2. Samaritan
The next day went pretty much like the one before. I treated Mike to that blow job before heading off to the library, which was packed full once again. The blond man saw me walk in this time and after a quick glance around the room, smiled and cleared some space away from the corner chair again, allowing me room to sit and work.
"Thanks," I laughed.
"Not at all."
He seemed to be less productive than he had been the previous day. He spent a lot of time leaning back in his chair, alternately tapping his foot or running a hand through his hair. I looked up from a page of notes I was reviewing at one point to see him staring off into space.
"You're not as focused today," I commented.
He grimaced. "Writer's block."
"Ah," I frowned. "That sucks."
He nodded in agreement.
I went back to my notes while he typed a few things, then deleted them, then typed again. After a few minutes he pushed away from the table and stood up. "I'm going to run down to the café for some coffee," he said. "Would you mind making sure the librarians don't come around and re-shelve my materials?" He flashed me another dimpled smile.
"No problem."
His concern wasn't unwarranted. In the few minutes he was gone, two very helpful librarians offered to put away the books that littered the table. I sent them on their way, smiling to myself.
The man returned after a few minutes and set a coffee cup in front of me. I looked up in surprise and smiled. "Thanks," I told him.
He smiled back and set two cups of cream and two sugar packets in front of me before seating himself at his computer again, sipping his own coffee.
I considered reciprocating by sharing my Aplets and Cotlets as I poured the creams into my cup, but they were a precious commodity this far from Washington. If he wanted candied fruit, he'd have to get his own.
We worked for a while longer, but when my brain once again reached its saturation point, I packed up my things. "Thanks for the coffee," I told the man. "And good luck with the writing."
He looked up from his computer screen and smiled. "Thank you. Have a pleasant evening."
I turned and headed for the door, deciding that I liked his voice.
I was missing Mike, so I steered the car toward the Nine-Oh instead of home. I wasn't actually old enough to get in, but the bouncers there knew me by now, and knew I wasn't going to try to drink, so they would let me in to sit at the bar and chat with Mike while he worked. I parked and gave Felix a kiss on the cheek as he ushered me inside, then made my way to the bar.
The 901 Club was one of the more popular bars in the area. It had once been a particularly grungy dive, but had recently undergone massive renovations that had classed it up into a fairly nice sports bar. It was particularly hot during football season, but that was over now and there were no other games tonight, so it wasn't too crazy. I found a free stool at the bar and watched as Mike pulled a couple of draft beers for some girls at the other end of the counter. He glanced up and spotted me as he sent them on their way, grinning widely.
"Hey, baby, I'll be right there," he said. He threw together a couple of drinks and passed them, plus four bottles of beer, across the counter to a waitress, before wiping his hands and moving over to me. He grabbed a can of Coke from under the bar on the way and cracked it open for me.
"Thanks," I smiled, taking it from him. "How's it going tonight?"
He shrugged. "Sort of slow. Everybody's studying."
"No kidding. The people who usually hang out in your bar are spending the night in my library."
He smirked, leaning across the counter for a kiss. "You can always study here. And on my breaks I'll take you back into the storeroom and give you a little treat."
"There's an idea," I grinned.
"Oh, I wanted to talk to you," he said. "My car's been acting up again. Can I borrow your truck tomorrow so I can take it into the shop?"
"Yeah, sure. Aren't you working tomorrow, though?"
"Nah, just during the day, but it means you'd have to take the bus home after class."
"No, it's fine, I'll just stay on campus and go right to the library after class. You can pick me up tomorrow night?"
"Yep, no problem. You're the best, baby."
"Well, you know, those Applets and Cotlets will get you a long way," I winked.
He moved down the bar to help a new customer, and for a few minutes I just watched him mix drinks and chat with the people who came to the bar. Mike was one of those magnetic personalities who seemed to draw everyone to him, and it was a pleasure to watch him work. The next time he had a free moment, though, I waved him over and leaned in for another kiss. "I'm going to go," I told him. "I'll see you at home."
He brushed my chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Okay, love. Be safe."
"I will," I promised. "And I'll be thinking of you while I get myself off in the shower."
He grinned at me as I headed out the door.
The next morning I followed Mike to the mechanic, and then surrendered my keys to him so he could drive me to campus for my first class.
"Pick me up at the library at ten," I told him as I hopped out of the cab.
He shifted the car into park and crawled across the bench seat to claim one more searing kiss. "I'll be there," he promised.
God, I loved him so much. I watched him drive away, my stomach fluttering with happiness.
