Crutch 

Chapter 7

My first night sleeping with a girl was a bit awkward.  It seemed like every few minutes her hair was in my face, or she was lying uncomfortably on my arm, or some other small annoyance was keeping me up.  Steff might have felt the same way; she was a bit restless herself.  The futon wasn’t exactly comfortable either.  It was the best night of my life.  At the time.

Steff managed that morning better than the one before.  She slid from my arms silently.  It did wake me, but not entirely.  I missed her warmth.  Then she kissed me lightly. "Don't get up," she whispered.  I watched her rise, in all her glorious naked splendor.  In the dark winter morning, lit only by dim reflected streetlight, she looked supernatural.  Not just beautiful, or sexy, or anything so mundane.  It was like I was in some old myth where a lost shepard or hunter stumbles on a goddess bathing in a spring.  Things usually went badly for them.  If they felt like I did, I think they'd say it was worth it.

The moment was broken when she started shivering, clutching herself in the universal pose for "I'm freezing."  After a second of frantic looks she found and seized my robe.  Wrapped in the dark terrycloth she was less on display.  I could still see her face though, which was more than enough to captivate my sleepy eyes.  Steff didn't notice until she'd settled in at my desk, fishing out some paper, fussing with my desk lamp so that it shone only on her and her work.  She glanced my way, probably to be sure the light wouldn't keep me up.  When she noticed me watching her she smiled.

"Go back to sleep," she said.  Her voice was soft and warm.  "You need some rest."  It was like she put a spell on me, but before my eyes closed I saw her start her work.  She casually loosened the robe to let her left hand slip between her legs.

A few minutes later a sudden choked off cry of pleasure and surprise, followed by suppressed laughter, woke me very briefly again.  Steff kissed me lightly on her way out.

When I woke up for good later, my little room felt empty without her.  I told myself that was ridiculous.  But it was true.  Steff and I had been friends for a few months, and lovers/Master and slave for only a few days.  It still felt like ‘normal’ meant she was with me.

She’d left me something though.  A few things, actually, since when I got up from the futon I stepped on one of her balled-up socks.  On my desk was a folded over piece of paper, Steff’s morning devotional note.  

“Truths for Steff:

You are my friend, boyfriend, and Master

I am your friend, girlfriend, and slave.

I belong to you, mind, body and soul.

I love being your friend, girlfriend, and slave.

I serve and obey you.

I love following your orders.

I love being hypnotized.

No one can hypnotize me but you.

Only you can use my triggers.

I love, admire, and desire you.

I desire no other man but you.

Your touch brings me pleasure.

Your praise brings me joy.

Your happiness is my happiness.

Your pleasure is my pleasure.

I always try to be the best I can be.

If things don’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not perfect.

I will be your perfect friend, girlfriend, and slave.”

I sighed.  Most of that was still Steff’s original list.  Some of it was my own revisions.  When I decided to do this ‘for real’ I changed a few Truths.  Mainly I shifted a few of the more slavish ones to include the friend and girlfriend stuff.  It seemed like a good way to keep her personality from changing too much.  I absolutely wanted to be her master.  HER master, not some perpetually fawning meek girl in Steff’s body.  But the last three were new additions.  

They were more or less things I’d said to her while she was under.  They weren’t exact words, which was interesting.  We hadn’t been talking about her truths when I let the p-word slip, but she immediately made a firm connection between the ideas.  It meant that even entranced, Steff was editing and parsing what I said.  It also meant I needed to be much more careful.

As I understood it, Truths were supposed to be big deals.  Foundational principles. I hadn’t at all intended for her to take these things that way.  I was pretty sure I hadn’t taken her to that place in her mental 'sphere of water' metaphor. She’d latched on hard anyway.  I looked at them for a few minutes.  I tried to imagine any way that they could harm her.  But I could only see the upsides.  Trying her best was already Steff’s default.  If she wanted to apply that attitude toward our relationship, that should be fine.  I’ll just have to be sure she doesn’t get any wrong ideas about what perfect friend and girlfriend mean.  And if I could get her to accept that she can slip up sometimes?  That would be a huge breakthrough.  It could be exactly the kind of help that I promised her the first time I really took her under. 

I’d been lucky that far.  And reckless, and stupid.  I could easily solve this problem.  All that was needed was a specific phrase.  “This is the Truth”, “This is a Rule”, it could be that simple and boom, problem solved.  That sort of sloppy work is exactly why I did so bad with programming.  I only passed the intro level with a lot of Steff’s help.

