Here is the opening chapter of Blood Supply:
Full Disclosure
The view from down here, often disparaged by more proper citizens, may not be accurate. It may not be the whole truth, or “the” truth, for it is nothing but my truth, so you may find it interesting. Let me introduce myself: I am Will’s Johnson, his penis if I need to be explicit. We’re telling his story. Or mine. Or ours. Okay, we’re connected, so ours. All told in our own words. We’ll start with Brooke, who is good at speaking up for herself, so we’ll let her. If I can’t restrain myself, I’ll jump in too. Or jump on, though I’m better at plunging than jumping.
Part One. Brooke
Chapter 1. Level One.
I found the perfect man to take my virginity in the university bookstore, in the section for Sports and Outdoors. Unassuming. Stand-offish. The bookstore, that is, not the guy. A small, brick building in a corner of the campus, overstuffed with textbooks for the new term, Fall 1967. The guy, an actual adult, not a boy like the students chasing me, is browsing a hiking guide. Late twenties. Glasses. Looks smart. Tall enough for me. I don’t waste any time.
“Do you like to hike?”
“Very much,” he answers, startled. “But I’m new to New Hampshire. Just arrived here from Colorado. I don’t know the best places to go.”
“Me too. New to campus, I mean. I’m a freshman from Newton, Massachusetts and I’m looking for someone to hike with. I’m Brooke.” I give him my best smile. I can see he’s pleased by my attention. He’s hooked.
I’m getting better at this. I silently thank Mom once again for taking me to the doctor to get the pill. After all those years of lectures, I expected more of a battle. She only gave me one warning: don’t tell Daddy. They’ll kick in soon and I’ll be free. Like all the other girls in my dorm.
He holds the AMC White Mountains Guidebook. “This one looks good.”
“It is,” I say. “I own a copy. I’ve already picked out some easy-looking trails.”
“Which ones?”
Dammit, Boss, she’s picking us up. Play along, will ya? Being your Johnson is hard enough, even with your cooperation. Even though I like being hard.
— I know what to do, J. Sit back and watch.
I’m not good at sitting back, Boss. Standing up is my thing. Make a move.
“Let’s find a place where we can hang out and I’ll show you what I found,” I say, giving him a big smile to seal the deal.
He buys the book and we walk to the cafeteria in the Student Union, a big room, two stories tall, with lots of tables and lots of noise. After we get our coffees, I steer him to a table against a wall. Of course, we sit next to each other in order to read the book. Our thigh lengths match.
We like long legs, don’t we, Boss. I think she’s as tall as you.
–I think she picked me, J. Not the other way around. She’s very young.
A freshman, probably nineteen. That’s only nine years difference from you, Boss. And she knows what she’s doing.
“Day hike or overnight?”
I smile at him again. “Overnight.” I want max time together. I need to check him out. The sooner I lose it, the better I’ll be.
We choose a trail with a hut along it, close to the tree line. I volunteer lunch, and given that I’ve boasted about it on the walk to the cafe, my self-mixed gorp. He agrees to handle dinner, since he has a small stove. He also has two sleeping bags, which is good since mine is a piece of junk.
Don’t tell her the bags zip together. That will be our surprise.
–Are you sure about this, Johnson? She’s a student.
So what? We live in a university town. Most of the women are students. Besides, this is 1967, not ’47 or ’57. There are no rules against it. She’s not your student, but I’ll bet we can teach her something.
“So, Saturday at 6 am? Where do I pick you up?”
I grin. “Haven’t you already?”
He gives me a funny look, but it isn’t a bad one. Let him take the credit. Let him think he’s in control. I tell him my dorm. Lucky today is already Thursday.
Back in my dorm room, I look him up – a physics professor. I knew he was smart
On Saturday, when I see his red Porsche, I can’t believe my luck. A professor, a physicist, and a Porsche. My friends will be totally green.
During the drive north, I ask him everything I can think of. His car (the engine is behind me), where he went to school (a lot of big names), his research (I don’t understand a thing he says), what classes he’s teaching (not ones I’d ever take), what music he likes (his answers scare me). Everything. Except nothing personal, like relationships, the stuff I really want to know but I’m hesitant to ask.
