Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds (3 page)

“Yeah, but I always got room for Chinese. What’d you bring?” I grabbed some plates from the cabinet.

“I got some chicken chow mein, Moo Goo Gai Pan, shrimp with lobster sauce, and a coupla egg rolls.”

“Look like you cleaned ’em out.”

“Pretty much.”

“Di’ja get any fortune cookies?”

Scott held a few up out of the bag.

“What’s Chinese food without fortune cookies?”

It wasn’t long before the entire apartment smelled of Chinese takeout. Scott and I filled our bellies with everything from chicken chow mein to fried rice.

“Did you go see your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s doing much better.” Scott’s mouth was greasy from the food.

“I caught up with my brother, too,” he added.

“How’s he?”

“Busy killing himself with that shit he’s putting in his arm. I gave him some money and told him to stop coming around, that he was only upsetting our mom.”

Scott was near tears. He angled his head down at his plate of food to keep me from witnessing his pain. I flipped the script of the conversation onto the cookies that held our fortunes.

“What does yours say?” Scott asked.

You have friends and you know it. 
I thought since the evening ended so well, it would be the perfect time to talk to Scott about what happened, but I decided against it. I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire of Scott’s situation.

That night I kept a close eye on him. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard that same rustling from the night prior. There he was again. I wanted to touch it, to lay my hands there, but I didn’t want to startle him awake. I kept my distance with my hand down in my drawers as I watched him under his snug tint. He pulled his covers over his actions. I went to the bathroom to finish up. Thought of Scott with each stroke, every caress, until I came into the toilet water. I cleaned myself up and started for bed. I knew something had to be said.

The next morning the sound of pots clattering and bacon sizzling woke me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grabbed my glasses off the nightstand.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Scott said.

“Sure, yeah.”

The table was decorated with plates of bacon and eggs, a saucer of toast, juice and coffee. 
He knows
, I thought, but he mentioned nothing all through breakfast. But it was now or never.

“That was good. Thank you.” Scott cleared the table.

“Ain’ know you could cook,” I said.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“What’s up?”

“It’s ’bout last night. I saw you.”

“Saw me? Saw me what?”

“Never mine, um…”

“No. Spit it out. Saw me what?”

“Jackin’ off.”

“What?”

“In your bunk las’ night.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, man, its cool. We all do that shit.”

“I was scratching my balls,” he said, turning red.

I thought maybe he didn’t realize he was jacking
 
off in his sleep.

“You know what?” he suddenly said. “You wish I was jacking off. I see how you look at me, how you stare. And I saw your magazines.”

“You been goin’ through my shit?” I asked, checking my drawers.

“Just for the record, you would be the last guy I would fuck even if I were a fag.”

Scott grabbed his things and stormed out the door. I sat there stunned; I couldn’t believe that he denied it. I searched the graduate building in hopes of running into him to apologize, but he was M.I.A. I couldn’t keep focused because of our fight. I got back to the apartment thinking I shouldn’t have said anything, and I ate some of the leftover Chinese and went to bed. Scott didn’t come in until three that morning. I pretended I was asleep.

“Darryl, you awake?” he whispered. I felt his hand on my arm. “You asleep?”

“Wa’sup?”

“It’s my brother.” Scott started crying.

“What? What’s wrong?” I sat up in my bunk.

“They found him at some old abandoned apartment with a needle in his arm. He’s dead. They want me to come down and ID the body.”

“Oh God, man, I’m so sorry.”

“What am I going to do? How am I going to tell my mother?”

“You want me to go with you tomorrow?”

“Would you?”

“Of course. We’ll go first thing in th’ mornin’.”

“I’m sorry…about last night,” Scott cried.

“Hush. Forget about it. I was an asshole.”

Scott reminisced throughout the night about him and his kid brother, how they fought over everything from Tonka trucks to girls in high school, but always made up after the dust settled.

