章節 149: Chapter 4: Sunk Costs ll
"Benjamin! Make up a name for a fictional oil company." Professor Isakova had suddenly stopped in front of my table, snapping as she pointed right at my nose.
Sitting up straight as I was put on the spot, I blinked and grunted before stammering, "Chev ... uh ... Petrol ... eon. Petroleon."
"That works. Benjamin, you are the CEO of Petroleon," the professor informed me although her gaze now swept across the entire class. Pacing down the aisles, she continued in precise, Russian-accented English, "Your top scientists have shown you there is a pocket of oil at a specific location in the Gulf of Mexico. You have built a brand new, three hundred and fifty million dollar oil platform at the location, deep offshore. Operating costs run four hundred thousand dollars per day. And now that you have actually broken ground and started drilling, you discover that the oil pocket is shallow and there is far less material under there than your scientists had originally believed."
Forcing myself awake, I'd started scribbling numbers onto my notepad as soon as Viktoriya said them. Even though she was now clear across the classroom, it had not escaped my attention that she'd named me CEO, and I had a sinking feeling that she wasn't done putting me on the spot just yet.
Sure enough, she started her way back across the classroom and stared over at me. "Remember, you are the CEO of a large, multi-national oil company. New calculations indicate that it will take about two years to drill out all the oil, and not factoring in the oil platform daily operating costs, your company stands to profit two hundred and fifty million dollars. Benjamin, you should know this cold: What do you do?"
I already knew the answer I was being led to, but I scribbled out the math quickly on my sheet just to be sure. $400K daily operating costs times 365 days times 2 years is... $292 million. Net profit on the oil apart from those costs is $250 million, which means to factor in platform operating costs results in a net loss of $42 million dollars. The answer is: "Don't do it," I said aloud.
"But you are the CEO! You just spent three hundred and fifty million dollars building this brand new deep offshore oil platform! And now that it is built, you are not going to USE it?"
I shrugged. "Sell it. Or re-use it. There will be another location to drill at eventually, and oil platforms CAN be moved."
The professor looked at me skeptically. "You are the CEO. You have to report to all those Petroleon shareholders, who may very well call for your resignation over this. You are going to tell them you just spent all that money ... for nothing?!?"
I sighed. "Better a $350 million write-off than a $350 million write-off AND a net operating loss of $42 million."
"But what about the oil down there? You cannot just LEAVE it," she insisted. "Oil is a precious natural resource, one that globally is in extremely short supply."
"I'm not going to compound a mistake by making another one. If it's going to cost me more money to get it than I'm going to make, it's not worth it. Period. Cap the well and hope that one day we figure out a way to pull it up in a way that doesn't cost so much."
"Lucky for you, you are quite right." Viktoriya nodded as she stopped badgering me, then stood erect and surveyed the rest of the class. She took one step forward, and then said, "I am referring, of course, to..." Without looking, she pointed straight at Sasha, who was sitting beside me.
"Sunk costs," Sasha replied smartly.
"Absolutely. Something that ALL of you should have learned cold in freshman econ, riiight?"
There was a nervous murmur amongst the students, but we all seemed to get it. "Very good. Now, what is my point?"
That, we didn't get. Not yet, anyway. But that's what class is all about.
The four of us walked back to the house for our regular Monday post-Isakova team meeting. There wasn't much to discuss today, as Viktoriya hadn't given us anything new to do. So we pretty much just hung out in the living room chatting about whatever crossed our minds.
Well, Bert wanted to teach Sasha NBA 2K6 so that we'd have a fourth. But she declined, and after confirming that everyone planned to stick around, I decided to start making dinner.
The beef was defrosting and I was just finishing chopping up vegetables when Sasha came into the kitchen. I noticed her leaning against the doorway and asked, "What's up?" before returning my attention to the cutting board and the very large, very sharp knife I held in my hands.
She didn't reply right away, so after a few more chops I glanced back at her and jumped, surprised to find that she had come forward and was standing right next to me.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" she stammered immediately.
"It's okay. Ten fingers still attached." I still checked my hands, just to be sure.
"I ... uh ... You're going to be busy for a while, aren't you?"
I shrugged. "There's not that much more prep to be done. I'll be cooking soon."
A new voice suddenly cut in. "I can do that."
Both Sasha and I turned around to find Kim standing in the doorway. She stepped forward and glanced at the food laid out. "Brooke's Chow Fun recipe? I can cook it."
I furrowed my eyebrows, not yet understanding. But Sasha looked relieved and said, "Thanks, Kim."
Kim just gave her a serene smile.
Then Sasha turned to me. "Uh, can we ... talk?"
I blinked, then glanced at Kim, who gestured with her eyes for me to go with Sasha. Blinking again, I set down the knife and replied uncertainly, "Uhh ... sure, I guess."
I felt a little déjà vu as I followed Sasha up the stairs to my bedroom. She was even wearing the same jacket she'd been wearing that Sunday night she'd come to my house to confess all. Tonight, she went over to the same chair in the sitting area, turning and sitting down on the edge of the cushion while clasping her hands together nervously.
I kept my eyes on her as I slowly lowered myself into the opposite chair. Her eyes were on the floor just to my left, and I watched her collect herself for a moment before turning those big brown eyes to me.
"I wanted to apologize for my ... outburst ... this afternoon."
I blinked, still not completely understanding. "Outburst?"
"That thing!" she gestured out the window, looking a little frustrated that I wasn't immediately following her. She hung her head and then explained quietly, "About you screwing every hot babe that crosses your path."
"Oh, that. Really, it's fine."
"No..." she insisted with a sigh, seemingly more disgusted with herself than anything. "It's not."
Still not totally following, I waited her out.
She screwed her face up a couple of times, and then turned to look out the window once more before taking a deep breath. "I like you, Ben," she suddenly blurted.
I shrugged. "I like you too."
Her gaze now snapped right to me. "I LIKE you, like you. And that scares me."
Ohhh...
"But I don't WANT to like you. I mean, I want to like you, but just as a friend."
Oh.
She sighed and grabbing the armrests, she pushed herself up and paced across the room. Without looking back at me, she kept talking. "Here's the thing: You're not my type. Well, physically, I'm attracted to you, but I really don't go for bad boys."
My eyebrows rose. "I'm a 'bad boy'?"
"You're Big Ben. Of course you're a 'bad boy'."
I screwed my face up. Despite my success in getting laid, I'd never considered myself a 'bad boy'. Bad boys mistreated women, used them for selfish pleasure, and discarded them when they were no longer interested. Now I'd had a lot of sex with a lot of different girls, but I liked to think that sort of description didn't apply to me. But before I could really respond to that, Sasha continued.
"But I thought I could keep a lid on my attraction to you. I've had crushes before, sometimes on guys I knew I shouldn't like, and I've always dealt with them. I even had like a two-day infatuation with you last year before I let that pass. Only this one hasn't lasted two days. It kind of hit me at the beginning of the year when I saw you again and hasn't really gone away. It's not like I broke up with Rod so I could be with you or anything, but these ... feelings ... they've kind of stuck with me."
I blinked and pursed my lips, still trying to process everything she was saying. After more than a year of Sasha being an entirely closed book, I felt like I was getting whiplash from the suddenly wide-open avenues of communication between us. First there was the day she'd broken up with Rod, then the revelation of her background after Nocturne, and now this.
"But I knew nothing would ever come of them. I knew you thought I was pretty, and being a guy you couldn't help but ogle me every now and again; but you kept your hands to yourself, even when we hugged, and you never gave me any indications that you'd ever make a move on me."
I winced, now immediately thinking of the two times I'd tried to kiss her. The second was just over a week ago, that Sunday night when she'd dropped by to explain her stripper back story. But the first...
"And then you tried to kiss me. You'd just poured your heart out about Dawn, and your head had to be spinning with a riot of emotions. I've been there. I know what it's like. I may not have been into dating, but I've got hormones and romantic notions just like any other girl. But that was just the first time. Since then..."
I took a deep breath. "Yeah ... Since then..."
We just looked at each other for a moment, weighing everything that had been developing between us. The additional time we'd been spending together. The hugs that lasted just a little longer than they needed to. The way we'd started sitting next to each other both in class and around meal tables. There had been nothing overt, no out and out flirting. But it was enough that our friends had started to notice, and even just this afternoon Bert had cracked his joke about us kissing and making up.
