Chapter 3: Moving Forward ll

It was after midnight when I finally got fed up. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as blissful sleep did NOT come had gotten old an hour ago, and I simply couldn't take it anymore.

Unfortunately, I hadn't gotten laid today. And even though the clock on my nightstand now said that today was actually tomorrow (or perhaps BECAUSE of that), I was still horny.

Kim's comment about theories of self-interested had kick-started a new discussion right there in the café. Bert, Kim, Sasha, and I had all of course remembered the topic from Viktoriya's class last year, but Sasha had not been around for the subsequent debates about it I'd gotten into with Bert and my roommates. Also, Paige didn't know any of it at all, and we spent a good bit of time catching her up as well.

But shortly after, both Bert and Kim had to leave for afternoon classes. Still thinking with my little head, I tried to let the conversation die down so that Paige and I could return to my house for the promised Tuesday nookie. But the whip-smart intellectual I often forgot Paige had inside that crazy redheaded brain of hers had come out, and she attacked the topic with gusto, especially since Sasha seemed to have the diametrically-opposite opinion.

A lot of their argument, of course, centered on parenthood. Paige insisted that while she regretted some of her past actions, if given the choice to have never gotten pregnant in the first place she wouldn't take it. She adored being a mother and adored mothering her baby.

Sasha tried to argue that if Paige had never gotten pregnant she logically would never have MET April in the first place, and therefore never have known what she was missing, for better or for worse. Therefore, she never would have CHOSEN the life of a single mother.

"But I HAVE met April. I LOVE April. And I can't IMAGINE ever choosing to NOT have her in my life," Paige had insisted quite forcefully.

"Hypothetically..."

It took ten minutes to sort out the semantics of the hypothetical, and then another ten for the girls to agree to disagree on their opinions. Any attempts by me to clarify or otherwise intervene only muddied the situation and dragged it out further, earning me the enmity of both ladies. And in retrospect, I probably would have been better off just getting up and excusing myself to go play Xbox.

But I still held a shred of hope that if I just stuck things out long enough, I would eventually get laid. And really, hasn't every guy been in that kind of position before?

Well, those that have can probably tell you that when things look that bleak, waiting the situation out is usually in vain, as it was for me. Sasha was firmly in the camp of self-centeredness, certain in her belief that the only person looking out for you is yourself, and every decision you make needs to be for your own best interests. Paige, on the other hand, drew not only from her parental viewpoints of prioritizing her child, even to the point of her own death, but also her spiritual upbringing and the notion of doing well unto others for the betterment of all mankind.

As one might expect, the conversation did not end quickly.

The next thing I knew, it was 3pm and Sasha was late for her next class. Paige and I had 4pm classes ourselves, and while I personally thought we had enough time to run home for a quickie, I could tell that Paige was anything but in the mood, and I settled for walking her to her next classes and gently calming her down from the argument.

At about 3:40, she seemed to realize what we'd just missed and apologized profusely. I assured her that she didn't "owe" me sex, and by this point -I- was no longer in the mood, even when Paige suggested we find a quiet corner and she at least give me a blowjob.

In retrospect, I should have taken it. But I didn't, and I went off to class with my balls unflushed for over a week now.

Seriously, I think my testicles were starting to shrink from lack of use.

I'd gone to class and returned home alone. Kim helped me prep dinner for just the two of us, and we ate it alone since Brooke and DJ had already informed us they would be having dinner with friends, as they'd done for the past week now. Project Ben wasn't dying, per se. But I think I'd improved my culinary skills enough that the younger two no longer felt it necessary to show up every day to critique me.

After dinner was one of my final motorcycle lessons. My driving test was already scheduled for the upcoming Monday, October 3rd. Kim put me through my paces, and at the end of the night pronounced me as ready as I'd ever be. And then she left me to spend the rest of the evening with her friends.

Completely alone once more, I'd tried to focus on my homework. Really, I tried. But sometimes when a guy is horny that's really all he can think about. Focusing on anything else – homework, chores, even peeing straight – can be really difficult. I managed to slog through my requirements, enough to get me through the next day, but any attempts to study further material or otherwise prep myself for anything academic beyond tomorrow were proving to be absolutely futile. About the time I noticed I'd read a paragraph three times without realizing it, I decided to shut my brain down for the night and go to bed early.

Showering, changing, brushing, and peeing took me until about 10:30pm. I tossed and turned for about twenty minutes, trying without success to find a comfortable position. I parked a pillow between my knees and wrapped my arms around another, which felt better for about fifteen seconds before I realized the pose reminded me of spooning a beautiful young woman, which only served to remind me that I HAD no beautiful young woman in my arms tonight.

After 11pm, I lay on my back and found my hand drifting into my shorts. I gave my half-erection half-hearted strokes, not really able to muster up the enthusiasm to jerk off. And ten minutes later, when I stared at that favorite photo of Adrienne from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition and realized I STILL couldn't get into it, I just about started crying.

Adrienne ... I really missed her...

Giving up on masturbation, I curled myself into a fetal position and tried to force myself to go to sleep. I switched sides of my body a couple of times, and switched sides of the bed once or twice. I tried lying with my feet off the edge of the mattress and then facedown with my head and one arm nearly falling off the bed. And when I looked at the clock and realized it said 12:03am I got totally fed up.

Even though I didn't actually have an erection, I found that my gait was stiff as I walked rather awkwardly out the bedroom door. It was like I had a wedgie, without actually having a wedgie. But my inner thigh muscles weren't cooperating with me and I felt an oddly disconnected sensation coming from my groin, like the lower half of my body was going numb. Once, halfway down the stairs, I even had to grab my balls just to reassure myself they were attached.

Her door was closed, but unlocked. I turned the knob and went inside as quietly as I could, distant memory guiding me through the near pitch-black night and over to her bed. And then after sliding onto the mattress, I did my best to keep my touch gentle so as not to startle her from her sleep.

Despite my efforts, Brooke jerked abruptly when I rubbed her shoulder. "It's me, it's me," I said hurriedly before she panicked or anything. And after calming down, she rolled over to her nightstand and turned on the table lamp.

I shut my eyes against the sudden illumination, but after a moment, I was able to re-open them and give my little sister a sheepish look. "Sorry, sorry," I wheezed, my breath coming in short pants. My fingers were twitching and I had to clasp my hands together in an effort to keep them still. "But I kinda need you right now."

