The Red Satin Club

The first time that it happened, it was rather on the odd side, but I chose not to comment too much on it when I first saw it. After all, it was probably just a college dorm prank by one of my roommates, albeit in very poor taste, at least unless his girlfriend was okay with it (or if he had bought them himself and wore them).

A pair of red satin panties lay on my pillow and they were soaked....oh, well, unless that happened to be the strangest precum ever, it had to have been a girl, right? But why would a guy put his girlfriend's wet panties on my pillow? Nice, kinky ones, too, which looked to belong to a woman of some refinement and wealth. That made it even stranger to me, a regular Joe from Cleveland from a middle-class Jewish family. I was probably still banned from most country clubs for being of the Faith, not that I gave a damn, since that's not my scene. Then again, I was a rather lukewarm practitioner of Judaism. I was more ethnically and culturally than religiously Jewish.

My father was a relatively successful manager of the local branch of a major life insurance company. He did well enough, but I never had a silver spoon in my mouth. We still had a budget, just a slightly higher one than some of my neighbors. It wasn't much higher, as Dad was a sensible and frugal man, or at least he had been since Mom took off for parts unknown and left just the two of us males to share a very male existence until Dad remarried some time later. Mom never got around to paying any child support and I didn't hear from her again until more recently, but I won't get into that yet. The lack of child support meant that Dad had enough expenses being a single father without going overboard on the discretionary spending, anyway, so I don't blame him.

Anyway, here I was, in Nebraska, far away from Ohio and my family, of course. What was I doing in the Great Plains, so damn far from everyone and everything that I knew, in a college town? Full acceptance, full scholarship, no need for student loans between that and the amount that Dad had salted away for that purpose, which didn't surprise me given his thrifty habits, courtesy of being a single guy who didn't have any wife or girlfriend asking him for anything. Still, it wasn't that much, due to lack of any funds from my deadbeat mother.

A stranger might have been excused for thinking that I was some kind of rich kid due to the lack of any need for financial aid, but I really had nothing left over, so I took on a part-time job to help with expenses and give me some spending cash while in school. Some of my roommates were shocked the first time that they saw me waiting tables at the local steakhouse, but it helped me get by a bit easier and I had no troubles other than the typical stingy or rude patrons, who didn't get that most of my pay came from tips. Part of me wondered if this is where I met the mysterious owner of the red satin panties, but enough on that later.

I confronted my roommates, Max and Luis, but both of them denied having a single thing to do with the undies and I couldn't prove otherwise, so I let it drop. However, they didn't, teasing me for the next couple of days for being such a stud that some girl left her undies on my bed. I brushed it off and went about my normal business of studies, work, and when I had a little time, flirting here or there with the girls in my class as well as a cute librarian who looked to be slightly older. I didn't do keggers and other crazy stuff, as I wasn't in a fraternity and I had better ways to spend my time than destroying my mind when I needed to use it. I would drink a little booze now and then, but nothing crazy, no parties, and no binges.

However, sure enough, the following Friday night I came back from a study date with Marin, a quirky blonde from Norway, of all places, and found a pair of red satin panties on my bed again, right on the pillow. Marin snickered when she saw them, before grabbing them and bringing them right up to my nose to smell them.

"Wet. Not just damp. Soaked. Drenched. Whomever this girl is, she's got a serious case of the hots for you, Jacob. Lucky you. Not sure who she is, but she probably has money, or her parents do. Such things to spend money on, but that's just me. I don't like wearing panties. I wouldn't mind getting her out of hers, though, whomever she is," Marin teased me a bit, clapping me on the back.

"You like girls, huh?" I grinned, "what about guys?"

"Sorry, my cute American friend, but I'm a complete lesbian. Hate to ruin your fantasies. I know that you have a hard-on for me, but for me, it's just friendship and has to be. Even if I were bi, I'm absolutely monogamous and I can sense that you're not. It's just not in your nature. That's okay, everyone has their own thing. I just want to find the woman of my dreams. Still, I can be your wingman if you need one. The perfect wingman, really, if you think of it. I know the secrets of my sex and I'm not a man hater, so I'm not going to lie to you," Marin winked at me, "you are rather cute, though, in a little brother sort of way. I really like you."

