Nailed

[Aidily_Emidan]

The huge gathering room at Sigma Epsilon Xi fraternity house was packed with scores of college guys and girls lounging on plush furniture, standing in conversational groupings, and dancing to a pounding techno beat. A dozen students, most of them under the legal drinking age, stood in line to refill their plastic cups from the kegs on ice. On that Saturday night, spirits were high. Earlier that afternoon, Frankson University defeated its archrival, Blanding Junior College, 9-6 in a hard-hitting defensive struggle that featured no touchdowns. Kinda boring, but a win is a win. Longstanding school tradition: even if the football team sucks all season, if FU beats BJC, the coach is assured a contract extension. Now, coach Peters' job was secure.

The relentless techno beat was so loud, Erica's ears were ringing. She stood in line at the kegs and when she arrived, filled her cup for the fourth time. Right behind her, Jodie did the same. The two sorority sisters always attended campus social functions together. Safety in numbers. Since the fall semester began six weeks before, three sexual assaults had been reported in town: one in a campus dorm and two off-campus in predominately student apartment complexes. Every co-ed at FU was taking precautions to avoid falling victim.

The girls stepped to a far corner of the gathering room so they could talk without shouting. Standing side-by-side, their height difference was striking; at five-feet-eleven, Erica towered seven inches taller than Jodie.
“Any of these guys make yer panties wet?” Erica asked.
Jodie grinned. “All of 'em!”
“Well, not that one over there. He's a creep.” She pointed across the room at the creep who, earlier, made a clumsy pass.

Across the room, Tony split his attention between playing billiards with Marcus, a Sigma brother, and watching Erica. Earlier, Tony introduced himself and spent a few minutes chatting her up. He believed he was making good progress but when he asked if she wanted to go upstairs and hook up, she rebuffed his drunken proposition. Slurring his words, he said, “You don't know what yer missing.” “Ohhh, you are sooo wrong.” With a toss of her head, Erica turned and walked away. Tony felt humiliated. Several girls standing nearby overheard Erica's rejection and the way she delivered it: with a sardonic sneer. She's nothin' but a snotty sorority b i t c h, he told himself. Prob'ly thinks I'm not good enough.

Tony sank the 8 ball, winning the game. He looked around the room, mentally undressing one girl after another and trying to guess which, if any, might be willing to jump into bed. He staggered over and struck up a conversation with a petite brunette who suddenly recalled she hadn't studied for her molecular biology midterm. She excused herself and wandered toward the far side of the room. He approached a cute strawberry blonde who spoke with him for a minute. But when her hunky boyfriend came over, Tony, sullen, walked away. Hitting on another girl ended in abject failure and she didn't mince words. “Get away from me you loser!” Scowling, she twirled on her toes and left in a huff.

Dejected, Tony plopped down on the sofa. He chugged his beer, his seventh, then tossed the empty cup toward the fireplace. It didn't make it that far; it fell on the hardwood floor. His bleary eyes drifted back to Erica, fast dancing among the crowd. There was something about her that made his mind spin and his groin ache.

Was it her long blonde hair? Her sky blue eyes? The perfect mounds beneath her snug sweater? The way she filled out those designer jeans? All of those pleased Tony's male sensibilities but there was something else about Erica he couldn't bring into focus, something undefined yet compelling. And he vowed, I'm gonna nail that chick if it's the last thing I ever do.

Erica's freshman year had been difficult; she barely made the GPA cutoff to advance to her sophomore year. Too much partying and not enough studying. During her sophomore year she buckled down and got better grades and finished second semester with a solid 3.4. Now a junior, she was on the dean's list and cruising toward a degree in elementary education. She still made time for partying, just not as much. Life lesson: moderation in all things.

Erica attended the frat party with no intention of hooking up. She just wanted to cut loose and have fun. And was she ever! For the longest time she danced and schmoozed with nice guys, none of whom made a pass. But, if she had taken one of them aside, placed her glossy lips at his ear and whispered, “Let's go upstairs,” he might have leaped at the staircase and pulled a hamstring on the first riser. Such was Erica's allure: simmering sensuality and girl-next-door innocence wrapped up in one tantalizing package.

By nature, Jodie was more reserved than Erica. But not on this night; fast dancing among the crowd, her long brunette ponytail whipped around in time with the pounding techno beat.

Tony passed out drunk on the sofa. Before long, two girls became curious about the pronounced bulge in the front of his jeans. “Hey! Let's see what he's got,” one of them suggested. The other girl snickered. “Okay!” Impulse control took a holiday. (Thanks alcohol!) They walked over and sat down on either side of him. Four fumbling hands unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his 501 blues. Pulling his jeans and plaid boxers down was difficult; at six-feet-one and 220 pounds, Tony weighed nearly twice as much as the two petite girls combined. Struggling, they shuffled down the denim and underwear until, at last, six fat flaccid inches flopped out and rolled to the side.

“Holy crap!” the girls blurted, almost in unison. Their outburst got the attention of other girls, including Jodie. She wandered toward the sofa, weaving amongst the rapidly growing crowd of female gawkers. When she caught sight of Tony's monster meat, her eyes widened and both hands shot upward to cover her mouth. Tony's penis was the biggest she had ever seen. Bar none. Granted, she hadn't seen very many, only three in fact. Two belonged to former boyfriends and the third to a flasher.

One Saturday afternoon near the end of her sophomore year, Jodie, texting and not paying attention to the environment, was strolling along the paved multi-use path beside the river. She heard someone cough, spurring her to look up from the screen. Just twenty feet ahead, a flasher was seated on a park bench beside the path. She ground to a halt. In the same instant, Jodie was repulsed and intrigued. She had a preconceived notion of flashers: despicable dirty old men wearing raincoats and reeking of rotgut. But not this guy: 20ish and good-looking -and no raincoat. Staring at her wearing an intense expression, he was sitting there with one leg of his gym shorts pulled up far enough to expose his erection which he was slowly stroking. He must be proud of it, Jodie thought. Why else would he be showing me? But he didn't have much to be proud of; his penis was smaller than her former boyfriends'. Lots smaller.

Jodie had to pass in order to return to campus, but wasn't going to proceed while he sat there. She stood her ground, alternately flicking her brown eyes toward the flasher and looking away. She wasn't aware of it but her behavior was precisely what he wanted: a girl to stick around and keep looking. Jodie wasn't frightened because that section of greenbelt was in the heart of downtown and other people were nearby, jogging and riding bicycles.