Brooke blinked twice in surprise and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, but then a sly grin spread across her face. I watched her take in my semi-crazed look and jittery demeanor, and then she actually laughed while shaking her head. "How long HAS it been?" she asked in a quiet voice in the semi-darkness.

I frowned. Throughout our relationship, there had only been one time I could recall ever asking Brooke for sex. She was my little sister, and I simply couldn't shake the notion that I would be taking unfair advantage of her unless she was the initiator. That one and only time I'd come to her and practically begged for it had been a long time ago, back when I was a new Senior in high school and going crazy with lust while being tempted right left and center by girls like Adrienne and Heather Wilkinson. "Uh ... about four years," I replied in a shaky voice.

Brooke frowned at me in confusion, and then smirked and shook her head. "No. Not what I meant. Although has it really been THAT long? No, I was asking when was the last time you got off?"

"Paige, a week ago."

"Only one week and you're like this?"

"I can't sleep. I can't think. My brain is starting to hurt and I'm sorry, I don't mean to impose on you but—MMPH!"

Brooke had started giggling as I rambled through my apology, and then cut me off by sealing her lips over mine and tackling me onto her bed. Her tongue snaked into my mouth and her fingernails scrabbled at my chest while she threw a leg over my hips to straddle me, eventually walking her fingers up to my cheeks and holding my jaw in place while she shoved her tongue down the back of my throat.

Eventually, she broke for air and panted with a big grin on her face. "You don't need to apologize. You'll NEVER need to apologize, not to me, you understand?"

I nodded, agreeing with whatever she wanted in this moment as long as she'd get me off.

And get me off she did. It really didn't take that long. There was minimal foreplay (once again) and now that I had her permission, I took charge by grabbing her head and pinning it to mine as I rolled us over and kissed her with a desperate frenzy while tugging her nightshirt up to her armpits and yanking her panties down to her knees. She laughed when I suddenly left her mouth and pulled her nightshirt up another couple of inches so I could suck a nipple into my mouth, and her laugh turned into a moan when I dropped another foot or so to stick my tongue into her twat. She wasn't that wet – not this soon at least – but I could taste feminine arousal and my saliva would have to do the rest, because after only about three seconds of licking her I crawled back up her body, notched my cockhead into her folds, and PUSHED.

Brooke had always been tight. She'd been super tight when I took her virginity four years ago and now, still only a 19-year-old sophomore, she was still quite snug. She was just wet enough to take me in without pain, but I still couldn't quite get my full length all the way in. Not helping matters was that her panties were still trapped around her knees, preventing her from fully separating her legs, and we had to kind of awkwardly wiggle around a bit before she managed to pull one foot through the hole and finally part her thighs to let me bottom out.

But finally we were fully joined, and as my little sister brought her legs back together, this time with her feet crossed behind my ass, I set my forehead down on the pillow beside her and finally felt my twitching cease.

"Ohhh ... Brooke..." I moaned happily.

"Fuck me, big brother," she cooed encouragingly beneath me.

She didn't orgasm, not that time at least. I busted my nut inside three minutes and none of that time was spent focusing on her, not consciously OR unconsciously. All my Sex God skills were useless for those three minutes as I simply rutted in and out of her wet vagina over and over and over again until I found my release. I felt her urging me on, digging her heels into my ass, stroking my spine, and groaning into my ear to fill her up with my incestuous brotherly sperm. I felt her inner muscles working my cock, milking me for my creamy hot jism. And when I finally gave her what she'd asked for, she cooed happily and patted my back for a job well-done.

Four years ago when I'd come to her for this same reason, I'd simply rolled off her afterward and then left before our mother could discover us. But tonight, we were five hundred miles from home and nobody was going to bother us for the rest of the night. And I had some making up to do for my little sister.

She rolled me onto the mattress beside her, palming my cheek with one hand and staring at me dreamily before pulling me to her for a tender but relatively chaste kiss. "Thanks for this," she told me. "I forgot how much fun this can be with you."

"Fun? I pretty much used your body for thirty seconds just now."

Brooke giggled. "And I enjoyed most of twenty-nine seconds of it." She took my hand and brought it to her breast, sighing as I began manipulating her nipple. And she reached her own hand down to pet my temporarily sleeping soldier. "We never did get finished on Friday."

"You're right. And I seem to remember myself being right about ... here." As I spoke, I snaked my way back down Brooke's body, this time taking her panties from around her left knee and removing them completely. Her breathing sped up as I moved, and when I said the word "here" and wrapped my lips around her clit, she planted both hands on the back of my head and pulled my face tighter into her crotch.

There was no messing around with bringing her to the edge without letting her go over. I thought about it for a half-second, knowing that her orgasms were always more spectacular after the tease. But the instant I showed signs of doing so, Brooke started whapping me on the head and with memories of our last interruption fresh in my mind, I went ahead and sent her into orbit right away.

There's just something so deliciously naughty about hearing your own little sister howling your name as she shrieks in delirious pleasure. I liked it so much that I did it again, and again, figuring the triple climaxes would have to make up for the one big grand finale.

Besides, I had another way to get her a grand finale. After the third back-to-back-to-back orgasm, I stood up, fisted my renewed erection, and unceremoniously rammed it back into her. She was still tight, but now copiously lubricated with mingled cum and I had no trouble burying all seven-and-three-quarter inches all at once. She chuffed for air like I'd knocked the wind out of her, and I rutted back and forth rapidly into her compliant body while she caught her breath again. But within moments, she was fucking back at me just as hard as I was fucking her, until she scissored her legs around my hips and violently wrenched our bodies to the side.

She probably wouldn't have been able to topple me on her own, but I rolled with the movement and flopped onto my back. Brooke managed to stay in the saddle as we rolled over, and giggling at the accomplishment now that she was in the cowgirl position, she spread her knees to the sides for balance and REALLY began to fuck me.

Her tits wobbled enticingly beneath the nightshirt that had once again fallen over her torso. I grabbed the hem and yanked it upward, and Brooke finished the job for me by lifting it over her head and tossing the offending garment aside while my fingers found her nipples. And then she was pulling my left hand higher so that she could press her cheek against my palm, humming happily before kissing my skin while she continued to gyrate around my upright pole.

