Portia and I (part 2) [m/f]

Hi again! I figured I will tell the rest of my story, thanks to those who encouraged it. This one is uncharacteristically short, but remains one of my favourite memories, and I hope you'll see why!

Here is part one…

I hope you have a drink in your hand. Here's to many more stories to come. -W


It couldn't have been any more than a couple of days after my first explosive sexual experience at the hands of two university acquaintances that I, unsurprisingly, began to crave more.

I told Portia at a bar that evening. The two of us had gone from strangers to great friends almost instantly. The way she saw the world, saw men, was just exactly the way I wanted to. The way she reached out and grabbed what she wanted was so enviable. We shared a sense of humour, a taste in men, an opinion of the definition of fun.

It didn't take me long to figure out that the girl was damaged in a way that I didn't really understand. I should have seen it from the very beginning, but I was mesmerised by her control of every situation and person that she came across. She played the world around her like a skilled conductor, and I felt myself quickly turning into the person I perhaps always knew I should have been.

Discovering the [f]emme [f]atale inside [m]e ;)

Hello! I just wanted to reiterate that this story is totally 100% true, and I have dozens more just like it. This is what going to a UK university is actually like, and for an ugly duckling who grew up nicely it was like being cured of diabetes and being let loose in a sweet shop. Please excuse the style. I write novels, this is how I like to write. Maybe I'll put more stories later? This girl, Portia, changed my life on this night.


I didn't know Portia at all, but I recognised her as my housemate Rita's friend from across the pub. I was with a couple of people from my classes, so we got our drinks and went and joined them.

"Hello gooorgeous," Rita slurred, mock sultry, as she always was when tipsy. Portia smiled thinly, watching us all. In particular she looked at Rick, a loud, arrogant guy from my Modern American Literature class. A pretty good friend of mine. Rick had a knack for stealing the room whenever one of his approved subjects came up, including but not limited to modern fiction, classic fiction, canonical movies, blockbuster video games, and pizza. As Rita, Lottie and I gossiped about a new coupling among our extended friends, Rick asked if anyone had seen the newest Marvel film.