With loud groan, exaggerated, Jodie thought, the flasher ejaculated; two spurts shot high into the air and a third oozed and dribbled down over his fist. His mission accomplished, the flasher tucked away his messy penis, flicked semen off his fingers, then jumped on his bicycle and made his getaway. Jodie resumed walking and texted Erica: omg!!! i just got flashed! (-:

Jodie regained her composure. She looked toward the dance floor and shouted, “Erica! Get over here!” Erica hurried over. When she caught sight of Tony's anaconda, her eyebrows jumped and her jaw went slack. “Shit!” Erica too, was agog. Huge, giant, gargantuan, elephantine, humongous, jumbo . . . Her mental thesaurus pulled up every synonym until it exhausted all entries. And it was soft! What must it look like erect?

Marcus whipped out his phone and began shooting video. Tony's gonna love this, he thought. Tony liked watching himself with girls on video. Two weeks earlier he persuaded a girl to have sex on camera with Marcus behind the lens. The two of them carried on like porn superstars. She was a huge exhibitionist and really got off fucking on camera -got off repeatedly. Marcus loaded the video on Tony's laptop. He watched it over and over, especially the part where the girl, atop, riding his cock, had multiple orgasms.

More and more girl gawkers gathered around Tony. Marcus captured their astonished reactions upon first glimpse. Priceless. One girl stepped close then reached down and gripped Tony's porky shaft. She held it pointed straight up then looked at Marcus and asked, “You gettin' this?” “Yeah. You grab ahold too,” he told another girl. She stepped over and took ahold. Their hands couldn't close around its girth. Other girls came and went, copping a feel of what had become the central attraction at the party. The techno music stopped and no one was at the laptop to double-click another file.

Although Tony was a creep, Erica couldn't resist joining in. She was given to impulsive behavior when intoxicated -like now. She wormed her way close and knelt on the floor at Tony's feet. Marcus repositioned himself to the side, a better video vantage point. She gripped Tony's shaft at the base and squeezed. Although he was unconscious, his hydraulics were functioning and his bulbous glans responded with swelling. Still gripping, Erica placed her appealing face directly beside his upright shaft and her sky blue eyes looked right into the lens. Smiling, she cooed, “Ooooooh! It's nice an' big an' tasty!” To demonstrate the last point, with the tip of her tongue she lightly licked his glans, just once, then backed away.

“Omigod!” Jodie shrieked. Erica stood up and faced her friend. “C'mon, let's get refills. I gotta wash the taste outta my mouth.” The two of them walked away toward the kegs. Someone double-clicked more music and the party moved on. Guys and girls schmoozed and danced the night away. And all the while, Tony remained on the sofa, unconscious, with his pants down. A typical Saturday night scene at Sigma Epsilon Xi.

* * * *

Late morning, Tony awoke on the sofa. October sunlight beaming through curtains at the windows made him squint. As the cobwebs cleared he realized his pants were down. His ass didn't hurt so he figured nothing gross happened. He struggled to his feet, pulled up his jeans and, leaving the fly unbuttoned, walked unsteadily toward the showers.

Later, a knock came at his door. He opened it and found Marcus, grinning. “Check this out dude.” Marcus turned his phone so Tony could see the video on the screen. “So what?” Tony said. “Some guy gettin' a hand job.” “That's you man! Last night the chicks were all over your dick.”

A wide smile spread across Tony's face. His good friend had captured some awesome footage: dozens of girls taking liberties with his penis: gripping, stroking, pinching. And the audio was pleasing too. Many of them commented on his astounding size. Then, at 4:37, Erica's face appeared onscreen. “Whoa! There's that chick!” Tony blurted. Marcus had a look. “That's Erica Lawrence,” he said. “She's in my psych discussion.” Erica Lawrence. Tony liked her name. It rolled off the tongue.

“Ooooooh! It's nice an' big an' tasty!” And Erica licked his glans, one time. “Holy fuck!” Tony blurted, louder this time. He rewound the video and tapped PLAY. “Ooooooh! It's nice an' big an' tasty!” Despite being terribly hung over, Tony's penis began fluffing and pressed against the thin cotton fabric of his boxers. He kept watching in hope that Erica did more, but no. Other girls came and went, fondling his penis, but after Erica vanished from the screen, she never returned.

“Put this on my laptop,” Tony said. “I'm on it.” From his room, Marcus retrieved the phone's USB cord and loaded the video on Tony's computer. He watched it time and again. With framegrab software he captured a still image: the instant Erica's tongue touched his glans. He loaded the photo and video on his phone so he could view them whenever he pleased. Such was his obsession with Erica.

A casual observer of the video might have seen nothing more than intoxicated college kids messing around at a frat party. But Tony, a senior pre-law major, saw something else. And his devious mind was scheming to exploit the situation to get what he wanted.

* * * *

A steady stream of students walked out through the double doors of Weatherby Hall. In groups of two, three, and more, they descended the seven limestone steps and fanned out across the plaza enroute to other points on campus. Off to one side, Tony stood beneath a tall sugar maple, its spreading branches ablaze with the golden glory of autumn. Erica passed through the doors wearing a loaded daypack on her back. After descending the steps, she flipped up the hood on her blue anorak. Tony started moving. He set a course across the plaza to intercept hers then stepped in front of her and stopped. She stopped. It took a few seconds before she realized it was the creep.

“Whatta you want?” Her tone was barely civil.
“I wanna show you something.” He held out his phone so she could see the dick-licking still image. She hadn't been so intoxicated that she forgot about licking his penis at the party.
“And you're showing me this because . . . ?”
“Because you need to see what sexual assault looks like.”
“What're you talking about?”
“I was passed out. Couldn't consent. That makes it assault.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You can't be serious.”
“I am.”
“Lemme see that again.”
Tony held out the phone again. Erica thoroughly scrutinized the photo. “That doesn't prove anything. That could be anybody.”
“You are sooo wrong.” He had waited three days for this chance to fling her words back in her face. After closing the photo he opened the video, fast forwarded to 4:37, and held it out. Erica watched her face appear onscreen. “Ooooooh! It's nice an' big an' tasty!” And after she licked his penis, she vanished from view. Immediately thereafter, the camera panned and showed Tony's face.