My right hand started manipulating her trigger spots, sending little sparkles of sensation along her nerves that would ultimately lead to that grand finale I'd mentioned. She felt me working her body like a finely-tuned instrument and slipped my left thumb into her mouth while closing her eyes and moaning erotically as she absorbed all of the myriad feelings I was causing throughout her body, not just in her loins. Concentrating inward, her body moved fluidly and without express intent. She simply WENT with the flow, letting the sexual energy take her to places she could never have found through concentration.

Meanwhile, I WAS concentrating. Brooke had already taken care of me, without foreplay or forethought, and I needed to thank her for that. I wanted her to have the very best orgasm I could produce in her, and because of that, I was just as oblivious as she was to anything happening beyond the borders of this bed.

So I was just as surprised as Brooke when I slid my right hand around my sister's bare buttcheek, intending to pop a finger in her ass, only to find a slimy column of rubber in my way. I jerked my head around my sister's body in shock, just in time to see DJ's mouth split into a huge grin right as we both heard Brooke absolutely SCREAM.

Apparently, our sounds of fucking had carried through the wall to DJ's bedroom and awoken her. She'd crept over to investigate the situation, and upon discovering exactly who was with her best friend in bed, decided to join in ... with one of those strap-on dildos the girls played with so much. I still had my dick in Brooke's juicing cunt, and right at the moment when I was going to give my sister into that grand finale orgasm with a finger in her ass, DJ shoved three inches of that lubricated dildo in there instead.

That's a GRAND finale.

And Brooke passed out. She didn't even realize what DJ had done. We had to tell her when she woke up a few minutes later.

Meanwhile, my little sister had fallen off my cock as she'd fallen unconscious. And at the mere sight of my wet prick, still coated in Brooke's orgasmic nectar, it had taken DJ all of two seconds to inhale my prick to the root. She sucked on my knob while unbuckling herself from the harness. And once free of the strap-on, without further ado or commentary about the cold shoulder she'd been giving me for the past several days, the red-hot blonde mounted my dick and dropped herself all the way down.

We didn't talk. We didn't think. We just fucked. It was the middle of the night and despite having cum once already, I was still a little twitchy with need and not yet satisfied. DJ rode me cowgirl-style even harder than Brooke had done until my little sister began to stir and moan. At the noise, I jerked the blonde off of me and manhandled her onto all fours with her face pointed in my sister's direction. She took the hint and rolled Brooke onto her back with her legs askew, diving her head in to lick at the mingled cum oozing out of her friend's sodden snatch. Meanwhile, I got to my knees behind DJ and skewered her in a single thrust. And that's the way we woke up my little sister for another go round.

DJ had two orgasms before Brooke had roused herself enough to rejoin. She had another while back in the cowgirl position we'd been in before. And she had one more when Brooke got her revenge by shoving the strap-on up HER ass while she was riding me.

DJ's internal convulsions from that climax milked my second load out of me, and then Brooke was shedding the harness to eat THAT creampie before the girls gave me a dual-blowjob to give me a third erection. With two ejaculations under my belt, I tended to last damn near forever. And once I was sufficiently hard, the girls took full advantage of that fact by climbing on top of each other face-to-face and tit-to-tit, making out with lots of wet tongue and pawing hands while I switched back and forth between their pussies.

In the end, Brooke rolled out of the way and had me climb up DJ's torso, laying my dick into the valley of the blonde's incredible 34DD cleavage. I fucked DJ's big tits while shoving my cockhead into her mouth and bumping her nose a time or two, until at last my balls tightened and I sprayed out a few healthy strings of hot jism across her pretty face.

Brooke licked DJ clean, and then close to 2am the girls lay me between them on Brooke's bed. With a naked 19-year-old cuddled up to me on either side, I fell into an exhausted sleep. And for once, I really didn't feel so alone.

While Tuesday didn't really start off so great, it kick-started what turned out to be a really, really good remainder of the week for me. Wednesday was a solid day of classes, and I didn't fall asleep during a lecture once. The whole project team came back to my place after Isakova's class and decided to stick around for my Project Ben dinner. In the evening, I had a great time at ballroom dance class, getting all the steps right at a pretty fun West Coast Swing, charming my partners, and even my fairly pretty (for an old lady) teacher as well.

At night, DJ decided to walk in on my post-dancing shower. We didn't try over-analyze our relationship or rationalize away what we were doing with each other. She was newly single and quite horny; I was still single and quite horny. We satisfied each other very well, and made such a racket that by the time we got out of the shower and into my bedroom, Brooke had decided to join us for an encore performance of Tuesday night.

And then came Thursday. Paige came over to the house around 1pm to drop off April with Kim for babysitting, and she brought a pack-n-play as well so that the little girl would have somewhere to nap. She went off to her class from 2 to 4pm, but upon returning, it really didn't take much convincing for me to get her to just stay in the house overnight rather than make the trip back across the bay. I cooked and fed Paige dinner, feeling quite the responsible domestic while doing so. Kim had so much fun taking care of April for a couple of hours that she stuck around as well, and the three of us plus the one-year-old toddler had an exceptionally fun evening, minus only the hour-and-a-half I had to leave for Krav Maga.

My aching muscles were quite pleased to have Paige around when I returned, since she insisted on giving me a massage. And since April happened to be downstairs in the living room with Kim while Paige and I were up in my bedroom, the massage turned into a full-body massage, complete with happy ending. And I made sure Paige had a couple of good happy endings herself as well.

While there was no middle-of-the-night nookie while Paige cuddled with me overnight in my bed (she felt weird about having sex with April in the room, and really, I'd have felt weird too), Paige was only too eager to hand off April to Kim in the morning and then shove me back into my bedroom for a pre-class quickie.

I had to hustle off to my class, then, and so did Paige. But then I returned to the house around 10:10am to take my shift at babysitting while Kim left for her class. April and I had a grand ole time while we were one-on-one, but I was still much relieved when the girls both got back to the house around the same time for lunch. If I had somehow killed her daughter, I was pretty sure Paige would never let me have sex with her again, after all.

Friday evening brought a reunion with me and my precious Xbox (well, Bert's Xbox). Saturday I drove off to Palo Alto to spend the day with Lynne, Amber, and crew (by choice, just to hang out, and not out of loneliness). Sunday I caught up on all the homework and studying I SHOULD have been doing the previous several days. And then Sunday night, DJ decided to take a shower with me once again, and this time she wanted me up her ass.

