Most days Tom Dillon felt maybe 50% engaged and was sluggish and disinterested from his own point of view. In the past four years, the hyper-focused Dillon had been a dangerously violent and driven but rarely seen creature since that first summer, and he wasn't needed too much these days; it had all been done that summer almost. He'd done a little clean up, like New York, but really they were nothing once they were cut off. Dillon got most of them right away and then waited them out. Not too hard to figure out. And maybe he was done now. He wasn't sure. He'd made it through his classes easily enough and was now splitting his time between the campus PD and the DA's office doing some investigation work and through Josh Kramer's agency. At least half of his reputation in town came from Mark Rubinstein, but Dillon had done enough to show what he could do during his years hanging around, and his work in a real department had given him some actual experience on the job that nobody in town or on campus had, so right now he was able to pretend like he gave a fuck and actually had plans or something. He wasn't sure what he was going to do going forward, but he'd had a good run. He was not interested in police work or being a lawyer or anything else, but he'd figure something out. A good run. Something would happen. The car was good. Nobody asked too many questions. Nobody asked the right questions.
He was still being pretty heavily recruited. The FBI and CIA had been less than subtle, even before he started law school. His ten years on the job and Ivy League degree had made him a target. He'd spent the last four years wondering if their continuing interest was going to get anyone else killed. It could be a real problem if any of those idiots suddenly developed an unusual and imaginative ability to reason and put together what Dillon had been up to. Probably nothing would come of it. Dillon never felt the need to come right out and tell them that he would sooner go back to a major department or even LA before he'd work for those assholes. He also didn't explain that they were much, much safer if he was not at all involved with them. Joining a big firm was not his idea of fun, either. He considered pretending to want to work with an DA or public defender's office somewhere in preparation for a defense career that he'd never get around to. Whatever. He'd figure it out.
It was late in June when Dillon had run into Erin or Aaron Brown or whatever the fuck she called herself that summer walking across the Engineering quad at 3 in the morning. He knew something was up right away and spent an hour talking to her, him, before he decided whether he'd bring her to the hospital or not. Later that morning right before sunup he took her back to her house where her housemates called her mother in New Rochelle. He didn't trust those girls to be able to handle whatever the fuck was really going on, but a few of them seemed like this was at least something they had seen before. Though he had been walking home and was not on duty when he had seen her, he filled out a report anyway about the intoxicated and incoherent student. This was exactly the sort of shit he didn't want to deal with, but he dealt with it anyway. Nights like that made him want to get the fuck away from everyone and every thing, grinding away his shallow veneer of purpose.
Erin Brown's group of friends turned out to be a pretty observant bunch. Not long after that stupid early morning, he ran into one of them getting into his car on campus. Her name was Lily and she was grateful that he had been able to do so well with her friend. Dillon may have even seen her around at some point in the last couple of years; she was going to be a junior next fall and was in town for the summer with a bunch of her friends taking classes and working. Since things were slow in the summer, the girls may have thought he was a full-time campus cop; there were six or seven of them besides Erin, and he finally did notice that he saw them fairly often over the next month or so. He did his best to not share much personal information with them, but a couple of them were decent looking, so he didn't run screaming. Per his luck, the cuteish ones were the most annoying, but his drowsy, mostly-disengaged lifestyle helped him not too worked up about it. He had no interest in a bunch of pointlessly self-deluded women's studies majors with gender identity issues, but he had apparently saved their friend's life.
He found out later that Erin Brown, now going by Aaron Brown, was born Evelyn Kastner and was easily the most emotionally and mentally fragile of the bunch. He also found out later that they were not all really women's studies majors. There weren't any engineers or physics majors in the bunch as far as he knew, but they were a combination of school friends and friends from home who had transferred and were all hanging out more or less. When the semester started up in the fall, there would be more of them. As far as Dillon could tell, it was completely by accident that he started talking to Evie one day outside the library.
Evie was Lily's friend from back home and had transferred after two years of school back home in California followed by two years working with her sister. She was going to be moving into a dorm with another transfer roommate in the fall. They walked for quite a while, and Dillon was struck at how little was actually said. He did find out that she had come out because she knew Lily and wanted to try another college environment. He also found out she was an Art History major. He also was getting a very dykey vibe from her. She was growing out her hair from where she had shaved it and something was just off about her. She also mentioned her sister's girlfriend or ex-girlfriend in passing. In the four or five times Dillon ran into her, she hardly looked at him, which was perfect because he rarely looked at her. Her face was covered in acne but her facial features were truly classically beautiful, much as if a genius artist had woken to a vision of miraculous beauty and created Evie right then. At times she was perfectly made up and imaginatively dressed, and other times she was minimally adorned and somehow stunningly beautiful.