"Ben ... Do ... you? Like me?" she asked nervously, with some hesitation between each word.
I took a deep breath and wrung my hands together, looking at the floor. Most of the reasons why I couldn't start a relationship with DJ were the same reasons I couldn't be with Sasha. I wasn't ready. I wasn't stable. "I shouldn't," I said after an extra moment's thought."
"Because of Dawn?" Sasha asked quietly.
"And because of Rod," I replied. "We're both lonely. There's a part in each of us that's looking to fill the empty void inside."
"That doesn't mean we aren't right for each other," she said before grimacing and clenching her mouth shut. She turned her back to me and stalked away two paces, balling her fists and hanging her head. And then she recited as if it were a mantra, "We're NOT right for each other. We're NOT right for each other."
I found that amusing, for some reason. Chuckling, I cracked a smile and commented, "You REALLY don't want to like me, do you?"
"I can't. We CAN'T be together. You're no good for me."
"And why is that? Because I'm a bad boy? Because I really don't think I'm so bad."
"Do YOU really want to be with me?"
I held my hands up. "I'm not saying that. I don't think a relationship is healthy, for either of us. You're coming off a break-up, and I'm still hung up on Dawn. We really SHOULDN'T hook up. But I guess I'm a little curious – and a little hurt – that you insist so firmly that we'd NEVER hook up. It's a little bit of a blow to my ego."
"Ha. You're so eager to add one more notch to your belt?" Sasha cracked.
Just like her dig earlier in the afternoon about screwing every hot babe, that one stung. The hurt was evident on my face, and Sasha's expression instantly turned apologetic.
"Ah, shit. I'm sorry. I was just coming up here to say sorry for doing that the FIRST time."
Grimacing, I canted my head and looked over at her with a bit of a miffed expression. "Is that what you really think of me?"
"Nooo..." she said first before sighing and giving me a contrite look. "Well, yesss..."
I was taken aback at her correction, and she quickly returned to her chair and sat back down on the edge of the seat. "I've had this ... this ... notion of you stuck in my head. I heard of the Big Ben reputation long before I ever got to know you, and then all of a sudden Professor Ice put me on your project team. I was so upset that I instantly told myself I was going to see the professor after class and demand that I be assigned to a different team."
I jerked my head back. "Really?"
"For like two seconds. But then I decided I'd give you the benefit of doubt and see how it all worked out. Despite the reputation, I sort of figured I was safe as long as your girlfriend was there, and since I DID know you and Kim were her pet students I thought I had a good shot at getting an 'A'."
"And we all did."
"We did. And you proved to me over the course of the entire year that you could keep your hands off me. But at the same time, the rumors about you ... and Dawn ... kept flying."
I shrugged.
"It's hard to separate fact from fiction when all you have is hearsay. But whatever embellishments may have been added, it seemed to be true that you and she were cutting a pretty wide swath through the coed student body."
I shrugged again.
"You're a man-whore, Ben."
That rocked my head back again. But just as I started to protest, she held up a hand to forestall my argument.
"No matter how you explain it, or how you justify it, you have sex with a LOT of girls. You may not like the term, preferring to think of yourself as a 'player' or a 'gigolo' or just an ordinary guy who happens to get laid a little more frequently than most. But in my head, the term I used was 'man-whore'."
"That's not fair."
"No, it's not. But it's kind of accurate."
"Since when? Look, there's a lot of stuff that has happened in my past. I'll admit, my ... uh... 'socializing' has been a little different compared to most."
She rolled her eyes.
"Okay, fine. I did a good bit of man-whoring in my earlier years, enough to get this reputation. But ever since you've really known me, since last year when we started the project team?"
"Then you and Dawn did your thing, and the reputation didn't exactly die down."
"Well it SORTA did."
"What, the Chevelle thing? That's just it. I've TALKED to Chevelle since the end of last year, and she changed her story. Apparently you quite violently rocked her world, and that's not something I'm getting on hearsay. That's straight from the source."
I bit my lip and sighed. I didn't really have much of a defense against that.
Sasha looked at me for a long while, fire in her eyes. But after a moment, that fire seemed to fade, as did the firmness of the line her lips had set. Eventually, she pursed her lips and glanced away from me, and then leaning back in her chair she sighed and added, "But that was last year. THIS year, you've been different."
I perked up a bit at that. "Different ... good?"
She gave me a small smile. "No man-whoring, at least as far as I can tell. Oh, DJ is certainly into you, especially ever since she broke up with her boyfriend. But apart from her, I haven't heard a single thing about Big Ben this semester. You're reeling from the break-up with Dawn, still in mourning perhaps. It's understandable. Maybe you're just off your game and you've actually been striking out. I don't know."
I gave her a 'give me a break' look.
She sighed and said, "Whatever the reason, you haven't been quite so ... intimidating ... these past couple of months."
"I was intimidating?"
"Maybe intimidating is the wrong word. You've been less ... dangerous. I used to worry that if I so much as touched you I'd somehow find myself half-naked in your bedroom. I had to work to be sooo careful not to give you an inch because I was paranoid you'd work your mystical magic on me before I realized it." She gave a musical laugh. "Maybe you ARE right now..."
I waved my hands. "No magic. Zero. Zilch."
She gave me a frustrated look. "Like now. You seem so down to earth, so helpless ... So... human."
"I am."
"I know that. I saw how vulnerable you could be when ... that day ... The day you told me everything about Dawn."
I inhaled sharply at the memory, but stayed calm and exhaled the breath slowly.
"I started feeling less scared of you. I felt comfortable around you. And then you had to go and try and kiss me."
I winced.
"But I figured out pretty fast that you weren't putting a move on me or anything. You were genuinely distraught, and that made me start to see you more as a regular person. Just another guy who got his heart broken."
I nodded.
"And that's when I started to let myself actually consider the idea of ... of ... finding out what these feelings I have for you really mean."
I arched an eyebrow. "Despite the blatant insistence that we would never, ever hook up."
"We won't. Never." She shook her head firmly. "I started to consider it, but it's still a really bad idea."
"Because we're rebounding."
She shook her head again. "Because you're still a man-whore."
"Hey!"
"I'm serious. You're a great guy, a REALLY great guy. But you're dangerous. You have this ... this WAY with other women. Even if we got together, I could never trust that I could be your one and only."
"I DON'T cheat."
"You've never had to. Dawn apparently let you run free."
"I wasn't 'running free'. We did things ... uh ... together."
"That's not normal. It wouldn't be that way with me."
"I wouldn't ask you to."
"Wouldn't you?"
I suddenly barked a laugh and stood up. "Why are we even talking about this? It's like we're laying the ground rules for a relationship we're never going to have."
"You're right. We won't."
"But THAT'S it. It's my ego again. You're INSISTING that we could NEVER hook up, even IF we weren't both recovering from broken relationships."
"You're right. We NEVER would. Because you're a man-whore."
"Stop SAYING that."
"But you are. And that's why I can't like you." I had been standing by the window, but Sasha now stood up and walked in the opposite direction.
For a moment, I was worried that she'd just go out the door and leave, but she turned back to face me before getting that far.
"I like you, and I always knew that you were attracted to me, but it wasn't until just recently that I started to really believe that you liked ME as well. The backpack thing last year, I thought you were just being nice. Well, I thought you were working some angle to eventually get into my panties, but I thought you were being nice, and I couldn't really afford at the time to say 'no'. But the little things since then – the way you've looked at me, the way you've touched me – things have been different in the last couple of weeks. And then you went and offered me your jacket on that windy day."
For a moment, I wanted to say that I would have done it for anybody (well, anybody with a nice body and great tits), but that actually wasn't true. Looking back, I had to admit to myself that I'd offered because it was her. And my expression more or less said that.
Sasha saw it and took a deep breath before hugging herself. "I realized you liked me, and I knew -I- liked you, and that scared me. I was scared of falling for you. So I kind of went out of my way to avoid you the rest of the week. Hell, I even took extra weekday shifts at the club specifically to remind myself of what REALLY motivates guys: sex. That's the thing about working there: it's a complete and total love eraser. Lust, maybe ... I have to admit a certain hormone rush doing what I do, otherwise I wouldn't still be doing it. But at the same time, spending hours feeling vulnerable and getting groped at by slimy old guys with bad breath is like the coldest shower for my romantic notions. And when I went home at night, the LAST thing I wanted to do was start a relationship with a man-whore."
