We were talking, lazy Monday afternoon talk. I was teasing her about her bony elbows and knees - "Jill Skeleton" I called her, she pouted and tried not to react to when my expert touch made her gasp with pleasure.

The keys rattling in the dorm door caught us up short. We had gotten used to having the whole of campus to ourselves.

"Hey Myrna... oh hi!" Cynthia, Myrna's roommate was carrying in a box. She smiled and looked right at me.

"Hi, I'm Cynthia," she looked for the nearest flat surface and then dropped the box on it, and offered me her hand.

"Eric," I said, Cynthia smiled in delight, "I'm Myrna's..." I trailed off, all this time, Myrna and I hadn't actually discussed the delicate matter of what exactly we were.

"...boyfriend," Myrna interjected smoothly. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh," Cynthia's eyes flicked back and forth between us, growing slightly wide. "Nice to meet you Eric."

"Same," I said, still flustered. Cynthia, I should mention, is gorgeous. Bikini model gorgeous. Generous breasts, that are probably the only ounce of fat on her body. She was long on lean, with shapely legs and a long bronze neck, exotic eyes, and almost shimmering blonde hair.

Cynthia turned her attention back to Myrna.

"Don't you usually have to be at work by now?" Cynthia looked curiously at the digital clock by her bed.

"Not during the..." Myrna's eye widened, "Oh! I'd forgotten, I have a different schedule during the semester!" She looked around for flip-flops and ran to the door.

"Eric!" She caught me as she was about out the door. She kissed me, quickly, and then threw a glance at Cynthia before she ran down the hall, the distinct sound of flip-flops against bare feet receding into the distance.

I turned and realized I was suddenly alone with Cynthia. "Um... nice to meet you, Cynthia, I guess I'll be going..."

She walked, her hips swaying with every step and put a hand over my shoulder pushing the door closed.

"You could stay a while, you know," she batted those long dark eyelashes, "if you are her boyfriend, I'd at least like to get to know you."

"OK," I could feel my back pressed up against the door.

She drew closer and I could feel the large weight of her breasts press against my chest. Those large orbs threatened to spill over the top of her tight tanktop.

"Myrna..." I stammered.

"...is a girl. You deserve a woman," she pulled away and deftly pulled down her shirt. Those magnificent breasts popped free, hanging in the air as if defying gravity.

"You can touch them, if you want, I won't bite," her teeth coyly pressed into her ruby lips, "...unless you would like that."

My hands moved of their own accord, the heft and size of her breasts were prodigious, easily filling my hands. She moaned at my touch. I experimentally flicked a finger over her nipple. She shivered.

"Eric, that's good," she purred, "I'm usually not that sensitive."

"My turn," she wispered, and slid down my body onto her knees. She pulled me forward away from the door and around her until I was seated on her bed. She pulled away my pants, and my waiting member sprung to life.

"Yum," was Cynthia's only response.

She swallowed me. I could feel the tip over my now over stimulated cock rub against the back of her throat. I'd never felt anything so overpoweringly erotic.

I knew if I said, "That's it. Drink it all," Cynthia would go wild. I said it. She did.

I knew if I pulled her hair, and whispered, "You don't deserve this," Cynthia would go wet with desire, eagerly awaiting my seed. I did. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

I came.

To me the door seemed to open in slow motion. Myrna burst in her face filled with a look of bemusement.

"Can you believe it, I forgot my..." She froze.

I tried to protest, to stand up, but to no avail. Cynthia had me locked in place, as I orgasmed down into her throat.

Myrna's face turned unreadable, and she grabbed something off her desk and turned to go. I pushed Cynthia roughly away, but she just smiled up at me. I pulled up my pants and rushed after Myrna as she rushed out the door.

Cynthia didn't even bother to cover up her breasts, although thankfully no one else was in the hallway. "Nice to meet you, Eric!" She yelled.

Myrna was walking quickly, and I had to run to catch up with her. I grabbed her shoulder, I expected her to walk away, but instead she froze, and I nearly bowled her over.

I came around so I was facing her. She didn't look mad, just sad. "Cynthia..." she said her voice seemingly emotionless.

"I'm... sorry," it seemed inadequate.

