She grabbed my arm, jolting me, her flawless lavender-pink nails digging into my skin.

“Where have you been,” she hissed.

The fruity, sugary fragrance of her perfume filled my nostrils. Insolence by Guerlain. As sickeningly sweet as it was, I yearned for it when it was not there. She wrenched me away from what I was doing. Forgotten, my textbook fell to the desk. She forced me to look into her hazel eyes.

“You were supposed to meet me ten minutes ago.”

Even the way she snarled was alluring, her piercing eyes slanted in disapproval. I watched her hair neatly curve downwards, admiring the way it naturally shined a soft brown in the well-lit study room.

“Listen to me!”

She stood poised so beautiful, so angry, so delicate. I slowly smiled up at her.

“I am listening.”

I felt her hold on me tighten; my arm started to fall asleep. The slim, gorgeous girl had a vise-like grip.

“We’re going to the bathroom. Now.”

She dragged me out of the chair, out of the study room.

“But I have to study for finals,” I protested.

She glanced daggers at me and I shut up.

The bathrooms in the new dorm were huge, with two spacious shower stalls in each. She marched me into one and bolted the door. A white curtain separated the changing area from the shower. She twisted the cold water tap, turning the shower head to point to the wall. Fast streams of water pelted against the fake marble.

“I thought you didn’t like getting wet,” I said timidly.

She drew the curtain closed.

“It’s to hide the noise.”

Her aggression seemed to dissipate, and I let my tensed muscles relax, too quickly. It returned in a flash and grabbing my hair she forced me to the floor. She sank down as well, spreading her legs around me. Without a word she lifted her skirt and shoved my face into her uncovered moist, shaven pussy.

At first I didn’t react quickly enough, and she thrust her hips upward.

“Lick,” she commanded.

My tongue flickered out nervously, catching a taste of her juices and briefly touching the tip of her clitoris. I heard her moan over the thunderous stream of water. I gained confidence, letting my tongue reach out and slide along her pussy lips. My lips encased her mound in warm caress and in response she widened her legs.

“More, oh God, make me cum,” she said, her hands both intertwined into strands of my hair, keeping my head pressed against her body.

She gyrated her hips, trying to force my tongue into contact with her clit. I slipped my tongue in between her lips instead, pushing deeper into her pussy. My saliva mixing with her juices, her soft inner labia gave way to my tongue, her opening just in my reach.

She cried out, her frail body sensitively responding to every stimuli.

I felt the flow of fluid increase, and I sucked it all up. Her right hand released my head, untangling itself from my long black hair, and I glimpsed her hand slip under her shirt and up to her breasts.

I let my tongue glide up to her clit as she did this, and as I flicked it lightly and then faster with increasing pressure, I heard her moan. I felt it too, her thighs tensing around me, her arm moving beneath her shirt but I couldn’t see. Vivid images of her squeezing her breast flooded my mind: of her slender fingers teasing and pinching her hard nipple. I felt a throb between my legs and a familiar wetness. Soon my musky scent would mingle with her sweeter scent, both overwhelming the perfume she wore.

“Faster, faster,” she cried, an urgency in her voice I hadn’t heard often.

I took delight in letting my tongue flicker over her clit, accelerating to a speed I didn’t know my tongue could move at. Teasingly I slowed, pressed harder, flicked faster, pressed lighter, fascinated by her instant reaction, ever turned on by her moaning and groaning. I felt her muscles tense and relax and tense again.

She was already so tense that when she relaxed it wasn’t for long and soon the lightest touch of my tongue kept her muscles taut and trembling. I abandoned my variation of speed but not that of pressure and adopted a focused rhythm. I heard her gasp for air and shout:

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

Her body launched into a spate of spasms. Her nails now clawed into my skull, firmly keeping my mouth attached to her, for which I was somewhat grateful. Even as I slowed my tongue, convulsions overwhelmed her again and again. I felt my mouth and face become drenched as her juices released, and I pulled away, feeling how tired my tongue was but still licking my lips.

My legs were near to cramping and I rearranged myself to sit crisscross. For several minutes we sat there. I heard nothing but her breathing, sucking in and out, over the constant pouring and pattering of water. I stood and turned the shower off.

She got to her feet and she was still trembling. Her skirt fell into place above her long shapely legs.

“You should wear underwear,” I said quietly.

She scrutinized me for a moment, before smirking.

“Jealous that others will see?”

I shook my head, unable to admit to such an emotion. We exited the bathroom.

“You’d better get all A’s on your finals,” she said in a threatening tone.

On that note, she walked away. I watched her hips sway under the flimsy skirt I had just been under.

My childhood nightmare.

My high school nemesis.

My college Mistress.