"Just in a sisterly way. Hey, I'll take that. At least I'll know that you're a straight shooter, if you'll pardon the expression," I laughed.

"Yeah, and one of these days, I'm going to insist that you donate your sperm to me, just for the record. The moment that we met, I knew that you'd be the right donor for me. Smart, cute, tough in your own way, decent.....an all-around good guy. And Jewish. That's the icing on the cake, a nice little final slap at Uncle Lars, who was a Nazi collaborator and a great embarrassment to the family," Marin giggled in a very adorable way that I knew that any smart lesbian would find irresistible.

"I'd be honored to give you some of my seed, even if only for procreation and in a petri dish," I chuckled, while Marin sniffed the panties some more. Her expression of absolute ecstasy confirmed to me that she was, in fact, gay, not that there was anything wrong with that, "and I'd be honored to officiate when you marry Ms. Right."

"Thank you, Jacob. That means more than you know. Glad to see a guy who isn't threatened by lesbians. We don't hate men. We just don't want to have sex with you. Nothing personal. Just doesn't ring our chimes, that's all. We like pussy only, no cock. It's not about some anti-male thing. It's about being attracted solely to other women," Marin observed.

"True. I understand. It would be if I were a straight guy and some man hit on me. I would be flattered, but I couldn't give him what he wanted. Of course, as it happens, I play for both teams, so I could, unless what he wanted was fidelity," I explained.

"Good to know. Yeah, my instincts told me that you're more....polyamorous or whatever you might call it. Not really something that you see as much in Norway. We tend to be more exclusive, but that's our culture. We also tend to commit pretty fast once we get laid. It's like, that girl or guy is your guy or girl now, and will be until you sleep with someone else, and then you have a new guy or girl. But here it's different, I think, probably due to having more people and a warmer climate that doesn't tend to cause you to stay in bed and bond as much after the act," Marin observed, still sniffing the underwear.

"She's so delicious. I can taste her pussy juices, I think," she licked the outside of the panties, "ooohh, lucky you, this one's a gusher! Get her in the sack and she'll probably never let you out of it. Women like that are insatiable."

"You really think that this is a serious deal, not a prank?" I wondered.

"Trust me, darling. A pair of undies this wet does not come from a prank. They come from a very real case of intense physical and probably emotional attraction and attachment to you. This girl wants you badly," Marin assured me.

"Not mistaken identity, then?" I raised the question.

"If it happened once, I might think that. But this was twice, so it's not likely at all. This woman or girl, whichever, is really into you and wants to send you a very clear message. Now you just need to find out who she is and why she didn't just approach you and tell you the truth to your face," Marin confirmed what I had thought, but didn't dare to believe.

I coughed a bit and then noticed my stomach growling, so I suggested, "How about you and I go out to grab a bit to eat? Just friends. No date as such. I'll still treat you as a lady, however. You're very femme, I can tell."

"Caught on to that, did you? Well, thank you, and I hope that we both get hit on, maybe by the same waitress," Marin giggled, taking my arm as we went to my truck.

While driving, I kept noticing that Marin was reading her texts constantly. I figured that she was flirting with a woman she met or perhaps talking to family back in Norway. I had no idea what was really going on, of course. These things were an absolute mystery to me, but I pushed them aside for now, unsure of what to do about them even if I somehow found out.

Once we got to the restaurant, Marin took the liberty of ordering a nice Merlot, which I just accepted, thinking that perhaps she just wanted to act the role of my date for the benefit of the women present. She didn't really go for anything rather expensive on the menu, however. In fact, she didn't drink much of the Merlot herself, instead trying to get me drink a bit more of it while she barely wet her whistle. I thought that was odd, and my face must have given my confusion away.

"Designated driver, darling. That way, you can get a little sauced if you wish. I trust that you'll return the favor someday. Relax, it's just wine. Not like I'm trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you," Marin winked at me.

"Yeah, I should be so lucky," I chuckled at the absurdity of the idea of an avowed lesbian trying to get me drunk or drugged to use me.

"You should, but you won't be," Marin teased me a little, knowing that I would take it well.