That next morning, Scott was sullen. I practically had to dress him and push him into the elevator. He didn’t talk much on the train to Far Rockaway.

“I can’t,” he said.

“What?”

“All those terrible things I said. I can’t see him.”

“You ain’ mean none of that stuff. He knew that.”

“Telling him to stay away from our mother was the last thing I said to him.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. He knew you loved him.”

When we arrived to the coroner’s office, Scott froze at the door.

“You can do this, Scott. I’ll be right there with you.”

“You’ve been so cool with me throughout all this,” he said.

“That’s what friends are for.”

 We walked up to the administration desk where an older, well-dressed woman sat shuffling papers and folders.

“Excuse me. I’m here to speak with Detective George Geletka.”

“Name?” she asked flippantly.

“Scott Whelks.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“He called me yesterday, yes.”

“Hold on. I’ll page him.”

“Thank you.”

Scott and I waited in the lobby studying those in white lab coats, others with guns and badges hanging from waists. A middle-aged man with dark hair who resembled Edward James Olmos made his way toward us. His badge hung from a chain that dangled around his neck. I knew it had to be him, the bearer of bad news.

“Mr. Whelks? Hi, I’m Detective Geletka. I believe we spoke on the phone?”

“Hi,” said Scott.

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this under these circumstances. We found your brother after we raided a crack house in Dix McBride Apartments. Because he had priors, we were able to identify him as Joseph Whelks. He had you down as next of kin.”

“Can I see him?” Scott asked.

“Sure, but I’m afraid that only family is allowed in.”

“He’s a friend of mine.”

“Well, all right. I guess it’ll be fine,” said the detective.

I wanted to hold Scott’s hand to show him just how supportive I was, but it didn’t seem appropriate.

“I must warn you that the…smell can get pretty bad.”

He wasn’t lying. The stench of death was almost immediate. We saw an examiner hovering over a pale, cold corpse. I had never seen a dead body before. Plenty of dead coons, squirrels, and possums that had fallen victim to Mack trucks, but nothing that real, that close up and personal.

“This is Dr. Turner, our medical examiner.”

“Hi,” said Scott.

“He’s here to identify his brother. Whelks, Joseph. C,” the detective told Dr. Turner.

“This way.”

Scott looked as if he was together. Dr. Turner peeled the white shroud slowly from the body that lay beneath it. I looked at Scott to catch his reaction as we stared upon the corpse of Scott’s kin.

“Is this your brother?” asked the detective.

“That’s him. That’s Joe.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Dr. Turner. I consoled Scott as he started to weep.

 “Thanks, Doc,” the detective said.

The three of us stood in the corridor outside the coroner’s office. I held Scott in my arms as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“Are you his only relative?”

“Our mother. But she’s ill,” said Scott.

“There’s some paperwork we’re going to need you to fill out in order to release the body.”

Scott’s face was flushed red with tears.

“Detective,” I asked, “can he come back tomorrow for all of that?”

“Whenever’s good for him,” he said. He looked at us as if he thought we were partners. “Here’s my card. If he has any questions, please have him give me call, and again, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

We got back to the apartment, where I fixed Scott a cup of coffee.

“You want me t call ya mom?” I asked.

“That’s okay. I’ll go out there later and tell her I just can’t right now.”

“I can go with you.”

 “She doesn’t really take too well to strangers. Are you gonna go to class tonight?”

“I thought I would stay here with you tonight and—”

“No, you should go. I’ll be fine.”

“But I wanna stay.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Well…’mkay.”

“Thanks for going with me,” Scott said. “It meant a lot.”

* * * *

I was quiet in class, doodling in the margins of my notebook, thinking of Scott. My friend Matt asked if I wanted to go for drinks, but I took a rain check. I wanted to get back home in case Scott was there, which he wasn’t. He left a note on my desk. 
Gone to Mom’s. Will call you later, Scott.

