Another two weeks passed. Bri got back together with her boyfriend, Mick. Then she broke up with him again. Like Kris, she never talked about what happened between us. Maybe she felt guilty or embarrassed, I didn't know. I certainly wasn't going to bring it up. I didn't want to risk creating a bunch of unnecessary drama between the girls and myself if I could avoid it. So, life in the house resumed the normal routine, as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, online, things were getting pretty serious with MagdaOrcbane3232. We even blew off a guild quest to spend time chatting privately to each other. That pissed off the other members, but I didn't care. Magda was totally intriguing. We'd started talking more about our days offline, than we did about the game. Then came a major milestone in the relationship; we exchanged our real names (hers was Jenny Blake).

She asked me for a picture of myself. I sent one from undergrad. It was old, but I thought I looked cool leaning against a wall wearing sunglasses. I wanted to impress her.

She sent me back a pic of herself, a woman in glasses sitting on a wood fence, smiling as her dark brunette hair blew out behind her in the breeze. She wasn't supermodel attractive. Her breasts were large (she said she'd had them done), but her face was a little too square, her features a little too hard, and her body a bit thicker than fit the usual definition of beauty, but I didn't care.

Then she sent another pic. In this one she was indoors, dressed in sexy red lingerie, and reclining in a classic pose on her bed. I don't know why I didn't think to ask who had taken the picture, but the question didn't occur to me. Maybe I assumed she'd used a tripod, but probably the candid image itself had just driven rational thought from my mind. Though she was older and not as physically attractive as either Bri or Kris, she exuded a confident, mature sexuality in the photo that I couldn't help but be turned on by.

A few more pictures followed. These were selfies for the most part. There was a close shot of her cleavage in the red negligee. In the next the underwear was gone, and I received a view of two beautiful big naked breasts breasts. The final picture was a point-of-view shot, looking down her body, beyond the curve of her belly, to a wild tuft of dark hair.

Impulsively, I sent back a picture of my own cock aroused by the images she'd sent of herself, and standing firmly at attention. I'd never taken a dick-pic before. I fussed trying to get the right lighting and the most flattering angle. The camera on my phone kept losing focus as I hit the button to snap it. All the distracting technicalities caused me to lose firmness, and then I'd have to call up her pictures to get aroused all over again. But eventually I got good one, and she said she was impressed by it.

We'd just finished a particularly hot chat session - It started out as Magda and GodSlayer, but we finished up as Jenny and Bill. In our fantasy, aided by the pictures we'd exchanged, we imagined what we'd do to each other if we actually met. I loved the sound of her voice as she breathed and moaned into the earpiece of my headset, picking up steam and finally crashing through into a shattering orgasm: "Oh Bill, I'm cumming on your big beautiful cock!"

I came too, hearing her use my name - my real name. I'd left my desk and stripped out of my clothes to lie down on my bed where I was more comfortable. I imagined Jenny - The real Jenny this time, not Magda - naked, and over top of me. She was looking down, smiling with love, as I shot my load up into a wadded fistful of Kleenex. I told her how much I wished I could really be with her, and really feel her.

"Why don't you?" Jenny asked, as I lay my head back on my pillow, regaining my breath.

"Why don't I what?"

"Why don't you come up and see me? Or I could come down and see you..."

"No, no," I said, thinking about how awkward it would be with the three girls around. What would they think? What would Jenny think, for that matter? I'd told her I had roommates, but I hadn't told her they were all female. I worried she'd be jealous. And, I reflected, not without good reason. I'd already gotten a blowjob from one and fucked another.

"I mean, I can come to you," I continued, barely realizing the significance of what I was agreeing to.

"Really?" Her voice was excited.

"Um... yeah..."

"Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!" she squealed on the other end of the line. "Do you know what this means?"

"Um..."

"You're going to be here! Oh my god! We're really going to do this, right? I mean you're going to actually be here where I can see you and touch you... and taste you," she added with a naughty tone.

"Yeah, well..." I said. "I still have to teach class until the end of next week. But then, yeah, I could probably get on a plane to Wisconsin after that."

"Oh my god, Bill," she said. "I can't wait. I mean, the cyber-sex has been good, but... mmm, oh god, you have no idea how much I need to feel you."

"Mmm, yeah," I responded, getting turned on again. "I want to feel you too. Feel your lips against mine, as I grab your tits in my hand, squeezing them... mmm... Did you know I'm getting hard again."

"Yes, Bill. God, my pussy is getting so wet again just thinking about that nice hard cock of yours filling me up..."

I tossed the used tissue I was still holding into the waste bin by my desk, and pulled a fresh one from the box.