We both ended up eating steak, though in my case, it was chicken-fried steak with gravy and in hers, a surf and turf combo of a smaller sirloin, cooked medium-rare, with some lobster tails. I never really got into lobster in the past due to my kosher Dad, but I told myself to try it out someday, as I wasn't really that observant myself and it smelled rather nice with the butter dipping sauce. We also enjoyed our sides, which were cheesy mashed potatoes and broccoli for me and a garlic parmesan pasta with spinach for her.

I was a little buzzed by then, so the conversation went along rather smoothly, though the waitress kept slightly brushing my hand every time she refilled my iced tea, and she did that a lot. Of course, she also refilled Marin's, but I think that was for appearances and politeness. She was a very tall Latina named Veronica, a bit on the slender side, with braces in her mouth to correct some kind of dental issue, a bit awkward and clumsy, too. She would smile shyly at me as she poured my drinks and brought me first my food and my check and I would smile back at her.

"She totally digs you, you know that, right?" Marin whispered to me before seizing the check and paying in spite of my protests.

"You tip her, dear. I'm paying for your meal. That way.....you can afford to be more...generous," Marin snickered, sticking her tongue out at me in a very girlish way.

When Veronica returned, her eyes grew wide at the cash and left for both the meal and the tip. Marin winked at her and coughed a little as we rose, before leaning over to whisper something into her ear. Veronica then shocked me by handing me her phone number and a note in Spanish, of all things. I think that she was too nervous to have me read it in English in front of everyone, so she bought a little time until I could translate it, so we wouldn't be face to face by then. She smiled very sweetly at me as if totally innocent, but something in Marin's face registered that Veronica was anything but a virgin or blushing violet.

"So, what did the note say?" Marin asked me, at which point I showed it to her.

"Do you know any Spanish?" she wondered.

"Not really. Do you?" I inquired.

"No, I know English, German, Danish, and of course, Norwegian. That's all. We can look it up on Babelfish or something like that, though," she observed with a smile.

"What did you say to Veronica?" I suddenly probed.

"That's girl talk, dear. Best not to divulge that and betray the womanly code," Marin giggled.

"Well, the timing was a strange coincidence, as she gave me that note right afterward," I noted.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Marin remained as coy as possible about things.

I got back to my dorm, and sure enough, there they were, right on the pillow. Another damn pair of red satin panties, all soaked down to the last bit of fabric. Did nobody see this happening, I had to wonder now. This was the third incident in a week, the second in one day, after all. Someone should have noticed the same woman sneaking into my room by now, shouldn't they?

"My, my, this girl has it bad for you, my sweet Jacob," Marin licked her lips now, "between her and the waitress, I'd say that you are a very desirable....and desired man. Very popular of late. Not surprised. If I were bi instead of gay, I'd have jumped your bones already and you know it."

"Yes....well, I have something to tell you. I trust that you'll keep it in confidence," I whispered as I type in for the translator on my laptop (a cheap one that Dad passed down to me when he was done with it, but it still did the job).

"Sure, of course," Marin agreed with a rather charming smile.

"I'm....a virgin," I admitted to her.

"That's funny, so am I!" she blurted out.

"Really?" I asked her, surprised.

"Yes....I mean....somewhat. I've eaten pussy and had mine eaten, but nothing has gone inside me. No strap-ons. Nothing like that, though I'd love them to," Marin confessed to me, "anyway, let's read this note, shall we?"

"Sure," I read the translation and discovered that Veronica had something else in common with me....she was a virgin, too.

"Wow. I'm not surprised, though. She's gorgeous, but very shy, just like you at times...and like me. And you seem to have grown up somewhat religious, or am I wrong?" Marin commented.

"Yes, Orthodox Jew all the way. Kosher kitchen, strict Shabbat, all high holy days and all that," I confirmed her guess.

"So...very religious. Figured as much. What would your parents say to you chasing all this goy pussy?" Marin asked me, though she could clearly guess.

"Wouldn't approve. Stepmother, Adi, is as strict as Dad, if not stricter. Mother was another matter. Who knows about that? She ran off when I was a kid and I haven't seen her since. I don't know or care what has happened to her since. Whatever Dad's faults, he loved me enough not to just walk away without even saying goodbye. He raised me, was both parents to me for years. I don't always agree with him, but I love and respect him. I still love Mom, because she's Mom....but I don't respect her, you know.

