TYPING: In sex, they say the most difficult job is the blow job…
The skies were the color of the pharyngeal region when a dentist wasn't poking his torch down there. I was hobbling towards the Lecture Theatre. I was supposed to be running, but I was hobbling, sometimes hopping, sometimes crawling. I was drenched in sweat from my neck-tie up. And I could imagine the air god (if there ever was) puffing fumes at me in exhaustion as I cut through the wind.
TYPING: … you would be working your jaws…
I steeled my jaw as I resisted the urge to cuss at Celeste. She had said these jeans were perfect for all occasions. But of course, she’d forgotten to specify on probable occasions she would be trying to ruin my roommate.
TYPING: … you would be gagging for air…
The rate at which air was whooshing in and out of my lungs was alarming. I could pass out any second. But I didn’t give up.
There! The LT, where the movie premiere was taking place, was in sight. And when I juxtaposed the implications of me quitting this race (expulsion of my roommate) to the implications of not quitting (a sudden death), saw quitting was never an option, I managed to press on. But I needed oxygen.
TYPING: … and if whoever you were going down on was someone you really wanted to please, you would never stop.
I paused at the car park, bent at an angle of ninety-degrees, clasped my knees in an effort to regain a normal breathing pattern.
That instant, a Hyundai Coupé screeched to a halt in an empty slot near me. And I needn’t wait to look who its owner was. I began taking to my heels again.
You would never guess the Dean of Students in all his middle-aged glory (the trademark potbelly) could be a match for me in any race. But he zinged past me like a charge of electrons. Then again, who am I to compare myself with anyone who held a doctorate degree?
OMG. OMG. Couldn’t I move any faster? My head began throbbing the moment I poured into the dark theatre, making my vision blurry even in the dark.
TYPING: ... you would be waiting, thinking, OMG, WHEN IS THIS PERSON GOING TO FUCKING COME, until the orgasm comes…
Far ahead was the movie in view, a sad scene of Alex Ekkubo being dumped into the sea by his co-actors, and in the audience were collective shrills of “No, no, no!” I had to give it to Raymond, I thought as I rushed to where the two would be, he had marvellous timing.
But it was as though the Dean of Students had a keen ear to discern sounds from a killer orgasm from an audience's reaction to a climatic scene. I saw why lots of people couldn't wait to hold PhDs.
TYPING: … when the real sextastic orgasm finally comes, there’s relief!
“Raymond!” I yelled as I approached his seat. Maya had stopped screaming and she had fallen back in her seat looking in every way content.
“What?” Raymond poked his head out of her skirt, annoyed for the interruption. (Perhaps working her up for another round?)
My headache was nowhere near plummeting as rays shone from the opposite end of the pew and splashed around the contours of my roommate’s ire-stricken face.
“Mr. Obeng,” The Dean of Students spoke through a ragged breath he was steadying as he brandished his torch, “you are coming with me to my office.”
TYPING: … Sometimes relieving your partner so much could leave them so knackered and you unnourished.
It was supposed to be something fun. At least for Maya and Raymond.
“You want to hear this.” Raymond was already kicking off his shoes seated on my bed.
“Maya come three times? Sorry, I can hear that over at the printers too.” I replied with part annoyance, part anxiety to leave the room before the two began their ritual Saturday love-making. I was done with my 17th Century Literature assignment and had a deadline to meet. I needed no distraction.
“Raymond and I are in the crux of a research.”
That was good to hear. Something academic for once.
“A sexual research.”
My fingers froze on the doorknob. “Sexual?” I spun to the two, horrified.
Raymond nodded, tapping the side of the bed Maya hadn’t occupied because his lap hadn’t been there.
I sat. I listened. I was stunned.
Maya sniggered. “You are so ancient, Kobs. No one really calls it fellatio these days.”
I ignored her. “So what do you gain from doing that crap?”
“Err…” Raymond whacked me lightly on the head. “You should listen well. Best Secretive Places on Campus To Go Down On Your Partner. And we are finishing off our last location at the premiere tonight.”
I turned to the two in shock. “You can’t be serious! It can’t be that secretive if lots of people would be there.” I was tempted to look up ‘secretive’ on their behalf.
“Well, good point,” Raymond enlightened, “but there’s this lane in the LT where no one sits because all the seats are jammed except for one.”
“If you guys think you are putting this up on my blog, you are mistaking!”
“Spoil-sport,” Maya snorted. “We were hoping that was our chance to be famous for inventing something.”
“Well, with your creative streak, I’m sure you two would come up with something more morally acceptable?” I walked off to the door, only to find out it was locked.
“They keys!” I demanded, whirling to find the two already at each other, and turning back sharply to obstruct the view.
“Don’t be a sissy, Kobs.” Maya said. “Watch as Raymond unlocks my deepest desires.” Lots of snickering behind me.———
TYPING: It’s a known fact students of this city campus love shedding off their clothes... but sometimes, we all love glamming up for campus events.
Cue in Moby’s “Beautiful” and watch us strutting in synchrony along the dusty road of our hostel to the Lecture Theatre. Off we tailed to the most-talked about event on campus of the month: Happy Death Day premiere.
Of course, it was foolish to think I was the Alpha of the group. Because Maya wouldn’t let me as she yanked me by the elbows to take her initial position so she could hook her arm in Raymond’s. But that had been the grand mistake of the night because it would send a Range Rover splashing dirty, stagnant water on my outfit sending me rushing to the only place I could get a change of clothes.———
“I think your blog is too safe.” Celeste, personal shopper/stylist/vengeful ex of my roommate said as she distractedly smoothed her hands over the red fabric of the shirt I was buttoning.