***

It was the next day when the anxiety began to set in. What the hell had I agreed to? I was going to travel across the country to meet this woman - this almost stranger. What if she didn't like me when she saw me? How would I handle it? Questions piled up in my head. It was one thing to have this fun online fling, but this was taking it to another level. This was making it real. Was I ready for that? What if it all went terribly wrong?

"What's up, Bill?" Mel asked.

She was reclining on my bed. Her T-shirt had ridden up, showing a little of her flat stomach. Mel had lately taken an interest in exploring my record collection. She would come in from time examining the album covers, and selecting a couple to Play. Currently she was listening to Quark, Strangeness, and Charm by Hawkwind. As she listened, she watched me continue to translate Ningyo No Rakuin, and periodically answered text messages on her phone. I was finding that I actually enjoyed having her her company.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"You seem... I don't know... like you're not yourself?"

"Who else would I be?"

"I don't know. You just seem like you're distracted."

"I'm okay," I lied.

"Alright, it's just that you're kind of wandering around aimlessly in your game fighting the same guys over and over. It doesn't seem like you really have much to translate."

"I don't. It's called level-building. Sort of like training your characters to get stronger so they can fight tougher battles. You have to build up your experience and stats. It's kind of boring, but if I want to get the really good gear, I have to do it."

"Yo' Adrian," Mel shouted in her best Stallone impression.

"Yeah, something like that." I said with a half-hearted chuckle.

"That's stupid. Why don't they just make it so you're ready to fight whatever you need to fight without doing all this extra training?"

Before I could respond, Mel's phone buzzed, and her attention immediately went to the small screen in her hands. I continued the mindless campaign of genocide against relatively weak mermen on the bigger screen on the wall. My thoughts again drifted to Jenny. Mentally I was trying to plan for every contingency - what would we do? What we would we say? What would we eat?... Another ten minutes drifted by unnoticed.

"Mel?" I said, finally.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure," she said looking up from her phone.

"This is just between us, right?"

"Sure, Bill. What is it?"

I paused the game, and took a breath.

"Remember when I was telling you I had this girlfriend online?" I asked

"Yeah."

"And then you all started making fun of me, saying she wasn't real?"

"That was Bri, mostly," Mel defended.

"Yeah, well, anyway... we're going to meet."

"In real life?" she asked with surprise.

"Yeah. I'm going to Wisconsin for a week after the summer session ends."

"Wow!" Mel said. Her face lit up, beaming. "That's great!"

"Is it?" I asked.

"Well, isn't it?" she asked, looking puzzled. "I thought you were really into this girl."

"I am, but that's the problem. What if I screw it up? I mean, it's not like I have a lot of experience with dating. What if I say or do the wrong thing? What if she hates me as soon as she sees me?"

"Why would she hate you?"

"I don't know, like a million reasons? I'm not smooth or cool like any of the guys you date."

"Trust me, they're not as smooth or cool as they like to think they are," Mel said, laughing.

"What about your boyfriend... what's his name?"

"Wayne?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect example. We're not together anymore."

"What? Why?"

"Yeah. He was all show." She screwed up her face in imitation, "Oh baby, you so fine, Imma gonna do this for you. Imma gonna buy that for you. Imma gonna give you everything." She dropped the imitation. "You know what he did?"

I shook my head.

"Not a fucking thing," she answered her own question. "Everything about him was fake, you know? He likes to talk big, but all he ever does is sit around in his mom's basement getting high. I mean, just keep it real, dude. Anyway, I got tired of waiting for him to actually step up and be the man he kept saying he was."

"Keep it real?" I repeated. "I don't know. I've been real my whole life, and it's gotten me nowhere with women."

"Well..." Mel considered, looking me over. I was dressed in my usual apparel; old jeans, and a retro T-shirt. I hadn't bothered to shave for a couple of days, and my last haircut had been some time before I moved in. "Maybe we can improve your real a bit... But you know, at heart, you're a good guy. If she can't see that, she doesn't deserve you, anyway. In the meantime, maybe we can do a bit of work, so it's easier for her to see it."

"What do you mean?"

"How long before you leave?"

"The end of next week."

"Great!" Mel clapped giddily. "That should be lots of time. Oh, I've always wanted to do this!"

"Do what?"

"Geek-to-chic make-over!" Mel announced melodramatically to my entire bedroom even though we were the only two people in it.

"Like on those talk shows?"

"Yes," she responded excitedly.

"Do you really think it'll help?"

"Listen, Bill, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you," she said. "But women like a guy with confidence. That's why all these smooth guys get so many dates. Most of them turn out to be assholes, but that's another story. So the easiest way to get confidence is to make yourself look good. If you look good then you'll start feeling good. Then if you feel good about yourself, that will look good to her."

"I don't know. I mean, I've never really been into fashion."