Erica shook her head. “That still doesn't prove anything.”
“Well, I think it does.” He stopped the video and pocketed his phone before adding, “I'm willing to offer you a deal.”
“A deal? What kinda deal?”
“I won't report you to the police if you let me fuck you.”
Erica scowled. Her jaw dropped. The audacity! “HELL NO! GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!” Her outburst turned heads among students crisscrossing the plaza. Livid, Erica spun around and stormed away. God! What an asshole! She was striding so briskly, almost stomping, that one foot slipped on some damp leaves and she nearly took a tumble.

Tony sneered. All right. If that's how she's gonna be, I can play hardball.

By the time Erica arrived at her sorority house, Lambda Delta Chi, she had calmed down. Tony's attempted coercion was nothing she cared to share with her girlfriends; it was a non-event. After supper she studied for three hours before calling it a night. She used the bathroom one last time then stripped naked and crawled into bed. Velvety smooth satin kissing her bare skin always felt divine. Lying beneath the blankets, alone in the darkness, Tony's words came hurling back. “Well, I think it does.”

He won't go to the police. Honestly! A guy wouldn't make a complaint like that. Laughable! Besides, they wouldn't believe him. But . . . what if he does go to the police and they do believe him? Will I get in trouble? The longer she pondered the subject, the more anxious she became. I wish Nathan was here. I really need him right now. Erica rolled onto her side and curled up in a fetal position. Hugging her pillow tightly against her bosom, she consoled herself with warm memories of her true love.

Erica and Nathan were high school sweethearts. Once their relationship became physical, their bond grew stronger with each heartbeat. After graduation, they spent a blissful summer making every moment count, for at summer's end they would be going their separate ways: Nathan, into the Army and Erica, to college.

On their final night together in bed, they clung to one another, sweaty and satisfied in the afterglow. During quiet pillow talk, they made a promise: come what may, no matter what the future might hold, they belonged to each other for the remainder of their days. The following morning, Nathan departed for boot camp, and a week later, Erica began her freshman year at Frankson.

During Erica's winter break between semesters, Nathan surprised her; he took leave and, in dress uniform, showed up at her house on Christmas Eve. Erica was overwhelmed. Her soldier boy was home! Tears fell like rain, both hers and her moms. Even her father's eyes became misty. For the next two weeks, Erica and Nathan spent the days visiting with family and friends and the nights lying in one anothers' arms, making sweet, sweet love. When his leave was over he reported for duty at his first permanent post, Fort Hood, Texas.

Toward the end of Erica's freshman year, Nathan's unit deployed to Afghanistan. Erica felt her world crumble. She worried constantly for his safety. For the duration of his deployment, their only contact was electronic: text, phone, facebook.

Fourteen months passed. Nathan served his tour of duty and rotated stateside. During a 30 day leave, the reunited couple put their relationship back on track but they struggled. Nathan was suffering with post-traumatic stress disorder and much of the time he withdrew, just wanted to be alone. Inner turmoil was eating him alive. Erica did her best to help him cope; in bed she lavished him with feminine charm but they were just going through the motions of having sex, they weren't making love. Erica loved Nathan with all her heart, but his experience in combat with the Taliban left him unable to love in return.

And so it came to pass they agreed to part without prejudice, a relationship hiatus to give Nathan the time, and space, he needed to sort through his difficulties. When his leave was over, he reported to Fort Hood and Erica returned to Frankson for her junior year.

Would the star-crossed lovers ever get back together? Ever make a life together? Would the promise be fulfilled? Only time would tell . . . only time.

* * * *

Sergeant Melanie Jordan of the Frankson University PD sat down at her desk and pulled the overnight police reports from her inbox. While sipping her morning coffee, black, she flipped through the stack of papers. There was the usual assortment of campus crime: a stolen bicycle, vandalism, disorderly conduct. “Why can't these college kids behave themselves?” she wondered aloud. She kept flipping until she came to a report that piqued her curiosity: a sexual assault case with a male complainant. And according to the responding officer's report, a video existed of the alleged crime.

During her 17 years on the force, 11 on the street and 6 as a detective, she had investigated many reports of sexual assault, only a handful of which had been perpetrated against men. And all of those cases had been male-on-male incidents. In her experience, never had a man brought a complaint against a woman. This case didn't pass the smell test. Her gut instinct told her the complainant, a Mr. Tony Powell, wasn't on the up-and-up. But she was duty-bound to investigate so she telephoned Mr. Powell and arranged to have him come down to the station for an interview.

The following afternoon, Tony met with Sgt. Jordan. He sat down in the straight-backed wooden chair beside her desk. She raked her fingers through her short sandy hair and said, “First, I need to establish something. Is Miss Lawrence your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“So, what happened at the party?”
“Well, I passed out on the sofa. All know is what's on the video. And what my friends told me later.” Alcohol! she thought. The root of most campus crime. “You have the video with you?” “Yes.” He handed her a USB flash drive. She plugged it into her computer, opened the folder and double-clicked the file. The video began with Tony flopped back on the sofa with his pants down and his penis exposed. At age 39, Sgt. Jordan was no ingénue, but she'd never beheld such an impressive a penis. Tony couldn't see the monitor but he took pleasure in the way this veteran detective's eyebrows jumped when the video began.

Then, at 4:37 Erica's face appeared. “Ooooooh! It's nice an' big an' tasty!” After she licked his glans, Sgt. Jordan scribbled a brief entry in a notebook. The video continued, showing girl after girl fondling but none of their faces appeared in the same view with Tony's penis. Erica stood out in that regard. The video ran for 11 ½ minutes and Sgt. Jordan watched it all. During much of the video, Tony's face was visible and his head always remained in the same position: rolled to his right with his mouth agape and eyes closed. It never changed. Even an imbecile could tell he was unconscious.

“So, which one of these young women is Miss Lawrence?”
“The blonde who licked my penis.”
“That's what I thought. Okay, so, I'll contact Miss Lawrence and get her side of the story. And then I'll get back to you.”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh, I need a copy of the video.” Sgt. Jordan opened another window then dragged and dropped the file.

Sexual assault is a vastly underreported crime. By some estimates, only 1 in 4 victims ever come forward. That Mr. Powell contacted FUPD was commendable in Sgt. Jordan's professional opinion. But personally, she was curious why. While an undergraduate she dated a college boy and later married him, so she understood the sexual psyche of that demographic. Complaining to the police that a girl licked his penis, regardless of the circumstance, didn't fit the profile of a typical frat rat. Erica's behavior, genital contact without consent, met the legal definition of sexual assault. But still, she still wondered why he came forward.

