All In:Playing the Fool(55)

But just because my father didn't let me out of the house or date didn't  mean I was completely inexperienced with guys. If he knew the things  that went on every summer in the dorm rooms at church camp he'd burn  that place to the ground. But even Stephen, the guy I met this past  summer and fooled around with every night, turned out to be a prude.  Despite our escalating groping in his room he always stopped things when  they started heating up because he was "saving himself for marriage." I  was really starting to think there was something wrong with me.

When the Student Health Center had been giving out condoms during  orientation I'd grabbed up a handful, but didn't really feel they were  necessary since, a.) It seemed impossible I could get pregnant since I'd  never had a period. I wasn't entirely sure I'd actually gone through  puberty, and b.) Based on the way things were going, the condoms would  probably expire before I got around to using them.

As I brushed and blow dried my hair in the mirror I tried to figure out  what it was men found so repulsive about me. I was short and thin, but I  was pretty sure guys didn't mind that sort of thing. I at least had  somewhat of an ass and a decent chest.

I had even considered dying my hair a different color. I got compliments  from other girls about how pretty my long, natural auburn hair was, but  maybe that was the problem. Guys didn't want to date me because I was  just a shade away from being a soulless ginger.

It probably didn't help that I'd always been really shy and quiet.  Growing up with a protective father there had never really been anyone  that I could just hang out with or be myself around. I was pretty sure  that the girls I went to school with acted all bubbly and obnoxious, and  that seemed to work for getting them one-night stands. But I was  definitely not looking for that either.

Giving up on trying to figure out why I was social leper, I started  looking for something to wear so I wouldn't melt in the ninety degree  heat and suffocating humidity I had endured every day in this freaking  town. At least I'd been able to go shopping since I've been on my own.  My allowance for groceries had been spent on establishing a less  conservative closet while I lived off of cafeteria food and oodles of  noodles.

After I put on a jean skirt, thin button up blouse and my wedge sandals,  I drank a glass of milk for breakfast, then grabbed my bookbag and  phone to head out early. The sororities had posted flyers in the nursing  building about their blood drive going on today. I knew the blood  bank's supplies were always low, so I wanted to try and get over there  to donate. I had to get an early start so I wouldn't be late for my ten  o'clock Biology class.

My apartment was in a great location, with the school's campus only a  block away. My scholarship included room and board in one of the dorms,  but daddy wanted me to have an apartment off campus. I was pretty sure  he thought I'd be less likely to join a sorority or go to parties, and  he was right. My living situation only made it more difficult to make  friends. I didn't have a roommate, and none of my entirely female  neighbors had bothered to say anything to me other than "Hi," when we  passed in the hallways.

As I started toward the University's food court I couldn't miss the  giant blood mobile parked up against the curb. My nerves suddenly made  the milk in my stomach turn sour. I'd never given blood before, or even  seen it done. As a freshman in nursing it was now or never with blood  and needles, but as queasy as I felt just thinking about it, I might  need to go ahead and change my major.

I walked up to the table right outside the bus. Two other girls were  filling out forms on clipboards and talking to a woman wearing a shirt  with the blood bank's logo.

"Hey, thanks for coming by! Would you like to sign up to donate today?" she asked when she saw me hesitate on the sidewalk.

I took a deep breath. I could do this. It probably wouldn't be as bad as I thought it would be.

"Um, yes, I think so," I mumbled.

"Great! Just fill this out and you can go right on in and get started!"  She was way too bubbly and happy about donating blood this early in the  morning.

I put down my name, date of birth, and contact information; then I went  through the dozen or so more difficult questions. Nope, no blood  diseases, never been out of the country either. I answered the rest of  the question with a shaky hand then handed the form back to the hyper  woman.         

     



 

"Great! Everything looks good so come on up with me," she said, jogging up the bus steps after she read and approved my answers.

As I climbed the steep steps, I held onto the rails for dear life. At  the top I could see the two other girls who were ahead of me reclined in  chairs with needles already in their arms and bags beside them filling  up with blood. The claustrophobic bus was too warm, and it felt like the  walls had started spinning around me.

"You can go right down there to the last seat. Sam should be all set and ready for you!"

You're a nursing major, you can do this! I pepped talked to myself. I  tried to avoid looking at the needles sticking out of arms as I walked  past their seats to the back of the bus. I kept my eyes on the empty  reclining chair, assuming it was my destination.

As I approached the chair, the young and unbelievably gorgeous  technician turned around and smiled at me, making my already unsteady  steps falter. His eyes roamed over me and then he frowned. It was like  he'd been expecting someone else and was disappointed it was only me.  Pretty much summed up my life.





Chapter Three




Sam



It was just my luck of the blood drive draw that I'd get stuck with  "her". There was really nothing outwardly wrong with "her", and that was  the problem. The girl was more than beautiful with her big and innocent  teal eyes, petite little body, long chestnut hair that fell over her  perfect breasts, and slender legs that were sexy as fuck in a short  skirt. Not that I had noticed.

My problem with "her" consisted of the fact that I was about as smooth  as sandpaper when it came to talking to someone like her. Although  slutty girls would regularly approach me, I was tired of all the  meaningless one-night stands. I had pretty much given up on having an  actual relationship, and hadn't put the moves on anyone in, well, what  year was it? It was going to be an awkward twenty minutes as I tried not  to fumble and mumble like a fool, completely embarrassing myself in  front of this beautiful girl.

Drawing blood from the sorority sluts didn't bother me since they were  all superficial and shallow. They dressed and acted like they were sure  things, but didn't understand why guys treated them that way. Their  attention whoring was easy for me to ignore. But with "her", God she  looked sweet and shy, not hung-over or slutty at all. But she was too  young and innocent for me. And too gorgeous. That bastard fate was  throwing her at me and laughing in my face because she was so damn  perfect, and I knew I didn't have a chance in hell with someone like  her.

"Hi, um, she told me you were ready for me?" she said, in her sweet  angelic voice that matched her appearance. Oh baby, I'm ready for you  alright. Why don't you sit down on my lap and feel how ready I am for  you? Snap out of it Sam!

I couldn't immediately give the girl a verbal response. I was still  taking inventory of her assets as she stood before me, my eyes  transfixed as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear like it was  one of her nervous gestures.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I said after I finally made my mouth work. That  was my wonderful personality shining through right there. I either came  across as a dick or a dork. Oh God, and she smelled good too - like  fresh flowers on a spring day. Where the hell did that thought come  from?

I realized I was still staring at her, which no doubt had made her more  uncomfortable. A hint of red was starting to form on her cheeks. Oh,  that so doesn't help. My mind was going through all the inappropriate  things I wanted to do to her that would make her blush even harder. That  short skirt made me want to bend her over and ... dammit! Putting those  thoughts away for later fantasies, I finally cleared my mind enough to  function, and tried to talk to her normally, or at least more  professionally.

"Sorry, still asleep this morning. Have a seat and we'll get started," I  said as I motioned for her to stretch out in the reclined chair beside  my workstation.

My dick and I couldn't help but notice the way her jean skirt inched up  over her knees as she stretched out, or how her button-up shirt pulled  across her ample bust, showing the hint of her white bra underneath.  This was going to be difficult.

I spun my rolling chair around, putting my back to her as I punched my  junk ordering it to behave. I was acting like a fifteen-year-old boy  instead of an eighty-four-year-old man with self-control. Although, I  don't look anything like an eighty-four-year-old man. I'd only been  twenty-six when I was turned, a long fifty-eight years ago.