The feeling sustained me through three final exams, and though I was exhausted, I was still floating as I made my way to the library. I passed the bookstore on the way and spotted something in the window that made me stop and take a closer look. On display was a little collection of three-inch tall figurines, goofy and brightly-colored. The placards in front of them declared them to be the Muses, naming them individually and explaining their areas of patronage. They were only four dollars a piece, and I couldn't help myself. I slipped inside and decided on Clio, the Muse of history, based on the archaeology texts I had seen scattered over the table the last couple of days. I paid the clerk and headed off to the library.
It wasn't nearly as busy today, probably due to the early hour. Many students would still be sitting for their exams. My usual table was occupied by a group of people speaking sign language to each other, though, so I couldn't reclaim my space. At least they were quiet. I took a seat at the table next to it and spread out, starting in on the work for my British Literature class.
I worked on a term paper for about an hour before the blond man arrived, toting his laptop and an armful of books. "You're early today," he commented, moving to his chair. "May I hope you saved me a seat?"
I gathered my things and stuffed them into my bag. "All yours," I told him, gesturing to the table.
"Thank you." He didn't sit down yet, though. He riffled through a book until he found a list, and then disappeared into the stacks, collecting books and periodicals and depositing them onto the table. After several trips he finally seemed satisfied, and he tucked his list away, settling himself into his chair.
"I brought you something," I told him before he could get involved in his project. I dug in my bag and pulled out the little Muse statuette, setting it on top of a short stack of books between us.
He picked it up and looked at it curiously, then laughed out loud as he read what she was. "Just what I needed," he grinned. He opened his laptop and arranged her carefully above the keyboard at one side of the screen, his eyes sparkling. "Let's hope she helps me out."
The little Muse seemed to do her job. He spent a lot more time typing than he had the day before, and I couldn't help but feel pleased as I went back to the rough draft of my paper.
I forced myself to stay buried in books and notes until the clock read ten, then packed up my things. The man saw me getting ready to go and picked up the little figurine I had brought him. "I owe you for this," he said with a grin. "She's very effective."
"Call it payback for the coffee," I smiled.
He chuckled and put her back in her place. "See you tomorrow."
I headed down the stairs and out to the parking lot, searching for my truck. I didn't see it there, so I found a plot of grass and sat down to wait.
When I hadn't heard from Mike after about ten minutes, I pulled out my phone and called his cell. I got no answer, and I hoped he was on his way and had just forgotten his phone. I hefted my bag onto my shoulder and paced slowly up and down the sidewalk for about five more minutes. I called his cell again, and still got no answer.
I chewed at my lip, hoping he hadn't gotten called in to work. I started thinking about other ways to get home. The city buses didn't go anywhere near our apartment, and I just didn't have the money to take a cab. I called home again, huffing in frustration when it once again went to voice mail.
"Is everything okay?"
I turned back toward the familiar voice. The blond man I had spent the last three evenings with was striding toward the parking lot, once again laden with books.
I gave him a weak smile. "My ride didn't show up."
He nodded toward the phone in my hand. "I assume you've called."
"Yeah. No answer."
He came up beside me and stopped, shifting his pile of books into one arm. "Is there anyone else you could call?"
I frowned thoughtfully. There was always Jacob. He had started at USC a year before me, and in fact had been the final factor that made me decide to come here. I hadn't actually talked to him much lately, though, and he lived all the way down in Compton, which was a good half hour drive if the traffic was decent. Plus, since he usually worked early in the morning he would probably be in bed by now.
The man saw my indecision. "Why don't you let me drive you home?" he suggested.
I considered his offer, but I realized there was a problem with that too. "Shit!" I hissed. "He has my keys!"
He raised his eyebrows. "He?"
"My boyfriend," I explained. "He borrowed my truck today, so I gave him my keys. All of them, including the one to my apartment."
"Is there an on-call maintenance person who might be able to let you in?"
I tried to remember if I had seen a phone number for that on the office window. "I'm not sure. Maybe."
"I'll tell you what? I'll give you a lift to your apartment, and we'll see if we can get you in. If not, you can call a friend, or perhaps get a motel room for the night."
I looked at him in indecision. Charlie would blow a gasket if he knew I accepted a ride from someone I didn't know.
He seemed to know where my mind was going. "We're not exactly strangers," he said, smiling crookedly. "I've seen you here several times a week, all semester long, and I haven't assaulted you even once."
I laughed self-consciously, and he held out his hand.
"I'm Dr. Cullen. Professor of Archaeology, Anthropology, and Religious Studies."
I clasped his hand. "Bella Swan," I told him, then smiled ruefully. "And I'll never be in any of your classes."