"I forgive you," she said. "Even before you asked." She didn't look up at me, just shook her head unbelievingly. She pushed me suddenly roughly and I realized I was being pushed into one of the communal dorm bathrooms.

I began to protest, but it was empty, most students weren't on campus during the summer and most people in this dorm had private bathrooms. She pushed me back through two pairs of curtains into a cramped shower stall.

She knelt down, it wasn't hard for her to get my pants off, my fly was open and my belt was hanging loose. With trembling hands she undid the sole button that held them closed, she pulled them down.

I watched wordlessly as she too took my member and gently massaged it until it grew hard again. She opened her mouth.

A more objective part of my brain told me she wasn't as pretty as Cynthia, nor as skilled. I tried to shut the part of my brain down. While Myrna lacked Cynthia's obvious skill, she was trying, and it felt good.

I knew if I said, "That feels incredible," and gripped her shoulder with urgency, she would love it. I did.

I let himself go as I felt Myrna amateurish attempts gain confidence. She began to pump her head back and forth in an increased rythym, hoping to draw forth the same prize Cynthia had only moments before. Amazingly I was able to provide.

She gagged as the semen clogged her throat, she tried to swallow most of it, but was unprepared for the strange sensation. Instead it dribbled down her chin, splashed onto her white shirt.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. It was surreal, she found me and Cynthia and she was apologizing. "Next time, next time, it'll be better."

***

Myrna believed practice made perfect, and practice she did. With Cynthia back we spent more and more time in my room, and if Myrna spent the night I would awaken to her working to improve her technique on my morning wood.

Myrna had changed after she caught me with Cynthia, which was to be expected, but the changes I would have never have guessed. Her clothes became more revealing, she spent extra hours, grooming, putting on makeup, tending to her hair. It was if she had to prove to me she was good enough.

It began to eat at me. I had cheated on her, she seemed to be trying to make it up to me.

Her pant waistlines grew lower, her shirts higher, and she started to wear thongs, whose straps were just barely visible on the edge of her hips.

Cynthia acted unabashedly. She followed us everywhere, ate lunch with us, invited herself on walks with us. The tension was almost unbearable, except Myrna strangely didn't seem jealous. For Cynthia, it seemed I was a prize to be won, and Myrna seemed to accept that. Cynthia, far from resigned by Myrna's stubborness relished the competition. After the first week it almost settled in to a routine. A tense, potentially explosive routine, but a routine none the less.

As the campus filled back up, I began to get looks. The looks from the other boys I understood. Cynthia, probably one of the hottest girls in school doted on me, and I could feel eyeballs click to watch us as we passed. Not all those eyes followed Cynthia though. Myrna was now attracting her own pairs of eyes.

For about a week, everytime I saw her, Myrna's hairstyle was different. She had now settled on a sleek, short, gelled looked - a little punk, a little goth, and very chic. Her new style was getting attention.

Then those eyes would settle on me, and wonder: who is this guy?

From the girls I got different looks - but those I tried to ignore.

I sat down first, pushing my lunch tray to the back corner of the booth. Myrna was quick to follow me, to push herself to get the seat beside me. Cynthia pouted and settled for the seat across from me.

I tried not to get involved. I felt in over my head.

"You know," Cynthia said as she sat down. "I've got the bigger boobs." I tried to ignore her, but Myrna didn't.

"Maybe, but I think most guys would rather not spend the rest of their lives with a physical therapy major. Occasionaly they would have to talk to you," Myrna said it with a smile. "Brains over beauty."

I had, sadly, gotten used to these back and forths and dared not interrupt.

"That's why they have the highly rated Ms. America 'Quiz Bowl' every year," Cynthia grinned as she put a piece of lettuce into her mouth.

It was Myrna's turn to pout. I ate in silence, still fearing that despite the strange psuedo truce the two woman could turn to physical violence. Beside me Myrna straightened up suddenly.

"Hey!" Myrna complained, "that was the wrong leg."

Cynthia, looked thoughtful, "It did feel a little to smooth, have you been using my Nair?"

I felt a foot touch my leg from across the table.

"Yes," Myrna said defiantly, then looked sheepish, "I hope that's OK."

"Oh, definitely, I love that stuff," Cynthia's voice turned quiet, "though don't use it," she glanced down, "down there."

Myrna blushed.