"And you've never had a real girlfriend," she shot back. The words stung, and I guess it showed on my face. "Okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. But it's true, though. Anyway, I'm not talking about anything major like getting a face tattoo or anything. " She laughed. "Bill! Stop looking at me like that! It's just some new clothes, new haircut. You know, that kind of thing. We can go to the mall this weekend."

"Okay, but just you and me. Not the other girls," I warned. "I don't want to make this into a big deal."

"It won't be," Mel promise. "It'll be great."

***

That Saturday, Mel and I went to the mall. She practically dragged me from one end to the other, and finally into a place called The Shaviary, which was some kind of men's beauty parlour or something. It was decorated in black and silver with colourful sculptures of birds made out of razors, scissors, shaving brushes, and things like that. Everyone, from the employees to the other customers was dressed in high style. I felt uncomfortably out of my element.

"Mel, I don't know," I complained. "This place really isn't me."

"Exactly," Mel said. "If you want to impress this girl, you won't do it with your usual eight dollar haircut. Besides, they do more than just cut hair, here. Just give it a shot. Maybe you'll like it."

Mel went to talk to the receptionist while I sat in one of the waiting area seats, still awkward and out of place. An older man in a dark suit sat across from me. He cast a dismissive glance at me in my faded Mountain Dew T-shirt and jeans, scoffed, and then returned his attention to the New York Review of Books. Finally, she returned with a couple of catalogues. We flipped through them, looking at all the male models with their different hair styles.

"What about this one?" Mel would ask periodically, to which I invariably responded non-commitally. But I enjoyed the feeling of her proximity, occasionally touching my arm, leaning into me, reaching across my lap to flip a page. After about 20 minutes, a small effeminate Hispanic man with purple hair called my name. I stood up, nervously.

"What do I tell him?" I asked.

"Don't worry, I already told them you wanted the package. And I'll be here, too, if you need me."

"Bill?" The effeminate man repeated.

"Uh, yeah, I'm Bill," I said, standing.

The name on his tag was Miguel. He led me back into the shop to a small cubicle with a mirror, a sink and a comfortable looking brown leather barber chair. There was a TV screen set into the mirror broadcasting a baseball game that clearly neither of us were interested in. I noticed the buttons of a remote control laid into the arm of the barber chair, but didn't feel like messing with them.

"So, Bill, your girlfriend says you've never been here before, but you're having a makeover day, is that right?"

"Uh, yeah," I affirmed, not bothering to correct him. "Whatever she says."

"Well, it sounds like she's got quite an exciting adventure planned for you. And no offense, honey, but it looks like you're long overdue for it."

"Yeah, that's what she says," I agreed, trying not to let my irritation show through. Instead, I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, sweetie, why don't you let me take those?" Miguel tenderly removed my glasses, and put them on the counter beneath the mirror. "There they are, safe and sound. Now, baby, you just sit back and relax." The back of the seat slowly reclined with a soft electric whirring noise. "You're in good hands - Oh! That's what she said!" Miguel tittered at his own joke. "I mean I'll take good care of you - That's what she said times two!"

I laughed to let him know I got the joke, even if I didn't think it was that funny.

"Alright, Bill, we're going to start you off with a bit of a massage to relax those tense muscles of yours."

Miguel pressed a button and the chair began to whirr again, rhythmically pulsing and vibrating up and down my back. He leaned over me. I could smell his cologne - it was clearly not one of the cheap drug store brands my aunt got me every Christmas. He began to massage my temples and scalp with his hands. The massage lasted for about ten minutes. And when it ended, I did feel far more relaxed.

Following the massage, Miguel applied some sort of cream to my face that was supposed to cleanse and hydrate my pores. It smelled like Cucumbers and ginger, and began to tingle after a couple of minutes. Then he swiveled the chair over the sink and began to shampoo my hair, really working it into my scalp with his expert fingers. I don't know what shampoo he used, but again I was sure it couldn't be purchased from my local Walgreens. I liked the smell of it, though.

The shampoo was rinsed out. The cream on my face had firmed into a mask, which Miguel peeled away. "See? See?" he said, holding the mask in front of me to show me all the toxins that had just been sucked out of my face. I couldn't really see anything, but my face did feel cool and fresh.

Next, Miguel spun the chair around so I was facing him. He bent over so his face was inches from mine, examining my forehead, going 'mmhmm... mmhmm...' dubiously.

"What?"

"Don't take any offense, Bill, but these eyebrows are like an overgrown jungle."

"My eyebrows?"

"Don't worry, sugar. We'll take care of it." He fetched a small tool from a drawer. "This might sting a bit, but just remember it's all worth it."

Worth what, I wasn't sure. Before I could ask, Miguel began to pull at my eyebrows with his tools, tearing out hairs.