I hadn’t asked for her opinion but I was grateful for the feedback. “It’s just sometimes I am scared of how I would be viewed.” I confided.
She shrugged dismissively. “Oh, you are no saint. You are a human being who has normal urges to have sex like all of us who make an effort not to be hypocritical. But, Kobs, really, I know you would never put up very sensitive information on your blog.”
I sensed the dare in her tone. I admit, I was a little irked. How long had she known me, a few weeks? “As a matter of fact,” I spoke determinedly pulling on the tweed trousers. “I am researching the best, secretive places on campus where you could go down on someone. Like the LT, on the lane with jammed seats.” I added for credibility.
If she was impressed she didn’t show it. “And you know unless you get down to the matter and actually get yourself blowing other girls in these secretive places, your material would lack authenticity?”
I swallowed. That titbit had escaped me. “Undercover journalism, I know that.”
She peered at me in scrutiny.
“Celeste, I can put up such material on my blog!” I yelled at her, irked.
“I know.” She walked towards me, and placed a light kiss on my cheek. “I was just thinking these trousers do not do the Kenneth Cole shirt justice. Some snag jeans would be perfect.”
“Are you ready?” She asked as I pulled on the jeans she had suggested which were literally ceasing blood-flow to my thigh.
“Yes.” I answered, moving towards the door she’d opened. “Are we going together?”
“No.” She informed, locking the door to her hostel room. “I just have to see the Dean of Students before. Some pressing matters I need to attend to.”
“OK.” I nodded, and walked away. It wasn’t minutes after I’d left her hostel that it dawned on me. She knew Raymond would be the one with the courage to help me with this research. I had given away Raymond and Maya by letting out a secret location they were, to her, obviously about to go down on each other at. And she was heading for the Dean’s to report the two.
Then I began hobbling. Then I began crawling. Then I had hit my head against the glass swivel doors of the LT which explained my headache (and the slight memory loss about the incident that had caused the throbbing)…
Then the three of us found ourselves in the office of the Dean of Students facing expulsion.
“This cannot be happening,” Raymond resisted the urge to cuss, choosing to slam his hand on the older man’s desk instead. “Write me out of this school. But not these two!”
“I have already made myself clear.” The man growled. “They were accomplices!”
The silence afterwards was unnerving. But I multitask. That’s what I do. I take advantage of opportunities to get tasks crossed off my to-do list. So I took the time to plan up ways to throttle Celeste and dump her body where no one could find her.
“There should be a way out of this.” Raymond tried once more. “Something we could do!”
I almost screamed at him that it was no use, and yelling at the top of his lungs wasn’t doing any good.
“There is something.” A crafty smile took over the Dean of Students’ features as he stared at Maya lecherously.
“I am not blowing you!”
He laughed at her retort. “Who said anything about you… me?” His gaze drifted to me.
Oh, no. Bile lurched up my throat.———
TYPING: Five secretive places to go down on someone on campus… One… two… three… four…
The Dean was very eager to find out exactly how anyone could go down on him at the ground floor of the Faculty of Social Sciences, because few people went around there… with the same objective.
Come to think of it, I felt sorry for him doing all this. He was just a poor old man who wanted to revv up his sex life. Celeste wasn’t the evil one, I was informed. She’d just been helping him get the zeal for his sex life again so he wouldn’t channel all that frustration into making directives that throttled the social life of students.
“So, there, you have it.” I turned to Raymond, Maya and the Dean of Students after gesticulating the danger zones and the safe zones in the ground floor as Raymond and Maya were being stubborn to give out the findings of their research. “Five secretive places for going down on someone on campus.”
“You say five, I’ve seen four.” The older man challenged.
“You already know the fifth place.” Raymond snarled at him. I understood him so well. What was the point of all this being a secret when other people were in on it too?
“Guys, the effort in all this is the demonstration. Kobby, you are doing a good job. Go on.”
We headed next to the LT, for the lane of the jammed seats.
“You have gotta be kidding me!” Raymond and Maya, ahead of us, yelled in shock.
I moved in closer with the Dean to notice the object of their dismay.
There on the exact spot Raymond and Maya had been in the act, was Grannie-Grandma looking up guiltily from the crotch of her fetish priest husband.
I couldn’t hide my disgust as I threw up right on one of the seats.
“Dean,” Grannie-Grandma spoke with mock-remorse, “we’ve been bad students, expel us.”
But Raymond, Maya and the Dean cared less about catching senior citizens related to me going down on each other. I’d soon find out why they had fury splattered all over their features.
“The seats! You could totally sit on them now!” Maya wailed.
TYPING: In sex, they say the most difficult job is offering a blow job. And who am I to disagree if school authorities just made it more difficult?
Author’s Note: New Episodes of Sex And The City Campus are always up on this blog on Saturday. To spread the word of this series, if you like it, or you probably want to yell at me for being ‘Satan’s incarnate’ (I didn’t take that as a compliment, thank you), you could tweet the hashtag #SexCityCampus or #SexAndTheCityCampus.
Always love to read your comments and your feedback (at email@example.com ). Huge thanks to all you who commented on the previous episode, these little acts of kindness spur me on to create.
READ NEXT EPISODE: Playing Games and Keeping Score (blogisode 4)
READ NEXT EPISODE: Playing Games and Keeping Score (blogisode 4)