs-gene.

“You will love it,” The waitress smiles. “Everything comes
on a big plate.  Fried rice, beef, vegetables, you name it.”

“Wow,” We are really impressed.

“You get a big bowl of soup, too,” the waitress adds.

“Excellent,” Jack says.  He’s eyes are now fixed to
the big boobs like little needles pulled to huge magnets.

“Jack!” I almost yell.  Then I realize right away I’m
not his girl or anyone close enough to say anything.

“What?” Jack looks at me, pretending not knowing why I was
pissed.

“Um,…” I try to cover my embarrassment. “Are you sure you
like fried rice?” 

“Oh, I love it,” Jack’s voice exaggerates so much, even
the waitress could tell.  She smiles. “Maybe you can order a small dish to
try first?” she suggests.

“What do you think, Emilie?”  Jack asks.

“I’m okay,” I try to sound as natural as possible. 

“Deal,” Jack turns to the girl and says, “Let’s go with
the Couple Meal.”  Then he steals a look at those boobs right away.

I cut my thumb nail into Jack’s hand.  Jack tries to
pull his hand back slightly and then stops.

“You like it?” I smile at him right after the girl left.

“This is nothing, Emilie,” Jack smiles.  “When a
couple fights, they kick and bite.”

“We are
not
a couple,” I let his hand go.

“Ouch!  Ouch!”  Jack begins to howl.

I rub his hand, “Watch out where your eyes stick next
time.”

“Okay, okay,” Jack quickly responds. “How about sticking
like this,” He stares at my breasts.

I push his hand up and bite down.

He doesn’t move.  I bite really hard and see his
facial expressions change a zillion times in just seconds.

I let his hand go.  My teeth cut really deep.

“Ouch, ouch…” he moans and looks at me with puppy eyes.

“Am I strong?” I smile and ask.

“Yes,” he answers quickly.  Then he mumbles, “Maybe a
little bit too strong.”

I grind my teeth.

“Okay, okay,” Jack says quickly. “Perfectly strong.”

“Watch out,” The girl come out with a big bowl of
soup.  It’s steamy hot.

She put two more small bowls in front of us. 
“Enjoy!”

“What’s this?” Jack’s eyes turn round.

“What do you mean ‘what’s this’?  It’s soup,” I feel
so funny.

“What am I going to do with it?”

I stand up and pick up the big spoon.  I use the
spoon to get the soup and put it into the small bowls.  “Enjoy!”  I
say.

Jack takes a sip.  “Wow, this is good.”  Soon,
he finishes three bowls.

Then the big plate of food comes.  It smells so
good.  It tastes really good, too.

I’m not a big fan of rice.  But I did enjoy Asian
food before, like Chinese, Japanese, and Thai foods.  So I know how to use
chopsticks. 

Jack is amazed to see how I eat with chopsticks. 
“Let me try it.”  He tries a few times but almost sticks a chopstick into
his nose.  He tries again but gives up soon, “Oh, man, I’m
starving.”  He picks up the knife and fork. 

He’s not chewing at all.  He simply swallows.  I
try to refill his dish as fast as I can.  Meanwhile, I try to get a few
bites whenever I get a chance.  This is an odd feeling.  It’s like… a
couple, I guess?  Maybe the one in the old times—long ago when the wife
had to serve her husband for the meal.

But soon Jack stops eating.  “It’s your turn,” he
smiles.

“Thanks!” I smile and sit down.

Jack stands up to put meal onto my plate.  But he
gives me too much meat.

“Jack,” I smile. “Please don’t feed me like a pig.”

“Okay, veggie,” he says, trying to get all the vegetables
from the big plate.

Once again, the dessert comes as a “couple size” too.  It’s
bigger than two of us can finish.  Jack keeps eating and eating.

“Jack, you don’t have to finish it.”

“I have to.  It’s a crime to waste food.”

“You are going to fall asleep if you eat it all.”

Jack takes one more bite and then stops.  “Wow, such
a good meal.”

We get back into the car.

“Jack, how about I drive for a while and you take a rest?”
I ask.

“Oh, no.  Look at what you did to your car.”

“I didn’t do a thing.  It broke down by itself.”

“I’ll let you know when I get really tired, okay?” 

“Jack, I don’t want to get into an accident.”

“This is nothing,” he says. “I drove ten, fifteen hours a
day all the time.”

I really want to know what that means.  “Smuggling
things?”  Oops.  I actually said that.  I steal a peek at Jack.

He is not angry at all.  “Where did you get this old
fashioned idea?  Smuggling won’t make you good money.”

“Are you serious?” I can’t believe what he said.  If
that doesn’t make money, why do the drug smugglers risk their lives?

“Did you know computer chips value more than gold by
weight?” he asks.

“What?” I never knew that.  Is Jack in the computer
“business”?  “So…, you mean, smuggling computer chips?”

“Oh, my, my, my,” Jack shakes his head, “someone has too
much imagination.”  He sounds so sad.

The car is running about 70 mph.  “Jack, you are
speeding.”

“By five miles? Nah,” he snorts.  But he slows down
the car a bit.

We stop talking.  Jack is focusing on the road. 
My mind is drifting away with little things, mostly girl stuff.

Suddenly, Jack says, “Emilie, we need to talk.”

“Sure.  About what?”  I’m puzzled.

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah.   Before I fall asleep.”

“Should we take a break?”

“Nah.  Let’s talk.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?  I hope it’s
not your business,” I try to make a little joke.

“Oh, no, not that shit again.  Let’s talk about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.  You are a mystery.”

I really don’t like that comment.