Except this wasn’t that kind of programming.  Computers don’t make those kinds of intuitive leaps.  Logic is what computers are, logic is a thing humans can do.  We run on emotion and instinct most of the time.  And when you put someone in a trance, you specifically shut off the logical part of them.  Perfect was a word with huge emotional implications for her.  Specifically it was something she should be.  I’d nudged her into seeing it as something she should be for me.  Not something I would do on purpose.  In fact, somewhat the opposite of my desire not to put more pressure on her.  But maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of more or less pressure.  Maybe all she needed was for it to land on her differently.  Redistribute the weight and it’d be easier for her to carry.

Any way I looked at it, the important thing was to define the goal for her.  As a friend, girlfriend, and slave, she was close to perfect in my eyes.  It’s not like she didn’t have flaws (even lovestruck as I was I could see that) but as far as being what I was looking for?  She was more than I’d ever dared hope for.  I carried on with the note:

“Rules for Steff

I cannot harm Master, or allow Master to be harmed, 

I will take care of my own health and safety,

I will keep my brainwashing a secret, and act normally when in public,

I will obey your orders to the best of my ability and understanding.

I cannot orgasm without your permission.

I will feel profound joy and contentment from having your cum in or on my body.

I will dress the way that most pleases you. 

I will maintain my body the way that most pleases you. 

If I think my conditioning is weakening, or I see any way to make your control over me stronger, I will tell you as soon as possible.

I will write out my Truths, Rules, and Triggers every morning, then deliver them to you.”

Only my own, probably redundant with instinct, self-preservation rule was different from her original list.  No self-made changes there, which was interesting. I would have expected Truths to be immutable and Rules to be subject to revision.  Eventually I concluded that the relative simplicity and clarity left her less room for interpretation.  Big ideas tend to be nebulous after all.  That’s where the philosophers make their living.  Still, it was kind of a surprise.  Steff was a shameless, relentless rules-lawyer in any game.

The triggers were similarly consistent.

“Still Water: I will get extremely aroused, and become a version of myself that only cares about pleasing you sexually. If I am in public, I will proceed immediately to the most suitable place I can think of to await your pleasure. I will remove all of my clothes and present my body. I will refer to myself only as Your Slave. Your Slave is a submissive nympho with no inhibitions. If you seem sated, Your Slave may ask you to wake me up.

Down Deep: I fall into a trance as deep as you have ever taken me before. I will hear only your voice and accept any new truths or rules you choose to give me.

Wake Up: I will wake up as myself, still bound by the Truths, Rules and Triggers

Whenever I am taking a test, I will have perfect concentration and recall.  I will think of nothing that isn’t relevant to what I am being tested on.  This will last until the test is over.

If I am ever in an altered state and you don’t wake me up, the next time I fall asleep naturally, when I wake it will be as if you used my wake up trigger.

I will masturbate while I write my list. I won't realize I'm doing it, until I cum hard when I finish.”

I wasn’t worried that I’d given her any accidental triggers.  At least, that far.  Triggers being even more specific than rules, there was less room to make inferences and connections.  There was no room for rules-lawyering in a trigger, though there were gaps she had to fill on her own.  I might need to do something about the ambiguity of ‘most suitable place’ though.  Maybe.

I decided there was no immediate crisis here.  Dumb luck or instinct had kept me from screwing her up.  I relaxed.  Without my deep-seated fear of hurting someone to confuse matters, I could just enjoy my lucky break. I noticed how stiff and sore I was from an uncomfortable night.  Not to mention the sudden increase in how much ‘exercise’ I’d been doing with Steff. 

There was a little bit of writing on the back.

"Thank you.  I love you.  Good luck."

Good luck?  Oh, right.  Finals.  I had a test.  Amazing how unimportant that had become.  It was still something I had to do though.

Thankfully my Byzantine History final was late enough that, even having slept in, I had time to shower, dress and eat.  As things shaped out I was sitting down to my sole test of the day about when Steff's first was ending, and by the time mine was done her second and final one would be starting. So I had time for my other friends.  My boring, not gorgeous girls living out my secret fantasy friends.

I hung out in the lobby.  Played games, talked, whatever.  At some point I realized that these guys were looking at me differently.  I was getting some odd mix of incredulity, skepticism, and respect that I hadn't seen before.

It was Frank who came out with it.  He asked, "Ok, for real man, what's the deal with you and Steff?"