"Ow!" I complained.

"Worth it," he reminded me.

"How's it going?" Mel asked. Reappearing with a couple of shopping bags.

"Good," I lied.

"He's a brave little soldier," Miguel informed her.

"I can see," Mel said, laughing.

"So, do you have any idea what we should do about this?" Miguel asked, flippantly flipping my hair with his fingers.

"Well, we were still trying to decide..." Mel answered. "What do you think, Bill? Was there a style you liked better than others?"

"I don't care," I grumbled, growing impatient with the process. It seemed unfair to make me decide on a style, when whatever style I picked would inevitably be wrong. I didn't know why they suddenly expected me to have an opinion when my 'eight dollar haircuts' had been just fine with me since I'd been old enough to get my hair cut on my own. "You guys are the experts. Do whatever you think is best."

Miguel and Mel conferred amongst themselves, casting infrequent glances in my direction. As they chatted and giggled together, I watched a blurry (without my glasses, at least) baseball game unfold on the TV embedded in the mirror. A grey blotch stepped to the plate. People seemed excited. The blue shape made a pitch. A bunch of other blue shapes went running, but there was nothing they could do. The grey blur jogged around the bases as the crowd cheered his home run.

"I think we've come up with something that is really trendy. It's really going to suit your face," Miguel said, finally returning to attend to my head.

About an hour (and eighty-five dollars) later, I left the Shaviary with a kind of swept-back mohawk with blonde frosted tips, and a bag full of "essential" grooming products. The haircut felt strange, but Mel assured me that it looked very sexy. Miguel concurred.

The next stop was for new clothes. My first instinct was to head for Sears, but Mel had other ideas. She pulled me into a small men's fashion boutique called Higher Nature. Even the slate-skinned mannequins seemed to have an off-putting cocky attitude in their neatly creased slacks, their shirts unbuttoned to the second button, sleeves rolled up on their forearms, jackets slung over shoulders, staring aloofly away at nothing in particular.

"Can I help you?" asked a short, pretty Black girl in a black leather skirt, and neat white blouse.

"Uh..." I said without any clue where to begin. As with The Shaviary, I felt out of place and uncomfortable in this store. I had no business being there. It wasn't me.

"Yeah," Mel said, saving the day. "We're trying to give him a new look."

"Mhm," The blonde said with a barely detectable undertone of derision.

"So we're going to need to overhaul this." Mel gestured at me with both hands. "From top to bottom."

"Mhm." The girl turned towards me with her hand on her hip. "What are your measurements?"

"Um... Large, I guess."

"Mhm. Just wait here," She said. Her voice was dripping with condescension. She abruptly walked away towards the checkout counter at the back of the store.

"What?" I asked Mel, who was staring at me with a bemused expression.

"How do you not know your own measurements?"

"I don't know. I just go to the store and buy things that look like they fit."

"Jesus, Bill, how do you survive in the world?"

"I do fine," I answered defensively.

"Yeah, sure you do," Mel responded sarcastically. "Look, just leave this to me, okay?"

"Fine." I said irritably. I resented the way everyone was treating me like I was incompetent.

The Black girl came pack with a roll of measuring tape. She commanded me to take various poses - Arms raised, arms in front of me, legs apart, legs together. I got a littl bit of a thrill when she took the inseam measurement - her hand traveling quickly up my leg to my crotch - but otherwise, the whole thing was pretty tedious. After that, the girls disappeared into the store, leaving me to check e-mails on my phone, and otherwise stand around bored.

After about thirty minutes, the girls returned. Each of them was holding a pile of clothes. I was then sent in to the changing room to try on the outfits they'd picked out for me. At random I put on a shirt, jacket, and a pair of slacks. I gazed at myself in the mirror. Whatever this was supposed to do for my confidence, it wasn't working. I felt like a little kid again, going shopping with my mother, and feeling like a total dork. The clothes were strange to me, unnatural, and I just felt awkward and uncomfortable in them.

There was a knock on the door.

"Bill, you alright?" Mel asked.

"Yeah..."

"Come out. Let me see what you look like."

Reluctantly, I unlocked the door, and stepped out. Mel was standing there by herself. The girl who'd been helping us had gone to attend to other customers. She took one glance at me, and began laughing.

"Jesus, Bill. Did you never learn to dress yourself?"

"What?" I asked defensively.

"These don't go together." Mel stepped past me, into the small changing room to examine the clothes. "Look, you've mixed everything up!"

I shrugged, and looked unhappy.

"Come on," Mel said, looking hurt. "I'm trying to help you get some confidence."

"But I like my clothes," I protested. "I like my style. This doesn't feel like me."

"You want this woman to like you, don't you?" Mel argued back. "You want her to have a good impression, right?"