Like I said, it was a good remainder of the week.

And then came Monday.

-- OCTOBER 2005, SENIOR YEAR --

"Congratulations, man. You passed."

I flipped up my visor, my smile carrying up to my eyes. "Really?"

The late-30's DMV employee who'd been spooning me on the seat of Kim's Fireblade for the past twenty minutes nodded as he whipped out his clipboard and started making marks. Without looking up at me, he said, "Best rider I've had all day. You had a good teacher."

"The best," I replied, glancing over to the side of the DMV building where Kim was waiting for me. I started thinking I should get her something special as a thank you present.

You could give her a ride on Big Ben...

Shut up, you.

"Come on inside. We'll finish up the last of your paperwork and issue you a temporary license," the employee said finally, and then he took a long lingering glance at the Japanese girl dressed in hot pink motorcycle leathers standing next to the building. "And then, maybe you can give that hot babe waiting for you a ride home."

I grinned as I too glanced at Kim. "Sounds great."

I gave Kim a ride back to campus, but just that: a motorcycle ride. We wouldn't have had time for a Big Ben experience anyway, even if she would have let me. We had class in fifteen minutes.

An hour later, though, class was over, and I started packing up my bag.

"Ben, can you please stay a moment?"

Bert, Kim, and Sasha all looked up with me. Isakova's Econ course was our last class of the day Mondays and Wednesdays, and we usually headed to my place to hang out and ostensibly have our team meeting. With a shrug, I shoved my binder into my bag and then stood up, looping the strap over my head and settling the padded part onto my shoulder.

"I'll catch up to you guys," I told my friends.

"You've got the keys, dude," Bert pointed out.

"We'll just wait for you outside," Sasha offered, and then raised her eyebrows to our professor. "Unless this is going to be a while?"

"Just a few minutes," Viktoriya assured her.

That settled, my friends filed out after the rest of our classmates, and Viktoriya shook her head in the negative when Sasha gestured a question of whether or not she wanted the door closed.

"What's up?" I asked, leaning back against one of the long conference-style tables in the classroom.

Her eyebrows went up critically. "I have not seen your MBA application yet, young man."

I blinked at the 'young man' reference. It was the kind of condescending term my professor used only when she was seriously disappointed. "Uh, no. I haven't turned it in."

"You are aware that the first round due date is the seventeenth, yes? That is only two weeks."

"Of course. It's just..." I took a deep breath. No reason to beat around the bush. "I started writing it, but I actually don't intend to turn it in."

"Excuse me?"

"BioGen offered me a great job. Not just 'understood', either. I actually have the offer letter in my desk."

"But your MBA..."

"I can get it later. They've got a good educational program. Once I get a couple of years in, they'll subsidize my MBA and I can always come back here. It seems like a great plan to me."

"Benjamin. Getting your Master's degree is very important."

"I know that. And I will get it eventually."

"Will you? I have heard that before."

"I mean it. Long term, I know I want the MBA on my resume. But half the point of getting one is to get a really good job, and I already have that lined up. The starting salary is more than the average for Haas' MBA class last year."

Viktoriya frowned, but sighed. "I still want you to turn in your application. Things change. Circumstances change. You have an offer now, but it might not be there next summer."

"Perhaps."

Her cool blue eyes bored into my skull, and she reached forward and held my arm. "I am giving you a kick in the butt. Turn it in."

I shrugged. "What's the rush? There are four rounds of applications."

"Yes, but your highest chance of being accepted is in the first round."

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you saying I might not be accepted?"

"If you continue to disappoint me, then yes," she replied with a hint of a wicked smile. "Really, Benjamin. I thought you were a better planner than this. Turn in your application. You'll get your acceptance in January. Worst case, you turn it down or defer it a year. You have nothing to lose but the time spent on writing the application."

"Fine."

"No 'fine'. Do or do not."

"There is no try."

"Excuse me?"

I blushed and shook my head. "Nevermind. I'll turn it in by the deadline. I promise."

"Good boy." She patted my head, and I rolled my eyes once more at the condescension. For a brief moment, I thought about cornering her in her office, bending her over her desk, and reminding her who was in charge. But I let that notion slide and simply accepted her gesture for the fond familiarity it meant.

And then I left to catch up to my friends.

The team of course grilled me about what Professor Isakova wanted, and I explained about making sure I got my application turned in. Bert seemed a little put out that she hadn't gone out of her way to make sure HE turned HIS in, and wondered aloud if that meant that she wasn't so sure he'd be accepted.

"Thought you were looking for a job in Palo Alto?" Sasha inquired.

"Well ... like the professor said: keep your options open," Bert replied. "And hey, she didn't go out of her way to harp on either of you."

"Turned mine in last week," Sasha replied smartly.

"Yesterday," Kim added. "Probably why she went and cornered you, Ben. I may have let slip that I didn't think you were going to apply."

"Traitor," I shot at her with narrowed eyes, but smirked a second later.

We made it to the house, and I went into the kitchen to start defrosting strips of raw beef while my teammates spread out their books. Poking my head back out through the doorway, I asked, "Hey, you guys sticking around for dinner?"

"Sure," Sasha answered immediately.

"Depends on what you're making," Bert replied.

"Stir fry."

Bert sighed. "Well, I suppose that'll do..."

I shook my head as I returned to the kitchen. In the history of Project Ben, Bert had yet to turn down my cooking. He only played at being picky just to mess with me.

Kim joined me a minute later to make sure I was settled in just right, and then she left me to handle things on my own. Once I put my mind to it, cooking was really quite a breeze. It was like a Chemistry lab experiment, only easier and ungraded. All I really needed to do was become more familiar with each recipe so that I wouldn't even need directions anymore.

The four of us enjoyed dinner together, along with the usual conversation. After the meal, we chatted for a bit more until it was time for Bert and Sasha to hit the BART station. And just as they were getting up to leave, the first three notes of The Chemical Brothers' "Galvanize" sounded off loudly in my pocket.

At the sound of my new ringtone, I let go of Sasha, who was hugging me goodbye, and checked my phone. Sasha caught it too, and her eyebrows shot up to see "Dawn" on the display. Patting my cheek, she turned away and said, "See you tomorrow."