I groaned.  "Dude, we went over this yesterday.  You heard her."

"What, she slips, you give her a hand up, and suddenly the frostiest bitch around can't get enough of you?" Real Film Dan snorted.

That was the exact moment I stopped thinking of him as 'a lovable loser.'  "Why would you say that to me?" I asked.

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me.  You just called my girlfriend a bitch right in front of me.  To me."

"Don't get like that.  It's a joke."

"What's the fucking punch line Dan?" I asked evenly.

"What, are you gonna hit me or something?"

I really could have.  Real Film Dan wasn't exactly intimidating physically.  Fat, with his rat's nest beard and bald spot. I might've been an out of shape nerd myself, but I could've taken him.  In fact I could have put him in the ground at that moment.  The guy was pathetic. The kind of perpetual student who never graduates, and has to hang around with freshmen because everyone else has caught on to what an asshole he is.  This guy thought he could talk shit? About my Steff?

My rep at RBIT was something along the lines of 'a chill guy.'  I actually had a real anger problem when I was younger.  Had a temper that got me in some situations I couldn't handle.  Because, again, out of shape nerd.

Fortunately for me and Real Film Dan I'd gotten a handle on it by then.

"You know what it is Dan?  It's like now I'm supposed to hit you.  Like I'm an asshole and a bad boyfriend if I don't.  Really it's just disappointing." Someone snickered.  "Yeah, you know I'm not really mad," I lied, "I'm disappointed."  

"Yeah, go to your room and think about what you've done" Andy said in a mock stern parental tone.

"Seriously," Frank scowled, "that's not cool.  I mean obviously he likes her."  I really don't think he realized the insulting emphasis he put on the 'he.'  Frank was more of a 'deficient social skills' type than an actual asshole.

Real Film Dan read the room.  "Sorry," he said, raising his hands in surrender.  "You're right.  That's your girlfriend.  Point taken.  I'm just saying, if it was that easy to get a girl to make a 180, guys would be out digging potholes and spraying massage oil on the sidewalk."  That got a tense laugh.

I shrugged, trying to will my hackles down.  Not quite sure where one's hackles are or even what they are, but mine were definitely up.  I needed to think clearer.  If I didn't give my fellow apes something here, there was always the risk of someone getting genuinely suspicious.  

"She says I understand her, and she can be herself with me," I shrugged.  It had the dual advantage of being true and utterly useless.  "It's not like I had some great line or angle or something." Except the bizarre trillion-to-one convergence of events that lead to her acting on our mutual fetish, of course.

"So maybe it's a reverse psychology thing?" Phil mused.  "Like, guys keep asking her out, and she shoots them down.  But you're always around, you never make a move, so she goes after you."

"Dude, if not trying was the answer, we'd all be Hugh goddamn Hefner," Andy countered.  "Let's be real, everybody raise your hand if you haven't been 'just friends' with a girl you thought was hot."  Obviously no hands went up.

Thankfully this whole conversation came to an abrupt halt.  Steff herself walked in, along with a few other students.  I sprung up to meet her practically before the door closed.

"Hey you," I said, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hey you," she replied, pressing into my chest.  She smiled but she looked and sounded… subdued.  Tired.  Dejected.  It wasn't what I expected.  I figured that, without the looming threat of finals, she'd perk up.  Relax, even.

"How were the tests?" I asked.

"Over," she said firmly.  "Thanks for the pep talk and everything.  Be the best Steff I can be, I'm still perfect as long as I try, so on.  Such participation ribbon, school guidance counselor bs.  I needed to hear that." 

"Happy to help,"  I stroked her hair a bit.

"I'm sure you did… fine," Claire said. Steff started, and I almost jumped out of my skin.  We'd both forgotten where we were: a fairly crowded lobby surrounded by other students.  Claire had come in right behind Steff.  We hadn't been whispering or anything.  So we couldn't reasonably fault her for weighing in.  I noticed that there was a bit of a cloud over her perpetually sunny face when she said 'fine.'

“What about yours, Tom?” Claire continued.

“Shit, yeah, sorry, how’d it go?” Steff looked guilty.

“It wasn’t my best work, but I think I did alright.  Why are you sorry?”

“Bad girlfriending.  I should have been the one who asked.”

“One of us had to be first.  By definition.  Too hard on yourself, as usual.”  Steff shrugged.  Or she tried to, being hugged didn’t give her much room.  I half-released her to just have my arm around her.