"You really equate dancing in a club to being with me?" I asked in that hurt tone.
Sasha considered that for a moment, and then her face softened. She first looked away and then began to turn, spinning slowly as she put her thoughts to words. "Well, maybe not. But it served the two purposes of making more money AND putting me off the idea of being with you. Because you're a man-whore. Only ... you HAVEN'T been a man-whore lately. Which means that MAYBE you can just be a normal guy. And a normal guy I COULD be with. Which means that MAYBE you and me could actually ... ARGH!"
Out of the blue, Sasha reached up and grabbed her head as if she could physically block her brain from continuing on that train of thought. I started walking toward her, my first instinct to hug and reassure this beautiful woman who looked in distress, although I stopped myself short.
Sasha relaxed her grip, instead moving her hands up onto the top her head, just resting them. She gave me a helpless look, saying, "And then we had to go and have THAT class with Isakova."
"Class?" I asked in confusion. "What about it?"
"Sunk costs. What's past is past," Sasha sighed, and a small smile spread across her face like a ray of hope. "All that matters is what happens from here on out. And I can't help but wonder: What would WE be like together if our pasts didn't matter?"
For a moment, I thought about going to hug her again. She was right: I had feelings for her. And she had feelings for me. And if two people really liked each other, who was to say we couldn't make it work?
Well, unfortunately, -I- did. Screwing up my face, I said, "The thing is, we're not corporations. And our history isn't as simple as monetary expenses. What's past ISN'T just in the past. Our feelings are a part of who we are, and the people we used to be with will always remain with us."
Sasha's smile faded, as did the ray of hope in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," I said firmly, although not without regret. "Or maybe it's 'Relax, you don't have to be scared of me'. Because I CAN'T get into any relationships, with you or with anyone else. God help me, I'm still in love with Dawn."
Things got pretty awkward after that. I didn't know what to say. Sasha didn't know what to say. We kind of fumbled around with our words for a minute or two, and then Sasha said that she'd should probably get back downstairs before the others started thinking something was going on between us.
Kim finished dinner without me, and the four of us ate with a relative lack of tension. I was quieter than usual, which put a damper on things since I was usually one of those stirring the conversation. But we got through it and Bert and Sasha then left to catch the BART without incident.
I holed myself up in my room after that, forcing myself to focus on schoolwork. The last time I'd needed distraction, my options were academics, the movie the girls were watching downstairs, and DJ doing her best to fuck my brains out. Tonight there was no movie, and unfortunately there was also no DJ.
She did return a couple of hours later, but along with her came my sister. And when I finally came out of my room to look for help, it was to Brooke's room I went. She called "come in" when I knocked, and was sitting at her desk brushing her hair post-shower while dressed in her "pajamas": brief panties and my Goo Goo Dolls concert T-shirt from high school.
"Hey, bro," Brooke greeted while continuing to brush her hair as I sat down on her bed. "What's up?"
I took a deep breath and then gave her a serious look. "I need somebody to talk to."
She blinked in surprised and sat up straighter. Done with brushing, she grabbed a scrunchy and started tying back her hair, which thrust her C-cup tits against the shirt and showed me two hard nipples that started making me think of DJ's method of distraction. But I focused my gaze on her face and waited for her to finish.
Once done with her hair, my little sister slid off the desk chair and crossed to the bed, saying, "Okay, I'm all ears. But you're sitting in the chair. I've got this feeling that this conversation won't be very short, and the bed's more comfortable."
I snorted and got up, taking the empty desk chair and sitting in it reversed, so that I could lay my forearms on the backrest. Taking a deep breath, I began, "It's about Sasha."
"I know," Brooke replied matter-of-factly.
I blinked. "You do?"
She gave me a 'duh' look. "You're kind of easy to read. Everyone in the house can tell you've been different since she came by the house that Sunday night."
"Oh."
"So I'm gathering this has something to do with the half-hour you two spent up in your bedroom before dinner?"
My head jerked up. "How do you know about that?"
"Kim," Brooke answered with a shrug.
"Kim?"
"She told me. She always tells me what you're up to. Makes it easier for me to look out for you."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "YOU look out for ME?"
She gave me another 'duh' look. "I'm your sister. Of course I do."
"Little sister."
She waved me off like that was immaterial. "I'm still more mature than you."
I opened my mouth to start arguing, but I held myself in check. We were getting off topic, and this wasn't the reason I'd come down here. Looking at the floor as I gathered myself, I then looked back at Brooke and started again. "So about Sasha."
"You didn't screw her, did you?"
I blinked. "What?"
"The new soundproofing helps, but it's not 100%. Kim says she didn't hear any sex noises."
"NO! Can't I spend a half hour in a room with a girl without everybody immediately wondering if I'm having sex with her?"
"No," Brooke replied plainly, that 'duh' expression on her face again.
I rolled my eyes.
"Okay, so you didn't screw her. Kim didn't think so, given the way you two acted at dinner. But I just needed to know."
"Well now you know."
"Why not?"
"Why not what?"
"Why didn't you screw her? Girl certainly WANTS to."
"Huh?"
Brooke chuckled. "I don't need Kim to recognize this one. Sasha's sooo horny for you."
"WHAT?"
Now Brooke rolled her eyes. "My dense brother ... Okay, okay. Looks like we're going to have to take this one from the top. Tell me everything, from the beginning."
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where 'the beginning' would be. Brooke had been around since last year, so she already knew about the project team and the team meetings. I'd told her before about Sasha's boyfriend Rod not taking too kindly to my presence, but really, there wasn't much beyond that. Hell, -I- hadn't known much more about Sasha beyond that ... until Nocturne. Okay, that was the place to start.
"So..." I started. "Did Kim tell you Sasha works as a stripper?"
Brooke sat up straighter. "Wait, what?!?"
I chuckled. "Okay, let's start with that."
Although I started with Nocturne, I backtracked chronologically to also tell Brooke what I remembered about our previous conversations, starting with Sasha's break-up with Rod and my meltdown about Dawn. Brooke interrupted me for a bit with the Dawn-thing, a little put out that I hadn't come to HER with my Dawn-issues, but I reminded her we were talking about Sasha and she told me we'd come back to that one.
Returning back to Nocturne, I then told Brooke a little of Sasha's history on that Sunday night and the events that led to her new occupation. I talked about the wind-breaker thing last Wednesday, and what Sasha had told me about why she was avoiding me and ultimately coming back to tonight's conversation.
I finished up, exhausted after talking for a long, long time. And when Brooke slid off the bed and came over to me, I opened my arms for a reassuring hug.
I didn't get it. Instead, Brooke stopped two feet in front of me and slapped her palm right on my forehead.
"Oww!" I retracted, the chair rolling a few inches back as I did so.
While I rubbed my forehead, Brooke rolled her eyes at me and turned around before spinning and plunking her butt down on the edge of the mattress. "You idiot. Sasha LIKES you."
"I know that."
"No you don't. She came to you tonight because she wants to be with you. She more or less asked you out, and you rejected her."
I frowned, her words not jiving with my recollection of the conversation. "Uh, maybe I didn't explain things right. She said she likes me, but that she doesn't WANT to like me. She didn't come here to ask me out. She came to explain why she'd been avoiding me and to clear the air."
Brooke got up and bopped me on the forehead again, and then stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest. "Shut up and listen, since you clearly didn't do a very good job of doing so with her."
"I heard every word," I protested, not shutting up. "She said point blank she can't be with me because I'm, quote, a 'man-whore'."
Brooke bopped me again. "I SAID, shut UP. She wasn't calling you a 'man-whore' to reject you. She called you that so that you would defend yourself, so that you'd prove to her you wouldn't be a man-whore if you were her boyfriend, and then you'd be together."
"What?"
She rolled her eyes. "If I went up to a cute boy and said, 'I really like you and I'd like to go out with you but I HATE those chunky glasses.' I'm not telling him I WON'T go out with him. I'm telling him, 'Get contacts and we'll be together'. See?"
I blinked twice and frowned, my mind racing over the conversation. It couldn't be ... could it?
"Or maybe," Brooke continued, "'I want to strip you naked and fuck all day, but your goatee is scratchy.' So go to the sink and shave, dumbass."
"That's ... that's totally different."
"Not different, just more extreme."