I nodded, my attention already gone. I didn't even hear Bert or Sasha leave, nor did I notice when Kim disappeared as well. All of my attention was on my phone as I quickly answered it and headed for the stairs and the privacy of my bedroom.

It had been a few weeks since the last time Dawn called, but it felt like only yesterday. All of the emotions I'd been feeling then came rushing back to me: the sense of loss, of heartbreak, but also hope. She was a broken person, broken in a completely different way from the other girls I'd helped over the course of my adolescent history, and I didn't really know how to handle her. All I could really do at this point was wait: to try and live my life the best way I could, and hang onto that hope that she would once again become the kind of Dawn I could be with forever.

In the meantime, I would give her space. Though the thought had crossed my mind, I didn't attempt to call her. She had no cell reception, and though I had the phone number to the Morris Camp office, I had chosen not to attempt contact. SHE would call ME when she felt like it, and I was rather happy that she felt like it now.

Dawn seemed pretty happy too. Apparently she'd gotten her wish to spend more time in the stables, and just this afternoon she'd given birth to a baby horse, a "filly foal" as she put it. She was quick to explain that she hadn't actually given birth to it – not like she was holding the horses legs and urging the mother to push or anything like that – but she had been present as the only human assistant, and she'd come away from the experience with a whole new perspective on life.

She seemed happy ... really happy ... and I was happy for her. She gushed about witnessing new LIFE, and how the universe seemed so much bigger and all her problems seemed so much smaller.

I didn't quite feel it, myself. I wasn't part of her grand experience, so a lot of what she was saying went over my head. She babbled quite a bit, which amused me. I was certainly happy for one thing: of all the people in the world she could share this with, she was choosing to share it with me. Yeah, her epiphany sort of meant that she was trivializing her past mistakes, which by extension meant that she was trivializing the wrongs she'd done to me. But I didn't hold that against her. I truly wanted her to heal and move forward, and from the sounds of things, she was well on her way.

But later on, after we'd hung up and I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder: if Dawn really did start fresh, if she really did move on with her life, would she necessarily come back to me?

Life is change. Life is forward progress. I'd been waiting for Dawn to return to Berkeley as the girl I had once known and loved, or at least something very close to her, but that's not the way these things work. We move on, we move forward.

Dawn was doing it. Dawn was getting on with her new life.

Maybe it was time I did the same.

The rest of the week flew by, as many aspects of my life had become routine, with even the slight changes doing nothing more than marking the time and not impeding the flow. After the phone call with Dawn, I went to my Krav Maga class and worked off a little frustration. Even my instructors thought I was putting a little more oomph into my punches than usual.

Tuesday, Paige returned (without April) and we picked up right where we'd left off, at least until she had to go to class. Dinner was another group affair with Bert, Kim, and Sasha: baked ziti that night. In the evening, Bert and Sasha took the BART home, and Kim left to hang out with her friends as I no longer needed motorcycle lessons. But with a fresh driver's license in my pocket I felt the need to borrow her bike and just go for a ride on my own. There's something quite special about the mixture of solitude and adrenaline rush being on a speeding little rocket without a roll cage, car body, or even another human being surrounding you for protection. It's just you, the road, and the obstacles coming at you at 50mph on crowded Berkeley city streets. I wound up in the hills by the Lawrence Hall of Science, just looking out across the city lights in a decidedly contemplative state.

Wednesday we had a group presentation for Isakova's class, which of course went perfectly. The four of us were a well-oiled machine by this point, and I barely needed to be a team leader. We all knew what to do. Dinner was solo, and I went out and got a Carl's Jr burger, just because I could. It didn't taste that great, actually. Having eaten so many non-fast food meals over the last month, my stomach wasn't used the grease anymore, and it sort of turned my stomach a bit. Still, one giant burp later, I felt much better. And I was able to smoothly go through my ballroom dance class without feeling queasy.

Thursday, Brooke and DJ returned for dinner, and I made Chinese chicken salads and foccacia bread pizza for all six of us. Then it was off to Krav Maga, and while glad my stomach didn't feel too heavy beforehand, I had a deep craving for protein when I got home and promptly hard-boiled four eggs to gulp down. Certainly it was from all the exercise my muscles had gotten.

Friday I had an exam, and when it was over I felt in the mood for some serious Xboxing. Kim went home, Brooke and DJ were at Vivian Wang's, and once again I was all alone. Feeling lazy, I made Maruchan ramen and returned to the Xbox. And sometime around 9pm I finally looked up at the ceiling and wondered, What the hell am I doing?

Just on Monday, I'd talked to Dawn and listened to her story about Aurora the filly foal, and I'd seriously thought about finding a way to move on with my life. The only thing was: I didn't know how.

I'd just spent the last week doing the same things I did every week, with a few slight variations that kept things from becoming boring and yet didn't really change the routine. I was still stuck in the same spot I'd been before the phone call: just hanging around, waiting for Dawn to return.

Yes, I was working on Project Ben. I could already cook a million times better than before, shop at a grocery store without feeling lost, and dance the cha-cha. I didn't necessarily think I could kick anybody's ass at Krav Maga, but my shirts were tighter and more than once DJ had complimented my developing musculature. I'd already had the cardio fitness down pat.

One might say all that is excellent progress in self-improvement, but what about my situation had really changed? I felt like I was just biding my time, taking things day-by-day while my future remained this fuzzy thing way off in the distance.

Graduation was next May. BioGen was waiting for me. All I had to do was keep plugging away at my classes, make sure I didn't fail anything, and my job prospects were secure.

Dawn's ranch hand program ran through the end of next August, when she was due to return to campus and finish her academic career. All I had to do was wait for her, hope she came back hale and hearty, and hope she would want to be with me again.

I wasn't moving forward. I was just ... moving, keeping pace with the calendar. Go to class, eat food, hang out with friends, and go to sleep. Wake up and do it all again. Routine. Plug away. And eventually my future would come, right?

Right?

But what about DJ? Where was that relationship going? COULD it go anywhere?

And what about Sasha?

What ABOUT Sasha? There's nothing there. Stupid brain. Sasha had made her stance on me quite clear.

Maybe that's why you're wondering?

Shut up, you.

Hey dude, you're the one who forgot to pause the game while you stared up at the ceiling and wondered what the hell you were doing?