"Just as well. I understand I'm dreadfully boring." He nodded for me to follow him and started toward the parking lot again.
"Can I help you with those?" I asked, reaching for the stack of books.
He let me take a sizeable portion. "Thank you," he said. "Who needs the gym when you've got reference materials?" He stopped at a little black Kia and popped the trunk. I was a little surprised, at first, that he was driving a such low-end car. I had walked through enough faculty lots at the school to know that USC professors tended toward luxury sedans and sports cars. His simple taste in automobiles humanized him a little.
"What are you writing?" I asked curiously.
"It's a manuscript on apocalypse predictions in ancient and modern times," he said, lowering his books into the trunk. He took the ones I was carrying from me and set them inside as well, then shrugged off his laptop bag and slid it in. "I'm sure it'll be just as dull as all of my classes, and yet, I find it fascinating." He grinned brightly as he closed the trunk.
"Whatever keeps you entertained."
"Well, that, and publishing helps me maintain my tenure," he said as he moved around the car to open my door for me. He offered me his hand and helped me into my seat before rounding the car and sliding in beside me.
"Where to?" he asked as he started the engine.
I gave him directions to my apartment, and he maneuvered his car smoothly out of the lot.
"How are your finals coming?" he asked conversationally.
"Good, so far. At least, I think so. I've felt pretty confident about the tests I've taken."
"How many do you have left?"
"Just one. Tomorrow morning."
He raised his eyebrows. "Shall I assume I won't see you in the library tomorrow night, then?"
"Oh no, I'll be there." I smiled. "I'll be decompressing with a novel rather than studying, but I'm enough of a nerd that I voluntarily spend week nights in the library, even when I don't have homework."
He laughed appreciatively. "So what's you're last test?"
"It's a tough one. Linguistics with Dr. Berty."
Dr. Cullen smirked. "A bit of advice. Keep your answers relatively simple."
"Why's that?" I asked, surprised. Details were usually better.
He rolled his eyes. "Berty assigns these essay tests, but he doesn't like to grade them and he won't trust a TA to do it. It annoys him to have to read detailed information over and over again. Trust me, just stick to the basics."
"I'll take your advice. Dr. Berty is. . . ." I hesitated, searching for a word that wouldn't be too offensive.
"A pompous ass?" Dr. Cullen supplied. He grinned at my surprised expression. "The geniuses usually are."
I laughed and changed the subject. "So if you're a Professor of Religious Studies, does that mean you're religious?"
"No. But it does mean I'm an insufferable know-it-all on all subjects pertaining to worship rituals."
"Oh, good," I said earnestly. "Everyone likes an insufferable know-it-all, especially at parties."
"I'm very popular," he agreed, just as seriously.
I giggled, suddenly very glad I had accepted his offer of a ride home. I had spent the entire semester sitting not ten feet from this man four nights a week, and I hadn't had any idea how fun he was.
We bantered back and forth until he pulled his car into my apartment complex and parked.
"My truck's here," I said. "Maybe Mike is home, and just wasn't answering his phone."
He slid out of the car and came around to offer me a hand out, and the two of us headed up to the building. My apartment was right at the front on the third floor, and I could see the lights on in the living room and bedroom. I frowned at them and pulled open the door to step into the breezeway. Dr. Cullen followed me inside and up the stairs, and I moved to my door and knocked.
For a moment everything was silent, then I heard a thump and a loud curse. There were uneven footsteps to the door, and suddenly it swung open. Mike stood there in just his boxer shorts, rubbing his knee and grimacing.
"Bella!" he exclaimed when he saw me. "Shit! I fell asleep and totally forgot to come get you! Baby, I'm so sorry!" He limped forward, gathering me into his arms.
"Are you okay?" I asked him.
He stepped back, rubbing his knee again. "Yeah, when you knocked it startled me. I fell off the couch and hit my knee." He poked out his lip forlornly, and I had to laugh.
"Poor baby, we'll put some ice on it."
He looked up then, noticing Dr. Cullen for the first time. "Hey," he said, frowning a little. "What's up?"
"Oh, Mike, this is Dr. Cullen. He gave me a ride home."
"Aw, thanks, man." Mike limped over to him and shook his hand.
Dr. Cullen nodded cordially. "It was my pleasure. You two have a nice evening."
I smiled at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He gave me a wave and headed back down the stairs.
Mike watched him until he was out of sight. "Who is that?" he asked. "One of your professors?"
"Uh, no, he's somebody I see in the library all the time. Let's get some ice on your knee."