Even on his best days, Dillon wanted nothing to do with those girls. A couple of them were cute enough, but he didn't think he had the patience to put up with their bullshit. Plus they were so fucking young that he had neither the desire or the patience to deal with them. In his youth, he might have been able to deal long enough to get laid, but no more. Truth be told, he was awaiting the return in the fall of a certain bubble-headed sorority girl with blond hair and big tits. Madison something. Returning for her senior year. Nice heavy rack. Skinny waist. Thick legs. Blond. Pouty lips. Probably dumb as a post. She would be worth putting up with for a week or two. Some dickhead from the hockey team had taken a swing at him on the street last winter, and while Dillon was deciding how many more times to pummel him, the police had shown up. This girl Madison was right there in front as Dillon picked that asshole up off the sidewalk where he was bleeding and deftly convinced the friendly police men that nothing untoward had transpired. He really hadn't had the opportunity since, but he got the lowdown from Mars and some of the younger guys and knew she was coming back to campus, and he was hoping for a shot at her. She was just about his speed.
In total it was about a month after the Erin Aaron incident, maybe five weeks, that part time Officer Dillon ran into Evie walking past some of the new dorms on a Friday night. There were a few summer parties that weekend, including his, but she was very much alone. Even in the dark, Dillon could see she had been crying. She was still dressed from work; if anything, she looked to him like she should have smoking a cigarette, but she didn't smoke. She seemed surprised to see him, but she asked him to come and pick her up after he was done with work. At 12:30 he was outside her apartment in his car; he drove while she talked about how much she was regretting leaving home. How much she was regretting taking time off to work with her sister and her sister's girlfriend's band for two goddammed years. Two years. How nervous she was about school in the fall. Even though she was taking classes over the summer, she wasn't sure she'd be up to it for real. She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to leave. Eventually they were at the diner downtown having a coffee and then after he drove her back up the hill. Dillon was pretty sure he didn't say 20 words the whole time and hadn't heard half of what she said.
She showed up two nights later at the back door to his apartment when he was just getting home after a shift with a couple of bags of groceries. Dillon didn't say anything because she looked absolutely ashen, and he was suddenly incredibly concerned and thus briefly observant and engaged. His head began to hurt right about then, and as soon as he realized there was no real danger, he slid back into his de facto semi-oblivious state. It was pretty warm, but she was wearing a long coat and carrying a large handbag. He let her in when she asked, and he looked around for Mars. Mars was either asleep, likely, or out, unlikely, but the apartment was quiet and Mars's room was beyond the kitchen, so Dillon had no reason to check closer. She was talking, but not saying anything important. She was continuing a conversation he didn't remember, he guessed. He opened the door to his room and she went in without turning on the light. Dillon watched long enough to see her take the coat off and get into his bed, noting the way the ass and legs looked in the little shorts she was wearing. She was shaking despite the relative warmth and talking very quietly. Dillon's headache went away while he watched her. She asked him to join her, but he couldn't because he had to put the groceries away and shower. He did both quickly, changing into his own shorts an tank top and got into bed with her. She was shivering for real when she pressed her back against him, but he was too tired and apprehensive to put up a fight and was asleep right after her.
She had come prepared. She smelled mostly like soap and shampoo and toothpaste. In the morning, she thanked him as she hugged him tightly. Dillon was exhausted and went back to sleep till noon. He had an appointment later that day at the courthouse with JK but was his usual foggy-headed self, even where last night's bed partner was concerned, while he hung around. There was a message on his machine when he got back; she wanted to thank him for his understanding. He didn't return her call, but he picked up when she called later asking to come down. Same as the night before, she was there until the morning and then left again. Two days later she was sitting on his bed explaining herself. She was sure she could trust him, even if she didn't understand why. He realized that she was repeating herself, had said all of this before and that he had not put it together. He was something different, something unusual, something unexpected for her. She was so groundless; she had lost the ability to talk to her friends about it, and she was so anxious about it. She wanted to know if she was interfering with his social life. She felt uncomfortable and ashamed but didn't know what else to do. She explained that she wasn't looking for sex or a boyfriend, but she was so lonely and anxious she was losing her mind. Could he put up with that? That night she showered there--she still hadn't met Mars who was uncharacteristically absent; that fucking guy had no life at all and was usually underfoot--and put out the light before she slipped into bed naked. Dillon showered immediately after and put on some shorts and a t-shirt, but she reached behind her in the dark and pulled the shirt off before pressing herself into him. He wrapped her up, carefully placing his hands and gently placing his head in back of hers where he could smell her hair. In the morning, she slipped out of bed and dressed quickly in the low light; Dillon pretended not to see her naked and notice how astonishingly hairy her armpits and crotch were. After she left, he got up for work down town. For a moment he was bothered, bothered because he had been remiss in this whole affair and should have been prepared for this weird shit. How had he become so disengaged? Was he losing it? Till he decided he didn't care after about five minutes, Dillon was genuinely concerned that his astounding lack of attention could get him killed.