I arched an eyebrow. "You HAVE been talking to Kim."
"Whatever." She waved me off.
I pursed my lips together, my brain working overdrive as I tried to wrap my mind around this alien perspective. Slowly, I began, "So you're saying that Sasha ... having realized she was developing feelings for me and that I might have feelings for her ... started avoiding me for the last week because she didn't want to have feelings for me ... And yet when she saw me today, she realized she DID want to be with me, despite her concerns. So she came to talk to me tonight to tell me that she wanted to be with me, but she had these concerns. And what she really wanted was for me to reassure her that I really can ... NOT be a 'man-whore'? And that way we could be together?"
Brooke suddenly hugged me. "Yes! He CAN be taught!"
But I wasn't hugging her back yet, still confused. "Wait, you WANT me to hook up with Sasha?"
"Oh, well ... Uh..." Brooke fumbled as released me and leaned back. "Actually, I'm not so sure about that. I was more annoyed with you not understanding what she was doing: coming here to ask you out, more or less. I'm not saying you SHOULD be with her. But ... well ... do YOU want to?"
"I don't know. I mean, I meant what I said about not being ready."
"Okay then. Then don't – don't get together with her I mean, at least not now."
"It's just that my head's still screwed up from this Dawn thing. And then there's DJ to think about."
"You mean my best friend who's still desperately in love with you and would probably shit bricks if you started dating somebody other than HER after all your talk about not being ready to be in a relationship with her? That DJ?"
I sighed. "Yes, that one."
"Yeah, you're not ready." Smirking, Brooke sat back down on the edge of the mattress.
I took a deep breath. "So I guess the first thing to do is apologize to Sasha."
Brooke frowned. "For what?"
"For ... not understanding what she was asking. I didn't really MEAN to reject her. I should explain to her."
"Oh, no-no-no-no-no." Brooke jumped back to her feet, waving her hands frantically. "You can't do that."
"Why not?"
"See, even though you 'rejected' her, you didn't actually reject her, you know what I mean?"
I sighed, feeling my brain start to hurt. "No. Absolutely I don't understand."
"Even though Sasha asked you out, she didn't actually ask you out. That's what she was getting at – finding out whether or not you were interested in dating her – but she didn't actually say the words, did she?"
"What, you mean like: 'Ben, will you go out with me?'"
"Yes. Did she?"
"Well ... not exactly. I mean, she sorta did. If I recall, she said something like: 'What would we be like together, if we could put our pasts behind us?'"
"She just wondered it aloud?"
"Well, yeah."
"And you said it wouldn't work?"
"Yeah."
Brooke shrugged. "Then she never actually asked. The absolute worst thing you can do right now is bring it up again."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Status quo. Be friends. Pretend like she never actually asked you out, which if you think about it, she didn't."
"Even though you just spent ten minutes explaining to me how her entire reason for talking to me was so she could ask me out, if only I could show her I wouldn't be a man-whore."
"Exactly." Brooke beamed.
I'll never understand women.
"Hey man. You not hungry or something?"
"What? Huh?" I blinked and looked up, finding Bert and Kim across the table looking at me funny.
Sasha, seated beside me, gave me an odd look as well. She pointed out, "You've hardly touched your food."
You might be thinking I spaced out for a moment, having been lost in my own thoughts and neglecting to remember to eat. That sort of thing had certainly been happening enough over the last few days as I struggled to wrap my head around the way Sasha was behaving around me after our little "I like you but I can't like you" talk.
I had prepared myself for some awkwardness, for a rejected Sasha to tip-toe around me and nurse her wounded heart. I had prepared myself for an absent Sasha, avoiding me entirely once again. What I wasn't prepared for was an even MORE open and affectionate Sasha, one who was going out of her way to sit next to me or engage me in casual conversation or just generally be in my orbit.
According to Brooke, Monday evening's conversation with Sasha had been entirely about feeling me out for a potential relationship, confessing her attraction while simultaneously bringing up my old faults, in the hope that I would assuage her concerns and express reciprocation of her affections.
I hadn't. Sure, I'd defended myself against the man-whore accusations, but I really hadn't given her any reason to believe I wanted to become her next boyfriend. Instead, I'd flat out told her I wasn't ready for any relationships, and that I was still in love with my ex.
As a result, Sasha started hanging around me even more. I swear I got more hugs and little touches from that girl in the last week than I had during our entire Junior YEAR.
Yes, it's safe to say that I don't understand women, or this one at least.
Bert piped up again. "C'mon, dude. If you're not hungry, I'll eat it."
On cue, my stomach gurgled. Having rushed out this morning without breakfast due to oversleeping, I really WAS hungry. The problem was: my food didn't taste so good, and so I said so, sliding the plate forward. "Be my guest. Tastes like crap."
We'd gotten Chinese, and I'd ordered beef chow fun, a staple of my diet. Heck, I'd started cooking it myself that fateful Monday morning when Sasha and I had gone upstairs to talk while Kim finished making dinner. Maybe that was the problem: I knew what GOOD chow fun should taste like, and THIS wasn't it.
Bert seemed ready to dig in, but Sasha beat him to it. She darted her fork across the table and scooped up a few noodles, tasting them experimentally and then shrugging. "Tastes fine to me."
Bert dug in as well. "Yeah. Fine. You've ordered it here before."
I shrugged. This was one of our regular restaurants, and I'd had the same order before, but today it just wasn't working for me. Pushing my seat back, I stood up and said, "I'm going to go get something else. You guys can split it if you want."
My friends gave me weird looks but didn't stop me, and when I returned to the table five minutes later half the plate was gone, mostly into Bert's belly.
"You know, that's pure economics in action right there," Sasha pointed out as I sat down with a fresh plate of cha siu pork on rice.
"Hmm?" I hummed through a mouthful I'd already shoveled in.
Sasha smirked. "Most guys would be: 'I ordered it, so I'm going to stomach it and stick it through.' Maybe it doesn't taste the best, but they wouldn't want to fess up to a mistake or be thought of as a complainer, so they just suck it down and move on. But not you."
"I'm hungry."
"Merely being hungry would have meant finishing your plate instead of spending the money on a new one," Kim pointed out.
"Whatever. So I paid for a meal I didn't like, fine. What's done is done. I've got three choices at that point: suck it up like Sasha says, go hungry, or chalk up the prior purchase to a bad decision and go get more food."
"Exactly," Bert agreed. "Sunk costs."
"Prior decisions have no impact on future ones," Kim recited.
Sasha's hand suddenly was on my forearm, which made me turn to look at her. From inches away, her big brown eyes were liquid and inviting as she said, "No matter how much you invested in something before, you can't cling to the past. You put it behind you and move on."
Arching an eyebrow, I glanced over at Bert and Kim and returned to my plate. "We still talking about food here?" I asked before shoveling in another mouthful.
"Just a hypothetical discussion," Sasha stated serenely. "Analyzing the way you go about your life. Makes one wonder how else you apply sunk costs, like say ... to the people in your past."
I shook my head while chewing and finally swallowing my last bite. "Doesn't apply. Sunk costs work just fine in theory, or in this case: food. I wasn't emotionally attached to that meal. It's just chow fun, and while I'd rather not see it go to waste in the trash, that doesn't mean I'm going to eat it if I don't want to. Nor was I really attached to the money I spent on it. Sure, if I had the decision to do over again, knowing what I know now, I never would have ordered it in the first place. But the money is spent and I can't get a refund."
"Well, you could have," Kim pointed out. "They take care of their customers pretty well. That is, if Bert hadn't scarfed most of it down already."
"<BURRRP>," Bert cut loose right on cue.
"Then think of it like an all-you-can-eat-buffet. It really shouldn't be all-you-CAN-eat; it should be all-you-CARE-to-eat. Now my mom would hate me for saying this." I stopped and smirked to imagine the disapproving glare in my mother's eyes. "Her theory was that you get your money's worth, and that means shoving as much food as humanly possible down your throat."
"My mom, too," Bert commented.
"Same here," Sasha added.
"My dad actually thought like Ben does," Kim pointed out. "He called it: 'Eat till you're happy'."
"Me, too," I said with a smile. "The money on the buffet is spent. Whether you eat nothing or gorge yourself doesn't matter; you're not getting any of that money back. If you eat too little, then you're still hungry. That's no good. If you eat too much, then you just feel bloated and sick. But if you eat till you're happy – if you eat just the right amount to be satisfied – then you're maximizing your experience."