"I did once," Cynthia winced, "let me tell you, only wax for me from now on." She smiled at me. "I'll have to show you sometimes."

I looked at Myrna, expecting another quip. Instead she just asked, "Where do you get that done?"

Cynthia grinned, "A little salon in the strip mall just off campus, right next to the Laundrymat. We'll have to go together sometimes, it's scary enough that I don't like facing it by myself."

Myrna nodded. "Does it hurt?" She looked concerned.

Cynthia gave her a look. "Of course it does. Price of beauty."

Myrna nodded again. The sudden veering between girlfriends and rivals was always head spinning.

"So I'm going to go see the new Batman movie tonight, wanna come?" Cynthia asked grinning again.

"Actually," I glanced at Myrna, "I've already got plans to see it."

"Oh come on," Myrna sighed, "of course she knows you were planning on seeing it with me." Myrna grimaced. "Her network of spies is everywhere."

"Oh, were you planning to go tonight?" Cynthia asked with mock innocence.

"Oh come off it, Cynthia," Myrna looked resigned, "as normal, you're invited."

"Oh great, so you'll both be coming then?" Cynthia, clapped in glee.

Myrna rolled my eyes. Cynthia's foot was creeping up my leg. Myrna seemed to sense it, and protectively put a hand on my crotch, gently massaging me.

Cynthia's foot encountered Myrna's hand with disappointment.

"Oh well, take care of him for me," she sighed. "I've got to go to class."

Myrna waved goodbye. "Try not to sleep with too many boys on the way there."

Cynthia just laughed and walked away her walk leaving her shapely butt swaying with every step.

"Are you OK?" I asked Myrna. She turned to face me no longer watching Cynthia.

"Yeah, of course," Myrna answered, a sudden expression of concern on her face, "why?"

"Just the whole Cynthia thing?" I asked dubiously, not for the first time.

Myrna just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course, she's my friend after all, we did arrange to be roommates. I don't mind watching the movie with her."

"That's not what I meant," I protested.

Myrna looked at me with a soft smile. She looked so different now, her new edgier look, the black eyeliner, razor cut hair, but still somehow the same.

"Don't worry about it," she just shrugged.

"How can you say that?" I asked.

"You are worth fighting for," she said it, the same way she managed to say the most improbable things, flatly and unironicly.

"Oh, I haven't shown you yet, have I?" Myrna said suddenly.

"Shown me what?"

"Cynthia said you wouldn't notice," she pushed back her black gelled spikey hair. Her ear had three new studs poking into the upper part of her ear.

"When did you get that done?" I said, admiring the new addition to Myrna's new look.

"Cynthia took me last night," Myrna said, gently testing the top of the ear with her finger.

"Of course."

"I made the mistake of asking her how she knew so much about the best places to get pierced," Myrna shuttered. "The things some people will do to their bodies. So what do you think?"

"They're cute."

"I was hoping you'd like them," Myrna stuck out her tounge, "I was thinking about getting my tongue done, too." She frowned. "I just didn't want it to interfere with our..." she blushed.

So did I.

"...Anyway, I just saw you talking to the girl who worked the front desk of the library, how you liked her piercings, so tell me, what should I get next, tongue or nose."

"You look great as it is," I said. And it was true, her new look had brought her had brought her out of obscurity, apparently between the two of them, Cynthia and Myrna were turning down more than their share of would be suitors.

"No," Myrna shook her head, "my mind's made up. Nose it is. I'll have Cynthia take me."

I smiled, it was a weird life, but I liked it. Myrna was wonderful, and even Cynthia, annoying as she was had her moments. It was fun to hang out with them.

Myrna was wearing her wicked smile, a smile that was as new as her new look. I'd seen it only a couple of times now, but I was beginning to recognize it.

"I have to go to class too, you know," Myrna said, too innocently.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" I asked.

"Well it's a big lecture hall class. At least a hundred people, maybe two," Myrna brought her lips up to my ear and her voice dropped to a conspiritorial whipser. "I was thinking you could come with me."

I honestly didn't know where she was going with this.

"Remember that finger thing you did last night..."

I blushed, I had had Myrna begging form more bucking and writhing with every little flex of my index finger.

"...I was thinking of how hot it would be to have you try that in class."