While the video was copying, she thought about asking: So, Mister Powell, why are you making this allegation? But she held her tongue. That was a question a defense attorney might ask when, and if, the case ever went to trial. And Tony was musing too. He fancied that Sgt. Jordan would make a copy for her private collection.

* * * *

Late Friday afternoon, Erica's phone rang. It seldom rang. Most people texted, even her mom. She answered. “Hello?”
“May I speak with Erica Lawrence please?” It was an unfamiliar female voice.
“Speaking.”
“Hello, Miss Lawrence, I'm Sergeant Jordan with the Frankson University police department. How are you this afternoon?”
“I'm fine.” Erica assumed the call was a fundraising come-on, but that changed dramatically when the detective said, “You've been named in a sexual assault complaint. I need to arrange a time when you can come down to the station and speak with me.”

In the blink of an eye, Erica's face felt hot and a heavy weight hit the pit of her stomach. She was stunned that Tony followed through on his threat. Five days had passed since he blocked her path on the plaza and offered to make a 'deal.' The anxiety resultant from that run-in had vanished but now it surged back with renewed vengeance.

“Miss Lawrence? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I'm here.”
“When would be a good time for you?”
She played dumb. “Um . . . who . . . I mean . . .”
“We'll go over the details when we talk in person. When would be a good time?”
Erica thought for a moment. “Next Tuesday afternoon?”
“That'll be fine. Do you know where we're located?”
“No.”
“We're in the basement of the old library.”
“Oh, okay. I know where that is.”
“Just come on down and ask for Sergeant Jordan.”
“I will.”
“Have a good evening.”
“I will.”

Erica didn't have a good evening. Ordinarily, she didn't study on Friday nights. That was her time to socialize. But this Friday night was spent studying the laws pertaining to sexual assault. She booted her laptop and Googled 'sexual assault' then clicked the first search result, listing the various degrees of offense and the range of penalties for each. Erica was shocked to learn that what she did, a seemingly harmless penis lick without consent, was classified as a D felony with a possible sentence of up to three years in prison and a $5,000 fine. She stared blankly at the screen. Her brain went numb. I can't go to prison . . . no. . . no . . .

Erica started feeling ill. She stretched out on her bed. The waves of nausea finally subsided and she thought, I shoulda taken his deal when I had the chance. Now it's too late. This burden was too much to bear alone. Downstairs she went and found Jodie and Mandy seated on the sofa in the gathering room. “Whatsa matter Erica?” Jodie was very perceptive. She knew Erica was feeling great distress. Erica plopped down in a plush chair facing her friends. “You guys, you're not gonna believe this . . . ”

Jodie and Mandy were aware that Erica licked Tony's penis at the party. Now she brought them up-to-speed on the rest of the saga: the encounter on the plaza, the telephone call from Sgt. Jordan, and what she discovered online. “Oh my God,” Jodie said. “What're you gonna do?”
Erica shook her head. “I dunno. I'm scared to death.”
“Lie. Make up a good story and stick to it.” Mandy's suggestion was immediately adopted. Right then, the girls put their heads together and concocted a story to refute Tony's assertion that Erica licked his penis without consent. It sounded plausible. “Think it'll work?” Erica asked. “It better,” Jodie answered. “It's all we've got.”

* * * *

Sgt. Jordan motioned Erica toward her desk. “Have a seat. I'll be with you in a minute.” Erica sat down in the uncomfortable straight-backed wooden chair beside the desk. While the detective finished up a bit of typing on her computer, Erica looked around at the windowless room: gray walls, dark metal file cabinets and four ancient wooden desks arranged side-by-side, all under glaring florescent lights, some of which weren't functioning. The place had the look, smell, and feel of a police station: drab, musty, fear.

Finally, Sgt. Jordan looked away from the keyboard and said, “How are you today Miss Lawrence?”
“I'm fine.” Not. She was trembling inside.
“First, I need to establish something. Is Mister Powell your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Here's the complaint. I'll let you read it.” Erica took the paper, the police report, and began reading. The complaint was reiteration of what Tony told her on the plaza: he was unconscious and couldn't consent and Erica overstepped the bounds of the law by licking his penis. Once Erica finished reading, Sgt. Jordan said, “Okay, tell me what happened at the party.” She leaned back in her squeaky chair, a nonthreatening posture.

Erica took a deep breath and began. “Well, Tony asked me if I wanted to hook up.” (Truth.)
“You mean have sex?”
“Yes.” Thereafter, her story was fabricated. “I told him okay but not 'til later.”
“Why wait 'til later?”
Erica glanced at the male detective working at the next desk then spoke quietly, for Sgt. Jordan's ears only. “Well, you know how it is. I didn't wanna have sex then go back to the party all stinky.”
Sgt. Jordan smiled and chuckled. “I hear ya!”
“Anyway, when I licked Tony's penis I figured it was okay 'cause we were gonna have sex later.”
“So you thought his consent was still good even though he was unconscious?”
“Yes.”
The detective nodded. “Have you seen the video?”
“No.” (Half-truth. She'd seen only the short segment with her in it.) Sgt. Jordan turned the monitor toward Erica and double-clicked the file. The detective let the video play all the way through. While Erica watched it, Sgt Jordan filed papers in the file cabinets. Even in the digital age, police work involves mountains of paperwork.

When the video was over, Sgt. Jordan sat down in her squeaky chair and asked Erica a pointed question. “Were all those other young women in the video going to have sex with Mister Powell too?”
“No.”
“Then why were they fondling his penis?”
“Um . . . I dunno. They were just messing around?”
“And they did so without his consent?”
“I guess.”
“And only you had consent?”
“Yes.”
Sgt. Jordan chewed on that for a moment. “Were you jealous of the other women?”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Well, they were encroaching on your territory.”
Erica scoffed. “I hook up with lotsa guys-” (Lie. No, she didn't. Not ever.) “-he was just one more. No biggie.” Sgt. Jordan choked back a chuckle. Mr. Powell certainly was biggie. Way biggie.

Erica was asked more questions, repetitive, she thought, but she stuck to her story. At the interview's conclusion she was asked to fill out, and sign, a sworn affidavit, stating her recollections of the events that Saturday night at the frat party. Erica left the police station feeling upbeat. Her story was good and she delivered it flawlessly. And it couldn't be disproven; a clear-cut case of he-said, she-said. A few days later Jodie and Mandy were summoned individually to speak with Sgt. Jordan. (Erica had listed them as corroborating witnesses.) But Erica wasn't worried; her sorority sisters were in collusion with the same fabricated story. All the bases were covered. No biggie.

