First Semester by Cecil Cross

Author:Cecil Cross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kimani Press
Published: 2007-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

UPPERCLASSMEN DORMS

Kat met me outside of Heritage Hall, the upperclassmen dorm she stayed in. She was wearing a U of A halter top exposing her toned abs, some sweatpants and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Still, everything about her was sexy—from her fragrant Victoria’s Secret perfume to her Coke-bottle shape. When the elevator stopped on her floor and the door opened, my heart skipped a beat. She could’ve taken me right then and there. My mandingo was on full throttle. When I stepped out of the elevator, I peered out of the window to my right to get my bearings. We were right down the street from the Shack. I could vaguely see the smoke rising from the chimney at Marshall Hall on the other end of the campus. I surveyed the area, making sure there weren’t any R.A.s in the vicinity. Then I remembered I was in an upperclassmen dorm. They didn’t have to abide by visitation hours like we did.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging me by my arm. “You can sightsee when we get to my room.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” I mumbled under my breath. I didn’t think she heard me, but apparently she did.

“You are such a little freak.”

“Hey, I told you I was a Scorpio.”

“How could I forget?”

Kat stayed in room 312 at the end of the hall. When she opened the door I immediately became envious of how she was living. She had a nice-size living room area with an entertainment system, a TV that couldn’t have been any smaller than forty inches, a small kitchen and a refrigerator. The room really wasn’t that large and the accommodations weren’t five-star, but her place seemed like a luxury suite compared to the shoe box I was living in.

“Damn,” I said, looking around. “This is all you?”

“Nah, I’ve got three roommates.”

Her living quarters shrank all of a sudden.

“But this is all me,” she said, opening the door to her bedroom. It was about the size of my half of the room in Marshall Hall. But after sitting down on the edge of her bed and looking around the room, I had to admit it was comfy. But more importantly, her room was bombarded by sensual undertones. From the pink and green candles surrounding the pictures on her nightstand to the soothing echo of the water from her plug-in waterfall fixture splashing against the rocks at its base. Not to mention the pink satin pillows at the head of her bed, and her alarm clock radio tuned in to the slow jams station.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” she asked.

Where I’m from, that line is a trick question. If it were as cold as the North Pole, I would’ve told her it was burning up, if it meant clothes coming off.

“Yeah,” I said. “Y’all got the heat blasting in here.”

“Well, I’m going to slip into something a little more comfortable, and we can get started studying.”

“What could be more comfortable than a halter top?” I mumbled to myself after she’d left the room.

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