I looked at Myrna in shock. That was very kinky. "I think there are rules against... um... public displays of affection," I blushed.

"We'll sit in the back, nobody will ever know," Myrna fluttered her eyebrows, a skill I had no doubt she had practiced with Cynthia.

"OK."

***

We sat down in the last row of the auditorium. Myrna had not been kidding when she said it was a big class. I didn't know that there were this many students on campus during the summer.

"Dr. Hidgens is the most popular lecturer at the school," Myrna explained quietly as she swung her little desk up and over so that it covered her lap. She grabbed my hand and led it under the seat rest between us.

"And this is his most popular class - ancient myth and modern literature," she smiled as I softly and experimentally felt under her skirt. No underwear. She must have been planning this all day.

Myrna was right, no one sat in the back two rows.

An older man, his hair silvery and well combed came in and started writing on one of the six black boards. Immediately all the students began to copy his words into their notebooks - all except one, who was fighting to keep from making any noises that would give us away.

From somewhere in the distance I heard the lecture start. "We are going to talk about the origins of the Trojan war today..."

I was more concerned about listening to Myrna trying to keep her breathing steady as I gently touched her in her most sensitive spots.

It almost seemed like a game, I tried to keep Myrna riding the edge. She even tried to keep notes, but I could see that her normally neat handwriting was erratic today.

"...Athena offered Paris great strength and prowess in battle..."

Myrna scrawled the word strength before a powerful shudder traveled up her body.

"...but Aphrodite's offer was the most irresistable..."

Myrna was gripping the edge of her desk with white knuckles, smiling and breathing in short breaths. Her eyes were closed.

"...and because of her actions, the Trojans, and their heroes, were killed by the Greeks..."

Class was drawing to an end, and Myrna was drawing near the end of her strength. I pushed her gently over the edge. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. I was afraid she might snap her poor mechanical pencil in half. Instead her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slouched backward, all the resistance draining out of her body. She was covered in a thin glow of sweat.

The professor was dismissing students and I pulled my hand away, she caught it and held it, crossing her legs demurely.

"Best lecture I've ever attended," she sighed.

***

That evening, Myrna was trying to copy her notes from class.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she sighed as she struggled to decipher another word.

"Admit it," I quipped watching TV, "you still think it was a good idea."

Myrna sighed. "Yeah," she said wistfully, "I still do. We just can't do it again until after summer midterms."

I nodded.

We were lounging in Cynthia's and Myrna's room. Cynthia needed to take a shower before we left - she had apparently worked out after class. Myrna was probably just as sweaty, but for now at least content to let that sweetly earned dampness linger.

The door to the bathroom opened and Cynthia emerged, wearing only a towel - on her head.

"Pffftt-" was Myrna's exceberated response. She went back to writing notes. Apparently she had grown a thicker skin to Cynthia's mischief than I thought possible.

Cynthia pretended to show us no mind, while seeming to be undecided in what to wear for the rest of the evening.

I tried not to stare, but the TV did a bad job in distracting me. Cynthia was showing off her brazilian wax - among other things. Her huge breasts were as massive and seemingly gravity resistant as I remembered them. What surprised me was how sculpted her body was, especially now, right after she got back from the gym.

"Hey, Myrna, is it okay if I borrow that cute little skirt you just bought for tonight?" Cynthia asked.

Myrna didn't look up, just pointed to one of her drawers. Cynthia sauntered over, opened it and pulled out a bright red skirt. She smiled and kneeled over and planted a kiss on Myrna's cheek.

"Thanks, babe."

Cynthia eyes flickered over to me. I wasn't paying attention to the TV anymore.

"Hmm... I think he liked that..." Cynthia mused. She put a hand on Myrna's chin. She slowly turned it to face her. Myrna looked puzzled by Cynthia's actions - too puzzled to struggle.

Cynthia kissed her again - but this time not on the cheek.

"Hey!" Myrna pulled back angrily.

"Sorry," Cynthia protested her hands up in front of her in surrender. She crossed them under her still bare breasts and considered me. I tried my best to turn back toward the TV.

There was a moment of silence and I heard Myrna start scribbling again. I felt a hand on my shoulder - Cynthia's hand. "You liked that didn't you?" She purred.

I didn't react - but out of the corner of my eye I saw Myrna turning in her chair to face us.