I don’t know if I will look dumber if I say nothing or if I say too much. I decide saying nothing is dumber. I keep talking. He keeps driving, but at least he looks at me.
At the trail head, we put on our packs and start up the mountain. He makes me carry the second sleeping bag, but he takes the stove and the food in his big pack frame. There’s some chivalry left.
We climb single file up a narrow trail full of rocks and tree roots, conifers everywhere, with him leading. I need all my lung capacity just to climb. I shut up.
What a relief when we stop for a break at a rare level spot on a switchback. Despite this being fall in the mountains, I am sweating. But my brain still works.
“I’m overheating. There’s no one else on the trail. Okay with you if I take off my tank top while we’re climbing?”
He looks me over but doesn’t hesitate. “Okay with me.”
I strip off my top and he stares, long and hard. That’s okay with me.
“Don’t stop there.”
I take off my bra. He takes another look, smiles, and then turns back to the trail. I’m left holding my bra, but before he turns, I see the bump in his jeans.
What? You can’t let her stop there. No one’s around. What a pair!
— Back down, J. We can wait.
Maybe you, but not me.
— I’m still the boss.
For now.
“Okay, let’s climb,” he says.
I put my bra back on, and my pack. We climb. Being cooler helps. After a while, he has me lead the way. So I can set a pace that is comfortable for me, he says. Hah. Makes me glad I’m wearing my wide-flaring shorty shorts. They show off my nice ass. If the temperature drops, I’ve got jeans in my pack. He stays close behind me.
As usual, you’ve got the better view, Boss. Going uphill, her ass is in your face. I’m looking at dirt.
We reach the hut where we plan to spend the night. Smoke is rising from the chimney, and there is a backpack on the small porch. The one window is covered by a lowered shutter. I drop my pack and put my tank top back on before we go inside. A solo hiker in a flaming red plaid shirt and floppy hat is feeding some wood into the fireplace. He’s cute too, with a short beard.
“Hello. For a while I thought I would have the hut to myself.”
I can’t tell if he’s happy to share or disappointed at the loss of privacy. I think happy. Will makes some half-hearted apology for intruding.
“No, no. The hut is open to anyone who has the legs to make the climb. Pick a place and spread out. There’s plenty of room.”
Nobody else shows up. Since the hut smells smokey and it is still nice outside, we set up our kitchen on the porch and make supper. When I first saw it, I doubted Will’s little stove would be large enough to cook for two, but he knows what he’s doing. The freeze-dried stew is delicious. I am so hungry, the air so fresh, and the view so spectacular that even the dish I hate the most–leftover lumpy cream of wheat–would have been good.
After eating, we wash the pot and dishes in the nearby stream and retreat to the porch. With the sun down, I need my jeans, my sweater and my jacket. Will has on his down vest. Our hut mate, still jacketless, wearing only his red shirt, joins us on the porch, our legs hanging over the deck. For someone who I thought wanted to be alone, he sure talks a lot. He tells us how lucky we are to live in New Hampshire, not fighting Boston traffic every day like he does.
“I need the peace and quiet of these mountains to keep Boston from getting to me.”
Coming from someone who talks so much, I find that last line strange. Will must think so too, for he gives me a funny look. I snuggle closer to him and slide my hand under his vest.
“Are you cold, Brooke?”
“And tired. Been a long day.” I am tired, but more horny than cold.
Will jumps right up. I guess that’s what he’s been waiting to hear. We spread Will’s twin sleeping bags out on the floor as far from Boston as we can in that small cabin, then zip them together into one double bag. Thank goodness. I don’t want to sleep alone, and I don’t think both of us would fit in one bag.
See Boss, she didn’t blink when you zipped the bags together. Tonight is a sure thing.
We walk outside and brush our teeth using water from our canteens. As I rinse out my toothbrush, Will comes up and kisses me. I kiss him back, mouth open, and he puts his hand gently on my breast. I cover his hand with mine and pull it in more firmly.