"Sorry, Dad would back hand me for that, but the woman didn't raise me, didn't even give me up for adoption, just walked away and never came back. Never contacted us again. Adi...well, Adi is hard to like, but she means well. I try to be nice and civil for Dad's sake and because she is sincere, just often a bit of a busybody and a little tyrannical at times," I explained to Marin.

"So, you've declared your independence and opted to go for what you want. Good for you. Be yourself. It's like what my father said when I came out to my parents. He said, 'Marin, when I see you, I do not see a homosexual or heterosexual. I see my daughter. That did not change when I learned that you are a lesbian. But if you ever lose interest in Ibsen, I will disown you.' He was joking about that last part....I think," Marin blushed at that memory.

"So, this place is kind of depressing and I don't feel like calling Veronica from this dorm with others eavesdropping. Mind if we take a little walk outside?" I asked her.

"Sure, I could use a smoke, anyway. Sorry, I just can't seem to stop smoking, though I will manage once you've knocked me up. Hope that you're still on board with that idea, even if it doesn't mean actually sleeping with me," Marin expressed some fear.

"Hey, now, you've proven yourself a friend and confidant of late. The least I can do for you is jack off into a cup and let it go to impregnate you," I grinned at her, especially since I didn't need much of an excuse to jerk off, anyway.

"For the sake of not confusing everyone, I think that we should have him or her call you Uncle Jacob, if that's okay with you," Marin suggested, to which I nodded, "I'll explain the full truth to him or her later when he or she is grown up."

"Good idea, since they will have questions and they need to know their medical history. Do you plan to raise the child in the States or in Norway?" I probed, truly curious.

"Here, in fact. You see....I want more than one child, and I want them to have the same father. That's you. I want you to be my go-to guy for procreation," Marin surprised me with both that announcement and a kiss on the cheek.

"Wow, thanks," I told her, blushing, "hope your future companion doesn't mind, of course."

"Oh, I'll sell her on it. I just know that I will. She'll be eating out of my hand...and other places, of course," Marin giggled now.

I burst out into laughter, even as I dialed Veronica's number at last. I heard a very soft, tentative, voice ask in broken English, "Hello?"

"Hey, Veronica, right?" I asked the woman on the other end.

"That's my daughter. Who is this?" the lady wondered.

"I'm Jacob Hirsch. I met your daughter at the Grand Grill. I was a patron. She gave me this number. Isn't it her number?" I inquired, curious about her mother answering instead of her.

"Veronica is barely 21 and just got that job. We confiscated her phone because someone spotted her talking to a man. Was that you? My daughter is a good girl. She doesn't need immoral influences in her life. Bad enough that she works at a place that sells liquor. Given that you're a patron, I doubt that you are a teetotaler somehow, let alone a Jehovah's Witness," the mother insisted.

"No, I'm Jewish, ma'am," I told her honestly.

"Jewish, well, that's still not the truth, but at least you don't believe in that Trinity business. Still, you're not to call Veronica again. Is that clear? My husband and I raised Veronica to be a good Jehovah's Witness, to marry and have children, and to witness for the Kingdom," Mrs. Fuentes demanded.

"Well, ma'am, your daughter is an adult and free to make her own choices. You can do what you like in your house, but if given half a chance and the place to keep a roof over her head, I would take her in and free her from you," I hung up, furious that anyone would try to ruin her life like that, all in the name of God.

"Wow, that was.....awkward," Marin commented.

"Yes, all because I'm not a Jehovah's Witness, apparently," I sneered, a bit angry now.

"Well, I like the way that you think, you know. I wish that more people thought like that. Girls like Veronica need someone ready to help them break free of that situation. But what if she got jealous and didn't accept your philandering ways?" Marin posed the obvious question.

"I would deal with that situation as it happened, if it happened. But for the short term, the right thing to do is to get a young woman her freedom from her parents. Pity that I have to stay at a dorm, though there is the matter of the red satin panty girl, whomever she is," I replied, at which point we headed back into the dorm.

"Well, if you had the money for it and so did I....we could set up as roomies and share a one bedroom apartment, if you don't mind spooning a lesbian. I promise that I wouldn't make any moves on Veronica, Scout's honor, unless you wanted me to. You'd be okay with three to a bed, right?" Marin thought out loud.