I decided to take a stroll on the seaport. I took my cell in case he phoned. It wasn’t until I was about to hop in the shower that my cell toned.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Scott replied.

“How’s your mom?” I asked.

“She took it really hard. I finally got her down to sleep.”

“How you holdin’ up?”

“As well as can be expected. I’m going to stay with her for a couple of days. Just to keep an eye on her, make sure she’s okay.”

“You want me to talk to your professors?”

“No need. They know about Joe and I told them I needed some time.”

“M’kay, well, if you need anything, just gimme a call.”

“I will.”

I spent the next few days busying myself with writing. The money from Ma, as well as the work/study check, had finally arrived. I spent some on groceries, more on those books I wanted but hadn’t had the dough to buy, and banked the rest. I put the forty dollars I owed Scott in an envelope and placed it on his desk. I didn’t go to the sex clubs that night. I wasn’t interested in toying with the boys in the basement of The Unicorn. I wanted to be with Scott. I locked myself in for the night, killed the lights except for the one that glowed brightest next to my bed. I watched the people below until I faded off to sleep. Those few days flew by. Scott returned from Far Rockaway.

He wasn’t the same, quiet like he used to be during those early days when he moved into the dorm. He was distant with me, sometimes cold. I could tell he was still carrying around the guilt of his brother’s death. When he told me he was moving back home to take care of his mom, I understood.

“It ain’t your fault, ya know.”

“What isn’t?”

“Your brother’s death. You didn’t kill him.”

“I abandoned him. I turned my back on him when he needed me. I might as well have put the needle in his arm myself.”

“You need to face the fact that your brother made the decision to do drugs.”

“What?” He stopped what he was doing and looked at me with red in his eyes. “Shut up.”

“There was nothin’ you could’ve done.”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Scott grabbed me by the collar and shoved me hard against the closet
.
Its doors snapped under my weight. All the anger and guilt Scott had bottled up boiled over.

“If only I had stayed.”

“And what? Watch his every move, be his bodyguard? He chose his path.” I wanted to drink up his pain, eat his sorrow. “It ain’t your fault.”

We stood in our dorm, as close as lovers. Scott’s lips touched mine. Our kisses were not sloppy or pornographic, but like a soap opera or a movie where the guy gets the girl in the end. We stumbled on my bed, our hands beneath shirts, fingers undoing buttons and clasps, dicks in mouths and assholes until we were both sticky with one another. Wish I could say we lay there like two cuddle sluts under the covers, but by morning, Scott was gone.

I spotted him two weeks later at the Sixty-First Street cafeteria at the buffet. He looked surprised to see me. We caught up over fried calamari and Romanian salad. We were both happy the semester was finally winding down.

“How’s your mom doin’?” I asked.

“She’s in good spirits, healthy. Saturday was Joe’s birthday. We went out and put flowers on his grave. ”

Our conversation felt almost awkward at first, like we were on a blind date.

“Are you going home for Christmas?”

“I talked to my mama last night and told her I was comin’ home. She was excited. I got mosta my stuff packed.”

“Are you gonna stay another semester at William Street?” he asked.

 “I applied to move in the Grove Street apartments. It ain’t as nice as William Street, but it’s closer to campus.”

“Well, in case I don’t see you before you leave, here’s my new number,” he said.

As he scribbled it on a napkin, I wanted to touch that hand. I wanted to reach over our table and give him a kiss to prove he was missed. We cut our time together short due to hectic schedules, and we never spoke of that night.

Scott was reluctant to hug me in public. He smelled sweetly of aftershave. We knew it would be the last we would see of one another. We veered off into opposite directions. I cried quietly walking along those dirty streets. New Yorkers looked at me, wondering what the matter was. I left a piece of my heart on every block, knowing I would never get over Scott.

by M.J. Mancini

Since I was a kid I got picked on. I was an only child and was raised by a single mother. She was my best friend. My mom was a registered nurse and I always admired her, but a boy raised without his father can tend to be a little effeminate. In grade school all the boys poked fun at me; I was the smallest kid in the class and had pretty bad eyesight. I had to wear these horrible horn-rimmed prescription glasses just to see the board, and I don’t think even one day passed without someone calling me Four Eyes or Bookworm. I never fought back for myself even if someone hit me; my mother made me promise not to use violence to make a point. That made me an even bigger target for the bullies in the class.