We try not to fall climbing over the rocks as we run back into the cabin. I disappear into the sleeping bags first and pull off my bra, jeans, and sweater, putting on my long john bottoms and my turtleneck for sleeping in the cold, mountain air. Will wriggles in as soon as my jeans come out. His jeans are already off, and he isn’t wearing long johns. Immediately, his hands are all over me. This might be a fight.
I kiss him hard. He starts to pull down my long johns, but I move his hand to my bottom. He doesn’t know where to go first, my boobs or my bottom, so he goes back and forth. This I can handle.
“Take off your panties, or let me do it.”
“No. Not yet.” We’re whispering into each other’s ears.
“What do you mean, not yet?”
“We can’t. I want to, but we can’t. Not yet, anyway. I’m not ready.”
“You sure seemed ready outside just now. You sure seemed ready when you took off your bra on the trail and showed me your boobs.”
“I want to, believe me I want to, but I need another week before my birth control pills take effect.”
“I’ve got a condom. You’ll be safe.”
“That’s not what I want, Will. This will be my first time, and I want it to be right. I don’t want to use a condom.”
Her first time? With all her moves? Who’s she kidding? Make it happen, Boss. I’m counting on you. All those years of high school and college when you left me in cold storage, we have a lot to make up for.
“I’m all worked up. It’s hard to stop,” he tells me plaintively.
“Don’t stop,” I answer. “Let’s just touch.”
I reach down into his underwear and cup his balls. He likes that, so I move to his cock. Plenty big enough for me, just what I want. He pulls his hand off my bottom as I work on him, so I grab it and put it back. I’m sure now I can control him. I squeeze a little harder.
He comes so fast I have no time to find anything to catch it. All over my hand, on my long johns too. He falls back and his hand comes off my pussy. I pull it back with my wet hand and snuggle close to him.
“Good?” I ask.
“Hell yes. What about you?”
At least he asks about me. I know if I let him go any further, I am done for.
“Just hold me like this, maybe rub a little. I can wait.”
I hope I can. He couldn’t. He wakes me with his hands in the middle of the night, so I do him again. And again in the morning. This is promising. When I wake the next time, he is draped over me, sound asleep, one hand on my bare breast. I extricate myself from the sleeping bag and pull on my jeans. When I straighten up to put on my bra under my turtleneck, I see Boston sitting up in his sleeping bag across the room, grinning. I hope my face isn’t as red as his shirt.
“Have fun last night?”
We must have made more noise than I thought. I look right back at him.
“Yes, we did. Did you enjoy it too?”
“Not as much, I suspect.”
If he knew how horny I am, and how my long johns are still damp, he wouldn’t be so cocksure. I’m not going to give him that, so I look right at him until he looks away. Will wakes. We clean up, make a quick breakfast and head up for the summit. We enjoy our lunch on top of the world, though the view is better than the food. Will never says a word about last night. He doesn’t seem upset, just quiet.
Finally, back in the car, off the small access road and on the highway, he speaks up.
“So, when do your pills kick in?”
“End of the week.”
“Wednesday, Thursday?”
“Friday to be safe.”
Friday? Friday?? You’ve got to be messing with me. You know I’m never satisfied with Level One, Boss. It’s not what I signed up for.
–Level One?
Johnson’s Scale for Levels of Sexual Satisfaction. You’re a scientist. I thought you’d appreciate it if I quantify how you manage me. Level One says, if there’s an orgasm, it’s sex.
–So, what’s Level Two?
You can figure that out, Boss.
–And beyond Level Two?
What I think you’re looking for. But don’t ask about what you don’t know, Boss. We’ve never made it that far.
“Friday it is. My apartment. I’ll make supper again.”
“Thanks for being patient, Will.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll barely hold out until Friday.”
Maybe you can hold out, Boss, but not me. Can’t we find someone else in the meantime? I’m not built for patience.
–I know you’re not, J. But try. I think she’s worth it.
We’re a team, Boss, so I will try, even if I don’t understand the in’s and out’s of your mind. I only know about one kind of in and out.