The Path Not Taken

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Like some of the other stories, this is part true and part fiction, though this one is mostly fiction as the title might imply. If you want to psychoanalyze my work, call this one an attempt to imagine the alternate world I would have been in had it happened this way.

The summer between my Sophomore and Junior years in college I met a fascinating woman, Sharon. I surely thought I was in love. Things seemed good through the summer and even through the first semester, until I returned home for Christmas and we discussed marriage. That seemed to mark a turning point. The serious turn to the relationship highlighted that she was somehow still emotionally attached to a “bad boy” relationship that had ended. Complicating working this out was that she was in Houston while I was in school in Boston. The second half of my Junior year was spent in torment trying to manage this long distance relationship and worrying about how I might win her over for good. For a long time I felt that if I had been there, and not encumbered by school I could have done more, but the truth is it wouldn’t have made any difference.

I was living in a rented house with four other guys and I knew that I needed to get a new place for my senior year. I had hoped it would be for me and my new wife, Sharon, but if for some reason that didn’t work out, then I would hopefully need the space for entertaining lady friends, for I had resolved to not spend any more of my college years in celibacy, though I avoided imagining that things wouldn’t work out with Sharon as much as I could. Finding people willing to rent to students was always a challenge, and I spent a lot of the end of second semester trying to secure accommodations for my senior year before I returned to Texas for the summer. The typical arrangement was to secure next Fall’s housing before leaving for the summer. That usually meant signing a lease and paying rent for three months you aren’t even living there. But this is what happens in a “seller’s market”.

I was about to give up when an agent said he had a property across the river that I might be interested in. He had a tenant in it until the end of summer, so I wouldn’t have to pay rent on it for the summer! It was a two bedroom, one bath, or one bedroom and one small office. It came furnished, and even had a small kitchen, but no laundry. I had been taking my laundry to a coin operated place for three years, this was nothing new.

The agent picked me up and we drove across the Charles River at the Boston University Bridge. Turning on Mountfort, and then off it and around another corner we were on a small street with old brick veneer three story apartments. Although I expected to have a car my senior year, I noted that it wasn’t more than a couple of miles from campus and so I could walk it if I had to.

We arrived at the apartment just as a reasonably attractive brunette was leaving. She didn’t look like a student even though her age was about right. The agent and she nodded a silent hello, and then a young man who clearly was a student was at the door and showing us in.

“I’ll let you two look around. I’ll be finishing my degree requirements in mid-August. If you need to have anything delivered to the apartment just get it here before the 25th and I’ll lock it in the apartment for you.” With that we shook hands and he too went out the door.

Inside the door was a large room which was a combination kitchen, dining and living room. On the left side of this room was a bathroom, and on the right two doors led to bedrooms. The small front “bedroom” with windows to the street had been set up as an office, with a small desk facing the window, and free standing bookshelves surrounding the walls. It was exactly as I would have arranged the room. The bedroom had two twin beds that had been pushed together to create a king sized bed. It was clear that the beds could be moved relatively easily. I liked the place immediately. It was spacious by the standards I was used to. And the rent was affordable. Even though my current housing had a larger kitchen, with a separate dining and living area, I was sharing it with four other guys, this would be all mine, or mine and Sharon’s.

We were about to sign the papers when he dropped the bombshell.

“You remember that girl who was leaving when we arrived?” I nodded. “Well, she is living there with the current tenant,” he said a little conspiratorially. My first thought was “so?” “She sort of comes with the place,” he said with a smile.

“Really? What do you mean?” I asked, a little worried about how this might affect my hopes of returning with a wife next year. “Is she on the lease or something?”

“Oh no,” he answered quickly. “She’s just there, and I thought you should know about it. She was there with the tenant before this one, and she’s here with him now. I dunno any more than that.”