"Yeah, but I want her to like me for me!" I was getting upset.

"I don't want to try to fool her with these stupid clothes and this stupid haircut. That's not who I am."

"Ugh," Mel growled. "Fine! Whatever, Bill. I'm trying to help you, but obviously you don't want my help. I don't know why I even bothered. All you've done is bitch and whine the whole day. It's not like you're my man or anything. I should just let her deal with you. Just put your ratty old clothes back on, and let's go."

I was confused. On one hand, I wanted to assert myself. Everything about the day had felt like a total rejection of who I was, and I was just supposed to take it and be happy about it, because she thought she was doing me a favour? On the other hand, I felt guilty. Tears were welling in Mel's eyes. I knew she was only trying to help out of the goodness of her heart, and I'd just shit all over that. I felt like an ungrateful prick. As it usually does with me, the guilt won out over the self-righteousness.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said. "I can try on some more clothes. Maybe there's something here that feels more like me..."

"Forget it," she shot back. "I'm done. Let's just go."

I changed back into my regular clothes, and we left the mall.

"Thanks for everything today," I tried as we drove home.

No response. Mel just stared out the passenger window.

"I know you were just trying to help. I appreciate it."

Mel leaned forward, and cranked up the stereo. The sound of Robert Plant trading vocal lines with Jimmy Page's guitar filled the car, making conversation impossible. Then, she turned her face again towards the window.

When we got home, Kris was sitting in the living room.

"Hey Bill," she called out as we entered the house. "Nice hair cut. Looks good."

"Thanks," I said. "It was Mel's styling."

Mel said nothing. She just walked past me, and went straight to her bedroom.

"What's with her?" Kris asked.

"It's nothing," I said.

"I better go check on her," Kris said, getting off the sofa, and turning off the TV.

She headed towards Mel's bedroom. I went to mine, hoping to put in a few more hours on Ningyo No Rakuin, and put the disastrous afternoon out of my mind.

***

That night at dinner both Kris and Bri attempted to start conversations, over the chicken curry Kris had made. These attempts were crushed under the tension between Mel and I, and we all ate in mostly silence. When it was over, Mel went straight back to her room without a word. The other girls glared at me.

"Whatever is going on between you two, you better apologize," Kris demanded after Mel had left.

"But it's not my fault," I objected. "Not really..."

Bri laughed at me. "Bill, you know you're a guy. Therefore, you're always wrong. You were born wrong. The faster you learn that, the better off you'll be."

"Just go apologize," Kris said.

"Fine," I said irritably. I washed my plate in the sink and stuck it in the dish rack to dry. "I don't know what good it will do. I already tried apologizing before."

"Not hard enough," Bri responded.

"But-"

"Go!" both girls urged at once.

I left the kitchen, and reluctantly made my way upstairs to Mel's bedroom door. My mind raced, trying to decide what to say to her. Without any clear idea, I knocked gently on the door. There was no answer. My immediate impulse was to say 'fuck it, I tried.' I even took a couple of steps towards my own room. But I stopped. I hated the way things were between us now, when they'd been so good just this morning. I turned around and knocked again.

"Mel?"

Still no answer.

"Mel, can we talk?"

Nothing.

I tried the door handle. It wasn't locked. I turned it slowly in my hand and gently pushed the door open. I stuck my head inside to find Mel sitting on her bed, staring stonily at me. I slipped inside, and closed the door behind me with a soft click.

"Can I sit down?" I asked.

"Do whatever you want," she said coldly. "I don't care."

I sat down on the corner of her bed. It was soft, and neatly made. There was a blue, pink, and white quilt spread across it. Pillows and furry stuffed animals were piled against the headboard, which she leaned against. Looking around, I realized that this was actually the first time I'd spent any time in Mel's room since I'd moved in. She'd always come to mine.

There were a couple of book shelves filled with education texts, and classic texts (Mel wanted to teach high school English, and had first met Kris in an introductory English lit course). There were a few popular series there as well - Harry Potter, Twilight, Shades of Grey. Between the shelves was a small wooden desk. On the wall were typical poster-sale art prints - a couple doing the tango in black and white, Audrey Hepburn's barely visible eyes behind a pair of sunglasses, Brad Pitt from Fight Club, and so on.

We sat quietly eyeing each other for a full minute. I was still trying to figure out exactly what I was going to say. She was probably wondering how long she'd have to tolerate me staring at her.

"Listen, Mel," I started finally. "I'm really sorry about today. I shouldn't have gotten upset with you. I know you really just wanted to help me. I've been pretty anxious about everything, and I guess I just took it out on you. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair."

