The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Savannah knocked. Loudly, for going on 1 AM in a building where anything percussive got two echoes minimum. She even added a very distinct, “May I come in, Spencer?”

Rather than give her the anxiety of another entry like her last one, I simply opened the door for her myself. “Of course.”

In spite of herself, Savannah glanced around the room as if I might have another resident hiding naked under the bed or something. “Thanks. I… Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

This time, Savannah sat down on the chair—I’d moved the pile of my residents’ discarded shirts into my closet—and let me have the bed. Probably worried about what she might sit in, though I knew full well all of my cum had gone directly into Andi, who had hurried directly back to her room with her dress still half-unbuttoned. Cool beans. Savannah had stood a better chance of stepping in it out there in the hall than sitting on it in here.

“So. You said you wanted to talk. So…” Savannah held out her hands invitingly, but even so couldn’t make eye contact.

“Sure. Yeah. So I guess first, you deserve an apology.” This stung. I hadn’t even apologized yet, but simply acknowledging the need was a bitter pill. I’d had ten minutes since Andi ran out half-dressed and Savannah let me stammer out a request to allow me to explain. Vickie’s promise “not to tell Savannah” about my simply being in a room with Andi—before there was even anything untoward happening!—still rang in my ears, though. The idea that Savannah should have a say in my affairs because we kissed once…!

I took a slow breath. The right to indignation had been forfeited somewhere between pleading blowjobs and cool beans fucking.

“You mean for inviting me in to see you doing one of your girls? Or for coming on me?” Her teeth clenched on that one.

All right, sure, she really did deserve to be pissed over that. I’d been on the cusp when she came in. Then when Andi started squirming and spasming on my cock, and one of the hottest women I’d ever seen stood staring, slack-jawed, at where it was all happening… I pulled out right in time to spray Savannah all across her torso. And a bit on her neck. And chin. Her cheek.

“Both. Very both. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. Not what happened with Andi—”

“Is that the girl…?”

“Yeah. And certainly not for you to come in and… Yeah. All of it. I’m really, really sorry.”

Savannah plucked at her shirt fretfully. My shirt. I couldn’t very well let her finish rounds walking around spattered in cum. Since I couldn’t hand out one of my resident’s shirts, I’d offered her the first shirt I saw in my drawer. Unfortunately, that had been one of the leftover Higgins Hotties shirts. I tried not to summon the image of Savannah’s incredible body in that skimpy joke of a half-shirt. She’d refused it before I’d realized how insensitive it was to offer it, but only after she was gone did I wonder if it was because of that scar on her abdomen and not because it was objectively slutty.

“Thank you for apologizing,” she said simply. “I know you didn’t mean to, erm…”

“Right,” I finished for her. Better than finishing on her. “And you can keep the shirt. Or burn it, whatever.”

“I’ll get it back to you once I get it through the laundry.”

“Oh. Well, um, thanks. That’s really nice of—”

“Spencer, how many of your residents have you slept with?” Savannah blurted. She looked like she’d even surprised herself.

“What? None! I mean, just the one, tonight. And I didn’t even—”

“One? Seriously? Because there’s that girl Quinn, who said you did. The other girl from that fight in the shower, the one Vickie said she saw you with. And now Randi—”

“Andi.”

“Whatever! Look, Spencer, that’s not OK! These girls aren’t here for you to… use! They’re your residents!”

“I know!” I hugged my knees to my chest self-consciously. “Like I was trying to say, I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?!” She threw her hands in the air. “Explain to me how you wind up inside a woman without ‘meaning to!’”

“She was homesick!” God, that sounded pathetic, even to me. “And her boyfriend just broke up with her. I was trying to comfort her. Be nice, you know? But she was needy and clingy and she was low-key hitting on me all night and… and…” I couldn’t add what my brief encounter with Vickie had done to my headspace. It wasn’t fair to blame Savannah for it. It wasn’t even rational. “It wasn’t my plan. I didn’t invite her in here intending for that to happen. It just… happened.”

“We’ve worked together for a month, Spencer. A month. Do you know how many men I’ve worked with where I saw their erect penis, twice, in the first month?!”

“Less than half, probably.”

For a ghost of a second, a smile threatened at the corners of her lips. “None! None but you. Maybe it’s hard—difficult, I mean, not ‘hard!’—oh god. Maybe it’s difficult working here with a bunch of cute girls. But you have got to get your shit together! I didn’t say anything to Vickie, but she’s got to have some questions about why I slammed your door in her face, to say nothing of why I finished rounds in one of your t-shirts, blushing so hard it felt like my face was on fire.”

