The first time she ever laid eyes on Matt Cranston, she thought he looked like Thor, the warrior god. He was even holding a war hammer (no cape though, no funny hat). That's because she spotted him at a track and field exhibit.
He was tall, well over six feet, and blond as a Norseman with crystal blue eyes. Each muscular thigh looked to be about the same dimension as her 28-inch waist. As he swung the hammer, his gorgeous tight butt gave a visual treat to every woman in the stadium (and some of the men, too, but that's a different story).
And his biceps; take me home and put me to bed, were the kind that every woman wants to find herself enfolded in for that magical kiss good-night. Bonus! Unlike many of the other athletes, he had a neck.
She wanted him.
There was just one small problem with that; she was a freshman. At the small, private college, upperclassmen were frowned on for "poaching" freshman girls. The little lambs were away from home for the first time, you know. They were young, naïve, and impressionable. And a lot of them were virgins.
Theresa didn't let this class-rank thing spoil her vision. Breathlessly she went back to the dorm and gabbled to her roommate Cissy about this dreamy guy. "He's gorgeous!" she squeaked.
Cissy frowned and tipped her head to one side. She was a sophomore. At a small school like this, everybody knew everybody. "Matthew Cranston..." she mused.
That slowed Theresa down a little. "What?" she said.
"Well-l-l-l...." She hesitated and literally patted her friend on the head. "Good luck, sweetie," she said. "Many women have tried to scale the glass mountain."
This didn't deter her intentions. In fact Theresa felt that this must mean she was Matt Cranston's destiny -- he hadn't met the right woman yet, because that woman was her. She started educating herself about track and field, and found out when the team practiced. When she could, she happened to be walking by the field as their practices were ending. Theresa looked as innocent as she possibly could, la-dee-da, beautiful day, isn't it?
By a magnificent stroke of good luck, the freshman got her chance one evening in the first week of October. She spied him in the library -- of all places! -- on the second floor. Trying not to smile too broadly, she took a place across the table from him.
He was hitting the books pretty hard so he barely glanced up when she sat down. Nonetheless, she gave him her best friendly-but-not-too-eager smile. She pulled a text out of her backpack and pretended to study. Of course, she could have been reading Gone With the Wind upside-down and would not have noticed.
* * *
As soon as she came into the room, he recognized her. She'd been hanging around the fieldhouse, trying to be cool about it. Did she think she was invisible? Her hair was honey blonde and her eyes were sea green. She had the typical Barbie figure of a freshman co-ed, but it was really her ass that got his attention. It was perfect, so round and proportionate to the rest of her. He often hung back in the crowd, just to watch her walk. He sized her up pretty quickly: sounding her siren song, she probably had little concept of the real effect of her invitation. Men his age were basically animals in tennis shoes.
And he was one of them. He knew it and tried to keep his instinct in check. But she was making it hard -- oh, yes. Her smile, her firm bustline, her trim waist, and most of all, her luscious bottom added up to an invitation to mayhem. She looked virginal, he thought. He bet she had never had a man's cock rammed up her ass.
He wanted to be that man.
As he sat there in the library, he found it impossible to keep his mind on textbook biology. A far finer example was within arm's reach. He fantasized about simply ordering her to stand up, bend over, and lift that denim mini-skirt. He couldn't help it. He could picture her smooth skin and thong underwear. He thought about how it would feel to squeeze her cheeks and feel around with his fingers, finding the wet valley and probing her little gold star.
His hard-on grew uncomfortable, then painful. He didn't dare reach into his pants to make the necessary adjustment. Finally he started to gather his things.
* * *
Theresa took her cue when he started to gather his things. She did the same and fell into step with him as he headed toward the door.
"Hi," she said casually. "My name's Theresa."
"Matt," he said, and shook her hand.
"Want to grab a snack, cup of coffee?"
"Sorry," he replied. "I've got an early day tomorrow. Some other time though, okay?"
Theresa was crestfallen but played it cool. "Great!" she said, and walked in the opposite direction. "See ya."
Back in her room she wrote silly words in her journal, okay, diary, about how he had actually touched her hand.
Of course, she haunted the library for a couple of weeks after that, the same weeknight at the same time, hoping to get a glimpse and another try. He never showed, so she had to think up something else. Halloween was around the corner. Hmmm.
Should she be mysterious? Or beautiful? Would he even attend the campus party? Theresa pondered and crafted, meditating far more on these life & death questions than those posed by her Lit teacher. She needed a costume that would blow him away.
Unexpectedly the answer appeared in her textbook. There she was, the goddess Athena, wrapped in a sexy flowing toga-type thing. Perfect. What god would be able to resist such a goddess? Theresa was figuring out her hair-do when the professor cleared his throat.
"Miss Cummings!" he said. "Your opinion?"
She had no opinion, not in the least. "Um, sorry," she blushed. She took a closer look at him. Actually that old Lit prof was kind of cute. She wondered briefly if he was a good kisser.
As soon as the bell rang she darted back to the dorm. "Cissy!" she fairly shouted. "Look!"
Theresa showed her roommate the picture. "It's you!" Cissy agreed. They swatted around some ideas involving shiny hair ribbons and what color eyeshadow for a few minutes. The classic toga was white, but Theresa opted for pink. Pink was prettier.
"What are you going as?"
Cissy looked kind of sheepish. "I think a ballerina."
"No fair," Theresa chided her. "You are a ballerina." Cissy was a dance major.
"It's easy," was her defense. "I already have the costume. Here."
She pulled a beautiful pale dress from her closet. It had the classic tight bodice and full skirt, down to mid-calf. She even had a tiara. Theresa guessed that sometimes, when you wore those things on stage, you got to keep them.
They giggled and planned with the other girls on our floor. Then they Googled pictures of their favorite movie stars, whistling when they came up nude. College was a blast.
* * *
The roommates walked together across campus toward the big old mausoleum where the Halloween dance was held. Theresa was nervous and excited about the possibility of seeing Matt. She couldn't wait to see what he would wear. Maybe he'd even ask her to dance.
Her first year advisor met them on the sidewalk. His eyes lit up when he saw her. "Yeoman Rand!" he said.
Theresa drew a blank but tried to look like she knew what he was talking about. She thought fast, trying to remember his background. Engineering. Was this some kind of reference to the field? If so, she couldn't place it. Her knowledge of engineering could be picked up with a tweezers.
He motioned toward her hair. It was piled high and woven through with sparkly ribbon. "Aren't you supposed to be Yeoman Janice Rand?"
"Athena," she said slowly. She indicated the toga. Get it? Toga? Ancient Greece?
"Right, of course," he said. He looked a little wistful. Telling the girls they looked lovely, he wished them a pleasant evening. Theresa waved after him. "Good night, Dr. Scott."
He walked on, saying something about forming Adonis. He seemed to be quoting something to himself. Cissy and Theresa just looked at each other and shrugged.
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