Mel looked at me a moment longer, and I thought maybe it was hopeless, and she'd be angry with me forever. Then she shifted her body to one side, and patted the spot next to her on the bed. I slipped my shoes off, and crawled over to lie beside her.

"I really just wanted you to not be so anxious when you meet Jennifer," Mel explained. "That's all."

"I know," I said. "Thanks. It's just that, you know, it felt like you were trying to change me, like who I was wouldn't be good enough for her. It just made me even more anxious."

"But that's not what I was thinking," Mel protested.

"No, it's what I was thinking," I said. "That's what was making me upset."

"Shit," she said, turning to look at me. "I'm sorry, too. There's nothing wrong with who you are. Jesus, I wish half the guys I've dated were as comfortable with themselves as you are being you."

"Thanks," I said.

"No, you're right," she said. "I was trying to fix a problem that wasn't even there. You're not anxious because of your clothes or hair, or anything like that."

"No," I agreed.

"I mean, I've only known you for like a month or so, but as far as those things go, you've always been pretty comfortable with you are, and how you express yourself."

"Uh huh," I agreed.

She thought for a moment. "I think I know what's really making you anxious..."

"What?"

"It's the fact that you're still a virgin, isn't it?"

"Well..." I thought about telling her about the other girls.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed before I could find the words to explain. "I don't know how I could have missed that! It seems so obvious now."

"Well..." I said again.

"It's okay, Bill." She threw her arms around me, and gave me a hug. "It's totally natural to be nervous about your first time. Even your first few times. Everyone's that way. Have you talked about it with her?"

"Um... not really," I said. "I mean, we've cybered, but..."

"Cybered?" She asked.

"Like sex-chatting online, and stuff," I explained.

"Oh, sort of like phone-sex," she said.

"Yeah. But I didn't tell her that I was... um... inexperienced, in real life."

"And you're worried that if she finds out you're bad in bed, then she won't want to be with you," Mel concluded.

"Uh... yeah... kind of..."

"I see..." she said thoughtfully. "Yeah, that is a problem. I mean if I liked a guy, but the sex wasn't good, I don't know if I'd stay with him. It's kind of a major thing to just settle for."

"I thought you wanted to help!" I complained. "This isn't helping, Mel!"

"But it's true," she argued. "Anyway, how do you know you're not any good at sex if you haven't even tried it?"

"Because I don't know what I'm doing!" I said as if it was totally obvious. Even with my experiences with Kris and Bri, I still felt totally clueless. They had both taken charge. I didn't actually know what I was doing.

"Yeah, but you've still got a few things going for you."

"Like what?"

"Well... you're not totally into yourself, for one," she said. "Some of the worst sex I had was with guys who just wanted to get off, and didn't care about what happened to me."

"No, I care," I said, and then corrected myself, "I mean with Jenny, I'd care. I want her to enjoy it as much as I do."

"Yeah, that's obvious," Mel said. "Or you wouldn't be so nervous about it. But that's a good thing."

"Well, that's something," I said sarcastically. I was far from reassured.

Mel took hold of my hand, and we lay together on the bed, falling into our thoughts.

"You know that game you play? Ninja Raccoon?" She asked after a few minutes of listening to the ambient sounds of the house.

"Ningyo No Rakuin?"I asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said.

"What about it?"

"Well," she said, putting her hand on my chest. "I was just thinking about what you were saying. You know, about leveling your character with easier battles, so you could fight the harder battles later?"

"Uh huh..."

"Maybe..." she started, then changed course. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing," she deflected, shaking her head. "It's crazy."

"What is it?" I asked again, more pressingly.

"Well..." she said hesitantly. "I mean... what if you could level yourself... you know... sexually?..."

"Trust me, I've done enough self-leveling," I joked. We both laughed, and it broke whatever remaining tension there was between us. "I'm maxed-out on self-leveling."

"No, not like that," she said, smacking me playfully on the shoulder.

"What, then?"

"Okay... I'm only telling you because it was what I was thinking, so don't get weirded-out, okay?"

"Just tell me," I said. "I promise I won't get weirded out."

"Well... what if... I helped you, you know... level up?"

"You mean...?"

"I could teach you some things, you know... I mean, it's just an idea. But I'm an education major, so I'm pretty good at teaching... And then you wouldn't have to be so anxious about not having any experience."

"What, you mean like right now?" I asked.

"Mhm..." she nodded. Her voice had dropped to just above a whisper. "I mean, we could, if you wanted..."

"Here?"

"Yeah."

I glanced into her gorgeous blue eyes, inches from my own, looking back at me expectantly. Her round face was beautiful, with just a few faint freckles across her cheek bones. It seemed like there was magnetism between us, drawing us closer together.

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"Just say yes, Bill!" she suddenly cried, exasperated by the way I was dragging it out.

