Spiral of Firsts: College Days & Carnal Nights, #1

College Days & Carnal Nights: Spirals of Firsts

(A Contemporary & Sensual New Adult Tale of Friendship & Romance)

By: Kelda Mystern

Published by Kelda Mystern Romances

Visit our website at http://www.kmysternromances.com/

Copyright © 2013 Kelda Mystern

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The characters and events portrayed in the book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

License Notes

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THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING THE HARD WORK OF THIS AUTHOR

1. Girl’s Night

The setting sun’s dying rays peered through the windows of a studio apartment on a Thursday evening. The light filtered into the room in a striped pattern, courtesy of the half-opened blinds, and illuminated the hardwood floors and plain white walls just beyond the alcove. There, within the confines of the alcove’s bed, was a young woman of twenty-one years of age named Joyce Venera.

A long exhale released the tension in her muscles, hidden beneath the peach-colored flesh that lay bare above the white-linen sheets at her waist. The damp sheets clung to her skin, moistened through what she considered an hour well spent. Beneath the fabric, the smooth texture that composed her legs was being rubbed abrasively against one another as she fought off the sense of urgency that arose as she read the latest text message she received on the screen of her phone.

J: I’m already at the club with Eve. Show up soon.

Clenching her teeth, Joyce’s gaze settled on the bathroom door, adjacent to the bed by a few feet. The light wave of steam escaping from the crevice at the bottom of the door also allowed the sound of running water so reach her ears. Closing her eyes at a glacial pace, she indeed recalled that it was her fault that she had chosen the one guy who would hog the bathroom post-coitus without consideration for her needs.

It was planned, a system she had worked out beforehand. The clothing she had every intention of going clubbing in were present, nestled safely by the window. The problem that presented itself was made apparent when she brought her forearm to her nose and assessed her own scent, a mixture of sweat, sex, and musk from a primitive and primal act between two people.

Her pride as a woman wouldn’t allow her to leave these walls until she smelled appropriate. There was no working around that. Hence was the origin of her current predicament of being late to meet up with her friends.

I wish he’d hurry up already, came from beneath her breath as Joyce reached over the edge of the bed and raised the backpack filled with contents that were unorthodox for a university student aspiring to receive a major in Business. They ranged from spare condoms, a bath towel, a plastic bag, and toiletries to extra undergarments.

Her roommate had gone so far as to call it her ‘Slut-Bag’ once upon a time. Things got a little awkward after that, the word bearing a stronger weight against her soul when used against her. But it was a rule she lived by, to have the bag on-hand when she planned on having sex outside her shared home. It was one of many rules, guidelines if generous, that governed her lifestyle choice.

Her wait ended roughly a minute later.

The bathroom door groaned as it opened and out came a young man whose caramel-brown skin was trickling with pearlescent drops of water. The beads slid down the grooves in his tight-toned abs, leaving a trail until they hit the towel wrapped around his waist and fell to just past his knees. Short and curly locks of raven-colored hair clung to his scalp, still heavy with moisture as he ran his strong fingers back through them. With a quick nod he motioned to the bathroom behind him, steam still billowing out of the opening.

About time. Throwing the sheet off, Joyce exposed herself without concern as she made for the newly-unoccupied shower with the backpack housing toiletries and spare undergarments. However, the delay left her unable to continue past the doorway with speaking her mind. Most men would have at least given me the courtesy of going first. I’m running late.

He gave her a wry smile. Most of those men are trying to score points for another chance in bed. I do not need to since this was payment for services rendered. Besides...

Without ever shifting his Caribbean-green eyes from eyes that rivaled the morning fog his left hand fell down to her waist. The daring fingers attached to it raked over the carnal flesh between her legs. I seem to recall you were the one urging me to take it slow, clenching my hair while I had my face buried here.

Joyce fought down the arousal blossoming from his touch. There was still a bit of sensitivity that would have left her at the mercy of his fingers if she didn’t act. She brushed his hand away with the back of her own. Then, with a practiced grace, she rolled her eyes and spun on her heel before she shut the door.