"Naw, sweetie, it's just a bruise, don't worry about it." He was still looking after Dr. Cullen. "So you don't know that guy, but you let him give you a ride home?"
I prickled at the disapproval in his voice. "You didn't leave me with a lot of options, Mike."
He was instantly contrite. "I'm so sorry," he said, following me inside. "You're right, it's totally my fault. I put you in a really bad position." He grabbed my hands and led me over to the couch. "Let me make it up to you." He pushed me firmly down onto the cushions, and then went to the kitchen, grabbing a pudding cup and a spoon and bringing them back to me.
I took it, giving him a curious look. "You bought pudding?"
He shrugged, grinning. "I had a craving." He settled onto the floor in front of me and unlaced my sneakers, pulling them off and setting them aside. He stripped off my socks as well, and his hands started working at one foot, rubbing it firmly.
I moaned softly. "That feels so good."
"Yeah? How were your finals today?"
I ate my pudding and told him about how my tests went, and asked about his as he moved on to my other foot. Mike wasn't at USC on scholarship, which meant he could afford to be a little less obsessive about his grades, but he was pretty sure he had maintained his C average and was on track for graduation. He was scheduled to walk with his class the next Monday, and as it was Wednesday now, the time was drawing close. For a month our apartment had been littered with cap and gown order forms, class ring catalogues, and graduation announcements that were in the process of being addressed and mailed. I was stressing over a graduation gift, since everything I really wanted to get him was way too expensive for my unemployed self. I was considering going to Renee to try and make a withdrawal from the Bank of Mom, but I hadn't quite convinced myself to do it yet.
When my pudding was finished and my feet thoroughly massaged, Mike stepped it up. His hands slid up my legs to my waist, and he popped open the button of my jeans.
I shook my head weakly. "I need to get to bed. I have an early test tomorrow."
"This'll only take a few minutes," he assured me. "I know how to get you there quick when I want to."
That was true, but he wasn't so quick. "And what about you?"
"Don't worry about me, this is for you." He hooked his fingers over the waistband of my jeans and panties, and I lifted my hips to allow him to pull them down. He stripped them off and then moved his hands to my knees, gently pressing them apart. He slid his arms under them and gripped my thighs, tugging me forward on the couch cushions to give him better access.
"Mmm, I love this pussy," he groaned, his warm breath tickling the bare skin between my thighs.
I could already feel myself getting wet, and when his soft tongue began stroking my folds, I moaned in pleasure.
"You taste so good, girl," he breathed. His tongue swiped my clit, making me catch my breath, and he set up a steady rhythm, circling it, then flicking it playfully with his tongue.
"Fuck, Mike!" I choked. "That's so—ungh!"
He pressed his lips to my clit and moaned, and the vibrations made me squirm under his mouth. "God, yes!"
I felt two fingers slide inside of me, and I cried out wordlessly, rocking against him. He worked my clit as he plunged his fingers in and out, in and out, his free hand gripping my hip as I moved against him. Every thrust of his hand, every swipe of his tongue, pushed me closer and closer to the edge, until I cried out in pleasure. The orgasm ripping through my body in ferocious waves, and I rode them with enthusiasm. I ground against his mouth, finding the glorious friction I sought, and pleasured myself with his lips and fingers until the wave of desire ebbed and I sagged back in exhaustion.
Mike took a moment more, licking away the residue of my orgasm with his caressing tongue, then sat back with a pleased grin. "Damn, I love how you sound when you come."
I laughed, unable to help the blush that spread across my cheeks. He had opened me up quite a bit, sexually speaking, but it was hard to shake some of the lingering self-consciousness.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes bright and adoring. "I'm so lucky to have you, baby."
I smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting my own tart flavor. "I'm pretty damn lucky to have you, too," I told him. "I love you."
He kissed me again, deeper this time, slipping his tongue into my mouth to dance playfully with my own before pulling away. He grabbed the forgotten pudding cup and spoon and took them to the kitchen, then returned and pulled me to my feet. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
"Are you sure you don't need me to . . ." I trailed off, gesturing shyly to the bulge in his shorts.
"I'm good," he said, shaking his head. "That was just for you, love."
I smiled at his term of endearment. I had never had boyfriends who used them before, but Mike always had some sweet little nickname. Baby, sweetie, love . . . he called me those more often than he called me by my name. I loved it. He was always reminding me that I was important to him.
He led me to the bathroom and helped me finish undressing for my shower, and then when I shut off the water he reappeared and helped me dry off. He stayed with me while I brushed my teeth and pulled on my pajamas, then tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight. "I love you, Bella," he murmured. "So much."