“I should have been second.  So minus ten girlfriend points for me.”

“Tell me you haven’t started an actual scorecard.”  That made her smile. A quick little break in the clouds.  I was surprised and a bit worried to see her so down. 

“Not yet,” she replied.  “Still sorting out the spreadsheet.” She rested her head on my shoulder.

“You want to hang out with everyone or-” Steff didn’t wait for me to finish.

“Come up to my room.  I mean, please.  If you want.  I just kinda need to sit and chill by myself, but I also really want you there.  That sounds stupid.  You know what I mean, right?”

“Definitely.  I think,” I said, walking her toward the elevator.  “It’s our last night together this year.  I’m not going to let you just sit in your room and mope.”

“I’m not *moping,*” Steff insisted.  “I’m… I don’t know, what’s a less pathetic word for moping, Mister ‘I got an A in Dead English Writers Class?’”

“Fretting?  Pining?  Or maybe repining?  No, languishing.  I’d say you’re definitely languishing.”  I got a laugh out of her with that one.

“Ok, I get it.  I know.  Stop feeling sorry for myself.  Sorry.  Another ten points off my girlfriending score.”

“Nope.  That’s exactly wrong.  Give yourself those points back.  I’m not telling you to stop.  I’m asking what’s wrong?  Can I help?  I’m trying to boyfriend here, jeez.”  I squeezed her a closer and felt her relax.  A little.  The elevator doors opened.

“Mmm.  Well I definitely don’t want to stop you from boyfriending me,” she surprised me by leaning in for a kiss.  I of course obliged her, while we took a few clumsy steps inside.  Several of my friends hooted like the apes they were.  I flipped them off behind Steff’s back.

“Get a room!” Larry taunted.

“Dude, where do you think they’re going?” Chuck responded.

“Ugh, you boys.  Couples kiss.  You know, if you tried growing up, you might have your own girlfriends.”  Claire chided them.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Phil said as the doors closed.

“Are you ok?” I asked when she stopped kissing me.

“Getting better every second,” she purred.

“I’m serious.  What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, it’s… kind of hard to explain.  Or maybe not. Maybe I just really don’t want to.  I will,” she added hastily.  “Just, can it wait?  At least till we get to my room.  Let me snuggle up to my boyfriend-master for a bit.  That helps.”

“Sure, princess.”  I held her close.  She put her head on my shoulder and sighed.  I could feel some of the tension leave her.  A little bit, at least.  For once I didn’t mind the slow elevator.  It gave her time.  We took our time getting to her room.  Steff was firmly attached to my side the whole way, clutching close to me.  We didn't say anything.

I waited till we were in her room, settled on her couch. "Well?" I asked.

Steff squirmed and looked away, her arms crossed.  "I shouldn't… you don't have to… it's dumb.  I'm fine.  Or, I will be.  We're going home tomorrow.  I won't be able to, you know, serve.  That's sad enough.  I shouldn't waste your time with my whining, right?"

I grabbed her gently by the chin.  "Whine."  I'd started to seriously worry.  She'd seemed quite happy after our date.  Now something was eating her up inside.  In between I'd been careless with her while she was entranced. That had implications I didn’t like. I needed to know exactly what was wrong.  If it was my fault I had to fix it.

"It- well I guess it just kind of hit me.  I turned in my last test, and I sort of slipped out of the zone- thanks again for that by the way- and it's like… it's over.  Finished.  No more chances there, it's all done. Some dumb part of me thought I'd come up with some great last minute thing to save my grades, but nope.  That's…it's- well, everyone's the hero of their own story right?  And, well," she took a deep ragged breath, "the hero doesn't just fail.  They might lose or even die, but it's because of something.  Someone beats them, or it's fate or whatever.  They don't just fail.  They don't have to slink home and face their family and say 'Sorry, I just couldn't do it.  I don't have an explanation, no one beat me and nothing happened, I gave it my best and I did everything I could, but I'm just not as good as you thought I was and I'm sorry, I'm just sorry." 

She collapsed into a sobbing mess.  The whole thing, from Steff starting to talk to her falling apart couldn’t have taken more than three minutes.  She clung to me, face pressed into my chest.  She was still trying to talk, but I didn’t catch anything but the occasional muffled word.  Mostly that word was “sorry.”

