It was homecoming and after the game we were to go to his best friend, Steve, a senior, apartment for some drinks before dinner and the dance. It was a warm late October evening so I put on a long blue with white print halter dress, blue French cut panties and white heels. Harry picked me up and off to Steve’s we went. We had about three or four beers with Steve and his fiancé’ Jan, a beautiful redhead in the Reba mold, before we headed to the dance. Another two beers in the car and I was high as a kite when we arrived.I don’t remember much about the meal but I do remember drinking 7 and 7’s all night long. Harry wasn’t much of a fast dancer but loved to slow dance, holding me close and kissing my neck as he squeezed by bum. I noticed his hard on seemed bigger that night and as we danced I reached down and felt it and realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. That gave me a rush that made me so wet I wanted to lay him right there on the dance floor. They played three slow songs in a. ? I think it was. My body had reacted in a particular way to the sounds, and though I halfheartedly tried to tell myself that it was probably just someone who had fallen asleep on their books, the changes I felt within my pants belied that theory.I became aware of my restlessness, an urge to move, uncovered by another’s private ritual. But to get up and walk around, as if nothing had happened, seemed a violation of that sanctity. (Until then, my idea of sanctity had been maintaining the silence of that floor of the library, but in that moment my understanding had broadened.)Holding my breath, and taking care not to bump anything, I rose and looked over the walls of my study desk to scan the area.Two rows ahead of me, at a similar desk, hidden from nearly everywhere else on the floor, was a young woman. She was small, with long black hair and light skin, sprawled back in her chair, one hand idling next to her face. Her black leggings made clear the subtle curves of her thighs,.
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