Great. Now I'm talking to myself. Yes, Ben, you're so content with your life that you're turning schizophrenic.

MPD: Multiple-Personality Disorder. Schizophrenia is hearing voices from inanimate objects, like the couch is talking to you or something. Unless you're paranoid schizophrenic, in which case you'd be hallucinating other people, like Russell Crowe in "A Beautiful Mind".

Whatever.

Are you really going to sit around and wait for Dawn to come back to you? (A) Are you sure she's going to do it? And (B), after all the shit she pulled, does she deserve that?

I love her. Always will.

That's nice. But that doesn't mean she's what's best for you, especially right now while she's a million miles away.

What are you suggesting? That I get myself another girlfriend? What happened to the idea of being single for a while?

There's a difference between AVOIDING codependency on a girlfriend and being SINGLE.

I know that.

Do you? That's not what I see.

And what DO you see?

I see a guy who is still hung up on an old dream, a dream he TOLD himself he was over. I see a guy who isn't just not in a relationship, but ACTIVELY trying to STAY AWAY from relationships.

I'm getting over Dawn. I don't want to rebound.

You're not getting over Dawn, you're STILL INTO Dawn. Why do you think you're pushing DJ away?

I can't rebound with DJ again.

Bullshit. You're pushing DJ away because you still believe Dawn will come back to you. If you and DJ ever got together, it would only be because you'd FINALLY given up on Dawn. And you can't have that, can you?

You're gonna turn this into a soulmate argument, aren't you?

You said it. Not me. Well ... me IS you, but ... ah, fuck it. You know what I mean.

I don't buy the soulmate argument anymore.

Don't you?

That was crap spoon-fed to us by our parents.

Are you sure?

Of course I am.

Then why am -I- (which is YOU, by the way), questioning it?

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!

I will. Just as soon as you move on.

What?

Move on. Move FORWARD. Get ON with your LIFE. STOP fucking waiting around for Dawn. If she comes back, great. You two can work things out IF and when that happens. Until then, stop being a fucking PUSSY and get off your ass and LIVE your life!

How? By jumping right into another committed relationship with DJ?

Of course not.

So what, I'm supposed to go out and have meaningless sex with Big Ben groupies?

Well, that's an OPTION. But things don't have to be so extreme. There's codependence, there's AVOIDING codependence, and then there's the middle. THAT'S being single. That's where you need to be. Because the longer you keep pushing people away, the more it shows that you're still hung up on Dawn. The longer you sit in this holding pattern of not being in a relationship for the sake of not being in a relationship, the more obvious it becomes that the only relationship you'll accept is one with Dawn.

Is that really so bad?

Course not. But then, you're gonna have me in your head second-guessing you every day for the rest of the year.

Seriously?

Hey, don't blame me. You're in the driver's seat. The only reason I'm bugging you is because you've got two minds about this one: the hopeless romantic that wants to believe beyond all reason that you and Dawn are meant to be together and will find each other once again, and the realist who recognizes that you're here, she's there, and there are no guarantees that she'll ever come back. What's it gonna be?

I can't decide that right now.

Of course you can't. But this isn't a decision that will just wait forever. DJ's not going to sit around forever. Sasha's not going to sit around forever. Kim's not going to sit around forever.

Kim? What's she got to do with this?

I dunno. YOU tell ME.

My head hurts.

Tell me about it. Or better yet, tell me what you told yourself the second you and Dawn ended that last call.

Dawn was getting on with her new life. Maybe it's time I did the same.

That's the one. And who knows? Maybe you'll end up meeting the Mrs. Right you would have missed had you still had your head stuck up your ass. Maybe you'll meet your true destiny.

I snickered. Destiny? Well, the place I'm going tomorrow night, there's sure to be at least one "Destiny".

"You sure this is the right place?" Lynne Arian asked a little nervously as we pulled into the lot.

"It's the right address," I confirmed, checking the numbers over the double doors with the piece of paper in my hand. "Amber would never steer us wrong."

"It just doesn't look right," Kady Jacobsen sighed from the driver's seat with a tone of mild disappointment in her voice. "You sure it's not one of those glitzy clubs we passed back on Broadway? This place looks like a nice restaurant."

"Maybe that's the point," Kim chirped from well behind me. "Weren't we talking about something low-key? Not so gaudy and obvious?"

"Somewhere we girls could go without feeling uncomfortable?" Noelle added from the third row.

I finally spotted what I was looking for and pointed to it. "There's the sign for Nocturne. This IS the place. Bert, you cool with it?"

"Hell, I don't care as long as they've got naked girls in there," Bert replied from the middle row he shared with Lynne. "Let's check it out, and if we don't like it we can always go back to those places on Broadway."

I shrugged. "Sounds like a plan."

By now, Kady had stopped her father's Escalade and opened the door to the waiting valet. I got out from the shotgun side and looked up at the nondescript doors. Kim, Lynne, Bert, Kady, and Noelle followed after me as I led the way inside and into an enclosed lobby with muted, but not dark, lighting.

Two pretty brunettes behind the podium wore tasteful black uniform dresses, looking like the hostess at a Cheesecake Factory. One of them smiled as we entered and greeted, "Welcome to Nocturne. How may I help you?"

Clearing my throat, I stated, "A friend of mine said she made a reservation."

"Name on the reservation?"

I gestured back to my buddy. "Bert Kim."

The girl smiled as she tapped at the touchscreen interface of a monitor recessed into the podium. A moment later, her green eyes twinkled as she smiled at Bert. "Your 21st birthday. Congratulations."

Bert blushed and Lynne squeezed his hand.

"State law: I must check all your IDs."

I nodded and fished out my wallet. Everyone else did likewise. Kady bit her lip nervously as she put forth her fake ID - she was still only 20.

But the girl behind the podium didn't scrutinize any of our driver's licenses, handing them back as quickly as she'd taken them. And a moment later she gestured to the door on our left. "Erica will lead you to your table. Enjoy your evening."

Having gone to Bliss for Daniel's bachelor party last year, I'd thought I would know what to expect. But it just goes to show that every place is different, and even strip clubs can have the variety from high-class to low-class that restaurants do. Bliss was a pretty nice place, but the neon lighting and jaded staff still put the place a cut below Nocturne. In fact, if I hadn't been told otherwise, I wouldn't have even known Nocturne WAS a strip club.