“Ok.  You’re ok,” I said, holding her close.  “Um, deep breaths, Steff.  Remember?  Nice and slow, in and out.”  I took a few myself, partly to show her but mostly to keep from panicking myself.  Steff tried to mimic me, but kept falling back apart.  She was so miserable, even worse than the night her crutch broke.  Obviously I had to help.  What did that mean though? Hug her while she cries herself out?  Put her under and just stop her from feeling so bad?  

“You’re wrong, though,” I heard myself say.  “Heroes fail all the time.”

“Wha?” she croaked out.

“Vader kicked Luke's ass and Han got frozen in carbonite.  Frodo got stung by Shelob and captured by orcs.  Spider-man couldn’t save Gwen Stacy.”  I carried on like we were just hanging out talking and she wasn’t crying.  Like everything was fine and we were just debating geek stuff like normal.  But at the same time I kept holding her and stroked her hair.

She made an incredulous noise.  “That’s not the point.”

“I know.  Just saying.  Your whole premise is wrong.”

“No,” Steff looked up at me, teary eyes slightly annoyed.  “The bad guys beating them isn’t the same.  I’m talking about failing, not losing, you know?  Just flat out ‘not good enough, the end.’“

“Except this is nowhere near the end, is it?  Unless you’re keeping some pretty huge tragic secret, it’s more like the part just before the last act.  The whole darkest hour, all-is-lost, but then there’s a pep talk and the theme music kicks in and we’re headed into the big finale.  Part of the whole Joseph Campbell hero’s journey thing. You have to have this part so the big happy ending will be bigger and happier.  This sucks, and I’m sure your parents will be mad.  But then it’ll be a new year, new classes.  Whole new chance to overachieve and kick ass and be the best Steff you can be.”

“I,” Steff began, then sighed.  “I see what you’re doing here, ok?  And, yeah, I get it.  I’m being dumb and emotional.  It’s not that big a deal.  They’re just grades.  Numbers and letters in a book somewhere.  It doesn’t really matter.”  She pulled away a bit and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“I mean, you know.  It matters some.  People keep score.  You aren’t dumb to care about that.  Don’t make things worse by feeling bad about feeling bad.  You’ve got a real problem, but it’s, like, a finite problem.  Manageable, even.  We’ll do what we can to contain the damage, take the hits we can’t avoid, and then start the next thing.”

“Yeah.  But I’ve still got to tell my parents.  There’s… yeah there’s no way to get around it.  I’ve never let them down like this before.  Sure, it’s not like I always did perfect.  But I’ve never had anything lower than a B on my report card.  Like, ever.  And now, best case is two Bs.  Maybe, at best.  I don’t know how I’m going to tell them.”  She sighed.

Since my Dad died when I was so young I never got any advice from him about girls.  But my Dad was the youngest of six brothers, all of whom promoted themselves to father figure, at least in their own mind.  This meant I got “the talk” a half dozen times, all awkward.  It also meant that I got a variety of advice and perspectives on how to talk to girls, what women want, and what not to do.  My uncles were all varying degrees of weird and none terribly credible as a source of romance advice.  But I figured that when there were points of firm agreement among them all it was worth listening to.  And one of the few truly unanimous points was that when a woman tells you her problems never try to fix them.  Just let her talk them out with you.

That was probably good advice for boyfriends.  But for Masters?  If I owned Steff that meant I owned her problems.  And I didn’t get into RBIT by being someone who didn’t try to solve problems.

“Let’s work it out.”  I said.

“Huh?”

“Let’s, you know, make a plan.  Strategize.  Figure out how to minimize the damage.”

“Ok,” Steff said skeptically.  “How do we do that?”

“First we define the problem.  So exactly how bad is bad?”

“Well, I can’t get higher than a D in Autonomous Systems no matter how well I did today. .Physics could be a D, but I really think I did well on the final so I’m hoping for a C. . I’m pretty solidly in the 70% range in Electrical Engineering and Data Management so that’s two Cs.   And I think I’ve got a shot at a B in Operating Platfroms and Discrete Mathematics.”

“Ok, so you didn’t actually fail anything then.”

“Well no, not like, officially.  But-”

“But nothing.  You didn’t fail.  You didn’t do as well as you wanted, but you didn’t fail.  That’s objectively true.  Indisputable.”

“Alright, yes.” 

“Say it.”

“What?”

“I want to hear you say it.  ‘I didn’t fail anything.’”

“I,” she took a deep breath. “I didn’t fail anything.”