The next few minutes were dedicated to scrubbing away all the damning evidence of their sordid arrangement. After that it was a matter of dealing with the lingering perspiration and getting herself in order. Once done she toweled off, took care of her hygiene, and dressed in the bare essentials before she made her way out of the bathroom.

Back in the alcove of the studio apartment, she felt the shift from the lukewarm tiles on the bathroom floor to the cold hardwood beneath her feet as she moved to dump the towel and worn clothing into the plastic bag and then put away the rest. Then she looked around for her skirt and blouse, eventually finding them wedged beneath the bed. Those went on in a flash as well.

Time total to get showered and dressed: Thirty-minutes. Joyce shook her head in dissatisfaction. Sauntering out of the alcove, she found Dominic on his computer and stood next to him, slinging the backpack onto her shoulder.

The file is in the shared folder, he divulged inattentively, his focus never leaving the screen as his fingers tapped the keys in succession. He already knew what she was going to ask and uploaded it to online file sharing site while she was showering.

Fixing her hair back behind her ear she looked out the window next to him. It was showing the purple shaded horizon that grew darker as night became more pronounced. Joyce grieved about the delay once more. This essay had better be worth an eighty-five at least and can’t be traced back to me.

He scoffed. It is worth an A-minus at the worse and uses different sources from the ones I used for my report. The only reason you got lower than a ninety the last time was because your grammar sucked when you retyped it to match your tone and order. This time have someone else edit and proofread it.

Why don’t you do that?

Dominic spun around in the swiveling chair and looked her up and down. The agreement had nothing about copying your style to make it look legit.

Joyce raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. You never mentioned there was things we could or couldn’t put on the table when we started. Maybe I should just demand more work done if you want to plow me next time?

Well, you could always do the work on your own, he proposed, not even bothered by the implied threat. "Remember, you came to me with this arrangement and we both know it is temporary. Besides, if I did that for you then you would not go over the materials and could not memorize it for the tests that follow."

She left out the studio apartment without listening any further, texting her best friend and telling her she was on her way. Now armed with the essay for her core class and freshly cleansed of all evidence of what transpired before then, Joyce made her way to the powder-blue Smart car waiting for her. The German-made compact car was a gift from her father for her sweet-sixteen so long ago, her first taste of freedom until now.

The arrangement she had with Dominic was one kept between the two of them for numerous reasons. The main one being that it if it reached the wrong ears then it could result in unnecessary trouble for the both of them. Not to mention if her father found out how she had been keeping her grades up in Economics he would look at her again with those eyes.

Her stomach churned at the thought. She hated those eyes and tone when he was disappointed in her. The last time she had been exposed to them, sleep did not come easy for some time.

Dominic and Joyce were discreet. He didn’t live on the college campus or near the dorms, while Joyce lived in a two-bedroom apartment elsewhere. They had completely separate social lives, the only common factor being they had the same curriculum towards earning a degree in Business.

‘No-Strings Attached’ was the key factor in this arrangement. It was simply mutually beneficial sex for a favor, allowing her to keep her lifestyle the way she wanted—free of the boring work from a course she didn’t care about and a major she didn’t give a damn about. There was nothing wrong with being promiscuous as long as you weren’t in a committed relationship, no one got hurt, and no one went running their mouths off.

No one can call you a slut if no one knows. Joyce recited in her head as she drove off.

Her destination was Club Ataxia, a renovated warehouse-turned-nightclub.

Most of the college students attended since it was close to the dorms and student apartments managed by the university. It had been open for five years and, like the name suggested, it was a maelstrom of confusion and ecstasy.

Cheers and laughs were lost as the music blared off the speakers. The lights attached to the ceiling were hidden in the darkness, only flashing on and off to the beat of the soundtrack in different hues that spanned the kaleidoscope. The assorted angles allowed for them to shine on the writhing figures below, who lost themselves to the excitement of the atmosphere.