As I hit puberty my sex drive became an outright crippling experience. I was so attracted to girls I could barely even think straight in my teenage years. I was so preoccupied with getting into a girl’s pants, I became rather good at it. Most of the girls who were in the A crowd knew I was pretty well educated when it came to making out. Once over the summer, Renee and Karen, a couple of the hotter girls in the class, ran into me at a local drugstore. They got their hands on a pack of cigarettes and invited me to try some with them. Renee bought a pack of Life Savers to try to hide the smell from our parents. We went into the woods and smoked our first cigarette together. She broke out the peppermint Life Savers after and asked me if I wanted one. I told her I did and watched her as she popped one into her mouth, before she leaned over and passed it to me right through her soft pouting lips. Then Karen wanted to take her turn and asked me to pass it to her with a kiss! One thing led to another and before I knew it we were all half naked, playing with each other. It was my first experience with two women and I was only fifteen!

I wound up attending college with a major in biology. I filled out pretty well and stood six feet, four inches. I worked out constantly to try to get over the little boy syndrome I had developed as a child, but never lost the big horn-rimmed glasses and geeky style of dressing. It did not seem to bother the women I befriended in school so I guess I just let it go. Besides, my mom always told me it’s what is inside that counts.

I still ran into the occasional sophomoric idiot that wanted to make me look like a fool. Once in a while I would actually be forced to defend myself, which I did that rather well since I took some boxing classes. As for girls, I just kept plugging away and found some pretty spectacular women through college. Fell hard for a couple, but after graduation they kind of dispersed and I was back on the prowl. I became an expert lover with the help of my college college girlfriends, and I was confident I could take on any challenge in the bedroom.

Getting them there was the hard part.

After graduation I took a somewhat unexpected turn. I’d always loved the human body and anatomy and since I had an undergraduate degree in biology it seemed like the best choice. I applied to and was accepted at one of the best nursing schools in the state. The thought of being surrounded by all those female nursing students sent my heart racing. Once I got my certification I would be able to make a career out of working with primarily women, killing several birds with one stone.

The first day of school I was literally the only man in the entire class. Some of the girls actually came up to me and congratulated me for taking such a bold step. One girl, Patricia, slapped me so hard on the back, she almost knocked my glasses off. It was obvious to me after a few minutes that she was a lesbian and from her actions I guessed she was butch. I was strangely attracted to her though; she was such a down-to-earth person we just clicked.

During orientation a girl sat next to Patricia and I could not stop staring at her. She had the most beautiful long silky black hair and delicate features. Her face was sculpted from pure alabaster. In contrast, her eyes sparkled like the Caribbean Sea. Her crystal green eyes were amazing.

After orientation was over, Patricia walked over to me with the girl I had been staring at for the last two hours and introduced her to me. “Hi, Cody, this is my partner Serina. Serina, this is Cody.”

I could barely believe my ears. The most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on was a lesbian.

“Hi,” I said in a mousy voice. For some odd reason, the bass got stuck in my throat, forcing me to sound like the biggest nerd walking.

“Hi, Cody, nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand to me.

I shook her hand, still unable to wrap my mind around the fact that I had no shot at all with her. But I probably would not have a shot if she was straight. No woman that looked like her would ever be with a geek like me. Not for all the tea in China.

“We’re headed to the student center for some coffee. Wanna come with us?” Pat asked.

“I…I’d um…love to.” I tried to hide my shyness, but it wore on me like a leather coat.