Cynthia turned back to Myrna. "You like him - but how much?"

Myrna stood up, "What is that supposed to mean?" She hissed angrily. For the first time in the since Cynthia had returned Myrna seemed truly angry. Cynthia, for her part, seemed unruffled standing naked in the middle of the room coolly regarding Myrna.

"What would you do to make Eric happy?" Cynthia smiled as she asked the question. "That's what I mean. What would you do to make him happy?"

Myrna didn't answer. But her eyes widened and her anger seemed to dissolve.

Cynthia ran her hands over her ridiculous gravity-defying breasts. "He tries to ignore me, but I see the way he looks at me. Hell, it's the same way most guys look at me. What can I say? It's a curse." Cynthia laughed.

Myrna grimaced.

"But, he doesn't want me," Cynthia continued walking up to Myrna. She brushed the back of her fingers against Myrna's gel stiffened hair. Myrna didn't move. "Best I can tell," Cynthia started again, "is what he want is for us to kiss again."

Myrna looked at me. I tried to remain expressionless, but Myrna's eyes turned from surprise to resignation to a hopeless look of defeat. She turned back toward Cynthia again.

Myrna in shoes and Cynthia barefoot put them at just about the same height. Cynthia pulled the towel away from her head and tossed it against the cinder block wall. Her damp hair tumbled down to her shoulders. Myrna hesitated but closed her eyes and pursed her lips. She leaned forward.

Cynthia smiled victoriously watching me from the corner of her eye. She pushed forward. Her breasts pushed against Myrna's smaller pair completely smothering them. Her long toned arms wrapped around Myrna's shoulders, her fingers entangled into Myrna's stiff hair.

They kissed, a long kiss. I couldn't breathe. The tension of it all was too much.

Myrna pulled back and Cynthia's plump lips followed her for a second. Myrna looked over at me. She glumly regarded me. There was no hiding my excitement. Myrna's shoulders slumped as she saw the telltale bulge in my pants.

Cynthia didn't open her eyes. "I told you, didn't I?" She purred victoriously.

We didn't go see a movie that night.

***

The next evening Myrna had a surprise for me. She wouldn't tell me where we were going until she pulled up to a small non-descript building labelled 'Paradise.' She led by the hand to the door.

It was a strip club. The bouncer gave us an odd glance as he saw me being dragged by the hand by a broadly smiling Myrna. She stopped when he raised his hand.

"He'll have to pay cover," the big man's voice was a rumbling baritone. He was pointing a big finger at me.

Myrna reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. I couldn't tell how much she gave the man, but it apparently wasn't a little amount. The big man pulled out a stamp and took my arm and pressed it against the back of my hand. It left a bright green 'P' when he pulled it away.

"Enjoy your evening."

We stepped inside. The first thing I felt was the music, loud pulsating in the darkness of the club. As my eyes adjusted I could immediately tell that Myrna had brought us to a high class place.

I could feel the eyes turn to us as Myrna led me to a table right at the edge of the stage.

"When you said surprise I never would have guessed this."

Myrna smiled - her wicked smile again. "You should've seen the looks the Kappa Sig guys gave me when I started asking about the best strip clubs."

I had to laugh at the image.

A stripper had started to dance at the pole right above our table. She was still dressed - barely - in lingerie. She was looking down at me as if I were the only thing in the world. I had to remind myself it was an illusion - it was her job.

Myrna stood up and called up. "Hey there gorgeous."

The stripper pulled her eyes away from me, seeming to now just notice the woman who sat across from me.

Myrna pulled out a twenty. "Any chance of me getting a lap dance?"

The girls loved Myrna. "She's adorable," one of the dancers said - a girl wearing stockings, boots and not much else. She got free lap dances from another, and afterwards, I discovered, her number too, scrawled on the back of a 'Paradise' business card.

We ended up in the VIP room - Myrna was apparently causing quite a scene in the front room. It was hard for the girls to make tips when all the guys in the club were gathered around Myrna. She was getting creative with the way she was tipping our dancers, and she seemed to have a never ending roll of bills to pay for private dances.

Myrna and I, and a stripper named Candy - her real name was Susan - she tipsly confided - were sharing the last of an expensive champagne bottle Myrna had purchased.

