When I was a senior in undergrad, I'd been living at home mostly during the time I was enrolled to save money, but I had begun to quarrel regularly with my father and demand more independence for myself. The cheapest possible way to accomplish what I wanted was to live on campus. I found that I'd been spending more on tuition and books than I was comfortable borrowing, but felt taking on a little bit more wasn't too terrible for what it provided me.
Naturally, I picked the least expensive and oldest dorm on campus, a place I didn't realize was populated mostly by eighteen-year-old Freshmen until I moved there.
It was, in hindsight, perhaps too much of a good thing. I began to understand the popular kids in high school who'd had cults of personalities built around them. I was twenty-three then and they were four or five full years younger. As a result, I drew a lot of attention to myself from younger women. One of them had several male suiters comprised of a variety of older men, of whom I was only one. She wasn't especially attractive, but she put out, so that explained why she never lacked for male company.
She and I made out only once, in my dorm room. I remember that she was only comfortable taking her top off. Grateful for whatever I could get, we made out for a while, I felt up her tiny tits, and then we parted ways forever. Whenever she saw me again in the halls or by the mailboxes, she put on a look of extreme discomfort and from that point onward I ignored her, pretending like she didn't exist.
But, oddly enough, where I really got a lot of attention was from the black girls. I'd been raised in the almost all-white suburbs, so African Americans were a novelty to me. What was also a novelty to me is that they would be interested in me romantically and sexually.
Part of it is that I was a good guitar player and possessed a strong voice. They would crowd around me in the lounge downstairs and sing along with me. I could have probably had my way with any number of them, but I was pickier than some men. I really wanted this slightly geeky smart girl named LaTonya who wore glasses.
I go for smart women and always have. After making introductions, and getting to know each other a little, we began a flirtation that always went a little bit further each time. Often she was accompanied by a friend who was also interested in me, but there was just something about the friend that didn't appeal to me, so I maintained her as a friend, while continuing to make my overtures elsewhere.
Eventually, the inevitable happened. We were seated in a common area downstairs, our chairs directly across from each other. I remember she was wearing red satin pajamas that accentuated her black skin. Feeling bold, I impulsively placed my hand against the top of her pubic hair, which had a much coarser dexterity to it than white hair. I wasn't anticipating the way it felt. It fascinated me, frankly, and it didn't stop me from keeping it up.
Playfully, she'd slap my hand away each time. This happened on at least four separate instances in a row. Following that, I was certain we'd end up in bed together, finally.
But at the last minute she began to have second thoughts. First, she answered a question that had apparently been circulating around the female population of the dorm: namely, what sort of woman was I interested in? Answer: a smart one.
"I'm not sure I can do this," she said. "If we keep this going we're going to end up doing something freaky in my room."
"What's wrong with that?" I replied.
"I'm just not sure. I've never been with a white boy before."
And I confessed, "I've never been with a black girl before, too."
She took a deep breath and then assented. "Okay, but we've got to make sure that my roommate is not going to walk in on us. And why aren't you more interested in my friend. She really wants you."
I spoke the truth. "She comes on a little too strong for me. You're the one I want."
I didn't know it, but our interactions had attracted some attention from other residents. Before accumulating more, she quickly made her way up four flights of stairs with me following madly behind. We then entered her dorm room, closed the door resolutely behind us, and began stripping clothing.