“Are you okay?” Serina asked. “You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. “Just a little hungry, I guess.” I felt myself staring at her cleavage and shifted my eyes nervously.

“Well, let’s get rolling before classes start. We don’t want to be late on our first day,” Pat said.

I had to get some food in me and I jumped at the chance to chat with them. I was very curious to hear their story. Plus, even if I could not have Serina, I could at least admire her from afar. I quickly slung my backpack over my shoulder and followed behind them like a stray puppy looking for a treat.

Walking behind the girls I observed the vast difference between them. Pat had very short platinum blond hair that spiked out on the top. She walked almost like a boy and had a thick musculature. She wore a cut-off pair of denim jeans for shorts and an open flannel shirt with a cotton T-shirt underneath. On the other hand, Serina swayed while she walked, and reeked of lilac and gardenia. She wore a sexy short white skirt with golden Roman sandals.

As we sat down in the large circular cafeteria in the student lounge I immediately probed them as to how they met and how long they have been together. Serina was very quiet and quite reserved. Patricia did most of the talking. When Serina actually did speak, I noticed a slight accent.

“I love your accent,” I said, sipping on the hot coffee in front of me.

“I’m from Bulgaria,” Serina said. “I came to America on a student visa.”

“Where did you two meet? I asked.

“We met in college,” Pat said. “We were roommates and discovered some pretty nice secrets about each other.” She giggled.

I noticed Pat reaching under the table, dropping her hand on Serina’s lap, and they interlaced fingers. God, how I wanted to sit between them. I could feel their sexual chemistry, and wanted to share in it badly.

“Much to my surprise, Serina never had a girlfriend before me,” Pat offered.

“We’ve been together exclusively for two and a half years,” Serina added.

I could almost see them interlocked in a soft, sexual embrace. Satin skin against skin, nipple on nipple, lips on lips.

I told them my story and how I came to be a nursing student. They were both equally touched and commended me for pursuing the career path my mother had chosen all those years ago.

“Your mother must have been a very strong woman,” Pat commented.

I nodded, but asked a question that was more relevant to me.

“This might seem a little forward, but have either of you ever been with…you know…a guy?”

They both had been in heterosexual relationships in the past but seemed to prefer the regular company of a female over a male.

“Now that we are being open about our private lives, I’ve got a question for you,” Serina said, eyeing me suspiciously.

“You wanna know if I am gay, right?” I asked intuitively.

“Well, yeah.” They giggled in unison. “How did you know?” Serina asked.

I had to chuckle a little bit because growing up, I got that question a lot.

“Lots of people think so. I guess being raised by a single mom put me in touch with my feminine side.” I giggled as well.

“Like most men I know, I have experimented with the same sex but I preferred women. Most men will not admit that they, in one way or another, have had sex with another man. Homophobia is an ugly reality and I do my best not to endorse it.”

“You know what, Cody? I like your style and your honesty.” Patricia smiled. “To coin a phrase from my favorite movie, ‘This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

“
Casablanca
.” I laughed. “It one of my favorites too!”

“And you’re not gay, huh?” Serina jibed.

I glanced at the clock hanging over the cafeteria doorway.

“We’d better get rolling before we’re late for class.”

The girls looked at each other, then Patricia asked me for my number. “It is not often that we want to share their private lives with people we hardly knew, but you seem like a kindred spirit.” Patricia said, looking into my eyes.

“Listen, we have a regular Wednesday night pasta night,” Serina casually as we walked to class. “We drink wine in front of the fire while watching old movies. Wanna join us this week?”

I almost shit my pants right there. I couldn’t decide if they asked me because they liked me as a friend or something more. Either way, I was honored and embarrassed all at once.

“Since we all like old romantic movies, I guess you’ll fit right in.” Patricia smirked and glanced at Serina. Her emphasis on the words “fit right in” seemed almost sexual in nature. The smirk that grew on Serina’s full lips sent my imagination reeling. We made the date for Wednesday, exchanged numbers and addresses, and headed to class. I could hardly concentrate on anything else the rest of the morning.