“I’ll talk to her, too.” I’d already considered the necessity of that. “And you’re right. I… I hadn’t counted on, um…”

“On what?”

How to say it? Whatever. It was late, and I’d spent the past eight hours with the world’s most available hot girl. “On how, I guess… possible, any of this would be?”

“Possible? What does that mean?” she asked suspiciously.

I could tell she was worried I was referring to how possible fulfilling my dreams of banging a bunch of random hot girls was, so I went on quickly. “Like, that girls like these would be this… willing, I guess?”

Her suspicion gave way. “Spencer… You’re a good-looking guy. Call me superficial if you want, but I wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise. It’s only natural some of these girls, fresh out of high school, would be attracted to someone like you.”

“No—I’m not being humble.” Not much, at least. “I’m saying, I didn’t think a floor of girls would be so…” Ugh, to say it. Why was it so hard to be frank in front of this unbelievably gorgeous woman? Oh right, because that. “I didn’t think they’d all be so fucking horny all the time!” I managed at last.

To my surprise, the first signs of real mirth touched her features then. “Seriously? You… You didn’t think a group of three dozen teenage girls, all living next door or around the corner from a single hot guy they have all to themselves, would carry a little sexual energy with them?”

“Well… no. Don’t laugh, dammit. I was an RA in Rowland for two years and never once did one of my guys try to sleep with me.”

That only made her laugh harder. Harder than was merited, certainly. It was infectious, though, and before I knew it she had me going to, insisting between breaths that it was anything but funny. It didn’t last long, but it brought some much-needed levity to the room.

“Look,” she said finally, when she could speak evenly again, “if you’re going to rely on the restraint of these girls to keep you on the moral high ground, you should go ahead and sign away your soul now.”

“You sound like Janis.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Don’t ever say that. But I’m being serious! These girls will hook up with you because you’re cute, because you’re conveniently located, because they want to show off, because they’re throwing a party this weekend and they want to make sure you don’t bust them. They’re freshmen college girls—not a demographic known for sexual restraint. Which is why you have to do better. Set some boundaries, and defend them for crying out loud!”

Savannah stood up and jabbed me in the chest authoritatively. “This is the last time I want to see… that. Understand? For tonight… I’ll believe you that she wanted it. She sure, ahem, sounded like she was having a good time.”

That was an understatement. I couldn’t remember ever making a girl come as hard as I had Andi.

“But if Ramona asks? Or if I hear a whisper of it happening again? I’m telling everything I saw. I… I want us to be friends, Spencer. But I don’t know if I can be friends with someone who’s…”

Seducing. Whoring. Preying?

“Who does things like this,” she finished, possibly meaning any or all of those.

“OK,” was all I said.

Savannah showed herself to the door. “Sorry for the stern talking-to, I guess. I’ll, um, get you your shirt back soon.”

I glanced at where her cum-stained shirt hung off one peg of my headboard. “Same.”

Follow-up with Andi was a good deal less dramatic. I stopped by 304 the next morning, asked Jean to give us the room for a moment. She said she needed to take a shower anyway. She gestured for me to turn around; before I realized what I actually should have done was leave the room, the thoroughly pierced raven-haired girl was already changing out of her skimpy PJs and into a skimpier towel, then was on her way.

As for Andi, I had my whole spiel ready, and didn’t give her a chance to sneak a word in edgewise. I went over how she had been great, how my job didn’t let me do that whether I wanted to or not, how I meant what I’d said about helping her find a wonderful guy. I apparently managed to avoid the land mine of making it sound like a rejection, mistake, or regret, and was rewarded by her tears being kept to a minimum. I promised to stop by soon with some opportunities for her to meet people. I offered a hug. She tried to kiss me, too, but I think my refusal cemented it for her that we were done. I sure hoped so. Jean returned right as we were wrapping up. Her towel hit the floor the moment my back was turned. She didn’t seem to care when I made my escape, opening the door for any who might care to peep on her while she was still naked.

Goth girls. Sheesh.

As for Operation: Cover Your Ass, I called Vickie and asked if we could meet up, talk.

“Oh? About what?” she said far too innocently.

“You know damn well what.”

“You know, I’m actually pretty busy this weekend. Maybe next—”

“Please, Vickie. I can be down there in two minutes. Or whenever’s good for you. Whatever you know, whatever you think you know… Let me explain, and don’t say anything to anyone until we talk. Please?”