Bert frowned. "But then you'll get hungry again in a couple of hours, requiring the expenditure of more money, time, and/or resources to sustain yourself. If you eat MORE while still at the buffet, you extend that period absent from hunger, thus gaining more self-benefit."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. If we're going to turn this into a philosophical argument, then let's just say I value NOT feeling bloated over postponing future hunger."
"Your funeral." Bert stuffed another big wad of noodles into his mouth.
Kim eyed him with some disgust. "And you wonder why I didn't want to go out with you?"
With bulging cheeks and several stray noodles sticking out of his mouth and clinging to his chin, Bert shrugged at her and replied, "What?"
Sasha's hand was back on my forearm. "But you don't apply the same logic to the rest of your life?"
I sighed and gave her a serious look. "Some things I do. But people? Especially important people? They're never a sunk cost."
A little of that light in Sasha's eyes went away.
-- FRIDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2005, SENIOR YEAR --
"Wooo!!!"
"Wooo!!!"
"WOOO!!!"
I really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, my little sisters and their froshling friends had already proven to me they could make as much noise as 80+ Tri-Delts, or perhaps it was just the acoustics of this old house. And yet, I was still surprised by the deafening roar that immediately assaulted my ears the moment the front door opened, and they weren't even wooo-ing for me. Not yet at least.
"Ben's here!" somebody called.
"The keg has arrived!"
"Wooo!!!"
"Wooo!!!"
"WOOO!!!"
Okay, NOW they were wooo-ing for me.
For those that don't already know, beer is heavy, at least when it's in keg form. Fully loaded, a 1/2 barrel keg weighs over 160 pounds. It wasn't the first time I mentally bitched and moaned about this house having a front porch with several steps, and even if I went around the yard I would still need to go up stairs to get up the back porch too. I suppose the place pre-dated disability laws on housing. So while I'd been able to roll the drum on its bottom rim most of the way, I still had to lift the damn thing as well.
Sigh ... The things you do for your kid sister.
It had been Brooke's idea to throw a Halloween party at our place. My first thought was: "Isn't Vivian Wang's house your clique hangout?" And the girls had certainly thrown other parties there. But Vivian Wang was renting a 3-bedroom with a much smaller living room, a smaller back yard, and was a little less conveniently located. And this wasn't just a small birthday party for one of the girls; Brooke and DJ were inviting "orbitals" as well, so we were expecting more than thirty people to attend, and maybe even fifty.
Since we'd had plenty of large parties in this place since moving in, I really didn't take much convincing. My only counter was that I should be able to invite some of MY friends as well, and the girls had immediately agreed.
"Tammy thought it was a great idea to have a few more Senior guys around," DJ had laughed. "I had to remind her that you don't have any Senior guy friends, just girls. And then suddenly she got all worried about competition."
It was of course quite sobering to remember that I had precious few friends, male OR female, period. That said, I did mention the idea to my project team, and despite the seeming lack of strength in numbers, all three of them agreed to attend/help me out. Kim had immediately offered to lend me some "adult" company, and this time I was ready to accept. Sasha similarly agreed, saying that she could afford to skip a work shift that night and would rather spend that time with friends anyway. And of course Bert announced that he was in.
It was also Bert's idea to invite some of the Stanford girls, or at the very least his own girlfriend. I also called up Paige, who jumped at the opportunity to go to a real "adult" party, although she wasn't sure she could bring herself to spend an overnight away from April. Unfortunately, Amber was scheduled to be at work Friday evening, and Kady and Noelle had another Halloween party they'd promised to attend. But Bert at least assured me that he and Lynne would both be there to quote, "ride herd on the younglings".
Of course, Bert was nowhere to be seen when I really needed him to help me lift the damn keg. Kim had ridden with me to the liquor store and watched me sign all the waivers assuring the owners and the State of California that I wouldn't let any minors partake (yeah, right). But I didn't want her to try and help me lift the heavy barrel. For about three seconds I contemplated asking one of the male froshlings to help, like Brooke's boyfriend Joel. But with my ego firmly covering my mouth, I just heaved and hoed and got it up the stairs. I nearly wrenched my back doing so, but I did it. Kim opened the front door. And only THEN did some of the guys notice me and announce that I'd arrived with the beer.
I let the froshlings take over at that point while I simply rubbed my back and walked into the house. Brooke, dressed as a Hogwarts student (Hermione Granger or Cho Chang, I wasn't sure which, maybe neither), came by to thank me, a little wobbly on her feet. She tapped my nose with her wand, and then gave me a one-armed hug around my neck and kissed my lips briefly. "Thanks, bro. Now go get dressed!"
I smirked and then gestured for Kim to follow me upstairs so we could both get into character. We each went into our own bedroom, and I went to the closet where my Halloween costume hung in the closet. Reaching out with my right hand, I pulled the material closer, and for a moment I contemplated NOT wearing it.
I mean, come on. I was 21, not 12. Fully-grown adults aren't supposed to dress like comic book characters, especially not characters with masks. I was way past the age of playing "pretend", wasn't I?
You mean like the time Paige had you wear that priest collar? Or Dawn in the German beer maiden getup? Or all of Adrienne's elaborate costumes? Or--
Shut up, you. Those are moments to be proud of. Wearing this, I'll feel like a dork.
The whole thing was Bert's idea, really. He was the one who insisted that the new Christopher Nolan movie had made Batman cool again while adding, "Just you wait for the sequels." I still wasn't sure the movie had made enough to even GET sequels, but I'd enjoyed it enough to let him talk me into it. He couldn't be Batman himself, you see. He and Lynne were dressed as Anakin Skywalker and Padme instead.
Talk about dorks.
With a sigh, I finally pulled the costume off the hangar and got dressed. The black pants were comfortable enough, and I was glad I didn't have to wear tights. The chunky military-style boots had been bought specifically for this occasion, and I figured I might possibly get some use out of them in the future as well. But the less said about the spandex top with padded "chest armor" and head stocking the better. I clipped the black cape into place over my shoulders, and last went the molded plastic mask, which covered the entire upper half of my face as well as the sides of my cheeks. Catching my reflection in the mirror as I pulled on the black gauntlet gloves, I pitched my voice low and did my best to growl like Christian Bale, telling myself, "Showtime..."
Wouldn't you know it, Bert was right. Once I arrived downstairs, I found that the girls really loved my costume. It actually took them a second to figure out who I was, since the costume covered up nearly all of me. But the instant I hit the ground floor, I immediately noticed the three hotties in the living room who turned to give me a very, very appraising glance.
Of the three, none was hotter than the lead blonde. Big translucent wings were mounted to the back of an extremely tight lime green strapless mini-dress, showing off her big (BIG) tits and tiny waist. The girl was tall; taller than me in her matching green heels. Her hair was a shimmering blonde with sparkles and piled up into a tight bun that showed off the lithe gracefulness of her long neck. And she had a face to die for, with sharp cheekbones, dainty nose, and exotically large and liquid sky blue eyes. One look at her in that costume, and I wanted to MOUNT her.
DJ (Tinker Bell) looked ready to do the same. She left her two friends immediately, swooning into my arms and pulling me down for a kiss while murmuring something about her dark knight. Meli Kanemura (Pocahontas) clutched herself to my side, breathlessly pleading, "Rescue me." And Tammy Toth (Daisy Duke) couldn't think of anything witty to say, settling for just squishing her big boobs together and batting her eyelashes at me.
But my attention had already been drawn behind her. Bert and Lynne had arrived while I was out fetching the keg, and they were seated together on one of the couches chatting with a brunette seated on the coffee table. And although her back was to me, I already knew who the brunette was by the outfit she was wearing. You see, I'd seen the outfit before ... at Nocturne.
Sasha was wearing the same sexy tuxedo package she'd worn for that first dance we'd seen her perform, with one minor exception. The top hat, white wrist cuffs, bowtie collar, white corset, and tuxedo-tailed jacket were the same. But instead of skimpy black panties with garter-strapped stockings, she wore black boyshorts over sheer black nylons that provided a little extra coverage over her buttcheeks and were a little less stripper-ish. She still looked gorgeous, and without a second glance at Tammy's proffered cleavage, I bypassed the young sophomore and went straight over to my Senior-class friends.