* * * *

Sgt. Jordan conducted a thorough investigation. Not only did she interview Erica's witnesses, she went to Sigma Epsilon Xi to speak with its members. Among those who attended the party, all of them realized Tony was exposed and girls were taking liberties with his penis. But to the last man, none of them believed anything was amiss. Typical men, she thought. None of them could offer any corroborating testimony about whether or not Tony and Erica planned to hook up later. That was also typical of men: they don't talk much on personal topics.

Back at the station, Sgt. Jordan weighed the evidence. That Mr. Powell made the accusation was unusual. She questioned his motive but it was his legal right to file a complaint. In the other camp, when she spoke with Jodie and Mandy, there was something fishy about their testimony; both delivered the same spiel virtually verbatim as if they'd rehearsed it over and over. And their tone of voice and body language suggested they were nervous. In all fairness, that was understandable; police make some people nervous. But in her judgment, Erica's witnesses were lying. And then, there was the video: dozens of young women fondling Mr. Powell's penis without consent. And Miss Lawrence claiming to be the only one with consent? No. That wasn't realistic. She was just going along with the mob mentality.

To draft a probable cause affidavit would set in motion a chain of events that might severely impact Miss Lawrence's life. If the prosecutor agreed that sufficient evidence existed to file charges, court proceedings would ensue and she would be dragged into the public spotlight. And a felony conviction, either by trial or plea bargain, would remain on her record for life and jeopardize opportunities for employment, housing, and credit. And since the alleged crime took place on campus, she could face disciplinary action from the university, perhaps expulsion. Sgt. Jordan deliberated long and hard. She felt bad for Erica, truly she did, but her hands were tied. She couldn't let emotion interfere with her sworn duty. On her computer she pulled up the proper form, clicked the cursor in the first box and, with a heavy heart, began typing.

* * * *

When Erica walked out through the double doors of Weatherby Hall, she spied him at the same instant he spied her. Tony stood beneath the tall sugar maple, its spreading branches now bare in the cold November wind. Erica flipped up the hood on her blue anorak to hide her face. She flew down the seven limestone steps then scurried away across the plaza in the opposite direction, trying to distance herself from the creep. Tony had to jog to catch up. He stepped in front of her and stopped. She sidestepped and kept moving. He stepped in front again. This time she stopped.
“What now?” She was supremely pissed.
Tony held out a piece of paper. “Read this.”
“What is it?”
“Just read it.”

Erica s n a t c h e d the paper from his hand and silently read the heading: Affidavit of probable cause. The form had boxes filled out with her personal information: name, address, birthday, phone number, height, weight, hair color, eye color, race, sex . . . How did the police get all this information? she wondered. Then she answered her own question: from the university's database. Below the boxes, three paragraphs described the particulars of the case. And below that, Sgt. Jordan's sworn statement that in her judgment, the crime of sexual assault had been committed. At the bottom was her signature. Erica was rendered speechless. The detective didn't buy her story. When the prosecutor's office received the affidavit . . . . Her brain went numb thinking about what came next.

Erica looked up from the paper and met Tony eye-to-eye. Her shocked expression told him she was right where he wanted her: backed against the wall. “You have one last chance to let me fuck you.”
“It's too late for that.” Her voice was meek. She was on the verge of tears.
“No, it's not.” He explained: under state law, a sexual assault victim can decide whether or not to pursue charges, even after a police report has been filed and a probable cause affidavit drafted. “So, let me-” he moderated his verbiage “-have sex with you and I won't press charges.”
“You swear to God?”
“I swear to God.”
She set her mouth in a hard straight line. “All right. I'll do it. When?”
“Friday night. Nine o'clock.”
“That's no good. I'm on my period.”
“You're stalling.”
Erica scowled and raised her voice. “You want me to prove it?!”
“Uhhh . . . no. A week from Friday, then.”
Her expression, and tone, softened. “I'll be there.”

There was no need for parting pleasantries. Erica turned abruptly and walked away. Unexpectedly, she felt inner calm and managed to chuckle at the absurdity of her predicament: either get fucked by Tony or fucked by the justice system. All because, in a moment of intoxicated indiscretion, she had fucked herself.

Had Erica taken Tony's deal when he first offered it, she wouldn't have become the target of a criminal investigation. Now, she was thankful for a second chance even though it was repugnant, the prospect of the creep's erection pillaging her vagina. But it was light-years preferable to the alternative. She shuddered at the notion of wearing an orange jail jumpsuit. Orange wasn't her color.

And she was thankful for the nine days to mentally prepare. On day two she made peace with the inevitable. It's only sex she told herself. Maybe he'll cum quickly and it'll be over with. Tony would enjoying fucking Erica. That was certain. But she was determined to minimize his pleasure by making herself unappealing. Three days beforehand, she stopped bathing. And on the appointed Friday night, she applied no makeup, didn't fix her hair and removed all jewelry. Reflected in the dresser mirror, an unwashed face looked back. Long blonde hair hung dirty, stringy, oily. She looked like a ragamuffin. She sniffed her armpit. Ripe! Curious, she reached inside her panties and probed her middle finger deep inside. When she sniffed that finger . . . phew! Perfect. And she dressed like a frump: plain gray sweatsuit.

Jodie, Mandy and a dozen additional sorority sisters joined Erica for the walk to Sigma house. There was nothing any of them could do while Erica was in Tony's room but they felt the need to be under the same roof to offer moral support. At Sigma, Erica opened the front door. It was never locked. The huge gathering room was packed just like the night of the party. But now, everyone in the crowd was male. Tony saw the girls enter the foyer and went to meet them.
“Glad you could make it.”
“I'm not,” Erica shot back.
He laughed. “Yer gonna fight this 'til the very end, aren't you?”
“You got it.”

Erica's posse stayed in the foyer. Tony led Erica into an open area in the center of the expansive gathering room. “Right here,” he said.
“Whatta you mean?”
“We're gonna do it right here.”
She scowled. “Ohhh, no! I'm not gonna do it right here.”
“Yes, you are.”
She raised her voice. “No, I'm not!”
Tony spoke even louder. “Oh look! Here come the judge!” He held the only trump card and wouldn't hesitate to play it. Resistance was futile.