I pondered the problems this could create, but also the reality that finding housing was not an easy issue, even if money were Afyon Escort not an issue, which it was. In one of those moments where you barely realize that you’ve made an important life changing decision I said OK and we signed the lease to start September 1 and I gave him a deposit to secure it. I suppose a part of me knew that the relationship with Sharon was going no where, though I did my best to ignore that thought. Consciously I thought if everything worked out I could just kick the girl out, as she wasn’t on the lease and Sharon and I could live happily in this place for my last year at school. Maybe there was even some part of me that liked the idea that I could have a live in girlfriend if things didn’t work out.

In any event, it was less than a week after arriving home for the summer that it was clear Sharon and I were done. I grieved the loss of that relationship most of the summer and was just beginning to think that my potential “roommate” might just be the best answer to my situation after all. It was that prospect that no doubt saved me from some sort of rebound relationship. In a move that I’m very glad I took, I confessed the whole situation to my friend John. John was married, more than a little unconventional and much more experienced and intuitive about women than me. Still he was a science nerd and I could relate to him better than I could to other guys who had more experience with females than me.

“Sounds like a pretty good deal for you!” he said excitedly as I recounted the discussion with the real estate agent and my loss of Sharon for good.

“Yeah,” I said, “but can it really be that easy? I mean do I just start out assuming that she’ll be sleeping in the same bedroom as me?” I was truly confused about how this might go. I couldn’t quite imagine that it would be that easy, but at the same time couldn’t imagine how it could work any other way if I was going to let her stay there.

“NO!” John said emphatically. “You absolutely DO NOT start by assuming that she ‘comes with the apartment’ for your sexual pleasure.”

“But isn’t that the essence of what her arrangement is?” I asked truly puzzled by the pointless duplicity people often employed.

“Yes, it is,” he answered immediately, “Provided that the chemistry is right, or at least not all wrong. But she is definitely NOT going to openly and honestly admit that she will sleep with almost anyone who has the lease so that she can live rent free. That is not how most women want to be seen. She needs a face saving way to make this work.”

I was truly puzzled, because that would have been my opening offer if I were her, or so I thought.

“Look,” he said with a strained patience. “Chalk it up to Puritanical upbringing, or just a version of ‘self-esteem’, but you must not allow her to think you expect her to have sex with you in order to live there. Any little thing you do or say that even hints at that expectation will push the chances of it happening further away.”

“But IF she is going to live there I WANT TO have sex with her,” I said. It seemed so obvious to me that it was a fair deal. I really couldn’t understand what was wrong with being so honest and upfront about it.

“And almost certainly you WILL,” he stressed, “IF you just be cool and don’t act like you expect it or that it’s part of a deal. Just get to know her, and treat her like she was any other roommate you’ve ever had. I promise you, unless you act like a jerk and expect it, you will get what you want.”

This strained my mind in ways I truly had never imagined it could be stretched, but I trusted John knew what he was talking about. And then the final piece of logic fell into place. What did I really have to lose by taking his advice? I had no sex partner now, and even I could easily see that my preferred approach to the girl would most likely fail and there I would be in an apartment with no girl for all of my senior year, and small prospects for finding one. Let’s face it, if I were that good at meeting and seducing women where was that talent in the previous three years? So I resolved to follow John’s advice and we spent a lot of the last weeks of my summer going over all sorts of potential scenarios I might encounter with the girl.

I was as prepared as I could be. My things had been delivered to the apartment before August 25th as arranged. I needed only some personal items in a suitcase and I was ready to move in. I had managed to buy a car with my savings and summer job earnings so I drove from Texas to Boston. While trying not to count on her being there. I arrived September 2, which would put me comfortably within my lease period.

Turning the key in the lock and opening the door I saw the apartment was empty. Perhaps the agent was wrong. The boxes I had delivered to the apartment were in a corner of the living room. I also noticed that bookshelves and desk were in a corner of the main room, and a quick peek confirmed that the two beds were now separated Afyon Escort Bayan and each in its own bedroom. A look in the fridge revealed some food, still good, and therefor likely not left behind. Opening the closet in the small bedroom found some women’s clothes. Ah so she was still here, I thought. I tried to stay calm and remember all that John and I had discussed.