However, for all the random confusion that made up the club, there was one bastion of clarity at the bar. Beneath the hanging cone lights that ran parallel to the countertop one young woman sat at the end, just a stool away from the edge. Dressed in a purple T-shirt with a skull on the front of it and spandex pants that hugged her thin and slender frame while covering her creamy-complexion, she absentmindedly tapped her platform sandals against the floor to the beat of the music while waiting for her friend to arrive.

Raven Noels, a twenty-year old student attending the same university as Joyce, kept her head down and her gaze on the illuminated backdrop of her E-reader. The last text message she received ten minutes ago was Joyce claiming to be on the way and asking for her to order a drink for her—courtesy of a fake ID that Raven refused to mention where she got it from. In the meantime, she kept her attention on the digital book as she reached into a tin container for a strawberry-flavored cookie and brought it to her mouth.

Then she heard someone ask, in a dark and silky tone that had just a right amount of a Hispanic-accent to entice men and women alike, What’s the point of coming to a club if you’re going to read?

Figures she’d pop up about now. Raven knew that voice and cursed it within the confines of her head. Her voice, however, was controlled and dull as she asked the obvious. What do you want Carmella?

With rich and smooth tanned-skin, dark silken hair that flowed down the back of her short dress and amber-eyes that stood out, Carmella Avila represented the cultivated idea of a Latina beauty. It was something she refined over time and worked to maintain for maximum sex appeal.

And she was damn proud of it.

Carmella nonchalantly sat down in the stool next to Raven and crossed her legs, taking one of the cookies for herself. She preferred chocolate, but strawberry was a close second. Well, I saw you sitting here alone and figured that it was so pathetic I’d come over.

Gee, thanks, Raven grumbled dryly. The inquisitive look in her eyes changed to disapproval as she silently judged Carmella’s outfit. Does your mother know you dressed like that?

No, but yours picked it out. Carmella attempted to reach for the drink next to the tin to wash down the treat.

Raven’s hand lashed out like a whip and smacked the back of the thieving appendage before she managed to pick it up. Go and blow the football team or something, I’m waiting for someone.

Carmella stood and went back on the prowl across the dance floor. But not before getting off a final shot while still within hearing range. Classless Tight-ass.

Paid-by-the-Hour Slut, Raven fired back in a tone that was as dull as if she was commenting on the weather. She didn’t even look away from her reader as she gave a one-finger salute. However, before she could get to the next page of the digital novel, someone else sat in the once-occupied stool.

Joyce made herself known, placing an elbow on the bar counter and propping her head up as she picked up where Carmella left off on stealing one of the cookies. You really got a frenemy vibe going on with her. If you want I can have this private investigator who owes me a favor do some digging for something that will make her leave you alone?

Don’t bother. It’s just the usual greeting between us, Raven said, not even questioning why Joyce had a private investigator in her debt. She gave her belated companion a glance before putting her device into her shoulder-slung purse and sliding the cocktail over to her. What the hell took you so long?

Joyce tenderly picked up the cocktail glass and took a sip of her favorite drink, savoring the flavor as it went down. Then she let loose a sated sigh and told her friend that she had to go and find a matching top for her skirt so she went to the mall, but they didn’t have what she wanted so she settled on what she was wearing. It was a rehearsed lie.

Next time give me a little warning when you’re running late then, Raven said, her voice exasperated as she leaned against the countertop. Bad enough I had to catch the bus over here and deal with the passive-aggressive bitch just now, but Eve got drunk off her ass since you weren’t here to check her when I wasn’t looking.

Which means she’ll be dying of a hangover in the morning, Joyce thought as she peered around for her roommate within the noisy crowd of people. Several were moving as though they were sloshed off their asses and one guy on the floor out cold. But none of them were her roommate. Where is she?

Raven’s response was to point to the bathroom door, where three seconds later another young woman exited.

Eve, dressed in a pair of jeans and short-sleeved hot-pink shirt that hid the majority of her light-brown skin, was a decent student overall. The only real flaw with her was that she had the alcohol tolerance of a five-year old, so it only took three drinks to get her into her current state—peering through her glasses in a slight daze until she spotted the pair and stumbled over. Leaning her arms on the countertop, she shook her head and raised a hand to get the