Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) (8 page)

“Right over here.” Cate motioned toward a red brick building marked
SOUTHERN A
. “This is me.”

We stood at the threshold of her dorm. I wanted to go upstairs, but she looked like she wanted me to get the hell away.

“What movie are you seeing later?” I asked, desperate for an excuse for the afternoon to continue.

She smiled and stifled a giggle. “It’s a porno.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“No, really. I’m taking An In-Depth Look at Pornography and Its Ill Effects on Women of Every Age, and we’re required to go to a porn fest tonight
.
You know, so we can discuss in detail how degrading it is to women.”

I grasped her shoulder, shaking her in fun. “Stop! You’re playing me.”

“I’m not. Seriously.”

“I need to go to this.”

Cate shifted back, out of my grip. My hand dropped by my side, but itched to get back to her.

“You can’t! My prof would have a field day, and I’m already under scrutiny. It’s a senior-level lecture.”

“Don’t worry. Just tell me where it is, and I’ll sneak in.”

She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing like crazy around her face. “I can’t. Seriously.”

“No, seriously, you have to. This is going to be a blast. And I can buy you a beer after.”

“I don’t do beer.”

“Whatever you want, just tell me where and when.”

“It’s in Cavern Hall at six o’clock,” she whispered. “Pretend you don’t know me.” She turned and opened the door to Southern A. “Thanks for the coffee,” she called over her shoulder as the door was shutting behind her.

I walked backward and waved good-bye like a fool in love. When Cate was out of sight, I quickly adjusted myself in my pants and jogged back to the main drag and over to my apartment.

Like an idiot, I logged onto Twitter on my way back to the dorm.

@HaftonFan101:

Move along girls, @BallerSteele still sworn off s$x on the air with @SonnyB_KnocknBoots. #findanewman #Steeleisoffmarket #maybenot?

@HaftonFan101:

Just heard @BallerSteele was spotted taking a number in the coffee shop. #justsayin #manwhore

@HaftonAva:

@HaftonFan101 That was me, slipping @BallerSteele my roomie’s number! We are wearing him down!

@CollegeBBallFan:

Can we concentrate on ball? This is our last season with @BallerSteele at #Haftonmensball

@HaftonSweetiePie:

@HaftonFan101 @HaftonAva Hey, I thought @BallerSteele was mine? No fair

This was a huge mistake. Twitter was worse than high school.
What is wrong with these people?

Oh, fuck it!

I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I had a porn fest to go to.

Catie

I
slammed into my room and collapsed on my bed, squeezing my eyes shut as I breathed hard. Stanwick was going to kill me, after embarrassing me first. It might even turn into death by embarrassment.

My stupid, stupid girl parts and hormones got in the way for the first time ever. What in the hell was I thinking, telling Blane the place and time for tonight?

Blane Steele, man-whore—albeit celibate man-whore—notorious womanizer, and the object of at least half of my female classmates’ fantasies. The same Blane that Stanwick referred to in her class last week. She would demolish him, and then me. All because I had a crush.

“Arrrgh,” I screamed into my pillow.

Maybe he would be late, and Stanwick would have locked the doors by the time he tried to slip in. I silently prayed to every deity and pagan idol I knew of for that.

Throwing my legs over the side of my bed, I scrolled through the unread messages on my phone.

SONNY
: I just got a message you won’t be in this afternoon?

Ugh,
shit
.

CATIE
: Yes, I sent you an e-mail last week. I have a class project. If you want, I can get an excuse.

SONNY
: Don’t bother. Come early tomorrow. I need the script to be organized for the fest.

CATIE
: I’ll be there as soon as class lets out.

The guy was such an asshole.

SONNY
: Early.

I didn’t bother with a reply. Sonny would insist on his way, and I would end up relenting. I switched to my e-mails and deleted all the spam, only to be left with one actual message regarding paid internship possibilities for the summer.

Finally, a bright spot in my crappy day. If I got the internship over the summer, I could also find a job waitressing and stay in Ohio. Then I wouldn’t have to go home to my sisters and their wrath, or my mother and her constant harping on me to act like a real woman. I’d miss my dad, but that was the breaks. He would understand . . . they didn’t call him Big Anthony for nothing.

After huffing a little while longer, I dragged myself to the bathroom and washed my face, and then changed clothes before heading out the door to Cavern Hall. As soon as I stepped outside, it began to pour down rain; not a light drizzle but huge raindrops that fell from the sky and soaked my sweatshirt, causing my hair to curl more than usual. My little backpack umbrella did little to shield me from the downpour, and I probably looked like a drowned rat when I arrived at the movie.

I pushed my dripping hair from my face as I entered the building, shaking the rain from it and then finger combing the curls into some type of style. Stopping for a moment, I set aside my wet umbrella with the others littering the floor outside the room, and brushed the droplets off my sweatshirt before I walked inside. The room was semi-dark, and I paused before deciding to head to a seat at the far left corner against the wall.