The illusion of refinement continued beyond the enclosed lobby. Once behind closed doors, I expected to see poles and stages around the room. I expected to hear boom-chicka-wow-wow music pumping out of the speakers. And I expected to see scantily clad women gyrating around, some of whom with their breasts out for my viewing pleasure.

I saw none of those things. We passed down a short hall and into the main room, which again resembled a high-end restaurant. Circular tables were spread out evenly and covered in well-appointed linens. The tables were each surrounded by four to six chairs, the number depending on the diameter of the table. And each chair was plushly upholstered, with a back that would be even higher than my head while seated, presumably to offer a level of privacy.

Or handholds for the lapdance girls.

I still wasn't even sure there WERE any lapdance girls. There certainly weren't any around right now, even though more than half of the tables were currently occupied. I looked around as Erica guided us to our table, and noticed that while the customer ratio was decidedly male-heavy, it wasn't the kind of crowd I'd remembered from Bliss. Then, I'd seen a lot of middle-aged businessmen still in their suits along with guys in their early twenties dressed casually and out for a good time. But here, the clientele was a little more in-between. The "businessmen" looked older, many with graying hair. There wasn't a single hard-partying boorish "dude" just out to cop a feel of a pair of tits. There were a number of couples, actually, men with their wife or girlfriend who appeared for all the world like they were just out for a pleasant dinner. And our little group was certainly the youngest in attendance.

After we were seated, Erica passed out leather-bound menus. Linen paper with fine script spelled out the dishes available, although the first two pages were dominated by wines and cocktails. Our waitress, Angelica, came by to introduce herself and take our drink orders, and although I did notice that her cleavage-enhancing dress was rather more revealing than one might see at a classy restaurant, it was still a far cry from the boobs-and-butt-hanging-out costumes I'd seen before.

What followed was yet another surprise: we had dinner. Oh, Amber had told us to expect dinner, but I honestly thought that we'd end up eating bar foods while staring at gyrating strippers. This was an honest-to-goodness dinner, with elegant silverware, linen napkins ... the whole nine yards. That got us chattering once more about whether or not we were in the right place, and Kady actually kicked my shin under the table while giving me a "what-the-heck-is-going-on?" look.

So I took action. Getting up, I made like I was going toward the restrooms so as not to draw any attention to myself, but at first opportunity, I got a waitress' attention and said quietly, "Please pardon me if this comes out wrong, but my friend sent us here for a 21st birthday party and I want to make sure we're in the right place. Are there any ... uh ... exotic dancers here?"

The waitress gave me a demure smile that carried up to her twinkling eyes. "You're in the right place, sir. The entertainment portion of the evening will begin after your meal."

I blinked. "Oh, I see. Thank you very much."

Still puzzled, but somewhat relieved, I returned to my friends and told them as well. It was only then that I got a really good look around the room and realized that everybody in the room was eating right about the same time. That sort of thing doesn't happen in restaurants, with some diners arriving and then departing earlier than others. But apparently we were all roughly on the same schedule, and I relaxed a bit more.

The meal itself was pretty good. Not the best, but a step above Outback Steakhouse nonetheless. My prime rib was just the right shade of pink, and the accompanying red potatoes and steamed vegetables were only a tad overcooked. Knowing that we'd be here a while, I'd been sipping at a Martini throughout the meal, not drinking too much too fast. And dessert was a nicely done Tiramisu cheesecake I split with Kim that once again reminded me of the ubiquitous "Factory".

But then busboys came out and cleaned up all our dishes. I looked around for Angelica, expecting to do the check dance with Lynne or another of my friends over paying for the dinner bill, but she was nowhere to be found. In fact, none of the waitresses was anywhere in sight. But just as I started to wonder about that, an entire wall of the main room suddenly turned translucent, showing itself to be nothing more than a cleverly disguised screen. And a moment later it slowly rolled up and into the ceiling, revealing a hidden stage behind.

The "entertainment" portion of the evening was about to begin.

Though I've never been to a Burlesque show, I'd heard about that type of dancing. It's sexy and provocative without quite getting to nudity, more about the tease than the full reveal. There are costumes and music and sometimes full-on productions. At the other end of the spectrum is your typical strip club, which is entirely about the reveal with a minimal amount of "foreplay" before the clothes come off. The music is canned and the performer is usually on stage all by her lonesome.

Nocturne was somewhere in the middle. There were no sets. It wasn't anything resembling a musical production. But there were costumes and themes, and in the end the girls DID end up getting naked. It gave the goodies that burlesque held back, but it wasn't as in your face about it like a strip club. We weren't surrounded by naked girls on secondary stages around the room, nor were girls walking up to us offering lap dances for twenty bucks a song.

Of course, lap dances were still available. I figured that out when some of the waitresses returned, and at the table next to us I saw a man hand his waitress a card. Glancing back at my own table, I now noticed that a box of similar cards had magically appeared next to the candlelit centerpiece, probably placed there while my attention was drawn to the stage. Checking the cards out, I realized that they were request cards, pre-marked with our table number, so that if any of us wanted a service rendered, we could discreetly ask for it.

Minutes later, one of the dancers who had already finished her set came directly to table next to us, took the man by the hand, and led him somewhere in the back. No money was exchanged. No negotiations were made. It was already arranged.

And that's when it really hit me just how different Nocturne was from Bliss. When I'd gone to my first strip club as part of Daniel Chen's bachelor party, I'd been struck by how little the place had to do with sex and how much more it was about money. Girls had been coming up to me in waves, sitting in my lap and practically begging me to buy a dance ... or more. The whole setup was arranged to make as much money as possible, with little regard for the sensuality of the sexual experience save for what minimal amount was necessary to get to the money part. Sitting there, I'd felt like a mark targeted by con men who would do whatever it took to separate as much money from my wallet as possible.

Nocturne, on the other hand, crafted a different experience. Sure, it still ended up with a naked girl on a stage, but the path taken to get there didn't make me feel all slimy or sleazy. The girls on stage were true performers, and they showed some real dance talent. They used real names, like Erica and Angelica, even if those perhaps weren't their real names; no Destiny or Bambi or Angel or Syndy. Nobody was pressuring me to spend any more money than I already had, and I could probably just sit here for the rest of the evening without being bothered one bit. Of course, the girls on stage were trying like hell to seduce their audience, but at least that felt more like a seduction than a scam.

