Friday night

I was jittery all through my last class Friday afternoon. When the class ended around three, I fairly jumped from the seeat and bolted for the parking lot. I drove back to my apartment, windows open, allowing the warm spring breeze and the sunshine to flood my mind with happiness. I cranked the CD player at top volume when Rihanna's voice began to pump through the speakers.

Boy, let me, let me

Boy, let me, let me

Boy, let me, let me

Let me do those things for you...

I pulled into my parking spot and ran up the stairs to my apartment. Throwing my books on the floor, I made my way down the hall to my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Earlier in the week, I'd stopped by the university bookstore and bought one of those pre-season football guides littering the newsstand, one in which my university's team figured prominently. I peeled it open to page 58 where the sports writers profiled the team's defense and there, standing tall in a photo at the top of the page, staring ominously back at me was my baby, my man. Derrick stood in a cluster of football players, each wearing their football pants and cleats, but with their pads removed, their muscles glistening in half t-shirts cropped at the arms and just below the chest, leaving their rippling abs on display for girls like me to ogle. God, he was HOT! I felt consumed with desire for Derrick and tears welled up in my eyes when I thought about just how much I wanted him. I wanted to tell someone that I would be with him tonight, HIS girl, HIS date, but who could I tell? If I called one of my girlfriends and told her, it would take only seconds for the whispers and gossip to begin rippling through the sorority grapevine and within hours, my boyfriend back home would hear about it.

I stared at his picture and a shiver ran through me. I could almost feel those large, muscular arms enveloping me, holding me as he kissed my neck. My long, slender fingers caressing his bulging, tattooed biceps, the bulk of his chest pressing down on me, his hips pushing against me as my legs wrapped around him, his warm breath on my neck, always whispering, always talking to me, telling me what he wanted from me and how he wanted me to please him.

I threw the magazine across the room, got up and walked into the bathroom. Slowly I began removing my clothing to shower and get ready for my date.
Three hours later, my hair washed, blown and curled, my legs shaved and my toenails and fingernails painted, I leaned forward to apply the finishing touches to my make up. Not too much, with a touch of blush and eyeliner, as clean and natural as I could manage, then off to my closet to pick the right outfit for the evening.

I dropped my towel and began leafing through my lingerie drawer. I didn't have a lot of really expensive lingerie, but there were a few tried-and-true items I could use to impress Derrick. I pulled out a matching pale peach bra-and-panty set I felt would accent my blonde hair and still look sexy. The panty was a thong that rode high on my hips and gathering in a slight V shape just below my belly button, the bra had thin spaghetti straps over the shoulders and the front scooped low, barely covering my nipples and latching with a small snap between my breasts. I'd always been self-conscious about my smallish breasts and fantasized about making them larger someda, but Derrick never appeared put off by the prospect of being with a white girl who seemed to have more going on below the waist than above.

After choosing my underwear, I was conflicted about what to wear over my lingerie. I thought about some tight, sexy jeans and a tank top but discarded the idea as too casual. I finally settled on a stretchy, black mini and a gold lame halter top that tied around my neck and hung bare in the back. Wearing it would mean I'd have to go braless, but the two pieces looked so cute together I couldn't resist and I hoped Derrick wouldn't be able to either. As I shrugged out of my bra and slid the tank top over my head, I inhaled deeply. I was showing more skin than I was accustomed to and as I tied the waist of the halter behind my back, the fabric across my chest was thin enough to allow my rather pointy nipples to be easily seen. If I became aroused, there would be no hiding it. My headlights were on high beam.

After another hour of primping, I headed to the car for the drive to Derrick's fraternity house. In the parking lot of my apartment complex, I got a few approving stares from the college boys passing by and a few watched me blatantly as I slid into the driver's seat of my car, forcing my skirt to ride up and I blushed as I saw them looking at my upper thigh.