When Erica agreed to have sex with Tony, she assumed, and rightly so, it would be in private. Never in her wildest nightmare did it cross her mind that she was destined become the star in a live public sex show. She scanned the sea of male faces, bright with anticipation. By the looks of the huge crowd, a hundred or more, word had spread around campus that Sigma house was the place to be this Friday night. They stood four and five deep, shoulder-to-shoulder in a wide circle. Erica felt like she was center stage in a sports arena. Most of them were strangers but some she knew by name: Marcus from psych discussion and a half-dozen casual acquaintances from other classes.

Erica wasn't a prude by any means. She possessed a lean toned body she'd worked hard to achieve and enjoyed showing it in skimpy summer sportswear and her teeny weeny black string bikini. But she was very selective about who she allowed to see her naked. And never, not once, did she have sex in view of others. Lovemaking with Nathan had always taken place in absolute privacy. That scores of guys would be ogling her bare body was bad enough. But while having sex at the same time? This was too much. It was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat. But she had no choice but to stay and go through with it.

Glaring at Tony, Erica kicked off her shoes. She untied the drawstring on her sweatpants, pulled them down and stepped out of them. Trying to mentally block out the crowd, she drew a deep breath then hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her white cotton panties and peeled them off. She felt the heat of leering eyes upon her exposed lower zone.

Erica stood facing Tony, her arms hanging limp at her sides. She'd be damned if she was going to strip any further. He could fuck her like this. But Tony wasn't satisfied; he gestured toward her sweatshirt. “Everything, off.” Erica took ahold of the shirt's lower hem and peeled it inside-out, up-and-off, then reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp on her plain white brassiere. When she pulled the D cups away from her chest, her breasts relaxed to their natural state of repose. A hush fell over the room. She didn't feel embarrassed. She was too enraged to feel anything else.

Tony liked what he saw. The only girls he was able to get were substandard in his opinion: a little chubby, small boobs, plain looks, too many moles. (He hated moles) But now, before him stood a statuesque blonde goddess who, despite her disheveled hair and body odor, personified femininity of the highest magnitude. Her flawless skin was tanned rich butterscotch save for the bikini shadow: small alabaster triangles framing her sizable rosy nipples and neatly coifed, naturally blonde pubis. Good, she's got pussy hair, Tony thought. He didn't care for the bald look. He liked girls with hair down there, not a forest, just enough to tickle his tongue. His ravenous eyes devoured her bounteous breasts, traced the curves of her trim waist and womanly hips and traveled all the way down her long lean legs.

Standing in the foyer, Erica's girlfriends couldn't see much through the crush of male spectators but they saw enough to understand she was naked. “I don't know what I'd do if that was me,” Jodie said. “Me neither,” Mandy agreed. “I would just die.”

Marcus entered the arena carrying a new HD video camera, purchased just for this occasion. Passing the hat around the frat house garnered more than enough money.
“No!” Erica shouted. “NO VIDEO!!!”
“Do I hafta remind you?” Tony purposely affected an irritated tone, but he was reveling in her discomfiture. At the party weeks earlier, Erica rejected his sexual advances in front of several girls. She had humiliated him, resoundingly, and now, the snotty sorority b*tch was getting her comeuppance.

Erica got right in Tony's face and snarled, “If this winds up on the internet, I swear to God . . .” She didn't finish her thought. Didn't need to. Her menacing expression spoke volumes.
“It won't,” he assured. “It's for my private collection.”
“It better be.”
“Before we go any farther, I gotta know if you consent.” His tone was mockingly sarcastic. Erica nodded.
“Say it out loud,” he insisted.
“I consent.”
Tony spoke louder, addressing everyone in the room. “Hear that? She consents. Nothing illegal here!” Yes, she consented . . . with vehement reluctance.

Marcus aimed the camera at Erica and began shooting video. She looked away; didn't want her face recorded. With both hands Tony reached out and cupped her breasts' globular undersides and tested their weight. “Nice,” he half-whispered then bounced them in his palms. She didn't respond. She resolved to remain cold and lifeless, like a vinyl blow-up doll. He smooshed her breasts together. No response. He squeezed them. No response. He pinched her nipples. No response.

Tony slid one hand down her abdomen and toyed with her outie navel, briefly, then his hand continued south and wedged between her legs. His fingertips slithered up and down the length of her fuzzy cleft, once, twice, thrice, before he curled his middle digit deep inside her vagina. She ain't wet yet. That'll change.

Oh God. Why does he hafta do this? In Erica's world, fingering was an intensely personal act, even more personal than intercourse. And it all went back to Nathan. He was the first boy to ever touch her there. How exquisite it felt, how heavenly the way his fingers could bring her to orgasm. By comparison, Tony's touch was crude, like being poked with a rubber wand. It was easy to feel cold and lifeless.

Tony stepped back and unbuttoned his 501 blues. Seven fat semi-erect inches spilled out. Erica didn't look.
“At the party you wanted to suck my cock. Here's your chance.”
“No thanks,” Erica answered tersely.
“Whatsa matter? Afraid you'll gag?”
She looked him square in the eye. “Yeah. You make me sick.” Waves of laughter rippled around the room. Even Tony was laughing as he finished removing his jeans and boxers. The tense levity quickly faded. He peeled off his T-shirt and now, both of them stood naked.

Tony took Erica's hand and placed it on his semi. Not waiting to be admonished, she curled her fingers around it and began stroking and while doing so, kept her face turned away from the camera. She wanted her body language to shout: I feel disgusted! As his penis grew progressively stiffer, her curiosity got the best of her; she couldn't resist stealing a glance. It was impressive, she had to admit: eight erect inches and nearly the same thickness as the business end of a baseball bat. Gnarled veins, lots of them, bulged to the diameter of soda straws. And its bulbous glans was the size, and color, of a ripe plum. The sight of it sparked an involuntary twinge in her groin. But she mentally tamped it down.

“Sure you don't wanna suck my cock?”
“I'm sure.”
“C'mon, suck it.”
“No.”
“SUCK IT!” The sheer volume of his voice startled her. Obediently, she dropped to her knees, opened wide and wrapped her lips around his engorged glans. It barely fit in her mouth. She didn't need to fake disgust; it overwhelmed her. Moreover, she felt mounting fear at his aggressive behavior. Erica's girlfriends felt the same fear. Jodie stood on tiptoes to see what was happening with Erica but the crush of spectators blocked the view.