"Okay, yes," I said. "Yes. Okay."

"Okay," she agreed.

Mel's face moved even closer to mine. She closed her eyes. I closed mine. Our lips met and pressed together. As we kissed, Mel moved her body nearer to mine. Then she grabbed my hand, and placed it on her ass. I loved the way the denim covered curve felt in the palm of my hand. I gave it a slight squeeze. Mel's lips parted, and so I followed her lead. Soon her tongue was in my mouth, manoeuvring rings around mine. After a few seconds she pulled back.

"It's okay to move your tongue, too," she said. "Otherwise, it's like a dead slug."

"Oh," was all I had time for, before her mouth was back at mine.

This time I used my tongue more actively. She pressed her body into mine. I could feel myself getting hard already, and tried to tilt my hips to hide it. But Mel knew what was happening.

"It's okay," she said, reaching between us, and feeling my cock through my pants. "Just let whatever happens, happen. Actually, it's kind of a turn-on for a girl to feel a guy getting erect, knowing we were the cause of it. You know, if you weren't getting aroused, I might think there was something wrong with me."

With that said, I pulled her ass towards me. I could feel my rigidness sandwiched between our bodies. Mel made no objection to it. Instead, she picked up my free hand, and placed it on her breast. I could feel the outline of her bra beneath her shirt. Instinctively, I began to move my thumb across her breast. In response, I felt her nipple raise beneath it, and press back. All the while, we continued to kiss.

"Okay," Mel said, after a couple of minutes. "I'll show you a couple of other things you can do to get her turned on. Sit up."

I pushed myself back into a sitting position against her head board, conscious of the fact that my boner was now pressing very prominently at the front of my pants. Mel ignored it for the time being.

"One thing you can do is nibble her earlobe."

I leaned forward and sucked her lobe into my mouth, biting down.

"Ouch!" she cried out. "I said nibble not chew! Gently. Barely any pressure. Alright, that's better. Mmm, much better."

Mel tilted her head, and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"Now, slowly, you can let your lips brush down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her boobs."

She drew a slow delicate line with her finger from behind her ear to the center of her shirt.

"Good," she said, as I followed her trail. "Take your time. Let her savour the feeling.... mmm.... that's it... Now go back up her throat, over her chin, and to her lips... yes... that feels good."

Meeting her lips again, we resumed kissing. My hands went back to her breasts, both of them this time, squeezing them gently. I was intrigued by how soft but firm they felt beneath my fingers.

"You really like them, don't you?" Mel asked.

"Yeah," I said. "They're amazing."

"Hmm... just wait," she said.

She stood up, and pulled her shirt up over her head, revealing the blue lace bra I'd been feeling beneath it. The cleavage line plunged in the middle, as the bra pushed her breasts together and lifted them.

"Have you ever undone a bra before?" Mel asked.

"No," I admitted.

"Okay, it's pretty easy. It's just hooks and loops, see?" Mel turned to show me the fastener at the center of her back. Her hands reached behind her to demonstrate. "You just push them together and release, see? Okay, you try."

She refastened her bra, and then lowered her back to where I could reach it. I grabbed each of the elastic straps and pulled them together. They came apart easily, and dangled behind her back. She turned again, reaching behind her to refasten the hooks again, pushing her chest out towards me.

"But usually, most guys reach around to unhook a girl's bra, without looking," she explained. "Okay, try again."

She went in for another kiss. I closed my eyes, and felt behind her for the bra straps. In a second I had them undone again. This time, she stood. Her bra came loose from her chest in a sexy way. I held my breath, as she shrugged it from her shoulders. It fell to the floor, exposing her naked breasts. I was in awe. They were two beautiful round mounds topped with a pair of cute pink nipple. They were smaller than Bri's, but bigger than Kris'.

"Can I?" I asked, lifting my hands.

"That's what they're there for," Mel said, chuckling.

I reached out, and cupped them in my hands, and just felt the weight of them. I gave each a small gentle squeeze.

"Here," Mel said. "You can move your fingers around the nipples, kind of in circles like this."

She demonstrated, and I repeated her movements.

"It's okay to pinch them a little," she offered. "Not too hard... yeah, like that.... you can use your mouth, too. Try that."

She stood in front of me, and I buried my face in her chest. First I started by kissing circles around her nipple. Then I let me tongue flick out over it. That seemed to get a good response from her. I did it a few more times. She lay back down on the bed, and I climbed over her, this time taking the other nipple into my mouth and sucking on it.

"Not too hard," she warned.

I loved the firmness of her nipple against my tongue, flickering over the top of it as I sucked it gently. Playing with it was actually kind of fun. My hand went to the first breast, to give it attention as well. Then after a minute mouth and hand switched places.