They went on like that till school started for the fall. For the first time in six years, Dillon was not going to school. He got to see much more naked Evie, and she was really amazingly sexy, even as he pretended to not be that into her body. She had a great body. He learned she wasn't that experienced at all, and he began to think of her as asexual, so he was speechless when she casually mentioned masturbating in her bed one day before a nap. He liked the way she smelled every day and wondered if she smelled even better on days she masturbated. Or maybe on days she didn't? He loved the feeling of her furry legs wrapped up in his, and he got quite good at making sure his prick wasn't poking into her through his shorts at all times. They got in the habit of talking in the dark before they fell asleep, their only real verbal communication. Dillon didn't share too much of anything important, but he knew it made her feel better, and actually enjoyed having her there. If he thought about in the daytime, which he really didn't do much, it seemed odd, but in the dark it was brilliant. She was there usually four or five nights a week. One thing even he noticed was that he slept better, way better since she had been there. That made no fucking sense to him since he should have completely sexually frustrated by this fragrant, naked girl in his bed, but the effect was exactly the opposite.
It was early September the first time she kissed him. They had developed the habit of kissing each other goodnight after a fashion. She would bring his hand to her lips and kiss it as she was falling asleep, and he would kiss her on the shoulder. That seemed cute and silly and pretty chaste considering she was sleeping naked in a man's bed, so Dillon was honestly confused when she kissed him right on the lips before returning to her regular sleeping position. The following night she told him she was thinking about sex with him; she was facing away from him in the dark and asked him if that was something he thought about. His immediate thought was fuck yeah, but his very next thought was that this was trouble he didn't need. Hyper focused Dillon made a brief appearance and wasn't happy. He wasn't sure why this was coming up after all this time; he had done his damnedest to not make trouble for himself, but clearly he had not been paying attention. He had to wait until the following evening when she wound up her courage and explained herself. She talked about her best friend from highschool. About coming out. About her sister. About Lily. About the boy Lily was sleeping with. Something about the first girl she had kissed being engaged to a man. Dillon didn't follow much of it. She showed him her birth control pills, the first ones of her life that she had started six weeks ago. She showed him her blood test. For fun, Dillon showed her the workup he got in June when he started his working. She asked him if he thought she was attractive at all.
It was all oddly unfamiliar and tedious to Dillon; he had just not been paying enough attention, but that was the way he was getting by. And she was oddly unfocused yet clinical herself. Dillon didn't have the energy to put so much awkward effort into anything. He could have figured it out, but it was just stupid. He had been enjoying the low stress bed company from an attractive young naked woman and secretly hoping it would last through the winter. When the fucking question came up, Dillon knew that fucking or not, she would be fucking out of his life and his bed much fucking sooner. Not that he had been pursuing any other bed partners, but this had been pleasant and easy. No longer. And if it had been that blond, he would have hopped on that shit right away; best 10 seconds of his week and the worst 10 seconds of hers. This, though, was not that. If he was going to fuck Evie, he almost, no really, would have preferred doing it right away without getting used to having her around in the night.
The only helpful thing he could say was that since the icky details and paperwork was properly handled, they should maybe just let it work itself out and see what happened. Since they were safe and stuff, there shouldn't be any pressure or worry. This seemed to make her happy. Very suddenly Dillon became extremely worried that she might be a technically a virgin. She had fooled around with girls, right? She had had her heart broken or some kind of semi-serious relationship with a girl--girls?--before, he thought. She definitely mentioned getting herself off, but had she ever mentioned being with a guy? Dildos? Did some dyke pound her with a strap-on? Dillon felt like an asshole, but he wondered. That was a big problem, he thought. He wasn't used to putting in that much effort these days. His cherry popping days were more than a lifetime ago.
Dillon didn't fuck her that night. They kissed, real kisses, pretty amazing kisses, actually, and neither of them went below the neck. It was nice, way more fun than Dillon would have ever imagined, considering. He kissed her, she kissed him as they ground together. Dillon purposely didn't even attempt to put it in her. She kept her hands almost to herself while he roamed all over her body, making her shiver, making her giggle, making her squirm while they kissed and gave each other so many hickeys. By morning, Evie smelled like the world's finest perfume.
Dillon had liked it a bunch. He had sublimated his giant blue balls into kisses and hickeys, and that felt so right. The next night when she came down, she seemed shy, but was very smiley and very kissy. He left the light on while they kissed. He went south eventually, but he took the long way round. She tasted even better. He was pretty happy with himself from the sounds she was making, astonished gasps, self-conscious yelps, and unrestrained moans, and from the liquid gushing out of her. On his way back up, he took his time marking the path of her glorious hair with his tongue all way to her nipples and finally up her neck to her mouth. They fell asleep with Evie grinding her pussy into his thigh while she tried to figure out what she wanted to do with that hand on his cock as they kissed. The next morning, they woke in the early light and started kissing softly and playfully. Dillon whispered that he wanted her. She asked for it with a whisper returned into his ear, so he did it. He fucked her for the first time, gently, in the mellow morning light.
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