"Hey, man. Looks good on you!" Bert cheered at my approach.
Sasha furrowed her eyebrows for a second before zeroing in on my exposed mouth and jaw line. Then her eyes popped and she smiled. "Ben? Quite the imposing figure."
I pitched my voice to the Bale-growl. "Evening security. Brooke couldn't afford to actually pay anyone."
Sasha laughed and shook her head. I couldn't help but glance down at her own very impressive cleavage, so often covered up by baggy sweaters but put on full display tonight with nowhere to hide. Adopting my normal voice, I gestured to her, saying, "Love the outfit."
"I'm sure you do. You certainly couldn't take your eyes off it the last time I wore this."
"Not true," I began before dropping my voice down to a near-whisper. "Especially when the outfit went in one direction and YOU danced in another."
Sasha's eyes popped as she blushed and I instantly wished I could take the comment back, especially since we weren't exactly in private. But she giggled immediately and shook her head before gesturing down her own body. "Cheaper to raid my own closet rather than buy a new costume."
DJ turned out to be behind me, and glancing up and down Sasha she wondered aloud, "You had that stuff in your closet?"
Sasha grinned. "Only for special occasions. But moving on, isn't this a party? What do you say we pull rank on the froshlings and go get a couple of beers."
I turned and strode for the kitchen, my arms in front of me as I parted the Red Sea. "Stand aside! Seniors coming through!"
"Old people to the back of the line!" one of the guys manning the keg called back.
"Okay, how 'bout this?" I shot back. "I'm the one who bought and paid for that keg! If you ever want me to buy more, lemme through!"
The guys manning the keg looked at each other, and then smiled broadly. "Seniors coming through!"
It's good to be old.
"Prost!" DJ yelled.
"Salud!" Brooke screamed next to her.
"Gun bae!" Bert howled.
"Genatzt!" Sasha laughed right next to them.
"Umm ... Cheers!" Paige yelled last, a goofy grin on her face as she couldn't think of any other language to say.
All five of them clinked glasses and then downed their shots. Lynne, designated to drive her wasted boyfriend back to Palo Alto tonight stood by and giggled to watch them. Since I lived here, I wasn't driving anywhere, but I still had chosen to go sober tonight and be the responsible adult at the party since ... well ... I lived here.
"Another! Another!" Brooke gestured frantically, urging her boyfriend Joel to pour another round for the four of them standing at the counter of our makeshift bar. Her Hogwarts cloak had opened up to reveal that her white blouse had been tied off at her midriff, and the blue and bronze tie had been loosened to show that none of the buttons were closed anymore.
"Maybe we should do body shots?" DJ suggested while bouncing on her feet, her mouth gaping a little TOO wide open to be pretty. Her strapless lime green Tinkerbell costume was proving woefully insufficient at containing her Double-D breasts, which jiggled nicely and threatened to spill out over the top. And the translucent wings strapped to her back wobbled as well, adding to the bouncy effect.
"Maybe you guys should cool it a bit," I suggested with a resigned smile. I already knew my suggestion would fall on deaf ears. When my little sisters got on a happy roll, very little could hope to stop them.
Brooke turned and shoved her face up to mine, and from only inches away she complained, "Stop being such a sad sack spoil sport. You, big brother, need a drink!" She then burped quite loudly in my face, and then covered up her mouth with both hands while simultaneously grinning wide enough to be seen anyway.
"Well, Paige at least should start slowing down," I stated in an even voice.
"Oh, poo," the little redhead pouted, planting her fists on her hips, which actually helped her Princess Fiona costume.
"Well, are you still planning to drive home to see your daughter tonight? 'Cuz I'm not giving your keys back until I know you're sober."
"Well I'm not! Already called Uncle Frank. He doesn't want me driving home tonight either. So loosen up!"
"Yeah, loosen up a little," Sasha drawled, throwing an arm around my neck. "It's a party!"
I smiled and hugged Sasha a little closer against my side, glancing down at HER obvious cleavage for a moment before forcing my gaze back up to her eyes. I wasn't drunk or anything, but with a rack that nice it's hard not to notice. And given that around thirty beautiful young coeds had been traipsing around my house all night wearing the sexiest costumes they could think of, I'd been titillated quite enough to have sex at the forefront of my brain.
Sasha's eyes were waiting for mine when I finally returned to them, and a little smirk spread across her face letting me know she knew exactly where my gaze had just been. But she made no immediate move to release me, and when Brooke finally got Joel to pour them all another round of tequila, she kept her arm around mine while the five of them came up with new foreign languages to say "cheers" in.
Paige then excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Bert and Sasha decided they'd topped themselves off quite enough. The two of them left the bar, pulling Lynne and me by the hands along with them. For a second, I thought DJ pouted at my departure, but then Sasha had steered me out of line of sight and I settled for letting my friends lead me out the door and onto the back porch.
We still had a couple of beat up couches back there, along with a couple of patio heaters to ward away the evening chill. Lynne shoved Bert down onto the couch and then flopped onto his lap, sitting sideways with one arm wrapped around his neck. And to my surprise, Sasha then did the same thing to me.
"Don't you two look cozy?" Bert grinned.
Sasha did the honors of reaching out and punching him on arm for us, but she didn't deny his words, nor did she move from the intimate position.
Lynne raised her eyebrows, giving me a pointed look and then indicating with her eyes to Sasha. I shrugged and held onto the beautiful brunette in my lap, enjoying her presence for what it was without trying to read too much into the situation. She was drunk and feeling good, and people tend to get a little more touchy-feely than usual when they're like that. But I wasn't going to make a move on her and I was pretty sure everybody knew it.
The four of us chatted about nothing in particular. Lynne made a comment about how the first time she and Bert ever met was at a party much like this one at the beginning of our freshman year, albeit without the Halloween costumes. That got Sasha asking more questions, and both Lynne and Bert wound up waxing nostalgic about that party and about their first impressions of each other, never realizing at the time that they'd end up a couple three years later.
Lynne also made a comment about her and Bert staring wide-eyed at each other listening to the sounds of me, Adrienne, and Felicia in my bedroom the next morning. Sasha thought the story was funny, but at the same time, I felt her sliding away from me just a bit, until she finally stood up and went to the patio heater above us, turning the gas up to increase the temperature. Sure, she'd said before that she got cold easily, but I sort of knew that her shiver was more than just from evening chill.
Just then, Kim (Geisha girl, go figure) came out the door with her head flipping left and right in a search pattern, and she spotted us on the couch. "Hey Ben, minor emergency," she informed me.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Brooke sent me to find you. Apparently the keg just ran dry."
My eyebrows popped. "That's a pretty big keg."
"Well, the froshlings drink a lot. Brooke wants you to go get another one."
I chuckled and shook my head. Good thing I hadn't had any alcohol. "Fine. But I'm getting out of this monkey suit. Last thing I need is a cop pulling me over and wondering why I'm driving through town wearing a black mask. And even without the mask, being dressed like a comic book character probably isn't the best way to assure a liquor store clerk that I'm going to be a responsible, mature adult about handling the alcohol."
"Want some company?" Kim asked.
"I'll go with him," Sasha volunteered. "Otherwise you'd have to choose between going in costume or changing clothes but still having all that makeup caked on."
Kim reached for her cheek without actually touching it, smiling as if only now remembering her painted face.
I got up and Sasha followed me into the house while Kim took our spot on the couch to talk to Bert and Lynne. Brooke found me halfway to the stairs and repeated the same thing Kim had just told me, albeit in a slightly more panicked voice. I gestured with both hands for her to calm down and then hopped up the steps. And it was only when Sasha followed me into my bedroom that it occurred to me that she would want to change as well.
"I put my bag in here for safekeeping. I wasn't going to take the BART back home dressed like THIS," Sasha explained with a smile when I gave her a questioning look. Apparently I'd been out getting the first keg when she'd changed from her school clothes in here and then went down to the party.
"Um, you know, I can go over to Kim's room to change," I offered. "I'll just grab some clothes and be out of your way."
"That's okay," Sasha replied with a shake of her head and a wicked little smile. "Nothing you haven't seen before."
I blinked in surprise, watching as she set down her cane, doffed the top hat, and unfastened her white wrist cuffs. Ever since that night she "didn't" ask me out, Sasha's flirtations had only increased. I've mentioned before how the formerly "hands-off" girl had become quite touchy-feely with me, and it was obvious to just about everyone that she liked me.