I was still unpacking and putting away my books when I heard the key turn in the lock. The slim dark haired girl I had seen only once before came in and for a moment was taken aback.

“Oh, hi, so you’re here,” she said.

“Yeah, hi,” I answered. “I’m Bob,” I said and stuck out a hand and smiled what I hoped looked simply friendly and polite.

“Val,” she said and stepped over to take my hand. “I hope you’re not mad. I mean, I meant to be out before the 1st but I’ve had a little trouble finding a place.”

“I know what you mean,” I said with genuine sympathy. “It was quite a find for me to get this place.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, which I decided to break.

“What are your plans? Do you have a friend you can stay with?”

She looked like she was fighting back emotion, was it an act, or was it real I wondered.

“No,” she choked a little, “I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

Taking my time as though I was having to think this all out for the first time I held my response for a moment or two.

“Look,” I said, “I don’t need to use that other room as my study right away. If you will trust that I’ll be a gentleman, you can stay here a bit while you are looking for a new place.”

“Really?!” she said with an audible sigh of relief.

“Sure,” I said with what I hoped was a relaxed friendly smile.

“Oh thank you!” she said and rushed over to hug me. I didn’t object. “I promise not to be any trouble or bother. I can cook, and I’m happy to clean the place and help keep it neat.”

In getting to know each another it turned out that she earned a few bucks by doing some modeling (nude) for the art students at various colleges in town, and waitressing in various diners and cafes. It was easy to see why she couldn’t get an apartment on her own. What she could make, even when the work was steady, wouldn’t be enough to afford an apartment anywhere in the city that met basic health and safety codes. Of course I kept that conclusion to myself, because I knew from John that this was the likely state of her affairs and that confronting her with my knowledge that she really didn’t have any other options would only make any move toward sex look like prostitution, and women, well most women, absolutely don’t want to see themselves that way.

I was always extremely careful not to be in a position to see her even partially clothed., or vice versa. We had very clear signals about the bathroom and the times for getting ready for class or work.

It turned out that she was a pretty good cook and I ate better my senior year than at any time in my undergraduate years. We still treated ourselves to pizza and beer occasionally but her cooking and her time to do so meant that a healthy and tasty meal was waiting for me most days when I got home from my last class. Even without a sexual connection with Val I was enjoying her being there and I almost thought that it could, or should stay that way. But then I would be honest with myself and acknowledge that I did want her sexually. Before, over the summer, it had just been the idea of having a regular sex partner available, but the more I knew her the more I wanted her, as her, not just as a sex object. And still, I didn’t imagine myself in a deep love affair with her. Her personality was fun, but perhaps a little too spontaneous for a life-long relationship with someone like me who liked a lot of routine and order with only a little chaos.

About a month in to our arrangement I asked how her apartment hunt was going. She looked very crestfallen.

“Not good,” she said looking down. “I suppose you’re ready for me to move out.”

“No,” I said, “I was just curious. I actually like you being here, and I’ve come to like you as well,” I said. This was following pretty close to one of John and my scenarios, but it was also true, I had come to like her.

“You know,” I started, “when I first saw this place last Spring, I was seeing someone back home.” I let that hang out there for a moment. Val just looked at me but the question was in her expression.

“Well to make a long and sad story short, we had problems because of her attachment to a prior relationship and well it ended shortly after I got home for the summer. But truthfully I could see that it was headed that way six months earlier, I just didn’t want to admit it.” I let that hang there a moment. “That’s the main reason why I never asked about you and that guy who was here last year. I just thought it might be a similar story and that you might not want to talk about it.”

“Oh Dave?” she said Escort Afyon with a smile. “No, there was no problem. Dave was great and we had some fun, but it wasn’t serious, like it sounds it was with you and her.” She paused and then continued. “Are you over her?”