Erica wasn't averse to performing fellatio; she'd done it countless times with Nathan. But being coerced by the creep was beginning to curdle her stomach. At least he didn't grab the back of her head and demand deep throat. That would have made her barf for sure. Marcus moved in close to capture Erica's shiny wet lips gobbling Tony's slobbery shaft. Any hope that her face wouldn't wind up on video, vanished.

“Stand up.” Erica did as Tony instructed. “Turn around and bend over.” She complied and braced both hands on the coffee table. Spectators shuffled around to gain an optimal vantage point. Tony dropped to his knees and plowed his face into her vulva. Oh jeeze, Erica thought. She wished he would just hurry up and stick his dick in and get it over with. But no, he kept lustily lapping her clitoris. She amused herself by picturing his nose buried in her stinky, hadn't-been-washed-for-three-days vagina.

The rage she felt earlier had subsided. In its wake, she felt acutely aware of all the eyes upon her. She felt warmth spread across her cheeks. And she felt warmth simmering in her groin. Tony's tongue was having an effect. No. She couldn't allow the creep to make her feel aroused. Couldn't. She mentally tamped it down. It proved difficult . . . but she managed to keep it in check.

Eventually, Tony stopped licking and none too soon. He stood up and, gripping her hips, pressed his swollen glans into her slobbery wetness. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began pushing inside. Oh . . . my . . . God . . . . Erica silently groaned. She had to remind herself to breathe. She inhaled deeply and held it until Tony's erection was buried to the hilt. Only then did she exhale a long sigh. She felt uncomfortably stuffed, right up to her gills. His was the biggest penis she had ever taken which wasn't saying much; Nathan was the only man she'd ever been with. And the only man she ever wanted, now, and forever. She felt a sudden pang of guilt for being unfaithful. But this situation was beyond her control. And besides, they were on a relationship hiatus. Didn't that mean she free to have sex with others if she pleased?

Tony was smiling. Erica was the first girl he'd ever fucked who could fully accommodate his entire eight inches. He made a mental note: From now on, only fuck tall girls. He commenced thrusting at a slow pace, withdrawing nearly to the point of disengagement before plunging fully again. Over and over. And with each slow withdrawal, Erica's unwashed feminine scent clung to his gnarled veins and vaporized in the open air. Tony inhaled deeply as if smelling roses. Erica breathed in time with each slow plunge and withdrawal. The sensation of his bulk stretching her vagina was borderline painful and yet, not unpleasant.

For the longest time, Tony thrust slowly like he was pacing himself. So much for Erica's hope he might cum quickly. Her breathing escalated and burgeoning warmth in her groin caused alarm. She couldn't allow the creep to make her feel aroused. She mentally tamped it down. At least she tried. It wasn't working.

Four months had passed since she had sex with Nathan and since then, hadn't lain with anyone else. Her body was primed and, despite the discomfort, having intercourse was exceedingly pleasant. But the man delivering the pleasure . . . well, that was another matter altogether. Could she disavow the driver and enjoy the ride? Her mind was uncertain but her body said yes.

Erica was fairly vocal during sex. Whenever it felt good, she had to let it out. That was one of the facets of her sexuality that got Nathan's motor runnin'. It gave him feedback that he was being an attentive lover. And, to his ears, her cries were sweeter than an operatic aria.

Tony withdrew his erection and twiddled her clitoris with the tip of his swollen glans. Heavenly. Erica had to fight the urge to cry out loud. She couldn't allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was giving her pleasure. He reintroduced his erection deeply then, gripping her hips, resumed thrusting, now at various tempos: faster . . . slower . . . faster . . . slower . . . . Fight it. And with each deep plunge it felt like magic fingers were massaging her insides. Exquisite. Fight it. Gritting her teeth, Erica fought the good fight; she erected every mental roadblock she could muster but her libido crashed through the barricades. Loudly, plaintively, she cried, “Ohhhhhhhhh gawd . . .”

Tony flashed a devilish grin. Yeah! This chick loves my cock. I knew she wanted it. No longer could Erica fight it. Nor did she want to. She surrendered to the sensations and loudly moaned, “Ohhhhhh . . . ” or “Mmmmmmm . . . ” whenever a spike of pleasure shimmied up her spine. Tony was in hog heaven. He fancied himself God's gift to women and Erica's vociferous moaning bolstered that self-image.

Marcus was capturing every second on video and not just the penis plunging action. He employed cinematic devices learned in telecommunications class. Occasionally, he panned the crowd to show viewers this was both amateur porn and a live sex show. And he shot footage of Erica from different perspectives. Principally, her face, flushing rosier by the minute and side-on views of her pendulous breasts swaying in sympathy with Tony's thrusting. Those in the audience watched wide-eyed. And more than a few crotch bulges were noted.

Jodie worked her way through the crowd to a closer vantage point. She didn't care to watch, not really, but she felt the need to be close in case Erica needed help. But what could she do if the situation spiraled out of control? She held her phone, ready to call 911. That's all she could do.

Tony reached forward and gathered Erica's long blonde hair into bundle. Gripping it tightly, he yanked hard, jerking her head back. And with his other hand he spanked her buttocks, one then the other, back and forth. SLAP . . . SLAP . . . SLAP . . . Nathan had never done anything like that. He was a gentle lover. Erica wasn't given to dominance fantasies but Tony's aggressive behavior struck a primal chord deep within and her arousal skyrocketed into hyperspace

“Ohhhhhh, fuck me . . . fuck me . . . ” Erica's voice was gravelly. It sounded like she was in pain. She was in pain but it felt good. Terribly good. “Mmmmmmm . . . ” Tony continued thrusting, tugging, and spanking, harder now. Her alabaster buttocks were turning red as a result of the punishment. Her breathing escalated further and she moaned virtually nonstop, a pain-and-pleasure aria that sent Tony's arousal higher; his face was flushed and sweaty. Holding a hand over her mouth, Jodie watched, all the while feeling her friend's pain.

Tony commenced thrusting even faster. Erica met each thrust with an assertive counter-thrust, slamming her butt against his groin. “Ohhhhhh . . . ” Marcus aimed the lens at her face: eyes shut, brow furrowed, mouth agape, skin flushed. Then, a moving camera POV traveled slowly down the length of her sweaty back, over the mounds of her quivering buttocks, and all the way to Tony's glistening erection pumping her vagina. And every sloppy wet thrust was recorded in Dolby stereo.