“That’s right.  You took six full-credit courses at RBIT and passed all of them.  Four courses counts as full time, so really you did a quarter and a half.  And not easy stuff, there were some definite weed-out classes in there.”

“Yeah, well, I definitely feel like a weed then.  I get what you’re saying.  But I can’t spin this as a win.”

“Ok, but don’t make it sound worse than it is.  You passed.  So when you talk to your parents about it, don’t say you failed.  Just tear that word out of the dictionary.  Don’t focus on what you weren’t able to do, focus on what you did.  Define the context when you break the news.  Maybe you just squeaked by, but you did it.”

“I guess.  Maybe they’ll buy that.”

“If they don’t, do you think they’ll cut you off?  Stop paying your tuition?”

“No.  My parents aren’t crazy,” Steff said defensively.  “They aren’t going to disown me or anything.”

“Ok, so more good news.  No matter what, we’ll be together. Right?”

Steff smiled a genuinely warm smile.  “Yeah.  No matter what.”  

“So worst case, you only have to get through the holidays.  Just lay it out for them.  You were overstretched, you managed to pull through anyway, and you’re going to do better.  Think they will go for that?”

“It’ll be… well they won’t be happy, but yeah.  That’s the kind of thing- well it’s what my Dad would tell me to do.  So if I just start with that, it’s like, there’s no need for yelling or the big lecture.”

“Exactly, you learned your lesson.  You won’t stretch yourself so thin.”  

Steff stiffened.  “Um, well..” she began.  “I kinda already preregistered for next quarter and…” she trailed off.

“Oh my God, Steff, no.”

“But it’s totally different now!”  She added.  “Don’t you see?  I have you, and you can put me under and help me like you did today.  I’ll do so much better!  And, and you can make me focus on important things, so I won’t waste so much time sitting around talking and playing games with you boys and… oh God.  I’m sorry.  I don’t mean waste.  It’s just, being here is such an opportunity, and an opportunity is a responsibility, so I have to do it if I can and I know I can.  I need to-”

“You need to drop one- no, you need to drop two of the classes you were going to take.”

She stared at me, aghast.  “But-”

“I’m not arguing with you about this.  I’m telling you.  Four courses, that’s it.”

“But…” she trailed off, wide eyed.

“I could put you under and make you,” I went on.  “You know that.”

Steff nodded.

“But I don’t have to, do I?  Because I’m your Master, and I’m giving you an order.”

“I love following your orders.” Steff whispered one of the Truths she gave herself.

“That’s right,” I said.  “So you’re going to log in right now and cut two courses from your schedule.  You’re going to stop trying to climb every mountain all at once.  And your Master is going to help you all next quarter.  Your grades will go up and you’ll still learn a lot and you’ll have plenty of time left to serve your Master.” My voice was firm and confident.  It was at least half an act.  I had no idea if I really could make her do it.  This was the first time I’d tried to force her to do something, really the first significant order I’d given her that wasn’t about sex. But it was also exactly what Steff wanted.  At least the down deep version of her wanted it, even if the wide awake overachiever couldn’t let herself do it.

Steff stared at me for a long second.  “Ok,” she said.  “Ok.  I mean, yes Master.  Anything for you.”  She kissed me softly, gratefully.  When we broke for air, she just looked at me, emerald eyes rimmed in red.

“Well?” I said after a moment.

“Well what?”

“You said you’d do it.  I’m waiting.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.  Go on.”

“Um, ok,” she said doubtfully.  She left me on her little couch and started up her computer.  “It’s just, well, I thought, it seemed like, maybe we were, well something.  In the middle of a moment.  Seems weird to stop.”

“We aren’t stopping.” I stood behind her “I want to see you do it.  Then we can put this all aside, right?”  I put my hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly.  My touch brought her pleasure.

“Yeah,” she sighed.  She paused for a second at the registration page, then chuckled.  “My PIN is 7138.”

“Huh?”

“I almost asked you to look away when I put it in.  But that’s dumb, you own me.  So yeah, that’s my PIN.  In case you ever feel like changing my schedule without me.  And my mother’s maiden name is Petrova.  In case you want to steal my identity.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off.  Nobody’d believe I was you.  I mean, I couldn’t make a free throw to save my life.  People would catch on.”  That made her smile.

“Do you, um, want to pick?” She looked back and up at me with her schedule on the monitor.