“Oh yes,” I said with confidence. “It was painful at first, but it got better the more I could see that the seeds of the breakup were there for a long time, it became less of a shock.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Bob! She’s the big loser in this. You are smart, and kind and generous. And so much more, all of the things a girl could want in a guy.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you to say,” was all I could think of.

Val gave me a hug and pressed her breasts into my chest. Then she snuggled in closer to me, and soon her hand was exploring between my legs. I reached between hers but then stopped for a moment to look her straight in the eyes. I wanted both of us to be sure that that this is what we wanted to do.

“Are you sure?” I asked, just as John and I had discussed to ensure that she owned the decision.

“Oh yes,” she answered. “I’ve thought about this for a while, you are so kind and generous and … well I just like you,” she said smiling.

In no time we were in my bed flinging our clothes off onto the floor. Her breasts were on the smallish side, but firm. I squeezed them and flicked the nipples with my fingers. She moaned and reached down and pulled on my cock, which stiffened at her touch. I very much wanted to see her pussy; I love the sight, the scent, the taste of a woman’s sex. She accommodated me by lying back and spreading her legs. I buried my head in her bush and began to lick and gently suckle the fragrant and tender flesh buried in the tangle of dark hair. Her labia made a most perfect little “clam shell” when closed. Her clit erected and stuck out prominently at the top of that shell the more excited she got. I concentrated on flicking that little nub with the tip of my tongue while my cock got harder and harder. She was getting closer to climax and suddenly pulled me up in a gesture that I understood meant she wanted me in her. Her bush was natural and I could see that it extended slightly into her inner thighs and just a little up from the triangle. I had the odd thought that such a natural look befitted a nude art model. An instant later my mind focused again on the sex and I was slipping my steel hard dick into her wet and very warm pussy. She wrapped her legs around me and her hands clutched my back at the shoulder blades. Each inward thrust was greeted by an erotic gasp from her. I was struggling not to be overcome by the stimulation and just when I thought I could hold out no longer she screamed, “Cum in me! Cum in me NOW!”

Part of me realized that we hadn’t had the birth control conversation, and more of me realized that it was way too late to have it now. I spurted load after load into her tight pussy while she raked her fingernails down my back.

After it was over we both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. In the aftermath the fear of pregnancy was beginning to take over my mind, and I must have become a little distant. Val was very smart when it came to reading people. She knew right away what was going on in my head.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, “I’m not going to get pregnant.”

“Really?” I said somewhat relieved. “Do you take the pill?”

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to mess with my internal chemistry. But I’m very regular with my periods, and this is a safe time. I’ll let you know when you can’t be cumming in me, and we can do anal or something then.”

This didn’t make me feel a lot better, but the definiteness with which she rejected the birth control pills made it clear that it wasn’t something open for discussion.

“Maybe I should buy some condoms?” I ventured.

“Oh, please don’t,” she said with almost a beg in her voice. “I really like the feel of you spurting inside me.”

And so there it was, every time with her was going to be filled with my fear of getting her pregnant. That terrified me and excited me all at the same time. I managed the worry by the thought that it was her insistence that this inherently risky method be used, and therefore it wouldn’t be my fault (aka responsibility) if it failed. Of course if that idea had been tested by events I doubt I could have maintained such a position, but for the purpose of being able to proceed without crippling fear, it worked fine.

On a more immediate note I wondered where we went from here. Should I assume that we were going to have sex regularly, or was this a one time thing? Val answered that for me when I got home the next afternoon. Her bed had been moved into my bedroom and my desk and books were in the front bedroom, just as the apartment had been laid out when I first saw it. She was all smiles when I came in.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I thought we should make some rearrangement of the furniture.” She had that sexy coy look she often employed.

“I love it!” I said, because it did answer my unspoken question. “It reminds me of when I first saw this place,” I said, hoping that would be a natural segue to asking about the relationship with the former student renter.

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