She conceded. Apparently she actually was busy, because she said the earliest she’d have time would be Sunday night. As it so happened, we were on duty together. Given her well-deserved reputation as a gossip, I didn’t like letting it go that long, but there was nothing else I could do.

Everything else felt like a holding pattern until then. With Savannah’s upbraiding still echoing in my ears, I was on my best behavior around Higgins 3. Which, frankly, only made the multitudes of temptation all the more obvious. These past weeks, I’d regarded it all as distractions, happenstance. Now I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was happening as part of a series of individual plans. Was Savannah right, and I was simply living with a bunch of horny teenage girls who were crushing on the first cute college guy they’d met? It sounded crazy, but it was a lot more straightforward of an explanation than Bob and Ramona conspiring to get me laid.

Were they really hitting on me and not just peacocking? Could women peacock? I didn’t know the answer to either question, but it was the first that occupied my thoughts.

So I did what anyone in my situation would do: I started a log.

Friday evening: Andi, it began. That’s as much as I wrote. I wasn’t going to forget the details any time soon.

Saturday 9:45 AM: Jean undresses with me in the room (x2) read the second entry.

Saturday 10:00 AM: Went to morning routine. Found Amy brushing teeth in bra and boxers. “Boxers” was a semantic issue, too. My boxers fit like thin, breezy athletic shorts. Amy’s had been painted onto that well-shaped rear, and short enough to show off her butt cleavage. It seemed to be the only kind Target sold, considering how many of my girls wore the exact same style.

Saturday 11:15 AM: Dawn stopped by (no knock) to invite me to lunch. “Joked” she hoped would lure Kyu-Ri. Wouldn’t that roommate conflict be fun when it inevitably exploded, the horny lesbian trying to find a way into her busty international student roommate’s panties.

Saturday 2:00 PM: Went to the rec center to work out. Saw Nikki. We didn’t speak, but she took a spot on the treadmill right in front of mine. Jogged for a solid half hour in white leggings. And a thong, I nearly added, but it felt crass. There was no hiding a black thong under white leggings, though.

Saturday 3:45 PM: Noise complaint from Angel. Went to 313 to ask them to turn it down. Sydney (eventually) answered the door in her HH shirt and shorts, drawstring untied, physically holding them up. Noticed Peyton in bed, blushing under sheets. I definitely caught them fucking. Was I reading too much into the “anything else we can do for you” after she lowered the volume? Or not enough?

Saturday 6:30: Eating alone at Penderdast. Casey & 4 others asked if they could eat with me. Table only seats 4. Casey tried to sit in my lap. She had probably been teasing. Once I dodged, they all giggled hysterically. She compromised and scooted my hip aside, leaving us sitting one ass cheek apiece to our seat.

All right, I would grant Savannah this: I definitely could fuck Casey. If I did wind up getting fired, tapping that was going to be my final act on my way out the door.

I went out on a bar crawl with a couple guys from one of my classes Saturday evening. When we’d set it up, I’d figured it would be good to make some new guy friends, inject a little testosterone into the quagmire of estrogen my life had become of late. They turned out to be a little more dude-bro than I cared for. I toughed it out, but it wasn’t a match. Eventually, mildly tired and more than mildly buzzed, back to Higgins 3.

Sunday 12:30 AM: Came home to find Carmen and Janis breaking up a party in 302. Kendall and Georgia were being combative so I stepped in. Both girls quickly dropped their attitudes and hugged me. Helped staff break up party, had a talk with K&G. After, they followed me back to my room and we watched a movie. Fell asleep on either side of me. They would have stayed there all night if I hadn’t woke up to the sound of Janis passive aggressively whistling through the 2 AM rounds. Both girls had fallen asleep with a hand on my chest.

Sunday 10:00 AM: Extended conversation with Danielle during shower about how weird it is to be standing three feet away from a naked person of the opposite sex having a conversation. Danielle was tall enough we could even make eye contact over the stalls, if we went up on tiptoes. Her suggestion.

Sunday 2:00 PM: Andi stopped by, promised she could be discreet if I wanted to do it again. She also apologized for not offering me a blowjob first, and said she would be happy to open with one again next time, if I wanted. I reminded her how close I was to losing my job. She didn’t seem as worried about that as I might have liked. Maybe she thought if I did, it would do away with all my excuses. To be honest, if I did get fired, I might stop by and let her suck the Casey off of me on my way out to the parking lot.

