The Dawn of Darkness (Part 3)

"Do you always get your way?"

She shrugged indifferently then brought the steaming slice of cheese pizza to her mouth. The entire pie had been free, thanks to her slickness with the guy at the counter. She'd been in an abnormal psyche class with him her second year. Josh, she'd purred, I remember you. You used to sit in front of me in Matthews' class. How've you been? He'd been working, he informed her nonchalantly, but the seed was planted. A couple more giggles, hand placed on the throat, drawing attention above and below it. Free pizza and pitcher of beer followed us to our table.

Our roles were becoming more defined the longer we spent time together. While I could in no way be described as socially inept, people for the most part, eluded me. I didn't understand most of them and never really cared to. The unpredictability of emotion was so draining. I used most of the people in my life as an end to a means, but I never drew them to me like she did. When people came into my life, I fit them into it like a jigsaw piece and let them be that part of the picture. She called other people over to her and had them do all of the assembly. Tom Sawyer didn't have shit on this girl.

We'd been studying together for almost a month. It'd been 3 weeks since I refused to play into her little game back at my dorm room. 3 weeks since I hinted at the desire that had been growing in my gut like a tumor. She'd appeared receptive, but there was work to be done, classes to study for, and I was saddled with sense of responsibility that trumped everything else in my life. Work now, play later. She'd listened as I lectured, nodded and blinked and taken it all in.

The next session, I spread the books and papers out on my bed and told her she'd need to sit on the floor. I'd stood and paced back and forth. Her angelic face had peered up at me with a reverential look. The sight of that face, adoring, stirred something in me. I turned my back to her and pressed my fist down on my growing bulge. I can't hear you very well, she'd implored. I turned, hand still covering my crotch. Her eyes flickered to it for a second. LOOK AT ME, I'd demanded. PAY ATTENTION. He face snapped back up. Her eyes blinked clear and blue. Yes, yes, I'm sorry. You were saying?

Our next session needed to be held in a more public atmosphere. My roommate's girlfriend was visiting and he'd asked for space. We were in the middle of the student center, sitting at a desk engrossed in discussion when a handsome 6 foot tall man approached the table. He asked if she would be making it to a party later. My irritation was tangible enough to be able to pull up a seat next to me. She pursed her lips into a tense smile. Sure, you betcha. But I'm BUSY here. That word. BUSY. Said with such force. His reaction was like a dog being brought to a heel next to its owner. Of course, I apologize for intruding. The tense smile replaced with a broad, warm one. A rewarding smile. He smiled in return, slap happy. See you later.

Her head whipped back to me, and the power I'd just witnessed drained from her features. Continue, she'd said. I blinked. If there are going to be intrusions like this all evening, maybe we should just cut our losses now. There was a lump in my throat. This was risky. I stood. Pull out all the stops. Went to close the book in front of me. Her hand went to my wrist. No, please. That was the only one, I promise. I looked down and was met with her glassy gaze. Her eyelids fluttered. Open, close. Open, close. Please don't go. I really want to do well on this test. I sat down and reopened the book.

Now the pizza place. She'd aced her test. She invited me out for food and drink, promising to cover it. As I chewed absentmindedly on my slice, I mused over how she was always able to cover things. I doubted that I'd ever seen her carry money. There was always someone to play, someone willing to be manipulated by her. And there was a trace of boredom in her eyes as she played every last one of them. The ease with which she could bend anyone to her will was turning from a vision of classic art to a cheesy poster of some pop tart princess. What once was a thing of beauty to be marveled at had become a manufactured, dime a dozen, any street corner easy piece.

As I'd shown up at her dorm that evening, I saw a look of relaxation slip over her features. The plotting and scheming was thrown to the way side with me. I'd yet to figure out what had made me so special. I yearned to ask that very question, but didn't want to break that fourth wall. I was enjoying my illusion far too much, even if it would turn out to be an false one in the end. Whatever it was that made her stop her deliberate moves, made her end all of the mental calculations, I was beginning to not give to flying fucks about. Point was, I had her. And as long as I could manage it, I was going to keep her.

The blonde hair was straightened this evening. Normally it was a mop of natural curls. She'd complained about it once, or began to, but I'd spoken up and told her that I couldn't care less about her opinion of her own hair. I wasn't around to be some amateur hairdresser. She'd bit her lip and gone silent. Fact was, I preferred the curls, but I wasn't going to give that to her. Her glassy blue eyes were always framed with way too much black liner and her thin lips were annoyingly penciled in that fashion that attempts to make them look bigger. I longed to scrub her face vigorously with a hot washcloth. Or to make her do it for me. Yes. Even better.

We ate in relative quiet that evening. It was a comfortable silence. Patrons filtered in and out of the cramped restaurant, most of which knew her and waved greetings. Her delicate fingers would wave back to all of them, with that hint of seductiveness her every move held. Her gestures were filled with suggestion, filling everyone with hope, the most seductive and intoxicating emotion of them all.

I was filled with hope myself that evening. My left hand moved to the inside of my jacket pocket and fingered the key resting within it. The room was plain, I'd made sure of that. I'd only brought one item in with me before leaving to go and pick her up. A simple hairbrush, round and crammed with bristles. Blood rushed to my cock at just the thought of it. At the thought of the lessons to be taught. Lessons that had nothing to do with population numbers or chief exports.

Lessons for both of us to learn from.