"You're pretty good at that," Mel said encouragingly after a minute. "So far, I think Jenny's going to be pretty impressed."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"So far," she repeated. "We've still got a lot to cover, though... stand up."

I did as I was told. My erection created a giant tent in the front of my jeans. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it, whether I should try to reposition it, or stroke it, or what. Mel solved the problem by grabbing the waistband of my pants, and pulling me towards her. She undid my belt first, then the button and zipper of my jeans before yanking them down to my ankles. Now my cock was only restrained by the thin fabric of a pair of green briefs. Mel teasingly traced the outline of my hard-on with her fingers.

"Not too bad," she said admiringly.

"Thanks," I said.

She pulled my underwear down, and my cock sprang out to meet her.

"Well, hello there," she said in a way that was both sexy and funny at once.

I smiled, and stepped out of my jeans and underwear. She wrapped her hand around my shaft. It felt like my own hand, but so completely different as well. Her grip was smaller, lighter, and more playful. She gave my cock a couple of experimental strokes, then drew as single finger from the base to the tip, and back again. I felt myself twitch and swell with even more excitement at her touch.

"Take your shirt off, and lie down," Mel instructed.

I tossed my t-shirt to the floor, and lay down with my head on her pillows. Mel climbed on top of my naked body, pressing her breasts against my chest. The feeling of her skin against mine was amazing. We began kissing again. I reached behind to grab her ass, still in jeans, and gave it a hard squeeze, hoping to signal that I was ready for whatever would come next. Slowly, she began to kiss her way down my body. She paused to attend to each of my nipples, before descending over my abdomen. She paused again to kiss my belly button, as my cock strained for attention between her breasts.

She kept kissing her way slowly, teasingly downwards, around the base of my cock, to my balls. Her hand came up to caress them tenderly, and then her mouth was on them, gently sucking one testicle into her mouth, and then another.

"That feels good," I said.

I felt her tongue. It ran over my balls to the underside of my shaft. Mel grabbed my cock with one hand, sliding her mouth sideways up to the tip. For a second her mouth hovered over it, and then it opened and descended, taking my head inside. I could feel her tongue darting around my cock, running over the head and the shaft teasing it, as her mouth rose and fell over me. Her hand had begun to pump the base of my shaft in time with her mouth movements.

"Oh God," I said. "That feels really good."

"Good," she said, coming up for breath. "It's good for you to let her know when you like what she's doing."

"I like what you're doing."

"Well, there's more where that came from."

Mel returned her attention to my cock, sucking and stroking it. Her pace increased, as she worked it more intensely. Her hands went from the shaft to balls, her fingers extending out, stroking my perineum. My cock, coated in her thick saliva, slid down her throat until her lips met the base of my shaft. Her moans and groans vibrated deep inside. I knew I couldn't hold back much longer.

"Mel, I think I'm going to cum," I said. "What you're doing feels so fucking good."

"Yeah, Bill," she said, gasping, and clutching my cock with both hands. "Cum for me. Show me what you got. I want to taste you."

With that she was back on my cock, taking it deep down her throat again. In a matter of seconds, I felt my whole body tense up as my cock pulsed and erupted, shooting explosions of cum down her throat. I could feel her throat muscles around me, massaging my throbbing cock, as she swallowed everything. As the orgasm, subsided, she came up, gently kissing and licking the tip, sucking up every last drop of cum from my sensitive head. I lay my head back, with closed eyes, laughing.

"Oh my god," I said. "That felt so good. So fucking good."

"It looked like it," Mel agreed, lying next to me, and wiping her mouth on her forearm. "You shot a pretty big load. I didn't know if I could take it all."

"Oh," I said, concerned. I worried if I could have actually drowned her. Was that possible?

"It's a good thing," she assured me.

"Sorry, I came so quick," I apologized. I think I lasted longer than I did with Kris, but I wasn't sure how long I was supposed to last. The guys in porn could fuck for hours without cumming, it seemed like, but I doubted that was realistic for most guys, and probably done with editing.

"You weren't that bad," she replied. "I've been with guys who couldn't even last two minutes... Besides, it's kind of hot, knowing you can get a guy so worked up he just has to cum for you. It's like you're in complete control of his orgasm."

"I know, but you were talking about those guys who are just into their own pleasure... I mean, I haven't really done much for you."

"You don't think so?" Mel asked. There was a mischievous look in her eyes. "Give me your hand."

She took my wrist with one hand, and lifted the waist band of her jeans away from her flat stomach with the other. She guided my hand inside them. My fingers passed over smooth skin until they encountered something hot and and wet. I pulled them out, and gazed at them, slick with Mel's juices. She smiled at the amazement that had spread across my face.

"Uh huh," she said, nodding slowly at me. "We're not done yet."