But she hadn't made an actual move on me yet, and to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what I would do if she did. I had meant what I said about not being ready for another relationship, and with someone like Sasha, a casual fling simply wouldn't be possible. She wasn't just some horny coed out for a Big Ben Experience; she genuinely seemed into me. Maybe she was rebounding after breaking up with her boyfriend of the past four years. Maybe she actually saw some kind of future for us as a couple. Or maybe she was just fucking with me.
It was kind of hard to tell sometimes. After more than a year spending time around Sasha without her making a single comment laced with any kind of sexual innuendo, it was almost shocking how open she had become with me now, and by extension, the whole study group. She was still far from foul-mouthed, but she wasn't above making a comment that alluded to sex or to her stripper occupation. She'd taken to wearing blouses or camisole underneath her sweaters and then removing the outer layer once inside my house. More than once, she'd deliberately bent forward to give me or Bert an eyeful of her cleavage, along with a smirk that told us she knew exactly where we were looking or perhaps an off-hand comment that Bert should have paid for a lapdance so he could have gotten a better look. But the next moment, that extra undone button would be miraculously re-buttoned and "proper" Sasha would return.
And then there were situations like this. Sasha had followed me into my closed bedroom to undress and then started stripping off her accessories while right in front of me. Instead of accepting my offer to leave, she informed me I could stay and watch, citing that it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before. This wasn't actually the first time she'd used that phrase. Two days ago when she'd caught me checking out her rack, she'd offered to flash me, saying that I'd already seen everything anyway.
Thinking she was joking, I'd smirked and replied, "Sure, go for it." And then she'd promptly slapped my cheek, very lightly and with a big grin of her own.
No, she didn't flash me. Not then, at least.
So despite her words, I figured she was just teasing as I turned around to face the other way, pulling off my mask and then unfastening my cape. I was halfway through getting out of my costume top, struggling to work the spandex material with padded "chest armor" off when she spoke again.
"Can you help me unzip this?" Sasha asked my back.
I froze for a moment with the shirt still trapped over my head. Hunching over, I reached back as far as I could to grab the hem and then yanked everything forward and off. And then unclothed from the waist up, I stood without turning and replied over my shoulder, "You don't seem to have any trouble getting out of that costume on stage."
Sasha giggled musically, answering, "That's true. But would you like to help me anyway?"
I sighed, still with my back to her, and pulled open the drawer in front of me to grab one of my shirts. Between her current teasing, the way she'd snuggled on my lap downstairs, and the general way she'd been flirting and attached to my side all night, I wondered just how drunk she was. I concentrated on that train of thought, reminding myself that this wasn't the real Sasha Serafian teasing me, but a drunken girl who might very well regret what she was saying tomorrow. And I replied quite seriously, "Of course I would. But I'm not going to, and you know it."
Now it was Sasha's turn to sigh, and from behind me I heard the slide of a zipper. "I know, I know. But it kinda kills a girl's ego to have you turn me down."
"Do you REALLY want me to? Come over there and help you?" I asked before pulling on my new shirt.
"Yes..." she replied quietly, and then took a deep breath while adding, " ... and no. You're right, of course. Bad idea."
I nodded and then focused on my pants. The chunky black military boots and pants could probably fly, but better safe than sorry, and I stepped out of both of them. I wasn't nervous about standing in front of Sasha in my boxers. And then it didn't take long for me to get into a pair of jeans and regular shoes.
Behind me I still heard the rustle of clothes, so I remained facing away. But a moment later, Sasha said, "It's safe now. You can turn around."
Actually, it wasn't entirely safe. I turned around and popped my eyes to see a great pair of tits, although they were already half-covered by a nude-colored bra. Sasha smirked at me and thrust out her chest quite purposefully while shrugging on a rose-colored blouse, buttoning it from the bottom up until the bra was hidden and her impressive cleavage was only partially in view. I felt some blood flow divert itself to my nether regions, but I mentally ordered myself to stand down and focused on retrieving my keys and wallet.
Glancing back at her, I asked, "Ready to go?" But Sasha had moved from where she'd previously been.
Instead, she was now standing by my closet, and she smiled while sliding her arms through the sleeves of a fairly oversized jacket... My oversized jacket. After a moment's thought, I realized it was the exact same one I'd offered to her on that windy day, and with it swallowing up her smaller body, I had to admit she looked rather cute in it. Then again, Sasha could look cute in anything, no matter how frumpy she tried to dress. "Ready," she replied.
I didn't comment on the jacket, save for an arched eyebrow. I knew everyone downstairs was waiting, so we didn't dawdle. Sasha followed me out, we put the empty keg into my Mustang, and then we drove to the liquor store.
Returning the first keg meant I wouldn't have to leave a new deposit on a second one, and the clerk didn't bat an eyelash at me needing a refill. We picked up a second keg and started the return trip, having been away from the party for only ten minutes. When we got back in the car, I felt Sasha lay her hand on my leg almost experimentally. I arched an eyebrow, but she just stared at me evenly as if daring me to say something. Instead, I simply shifted the car into gear and headed home. It was a short drive anyway, and we said little, both of our minds on that hand burning a hole through my jeans.
Eager froshling boys met me in the driveway when we returned, so they did all the work of getting the new keg into the house. And Sasha went with me back up to my bedroom to re-don our costumes.
I'd left the Batman getup by my dresser where I'd taken it off, and for a moment I contemplated NOT putting it back on. Would it really be so bad if I went back downstairs in my jeans and a T-shirt? But after a moment's thought, I decided to go ahead and get re-dressed. Still facing away from Sasha, I stripped down to my boxers and then put the black pants and military boots back on. But before I got into the padded top, Sasha called from behind me. "Uh, Ben? Can you help me zip this up?"
Her voice was absent any trace of seduction, her tone more embarrassed than anything. So though I thought it was another tease, I half-turned my head and asked, "Uh, didn't you try that line on me already?"
Sasha sighed. "I'm serious. The zipper's stuck. It gets like this a lot, actually. Probably worn out from so much use. When this happens at the club, one of the other girls helps me out."
Deciding to risk it, I turned around and then promptly bugged my eyes out a bit. Sasha wore the corset, but she had turned her back to me and I could honestly see the zipper stuck halfway up. The thing is, I could also see a good bit of side-boob spilling over the loose top, and I had to take a deep breath before drumming up the courage to go over there.
"Really, it's nothing you haven't seen before, and closer besides," she said in embarrassment. "Just ... zip it and we'll move on, okay? I'm not trying to mess with you."
"It's fine," I said, although there was a catch in my throat. Rolling my eyes to myself for acting so nervous around a half-naked girl, I stepped forward and firmly grasped the zipper. I tugged it down firmly to get it to open up, having to yank twice while gripping the top of her corset to get it unstuck. And then I swiftly pulled the zipper all the way closed a moment later.
"Thanks," Sasha said while turning around.
My eyes popped again when I realized her boobs weren't completely tucked into the corset, erect nipples peeking above the upper edge. She noticed and blushed as she carefully put her breasts away, having to squeeze a bit to press the D-cup mammaries beneath the stiff built-in bra cups.
"Sorry about that," she mumbled, her face still flushed.
"Nothing I haven't seen before," I replied, forcing myself to be calm. I gave her a warm smile, and then started to turn around to finish putting on the rest of my costume.
But before I could turn, two hands on my waist suddenly stopped me. I looked back at Sasha, and she took the opportunity to raise her hands to my chest, tracing the definition of my bare pectoral muscles. She squeezed them experimentally, inhaling sharply as she did so. And then the fingers of her right hand trailed down over my hard abs, a defined six-pack from so many years of thrusting, thrusting, and more thrusting.
Her breathing was shallow, and so was mine. I had been caught completely off-guard by what she'd started doing that for a full minute I simply stood there, dumbfounded as Sasha (... Sasha... ) pawed at my naked torso. But after that first minute, her eyes flicked up to mine. And then I stared at her for an eternity, losing myself in the liquid warmth of her big brown eyes, so beautifully accented tonight with a full kit of makeup unlike so many other days when she'd intentionally dressed down to avoid unwanted attention.