“Ohhhhhh, fuck me . . . ” Breathing faster now, Erica was almost gulping air. She was approaching the brink and began a mantra: “Omigod . . . omigod . . . omi-” And then she fell silent . . . she didn't breathe . . . her face flushed purplish. For long intense seconds her anus winked in sync with the spasms ripping her flesh then she loudly groaned, “Nuuuuuungggh . . .” She drew a deep ragged breath, then another, and another . . . Tony smiled. God's gift to women had delivered the goods.

Sweaty, flushed-faced, and laboring for breath, Erica remained bent over while Tony sought his reward. He released her hair and quit spanking. Gripping her hips, he commenced thrusting like the devil. Witnessing her orgasm hastened his and presently, he growled long and low like a grizzly awakening from hibernation. He pulled her butt tightly against his groin and pinned it there. Feeling his pulsating penis, Erica knew it was finally over. In the post-orgasm crash, she was hurled back to reality and felt very, very naked. She was seized with the impulse to flee. She stood bolt upright. Tony's penis popped out. A wad of semen belched and dribbled down her leg.

Erica bent over to retrieve her shoes and clothing off the floor then made for the foyer clutching everything against her bosom with both hands to conceal her front. Spectators stepped aside to let her pass. Copious moisture, vaginal secretions mingled with semen, coated inner thighs. Smiling, Tony watched her blistered buttocks bouncing with each hurried step until she vanished in the crowd. Only then did Marcus stop recording. “I'll put this on your laptop,” he said.
“No. Let's watch it on the big screen first.”
“Yeah! Great idea!” They 'high fived.' Marcus wiped his hand on his shirt.

In the foyer, Erica's girlfriends gathered around and murmured comforting words of concern. Jodie stepped close and placed a hand on Erica's shoulder. “You okay?” Erica nodded but she was not okay; she was trembling so violently she had trouble maintaining balance. She didn't waste time putting on underwear; posthaste, she donned her sweatsuit. After slipping on her shoes, she brushed a disheveled shock of hair out of her eyes then glanced into the gathering room. The entire crowd stood facing the huge plasma TV mounted on the wall. The video had just begun; Erica, naked, larger than life in stunning high-definition, stood impassively while Tony squeezed her breasts. The gravity of the encounter weighed heavily upon her and she worried about the fallout. Even if Tony didn't post the video online, every guy on campus might eventually view it.

On the walk back to Lambda house, no one said a word. Her arms folded across her chest, Erica stepped briskly, surrounded by her girlfriends like a quarterback in a flying wedge play. The sidewalk along Greek Row was dimly lit which suited her dark mood; she didn't want anyone to look at her. Her mind was a roiling cauldron of conflicting emotions. In the end, the raw animal sex had been terribly exciting. She enjoyed it, immensely, and it culminated in the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. In the aftermath, her body was singing; she still felt tingly all over, from her scalp down to her painted toenails. But at the same time, she was consumed with self-loathing for becoming aroused and worse yet, for letting herself get totally swept away. Now, the creep had the satisfaction of knowing he had given her pleasure. And the longer she dwelled on that unfortunate circumstance, the more disgusted with herself she became.

* * * *

Tony could have played his trump card over and over. He could have waved the affidavit in Erica's face and demanded sex. And, to avoid prosecution, she would have no choice but to submit. But he didn't. He kept his word. Three days later, on Monday afternoon, Sgt. Jordan telephoned Erica to inform her that Mr. Powell had declined to press charges and the matter was closed. Well, at least he has one shred of decency, Erica thought. Would he keep his word and not post the video online? If he did post it, she could only hope no one in her small hometown would ever see it.

In lucid reflection, Erica realized Tony taught her a valuable lesson: what seems innocent behavior can, in fact, be a felony. Not only is it easy to become a victim of sexual assault, it's insanely easy to become a perpetrator. It was a hard lesson to learn and it took a toll on her emotions. But it was a lesson that would last a lifetime. And there was one more lesson learned: she was only beginning to understand what lurked in the deep dark recesses of her sexual psyche.

Erica came to terms with the encounter and forgave herself for becoming aroused. After all, she was only human. Humans have needs. But one dire need went unfulfilled: to lie in the arms of her true love. She missed Nathan so fiercely she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

As the days rolled past, a general malaise settled in and wouldn't let go. School was getting her down. No, life was getting her down. She thought about dropping out but reconsidered; if she ever hoped to realize her dream of teaching elementary school, she needed that degree.

Christmas break at home with family brightened her spirits but it also rekindled memories of the holidays two years before when Nathan surprised her on Christmas Eve. Now, the only warm body sharing her bed was Max, her ever-faithful collie.

When second semester began, the malaise returned and settled in as cold and deep as the snow piling up across the land. By the middle of February, Erica was sick of winter and couldn't wait for spring. That's what I need, she told herself. Springtime. A new beginning.

One bitter cold blustery day, thick clouds and snowfall darkened the sky. By late afternoon, campus streetlights were coming on. In the pools of pale orange light, snowflakes danced on the wind and swirled around the bundled figures making their way home from class. At 5:45, Erica left Weatherby Hall. Bundled up like an Eskimo, she descended the seven limestone steps and began trudging back toward Lambda house. Her bootsteps fell softly in the new accumulation blanketing the plaza. Another Friday, she thought. What am I gonna do this weekend? Prob'ly the same thing as last weekend . . . nothing.

Erica retrieved her phone from her purse and checked the messages: one from her mom, two from Jodie, and a half-dozen from other girlfriends. And at the bottom of the list, one from Nathan Connor. She gasped and froze in her tracks. For six months they'd had no communication whatsoever and now, out of the blue, there he was. Wide-eyed, she opened the message and read:

Hey. Hope you're doing OK. Therapy's going good. I'm doing better. If you're not seeing anyone, I'd like to make a fresh start. I love you. I need you.

Erica's heart leaped into her throat. She couldn't breathe. Her knees felt weak. Even though she stood in the middle of the snowy plaza amid hundreds of students going about their lives, the entire universe withered to nothingness; all that existed was her, and Nathan, somewhere out there in cyberspace. Again, she read the words: I love you. I need you.

Erica drew a deep cleansing breath. When her hands finally stopped trembling, she placed her thumbs on the screen and, with tears streaming down her cheeks, began tapping. Springtime came early; the promise was fulfilled.