“Hmm, let’s see.  Well definitely keep ‘Poetry for physicists.’  I had Williams for History of the English Language this quarter.  I think you’ll like her.  And hey, I think that’s the same economics section I’m in.  It’ll be cool to have a class together again.”

“Mmm.  That’ll be hard.  I’ll have to keep my hands off you and pay attention.”  That conjured up some ideas for fun scenarios in my mind, which I filed away for later.

“I think you need to lose some of these sophomore level ones.  You can pick which ones.”

“Right.  Sure.  I mean, it’s not like they won’t be offered again.  I can just take them in the fall.  Or maybe I could take some classes this summer?  If that’s OK?”

“We’ll see.”

Steff took another ten minutes to decide.  She wanted to look up what was on offer next fall, what was available in the summer, what was a prereq of what.  I had to nudge her along a few times, but not very hard.  Which was good because I didn’t have any real opinion on what she should drop.  Also it was hard to concentrate as I got more and more turned on.

It was absurd.  There are few things in the universe less sexy than college bureaucracy.  I’ve never heard of anyone having a paperwork fetish, which if you think about the things people do fetishize tells you a lot.  But that wasn’t what was really happening.  I was flexing my metaphorical muscles, forcing Steff do something.  She was making a big change to something important to her.  Because I told her to.  I made her.

That power made me feel strong.  If I’m honest, I don’t love how much I love that feeling.  But the fact that I knew I was helping her, that I was getting her to do something she couldn’t do for herself for my sake?  That made me feel good.

Maybe that’s weird.  I certainly thought so.  I’d have never had the courage, even in a hypothetical Steff-is-my-girlfriend scenario, to have admitted to my kinks on my own.  But when Steff hit ‘submit,’ I could see she felt it too. 

Her face was flushed.  Her eyes were wide and shining, though still misty.  “Tom, I…” she trailed off for a second.   

“Yeah,” I agreed.  Not sure to what.

“Thanks.”

“Feel better?” I asked.

“A little,” she said.  “You, um,” she bit her lower lip.  “You know what’d make me feel a lot better?”  Her hand drifted slowly toward my crotch. 

“Yeah?” I asked.  “You think that’s what you need now?”  I pulled her up out of her seat.

“You’re what I always need.” Steff murmured, and we kissed. She fumbled urgently with my fly, eyes closed.  I found my hands on her breasts without thinking about grabbing them.   Steff made a muffled cooing noise, not breaking our lip lock.

Wordlessly we tried to undress each other.  At the same time.  While making out like the teenagers we were.  It was far from an elegant or efficient process.  Lots of arms getting crossed and garments being tangled.  The delays didn’t cool us down at all.

“I love you,” Steff panted when I paused to put a condom on. I finally had her naked, sitting on the edge of her desk. Her sweater was haphazardly draped over her monitor, and her bra dangled off her chair.  “Have I said that today?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered.  “But I’m never tired of hearing it.”  I eased into her.

“I do,” she moaned.  “I love you.  Oh god, that’s good.  Fuck me, Tom.  Fuck your little girlfriend-slave.  That’s so good.  You feel so good in me.  So right.  Use me.  Let me make you feel good.  I’m your fucktoy.  I love it.  So good."  I interrupted her flow with another kiss.  The angle was slightly awkward, but I was going deep in slow steady strokes. 

“Feels so good,” Steff said again.  “So fucking good.  Do you want to make me cum?  I’ll cum if you let me.  Do you want me to? You want to see?  You want to feel?  I’ll cum for you.  Only for you.  I’m only for you.  Whatever you want.  Whatever, whenever, however.  I love you. Ah!” she ground her hips up to meet my downstrokes.  Her body shook and the desk thumped against the wall.

“I love you too,” I said while she panted.  “My perfect girl.” She moaned.  “So fucking hot.  You’re going to make me cum.  That what you want?”

“Oh god, yes!”

“Are you going to be a good girl?” I teased.  She nodded franticly. 

“I’ll be good.  So good.”

“Then I want to feel you cum for me Steff.”  I barely said the words before the dam burst.  Her hips bucked sharply, and she threw her head back, hitting the wall with an audible thump.  She was a tight, wet, writhing mess around and under me.  The feeling, the sight, the sound, even the scent of her orgasm pulled me over the edge with her. 

Steff slowly came down, making happy whimpering noises for several minutes.  For my part I managed to stay standing, holding on to her desk for balance as I recovered.  Eventually Steff reached up to rub the back of her head.

“Ow,” she said smiling and shining.  We both laughed.