Chase Hollander never smiled, never joked around.
He always smelled of cigarettes and alcohol.
And he had a sadness in his eyes that seemed to well from deep inside him and pool around his shoulders as if the weight of the world rested there.
Rachel told me once that his wife left him when they lost a child or something. Something like that could break any man, I thought. It was obviously doing a number on Chase Hollander.
I looked out the window at the front of his house. It was a little one-bedroom bungalow in the older part of town. The paint was peeling. The windows were dirty. The grass needed cutting. The hedges needed trimming. His car, an old Beamer that had seen better days, was parked crookedly in the driveway.
I tugged the key out of the ignition and leaned in to quickly check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I stared into my eyes as my brain, my heart, and my pussy had a quick conversation to make sure this was really what I wanted to do.
After a moment, I felt my nipples getting hard beneath the T-shirt and the crotch of my yoga pants getting warm.
I took that as a sign from my body to get the hell out of the car and into Chase Hollander’s arms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Chase
Funny what the thought of potentially deflowering a virgin would do to you. Suddenly, I was worried about how I smelled and how fresh my breath was and how clean my clothes were and what a shit hole my house was.
I finished shaving and then brushed my teeth three times and rinsed with half a bottle of Listerine. Odd. I could drink straight whiskey and gin without batting an eye, but rising my mouth with Listerine was horrible! No wonder this shit killed germs; it literally drove them from your mouth by its taste.
I didn’t know what one wore to take a girl’s virginity.
Was I taking it or was I accepting it?
I mean, she did offer it to me, did she not?
Maybe I should have just stayed naked and wrapped a sheet around me like a Roman toga.
Or used the old Mexican poncho Emily and I had brought back from our trip to Mexico. I could wrap it around my waist like an Aztec.
I had no clean underwear to put on, but I found a fresh pair of sweat pants and an old T-shirt in the dryer. I pulled them on and looked at myself in the mirror.
All I saw looking back at me was me.
I was clean, with fresh breath, but it was still me.
So much for trying to impress.
I heard a car pull up out front. I went to the living room and peeked out the window. There was a beat-up Honda sitting at the curb. There was a girl inside. Audrey Ross. Holy shit, she had actually come to have sex with me. Shit…I hoped I didn’t disappoint.
As if to respond to my self-doubt, my cock twitched a little inside the sweat pants. I honestly jumped a little when I felt it move. At first I thought there was a bug in my pants. I pulled open the waistband of the sweats, and sure enough, my long-dormant cock was plumping up. Not fully erect, mind you, but plump, just from looking at the girl sitting in the car outside.
I shoved my hand in my pants and wrapped my fingers around my cock as I watched her checking herself in the car mirror. My cock went from plump to semi-erect. I tugged on it for a minute as I watched her through the slit in the curtain. My cock stiffened a little more. When she opened the door and got out of the car, my cock sprang to life, undoubtedly because my eyes saw the tight yoga pants she was wearing.
What a sight I must have been: a forty-three-year-old man with no life and a drinking problem, stroking his cock while he watched a twenty-two-year-old virgin walk up the driveway.
How fucking pathetic was that.
When the doorbell rang, my cock immediately went flaccid. Thank god. This scenario was already too unbelievable. God only knows what she would have done if I’d opened the door with a full boner in my hand.
I took a few deep breaths, tried to remember how to smile, and opened the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE: Audrey
I caught him watching me through the curtain as I walked up the driveway toward the front door. I stepped onto the small front porch and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
My finger rested on the doorbell for a moment.
Press it, Audrey, my brain said. Or was it my pussy talking now? They sounded so much alike at the moment.
I pressed the doorbell and took a step back. The door opened a second later and there stood Chase Hollander in a pair of gray sweatpants with a tiny wet spot on the crotch and a Metallica T-shirt that was probably older than me. It had been black at one time. It had faded considerably with age.
“Uh, Miss Ross,” he said with a forced smile on his face. He stepped aside and held out his hand. “Please, won’t you come in.”
“Thank you, Professor Hollander,” I said formally, taking a deep breath and ordering my feet to move. I stepped inside and waited for him to close the door.