I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight because I’d never even seen a full-length porno. Was there a plot? Was there even a point? Or full frontal? Yes, I’d seen the little snippets shown in class, but I had a feeling what I was about to view was nothing like that.

“Good evening, students,” Stanwick said as she made her way down the aisle. “Welcome to movie night, or
the night you all wake up to the world around you
, as I like to call it. Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to see why I have made this course my life’s work. Women are not animals, or to be used purely for sexual entertainment. Women are people.”

She made her way to the front of the room and stood in front of the lectern. “If you think you will find this evening humorous, or think of this subject with anything other than with the seriousness it warrants, please leave. I will excuse you. I’m giving you two minutes before I lock the door and we begin our journey.”

Only Cora Stanwick could stand at the front of a classroom for ninety seconds and the room remain absolutely still. She checked her watch and glanced at the audience as the back door creaked open and someone made their way toward the front.

I had been in such deep thought as to whether there would be BDSM or sodomy in the films, I’d forgotten who the intruder might be. When I looked up, I saw a tall figure dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and tight jeans.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Blane said in a hushed tone and took a seat on the other side of the auditorium.

Stanwick glared at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m here for the school paper, covering how seriously committed you are to teaching future women’s studies majors, Professor.”

“They didn’t tell me they were sending someone over, but it’s fine. Please have a seat and stay quiet. This is an important part of the learning process.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t call me ma’am.”

With that, she walked over to the door and locked it before hitting the light switch, enveloping us in total darkness. Then the first movie rolled.

At first, I had to stifle a giggle.

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and there was a cop patrolling for speeders on a long stretch of highway. A woman was out for a drive after church, oddly enough wearing a cat suit and heels. Her makeup looked more like she was a stripper than a devout worshipper. She barreled down the dusty road in a sporty cherry-red convertible, the top down and the wind blowing her already artfully mussed hair. Out of nowhere, blue and red lights came on, swirling around the screen with a siren blaring, and the brunette bombshell looked surprised she was being pulled over.

A well-built cop practically bursting out of his tight uniform swaggered over to her car, and she leaned out the window, her lips all pouty.

“License and registration, please.”

“What did I do, sir?”

After a few moments of flirtatious banter, ripe with sexual innuendo, the cop ended up following the woman back to her apartment. As soon as they made it through the door, he slammed her against the wall and pressed his body against hers, kissing her. The kiss was deep and hungry as he practically devoured her, and the camera moved in tighter to pick up every stroke of his tongue. She shoved her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as he pushed his pelvis against hers, grinding his erection into her, which elicited a wild moan from her lips.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel like giggling anymore. The lust was palpable. Passion emanated from them as if they weren’t acting. It was a feeling I wasn’t familiar with, even though I wasn’t a virgin. I’d lost it to kind and sensitive Robby Barnes in high school. He’d lasted thirty seconds, which was for the best because I was barely lubricated down there. It was nothing like the lusty scene in front of me, and I began to squirm in my seat.

I knew it was wrong the way the woman was being portrayed. She was selling her body so she didn’t get a ticket. The cop was rough, not treating her with respect. If I had to guess, Stanwick would make all these points.

The cop dropped his pants and—surprise!—was commando.
Duh
. The woman dropped to her knees and grabbed his enormous length, licking and sucking her way around it as if she’d known him for years. He leaned his head back into the wall and growled while gripping her hair and guiding her up and down his length.

Still busy with the blow job, the brunette moved one hand down her cat suit, sliding down her zipper. Then she shoved her hand inside and began rubbing herself. She looked to be in pure ecstasy with the man’s penis in her mouth and her own hand on her clitoris.

The sucking sounds became louder, his moans increased in intensity, and then he came all over her breasts, now bared and out in the open.

They both stood and laughed, kissing wildly before chatting about what fun it was to role play. Apparently, they were actually lovers, and they liked to pretend to meet in precarious ways on Sunday afternoons.

So, there’s a plot?

The movie didn’t end. Instead, the pair went back to their bedroom, where the guy performed oral sex on the woman before flipping her on all fours. He shoved himself inside her, gripping her hair as he rammed himself in and out until they both reached orgasm.

I was uncomfortably turned on. It was wrong, but I was. I wanted some of that heat; I couldn’t help it. Some primal force rose in me, waking up my libido, taking up residence in my heart and my girlie parts. I wanted to have hot sex.

Like now.

I reached for my water bottle and took a long swig of the cold liquid in hopes it would cool me down.

Stanwick went to the front of the room and started a second movie. I wasn’t sure I could take another. I wanted to run far away—to the nearest sex-toy store or male strip club.

I felt the telltale prickle of eyes on me and looked to the right to find Blane Steele staring at me from under his hood. How long had he been doing that? Was my squirming noticeable?

Luckily, the second flick was focused on bondage, more whips and chains than actual sex, and I didn’t suffer any more sexual panic attacks.

Until class was dismissed.

Blane

C
ate was right—that professor was a tough one. Crap, I almost shoved my hand in front of my dick for fear she was going to rip it off. I could tell right away she was a jock hater, so I went with a fake identity.