Candy was sitting in Myrna's lap her legs hanging over the arm of their chair. She was wearing only a bright green thong. I sat across from them, watching a dancer on the pole.

Myrna and Susan were talking quietly, their voices barely distinguishable over the distant booming base.

"Oh, come on," Susan was saying, "you're like every guy's dream - a woman who'll take her boyfriend out to a strip joint? One who'll pay? One who buys herself lapdances? God! I better not tell my man about you, he thinks dating a stripper is as good as it gets."

"Yeah, but look at you," Myrna traced two fingers across the ridge of Susan's bust. "You're perfect."

"Me...?" Susan shook her head, "no, fake tits does not the perfect woman make. Besides," I could feel the stare she gave me, "I think you've done pretty well for yourself."

Myrna smiled. "Hands off, he's mine."

Susan pouted, "How about a lap dance for him - on the house?"

Myrna quickly retorted. "How about another one for me?"

Susan chewed her lip. "How about the two of you in the same chair?"

Myrna looked over at me. Our eyes met. I was clearly not paying any attention to the woman working the pole in front of me.

"Alright," Myrna said, emphasizing her words with a loud slap on Susan's rear. Susan sat up. Her mouth in a surprised 'o,' which quickly turned to an amused glance at Myrna.

"Hey Darla, why don't you give me the room?" Susan turned to the dancer. The pole dancer gave an annoyed look at Susan and one last - was it forlorn? - look at me. Myrna got up and walked across the room - shakily - one of the girls had let her try on her stilleto heeled performance shoes - and Myrna hand't yet returned them. Myrna flopped down on my lap and I wrapped my arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around my neck.

I could feel Myrna's breath quicken as Susan started swaying to the distant beat. I could feel her body heat as she brought her huge chest to within an inch of our faces.

"You know," she purred dancing away again, "usually the rules say 'no touching' but if you wanted to," her breasts were once again hanging right in front of Myrna and I, "I'd let you kiss - I promise I won't tell no one."

Myrna leaned forward first, her lips settled gently around Susan's swollen nipple. I followed Myrna's lead. The hard flesh between my lips was warm and the solid weight of the breast against my face was erotic. Susan gasped in surprise.

"That's good..." she moaned. "Hey..."

Myrna had put her fingers through the loops of Susan's thong. She looked up at Susan with a wicked grin before she began to tease them down. Susan didn't protest again as they fell to the ground.

"Susan," Myrna purred, "how about the three of us break some more rules?"

***

Susan wasn't the last. After that night it was a rare occasion that I slept with Myrna alone. Myrna was my wingman - or I guess - wingperson. Together we'd chat up girls at bars and clubs and the three of us would retire back to my room to have a good time. Myrna, however, preferred the nights when we stayed in her room. Cynthia and Myrna had pushed their beds together, and the three of us were making good use of the new space.

It was after just sort that sort of night that I woke up to. On my right was the familiar warmth of Cynthia's naked body, but on my left was nothing but open bed. I turned, saw a thin light eminating from under the bathroom door.

I quietly tried to get up. Cynthia mumbled a protest and her arms wrapped themselves around me, trying to pull me back down. I responded by placing a finger on the wet spot between her legs. I instictively found the spot where she was most sensitive and vibrated my finger tip over it. Cynthia's mumbled protest turned to a gasp of pleasure.

I roughly and quickly brought her to orgasm. She collapsed, now deeply asleep.

I rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom door. I placed my ear against it and heard a sound that made my heart stop.

Myrna was crying.

I opened the door slowly. Myrna was curled up in the corner - seated on the bathmat. She was nude, and was hugging her knees up to her chin. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She looked up at me in shock, quickly blinked the tears away from her eyes.

"Myrna?" I asked, my voice strained with sudden choking grief.

"Hi, Eric," she smiled - a thin fragile smile. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"What's wrong?"

Myrna's scrunched up her face. "Nothing," she said, "I'm great..." She was about to start crying again.

I knelt down beside her, so our faces were only a few inches apart. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," she protested a tear escaping from her eye despite her attempt at stoicism.

"Please, Myrna, tell me what's bothering you," I put my arms around her.

"Nothing, nothing is wrong with me." She blinked again and another tear ran down her cheek. "In fact, I'm great, I'm happy, I love you, I love my nights with you - I think I even love Cynthia," she gave me a apologetic look, "a little."