Considering it was Monday, I had two agonizing days to go through before I could see Serina again and hoped we shared some classes together. Fortunately for me, both Serina and Pat had the same anatomy class I did the next day and we shared lunch. The brief but fun luncheon was enough to tide me over until Wednesday.

* * * *

I told them I would bring the wine and dessert. I stopped and picked out a couple of pretty expensive Pinot Noir and some great-looking Italian pastries at the local bakery on my way to their place.

I rang the bell and waited outside for someone to answer. I felt little awkward as I stood on the stoop of a strange house in complete silence, wondering what the hell to expect from the evening, so nervous my palms were sweating and my glasses kept slipping off the bridge of my nose. A few seconds later Patricia opened the door and invited me in.

“Hey, Cody!” She was bubbly and fresh.

“Hi there,” I said coyly. “I bought some pastries and I hope you like Pinot.”

“Perfect,” she said, grabbing the bottles and pastry box.

“Hang your coat over there.” She pointed to the rack standing next to the door.

“Serina, our guest has arrived,” she yelled through the apartment.

The house smelled amazing. A mélange of tomato sauce, garlic, fried meat, and basil permeated the air. My mouth watered as the fragrant aromas tickled my olfactory lobe. Pat was dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt while I wore a pair of dress pants and a short-sleeved shirt buttoned to the top. She hugged me and if my mouth wasn’t watering from the smell of food, her perfumed skin drove me wild. Studying me, she shook her head, then immediately reached for my buttoned collar and undid the buttons partially down my chest. My crisp white T-shirt beamed from the opening.

“If you’re going to hang out with us, you shouldn’t be so uptight. You always have that nervous look in your eye, Cody. Relax, we don’t bite—not hard, anyway!”

I really
did
need to relax. Either she was filled with innocent friendship or she was making obvious advances. I had difficulty figuring out which. I was always naive when it came to women. I never knew what they expected or wanted. It sucked.

We walked through the small living room with a cozy fire smoldering in the fireplace and into the kitchen where Serina was cooking. She looked radiant in a long kimono. Barefoot at the stove she tasted the tomato sauce with a wooden spoon. Her beautiful red painted toes peeked out from under her robe as she stood on her tiptoes sipping the gravy and smacking her full pink lips. She put the spoon in the spoon rest on the counter and came over to welcome me. She stood up on her delicate painted tiptoes and threw her arms over my broad shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I could feel her supple full breasts press against my pectorals as she hugged me. I could tell she was completely naked under her robe, as I removed my hands from her hips and felt an all-too-familiar swelling in my pants. I quickly averted the attention from me to the wine to avoid detection. Her amazing scent lingered on my hands and face from where she had touched me with her cheek and kimono. I was burning for her.

“I really want to thank you guys for inviting me,” I said honestly. “I feel honored.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Serina said. “I hope you like my cooking. Pat always says I feed her too much, but I love to eat so I’m always cooking.”

“You can feed me anytime,” I offered. “If it tastes as good as it smells, we’re going to get along just fine!”

* * * *

We sat in the living room on the floor in front of the television and fireplace, slurping our spaghetti and sipping red wine.
Casablanca
played on the large flat-screen. It had been a very long time indeed since I had watched the classic movie. Although I was preoccupied with Serina and kept wishing I was Pat tonight, I kept my cool by enjoying the food and fire.

“What did you think?” Serina asked about her cooking.

“It amazing,” I said.

“Her tits, or her meatballs?” Pat joked.

“I guess I have been staring a little too much, huh?” I blushed.

“Well, your face is so red, you look like a twelve-year-old who got his first hand job under the bleachers.” Pat laughed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” I looked away.

“No, no,” Serina said. “What good is having a nice body if nobody pays attention to it?”