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by Veronica Sloan
Published by Veronica Sloan at Lot’s Cave
My Roommate's Slutty Asian Girlfriend, © 2017, by Veronica Sloan
All Rights Reserved
Cover by Veronica Sloan
All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Lot’s Cave Novel
All You Need to Know About Me
I've never been great with girls.
Why? It depends who you ask. My mom says I'm too shy. My sister says I'm too nerdy. I had one girlfriend in high school who was as shy and nerdy as I was, and when we turned 18 we actually lost our virginity to each other. It was not the magical experience either of us hoped it would be. I was so nervous I could barely get hard. She was so nervous she could barely get wet. We awkwardly did the deed and in the morning we decided never to see each other again.
Well, she decided, and I mumbled, “Yeah, sure.”
The experience was so embarrassing that I went two years before I even tried to ask a girl out again. Sarah Nguyen had amazing legs, an adorable smile, and knew the lyrics to every anime theme song produced in the mid- to late '90s. Nervous wreck that I am, it took me a month to work up the courage to ask if she wanted to get coffee sometime. I wish I could say I overcame my shyness and swept her off her cute little feet. In my personal fantasy, Sarah told me she'd been waiting for me to ask her out since the day I signed up for the Otaku Club. She would ask me if it was just because she was Asian and I'd tell her, “You know what, Sarah? I am super into Asian girls, but that's not why I want you. You're funny, and we've spent hours talking about our favorite shows and manga, and I could be wrong but I think we were flirting the last time the club went out for sushi.”
Unfortunately, when I asked Sarah if she wanted to get coffee, she said she didn't drink coffee. And I had no followup.
Like I said, I'm not great with girls. I'm pretty decent at school, and I make some money producing and editing video game reviews online, but talking to people in person is not my forte. According to my former roommate, this is because I'm a “fucking loser.” That's harsh, but Evan's insults lost some of their sting when he got kicked out of school. I may be shy and nerdy, but at least I know that stealing is wrong.
See, Evan thought he could get away with stealing one of his professor's exams before he had to take it. Evan wasn't doing it for himself - he was already flunking the class - but because he thought he could sell the exams to his classmates. Evan was already selling them Adderall, X, and other various narcotics; how much harder could it be to sell paper? He didn't think about the college's security cameras, or the fact that his blatant drug dealing had put him on the campus's watch list. Evan wasn't a big thinker in general, but I was surprised he didn't think twice about beating up the security guards who tried to stop him. He nearly went to prison for it, but his dad happens to be a State Senator, so, you know...
Yes, my roommate was a scumbag. I was terrified of him. Frankly, I was terrified of a lot of things in those days. I'd grown up pretty sheltered in a lame, barely middle-class suburb in southern Illinois, and I just did not have the social or mental capacity to stand up to a 6'5”, 'roided out bro that liked to get high and smash mailboxes with a tire iron. I mean, seriously, Evan was huge. His biceps were as big as my thighs and his neck was like an inner tube stuffed into a torso that had been stuffed with rocks. He had tribal tattoos all over his shoulders and a huge “13” on the back of his neck. He was dumb and mean and when he answered my ad for a roommate I kind of just mumbled and said, “Yeah, sure.”
It wasn't a decision. It was a cowardly desire to avoid confrontation. In retrospect, it's funny that my indecision would one day have a major impact on my sex life, and even funnier that Evan - in a roundabout way - would be responsible for the craziest sex I've ever had.
To explain how that happened, I first need to introduce you to Ivy Tran. She was simultaneously the most disgusting and the most irresistible woman in Belleville, Illinois.
Ivy the Tramp
It was my Junior year at Belleville City College and I'd finally made enough money to move out of the dorms. The “Let's Play” videos and reviews I'd published online had gained a little bit of popularity and I was asked to start producing for a well known gamer site. I was thrilled. Apartments are relatively cheap in Belleville, and I could have rented a single or a studio on my own. But as I was searching the real estate ads, I found a three bedroom in a not-so-great part of town for just a little bit more than I wanted to spend.
Awesome, I thought. I'll live in one room, turn the other into a studio/office, and rent out the third for slightly less than half the rent. I ended up with Evan as my roommate.
He was the first person I interviewed. He showed up with a trash bag full of his stuff and just never left.
There were pros and cons to living with Evan Mattis. Pro: He always paid his rent on time. Con: He paid his rent with money he made selling drugs. Pro: He would often leave the apartment for days at a time, providing me ample opportunities to record my videos in peace. Con: When he returned from these mysterious absences, he liked to play angry rap metal as loudly as his speakers could manage, and fill the house with rolling clouds of marijuana smoke. Pro: Evan never asked me to do his homework. Con: Evan frequently asked me to pee in a cup so he could prove to his father that he wasn't doing drugs.
The first year that I lived with Evan, I was constantly reminded of how alone I was. Evan went through girlfriends almost as quickly as I went through tissues and baby oil. I'm not proud of it, but I was a horny, shy, anxious twenty-year-old that had had sex once - and very poorly. While I became increasingly certain that I'd be celibate the rest of my life, Evan got laid almost every weekend. He probably did it even more than that, but it was on the weekends that I heard him most clearly. As Evan's headboard banged against our shared wall, I'd lay awake to the sounds of him grunting like a wildebeest and his newest conquest moaning like a pornstar.
I comforted my jealous soul by reminding it that most of these girls were fucking Evan for the free drugs he gave them, but I knew that wasn't always true. There were certain kinds of girls that couldn't resist Evan. He was the textbook definition of a “bad boy,” and women of all ages were eager to be used, confused, and eventually abused by him.
I have no idea if he was good in bed, but I know for a fact he was a terrible boyfriend. I spent many mornings desperately clutching my cereal bowl while he chased a half naked girl around the kitchen table. He'd accuse her of stealing his “stuff,” or vice versa. I had to discard countless hours of video because a girl would suddenly appear in my office, slam the door behind her, and scream at me that my roommate was a selfish prick and I needed to call her a cab, or the police, or her pimp.
And then, one day, from the humid depths of the Illinois summer, Ivy appeared in our apartment.
It was 89 degrees on an August afternoon, and I was sweating in front of the computer editing my most recent video. I was pretty sick of Counter Strike, but Valve had just released their latest first-person shooter and the internet was clamoring for a review. I'd been working for hours, lost in the tedious but soothing rhythm of the job. I didn't hear the front door open. I didn't hear her enter my office. It was her perfume that turned my head.
When two guys live together, you get used to certain smells. Especially in the summer, it's all sweat and deodorant and whatever Evan left to die in the sink. And then--like a fairy tale wiping away the grim, urban darkness--my nose was suddenly offered the sweetest alternative. The scent was overpowering. I was yanked from my body, tossed through a dream of refreshing rain that ended in a bubble bath. I swiveled in my chair, wondering what spectacular reality awaited me.
I swiveled right into Ivy's breasts.