"What's wrong then?" I was groping around in the dark.

"Eric, I'm transferring schools." She said.

At first I foolishly thought it might be a joke. I quickly realized that it wasn't.

"No problem, I can transfer with you," I hesitated unsure why she still was giving me a pained look, "if you want, I bet I could even get Cynthia transferred."

Myrna laughed, "I think I would like that," she smiled, but there was no mirth in it. "No, Eric, you aren't coming with me - and neither is Cynthia."

"I don't understand," I admitted.

"I love you," Myrna said, hoarsely.

"I still don't understand." Myrna looked at me, and this time her smile was genuine. She touched my cheek.

"Remember when you told me about that weird night at the pool?"

I racked my brain, an event from history - ancient history - began to form in my mind.

"That was the night we started going out," I remembered.

"Going out." Myrna put the phrase in air quotes. "I remember it differently - you came back to my station and suddenly I needed to have you, more than anything I wanted you. And when you took me - right there on the floor - I knew I loved you and that I would do anything for you."

Myrna looked at me. "You don't understand what the 'Recompense of Paris' is, do you?"

I shook my head. "Yeah, you didn't pay much attention in Dr. Hidgens class," Myrna teased me her spirits momentarily light. "Paris was the poor guy who could have any woman on the planet, and he got Helen, the most beautiful woman on the planet. Unfortunately, she was married to the King of Sparta - and as a result the Greeks declared war on the Paris' city, Troy."

"Like the Brad Pitt movie?"

Myrna laughed. "Yes. Or like the Illiad. Anyway, Paris wasn't always the most eligible bachelor on the planet. It started when three goddess - Athena, Hera and Aphrodite - were arguing which was the most beautiful. They turned to Paris to render a verdict. Naturally they tried to bribe him. Aphrodite's offer was the one that Paris took - if he chose her - he could have any woman he desired."

Myrna stopped, as if her retelling of ancient myth explained anything. She saw the uncertainty in my eyes.

"The woman said she was Aphrodite and was gifting you with the 'Recompense of Paris.'"

My head was pounding, I needed time to think, "Yes... but..."

Myrna interrupted me. "She gave a gift to Paris - and it destroyed him and his city. Maybe, that didn't sit right with the Pantheon, maybe she had to make amends. Maybe she had to try again."

"The Recompense of Paris," I let the words tumble over in my head.

"You," Myrna held my head in her hands and looked into my eyes. "You can have any woman you desire."

I felt my mouth grow dry.

"Does that mean..." I couldn't choke out the words, they were too horrible to contemplate. "Does that mean you don't really love me?"

Myrna looked stunned - I don't think she could have been more surprised than if I had suddenly spouted a new head. She smiled again, and gently kissed me on the forehead.

"Far from it," Myrna sighed, "I love you more than anything. It might be supernatural, but I can tell you that for me it's as real as a brick wall. I love you, Eric. More than life itself, and I want you to be happy."

"Then stay."

Myrna shook her head. "You can have any woman you want - any woman in the world. And I'm... I'm standing in your way. I'm keeping you from being truly happy. You love me, but you deserve better. You can have better. The whole world is out there for your taking. All you have to do is ask."

"What if I asked you to stay?" my vision was getting hazy. I realized I was crying.

"Then I would," Myrna said, clearly pained. "But please, I'm begging you, let me go."

I didn't say anything. In her eyes was another unspoken fear. It was so clear I wondered how I didn't recognize it before. She was trapped - and she knew it. She was in a prison - tied to me by an insatiable need and supernatural love. The sweetest and most inescable prison possible. Part of her was struggling to be free, to not be controlled by forces we couldn't fully understand, but the other part - probably the larger part - loved me completely and totally.

"Please," Myrna begged. She took my hand and she placed something in it. It was cold and hard, I took my hand back and opened it. It was a ring on a chain.

I couldn't respond - I couldn't find my voice. I just nodded once - an assent.

"Just," Myrna's voice shook with hesitation and uncertainty, "don't forget me. I love you." She started to reach out, but her hand stopped short of my skin.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her too, but I was afraid those words would make her task even more impossible. I had to satisfy myself with another nod and an anguished stare.

She left before dawn.

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