Her hands were still on my chest as she stared right back at me, but then I felt her fingers sliding along my ribcage and around to my back. Her chest was heaving now, her big breasts unnaturally thrust high and spherical by the stiff corset cutting into them from below. And then suddenly her hands slid up behind my neck, grabbing the back of my head and pulling it down while she tilted her head to the side and ravenously mashed her lips against my own.
I reacted automatically, my brain and body both primed to carry out the physical motions of seduction and lovemaking from years and years of constant practice. My arms wrapped around her body and pulled her tight against mine. My cock, already increasing in thickness along with the sexual tension in the air, sprang to full hardness and pressed urgently against her belly. And since Sasha hadn't put her high heels back on, with the pure leverage of height I bent her 5'8" frame backwards, dipping us into a kiss just like in the movies while my hormonal brain screamed joyous victory in FINALLY locking lips with the gorgeous, exotic vision of beauty that was Sasha Serafian.
Like any guy, I'd wanted in her panties from the moment I laid eyes on her during our freshman year. I hadn't thought much of it, just a casual glance from across the room to a fellow classmate in an Econ course. I'd wanted in the panties of a lot of girls that year, and to be fair, I'd actually gotten into more than my fair share. But it wasn't until Junior year and Professor Ice put us together on the project team that I really got to know her. And despite all of my gentlemanly assurances that I wouldn't do anything to her she didn't want me to do, and despite the presence of my very dear girlfriend, deep down of course I still wanted to bone her.
And tonight, I just might get to. Her tongue parted my lips and she moaned while hungrily devouring me. Her head came up, pushing me back and twisting us to our sides until she actually pushed me over and I fell flat on my back across my bed. She grinned, a predatory growl emanating from deep within her throat before she bent and nibbled at my six-pack which she'd been admiring just moments before. She didn't linger, kissing her way higher up my chest and climbing up onto the bed, her knees parked on the mattress to either side of my waist. And then as I scooted a little further back so that I was more fully supported on the bed, she planted her hands behind my head and kissed me again.
All this happened so fast that I didn't have time to really think. I wasn't concerned with our friendship, or our history together. For more than two months, my only lovers had been Paige, Brooke, and DJ, and the sexual creature inside me reveled in the taste and feel of new woman. My hands found the zipper to Sasha's corset once again, and it proved to slide open much more easily than it closed. I unzipped her completely and then felt the stiff-boned shell drop onto my torso while my hands gleefully stroked her now-naked spine. Sasha quickly yanked the garment out from between us, tossing it off the bed. And then she dropped herself onto my chest, letting me feel those firm big boobs mash against my pectorals while she did her level best to shove her tongue down my throat.
But that's when my brain started to wake up. Perhaps it was because I tasted the tequila on her tongue. Perhaps it was because Big Ben started to really want out of my shorts. But whatever the reason, that was the moment when I really started to remember just WHY Sasha and I had never done this before. And about three seconds later, I stopped kissing her and cupped my hands behind her ears to hold her head and get her to stop as well.
Almost comically, her lips smacked in the open air trying to meet mine once or twice after I pried us apart. But she quickly got the hint and opened her eyes to really look at me, smiling as if she expected me to simply change the direction of our coupling, perhaps to get more of our clothes off. But I simply stared at her, the lust fading from my eyes while genuine hesitation took its place.
"What are we doing?" I asked quietly.
Biting her lower lip sexily, she undulated her body to press her naked tits a little harder against my chest. "I think you already know."
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
Her eyelids dropped halfway and she purred. "Yes. I'm sure." As if to emphasize her point, she dropped a hand between us to feel my erection, rubbing it thoughtfully before hunting around for my zipper and getting a grip on it.
"Sasha," I began softly. "You've been drinking tonight."
"Buzzed and happy, but not drunk and incapacitated," she stated firmly. She stole a kiss from my lips while dragging down my zipper, and then darting her hand inside my baggy military pants she wrapped her fingers around my throbbing cock. "I know what I'm doing, and I've wanted you for a while. I think I've made that point pretty clear over the past few weeks."
"Not so clear. You like me. I like you. We both know these things quite clearly. But we haven't acted on them before now and there's a reason for that."
Sasha huffed, setting her jaw. Her dark eyes glowed for a second, and then pulling her hand off my cock, she planted both palms on the bed beside my head and glowered down at me. "You know, for a supposed man-whore..." she growled, " ... you think too damn much." And then she kissed me again.
Just then, the door burst open. Sasha jerked at the noise and rolled to the opposite side of me, scrabbling at the comforter and trying to pull it over her nakedness. She wasn't very successful, since we were both lying on top of it and there wasn't much slack, but I raised myself up on one elbow and twisted to give her a better shield while frowning at the guy standing in the doorway on unsteady feet.
"Uh... shhhit. I'm shhorry, man. DJ told ush this room miiight be fuh ... fuh-ree," he slurred. Behind him, Tammy Toth peek over his shoulder with wide eyes and a hand clapped over her mouth.
I just frowned at him, and he gave me one more "Shorry" before closing the door and backing away.
Once the door was shut, I quickly rolled off the bed and went straight to it, flipping the lock to make sure nobody else came barging in. And then I turned to survey the damage.
Sasha was flat on her back, one arm covering her boobs and the other covering her eyes. Scratch that, she wasn't covering her eyes so much as she was rubbing her forehead with thumb and forefinger. And the grimace on her face was not the expression of a girl who wanted to pick up where we'd left off.
"Hey..." I began cautiously. "You okay?"
"No..." she replied after a second's thought. "No, no I'm not."
"I'm sorry about that. Should have locked it. I thought we'd just change and get out and it never occurred to me somebody might come up here and try to--"
"No, no. It's not the door. That's not it."
Sasha sighed and I waited her out. Her teeth were clenched and now she was actually covering her eyes with both hands, her elbows sort of obscuring her breasts although she didn't seem to be too concerned with that anymore. Her fingers crinkled in like she was trying to grip her face and pry it off. Two seconds later, she rolled off the bed so abruptly that I jerked in surprise. And then all I could do was watch her as she squatted down to her duffle bag and started yanking out clothes. I watched her from behind as she slid her bra on and fastened the clasp at her back. Quickly, she pulled on one of her ubiquitous baggy sweaters, skipping the rose-colored blouse she'd worn to the liquor store. And then she hurriedly stepped into her jeans.
I'd figured out that Sasha was running away, and I approached while giving her space, squatting down a good three feet in front and to the right of her while offering forward a hand palm up. "Hey ... You can talk to me."
"Not now, Ben," she replied to the floor, not looking at me.
"C'mon," I said casually. "It's a party. Let's get back in costume and go downstairs and enjoy our evening."
"After what we just nearly did?"
"If you're regretting that, I can forget the whole thing happened. We can go right back to the way things were before."
Sasha's eyes finally whipped over to mine, as cold now as they'd been glowing before. "Coming this close to fucking you isn't a sunk cost, Ben. I can't just forget it. I can't just put it in my past and move forward. This was a bad idea and I shouldn't have done it."
"Sasha..."
"No, you were right: People aren't sunk costs." With that, she stood up and slipped into her shoes. Her duffel bag went over one shoulder and she grabbed the handle of her backpack. And then without another word, she practically raced for the door and went outside.
I didn't even turn as she brushed past me and left. I remained squatting where I was with my back to the door, taking deep breaths filled with regret. But eventually I stood up and stared at the empty doorway for a long few moments, wondering what the hell had just happened. I couldn't remember ever being in a situation like this before. At least when Dawn or DJ or Adrienne or anyone else pushed me away, I had some sense of who they were and could at least attempt to wrap my head around what was going on inside theirs. But even after this long being her friend, and the abundance of time we'd been spending with each other these last few weeks, I still didn't understand what made Sasha tick. Which meant that I didn't understand either why she'd practically mounted me OR why she'd bolted just now. I just didn't get it.
Yet another mystery to the woman that is Sasha Serafian.
Unfortunately, I couldn't dwell on her too long. I couldn't stay up here, isolated with my thoughts. Not tonight. There was still a party going on downstairs, and I was still the responsible adult in this house. If something bad were to happen to either Brooke or DJ (or even Kim), I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. So I zipped up my fly and re-buttoned my pants. I went over to my spandex top and with a sigh, pulled it over my head. One cape, one mask, and two gauntlet gloves later, I was ready to go. But just before I walked out the door, a sudden thought came to me.
Did he say DJ sent him up here?!?
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