"She's good," Kady breathed just then, her eyes fixed forward. A willowy blonde with a drum tight ass and perky A-cups was twirling gracefully like a ballerina, albeit a half-naked ballerina who flashed us her bare-shaven pussy each time she did a leg extension.

"Like her?" I asked, holding up a card. "You can get her in private if you want. Maybe she can do both of you?" I smirked at Noelle for the last part.

Noelle furrowed her eyebrows and took the card from my hand, scrutinizing it. "How do we know how much everything is?"

"Don't know," I shrugged. "There weren't prices on our dinner menus, either. I get the distinct impression that this place wants to be more about sex, and not about money. Maybe there's some negotiation when you get in the back, or maybe it's just not discussed. Like those really high-end restaurants: if you have to ask how much it costs, you probably shouldn't order it."

Noelle made a face. "Could get expensive really fast."

Kady patted her hand. "Don't worry. I got it." She then plucked the card from Noelle's fingers and started writing down the dancer's name, Renee. When she was finished, she held the card up, and within seconds a waitress came by and plucked it from behind.

Bert smirked and shook his head. "It's a good thing Sasha had to work this weekend. I felt bad that she wasn't able to come, but knowing how uptight she is about sex, it's probably for the best."

I frowned. "Sasha's not uptight about sex. She just isn't touchy-feely with guys she barely knows. But she's chilled out a lot over the last year. She doesn't mind hugging you or me anymore."

"Hugs, sure. But I dunno. I get the vibe that a strip club isn't her kind of place."

I nodded. "You're probably right."

Renee finished her dance, doing full side-splits on the floor with a perky smile on her face. The female announcer, in a smoky-sweet voice perfect for KOST 103.5 romantic song radio, urged everyone to applaud Renee, which we did. Even her gentle voice was a far cry from Vegas-lounge announcer bombast.

Another dancer came on, a more busty blonde named Layla. From the other side of Kim, Bert leaned over to me and asked, "So, any of them catch your attention yet? Anybody to work the Big Ben charm on?"

"I'm not taking a stripper home with me," I replied in a deadpan. This time, I thought. This time.

He chuckled and Lynne rubbed his arm. "Has anyone caught YOUR attention, honey?"

"Babe, you're all I need," he replied smoothly.

Lynne giggled. "I know that, but we came to a STRIP CLUB for your birthday because we both thought it would be fun."

Kady arched an eyebrow at her classmate. "You telling me YOU'RE starting to get into watching all this naked female flesh?"

"Of course not." In the dim lighting, I couldn't see whether or not Lynne blushed, but the expression on her face certainly matched. She then turned to her boyfriend. "But honey, I'm really not jealous. I want you to have a good time, and if you won't pick, then I'll pick out a hot girl for you."

Bert grinned. "You do that."

Lynne smirked. "Now I just have to wait for a petite brunette who'll remind you of me..."

Just then, Renee came to our table and gently touched Kady's arm. The impish redhead turned about with a big grin, and then grabbed Noelle's shoulder as she stood them both up. Vamping it up, Renee took each girl by the hand and led them away, swaying her hips a little more than necessary as she sashayed a step in front of them.

We watched them go and then watched the rest of Layla's set. Meantime, a new waitress came by and took our drink orders, coming back with fresh beverages just as Layla was finishing. And then a stunning brunette did hit the stage.

My jaw hit the floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome ... Angelica!"

Indeed, it was our very own waitress who strutted across the stage. I had wondered where she had gone to after our meal ended, and a new waitress had shown up to begin taking our orders. The way the meal had gone, Angelica had waited on us nearly exclusively, only taking care of us and one other table. That had kept the room quite busy with a high ratio of hot servers scurrying about during dinner, but since the curtain had gone up, there were far fewer of them around and now I knew why: the waitresses were ALSO dancers.

Within minutes, we were getting a much better view of the impressive cleavage I'd been ogling during dinner. Lynne smacked Bert on the arm and asked, "How about her? You mentioned earlier that you thought our waitress was pretty hot."

"Maybe..." Bert replied thoughtfully, entranced by the bouncing boobs. "Maybe ... But then, you said petite like you."

Lynne snorted. "I'm not sure B-cups are on the menu at a place like this."

"Renee was kinda flat-chested," he pointed out.

"Okay, maybe. But rather than wait forever through all the dancers, how about you pick out a few right away, huh? The night isn't getting any younger, and I wouldn't mind you getting more than one lapdance."

Bert grinned. "Okay maybe. If the next dancer doesn't catch my interest, we'll ask for Angelica."

"Not 'we'. Just you. I don't want you awkward or feeling like I'm watching you while she rubs those massive melons in your face."

Bert grinned again. "As you wish."

We enjoyed Angelica's set, and everyone applauded as she sashayed off-stage. Bert watched her ass with particular interest, perhaps already presuming he'd wind up liking Angelica more than whoever the next dancer would be. And from the look in his eyes, I surmised he had already mentally placed himself beneath our waitress' gyrating body.

But then the music started up again, a sultry jazz number, and the next dancer strutted onto the stage. Overhead spotlights drew our attention to her, and if my jaw had hit the floor when Angelica came onstage, then this time it must have ended up somewhere in the basement. And Bert's jaw landed right next to mine.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome ... Emmanuelle!"

On stage, wearing the sexiest version of a tuxedo I'd ever seen, was a breathtakingly gorgeous young woman with lustrous dark hair. Her pinstriped black jacket fastened just beneath her large breasts, leaving her flat tummy completely bare, although the back of the jacket was full-length and finished with tuxedo tails that ended down by the backs of her knees. A black bowtie was centered on a white collar, sans the shirt, drawing one's attention to her exposed cleavage. Black panties were garter-clipped to mesh stockings that ended in black four-inch heels. She carried a cane, and her wrists were adorned with oversized white cuffs. And finishing off the look was a white-banded black top hat.

She was beautiful, she was curvy, and she could MOVE. I was far from a student of dance, but I could tell this girl had some significant formal training, with beautiful lines, perfect balance, and full leg extensions. I was simultaneously impressed by her talent, awed by her beauty, and outright SHOCKED by her identity.

You see, her stripper name may have been Emmanuelle, but Bert, Kim, and I knew her by a different name:

Sasha.