Sunday 4:45 PM: Lex got locked out of her room (Jo went home for the weekend). Got key from front desk; while letting her in asked how they’re getting along. Lex noticed me noticing hitachi on her desk. Laughed, said “nice having the room to herself.” And here I’d thought it was the girl who’d insisted on Tits Out time I’d have to worry about being too unrestrained about her sexual appetites.

Sunday 8:00 PM: On way to center desk, heard music in the lounge. Found Terri doing lewd dance in lewd outfit. Said it was a TikTok trend. She asked me to record so she and Toni could do it together. Declined (had to get to work). I don’t even like the word “lewd.” It’s such a slut-shamey word, it should barely exist. But that outfit. That dance! “Lewd” was the only name for it.

Though the top, at least, still probably covered more than the shirt I’d approved for her.

“Dang, Spencer. You’re actually kind of a gigantic slut, huh?”

Vickie, as it turned out, did not share my sentiments about slut-shaming. At least not when it came to men. “I don’t mean to be,” I answered sheepishly, adding, “and keep your voice down. We’re at the center desk, for crying out loud.”

She cracked the tab on her can of diet root beer. She had a back-up, I noticed. Had the eggheads at A&W made some kind of progress on this front? If so, why hadn’t I been notified? “So? Who’s stopping by the center desk at ten o’clock on a Sunday? Chill.”

Vickie had a point, but I wasn’t in the mood to concede it. “I could lose my job, you know. Which means losing my room and board—i.e. homeless and starving. You get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Vickie snorted. “So now what? You said you didn’t want me to tell anybody. I didn’t. Good thing, too. When I saw Savannah leave your room with a fresh t-shirt, I figured… Actually, I didn’t know what to figure except she’d taken her shirt off in your room, which draws all kinds of the wrong conclusions. Say, why did she change, anyway?”

I’d already told her about Quinn (vaguely) and Andi (almost as vaguely). With a sheepish grimace, I mumbled what had happened to Savannah’s shirt moments after she barged in.

“NO FUCKING WAY.” Vickie’s jaw dropped, and in the blink of an eye she was in a full-blown giggle fit. “Oh my god. You fucking came on Savannah Grey!”

“Shhhh! Would you keep it down?! Good god, Vickie, if I wanted everyone to know, I wouldn’t have given her a change of clothes, for crying out loud!” I grumbled. It did nothing to abate her delighted laughter. It only abated thanks to the intervention of that root beer can.

She was so excited that she began talking before the liquid left her mouth. “No. No way. Everyone should know this. She thought she had you on the hook so hard, and then BAM, here comes tasty homesick girl, and Savannah’s your fucking jizz rag! Oh my god in Valhalla, that’s too fucking good!”

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean, she thought she had me on the hook? You said something like that the other night. Did she actually say something, or are you just assuming I’m her bitch or something?”

“First off, every guy is a bitch for Savannah Grey. Second off, I thought you called me into this powwow because you didn’t want me to spread tales?”

“Make an exception.”

Vickie snickered. “Fine, fine. No, she didn’t say it. Not in those words. But duh, brah, obviously she wants your hog or she wouldn’t have hooked up with you while she was on a break. She’s not a flirt, and she’s not a slut. Ergo, stands to reason, she made out with you because she likes you. You think just because her beef is back in the picture that she doesn’t still like you?”

“If she’s got a thing for me, she has a funny way of showing it, blowing me off completely.”

Vickie backhanded me, semi-gently, on the bicep. “You are such a dude, dude. Savannah’s pissed because she thought she had this hot new upstairs guy, but douchey old long distance guy is being sweeter than she knows how to rebuff. If she shuts him down, she’d compromise her self-image as a sweetheart, but if she doesn’t listen to her girl parts she’s betraying her self-image as a romantic. Tale as old as time, Buzz.”

I was still processing her reasoning for a moment. I suppose it made sense, albeit rather cynically. I was guilty of tryharding at playing Mr. Nice Guy myself sometimes for pretty much the same reason. I wondered then how much of Vickie’s game was fueled by having an ear for gossip, and how much was an instinct for psychoanalysis.

As she polished off her first can, I caught all the way up. “Buzz…?”

“Yeah. You know, Lightyear…?”

I shook my head.

“Because you and your pal Woody are Andi’s favorite new toys? Come on, man, you’re making me look dull out here.”

“How was I supposed to get from ‘Buzz’ to there…?”

“Look, man, forget Savannah. Maybe she’ll still be hot for you whenever she’s found a guilt-free way to rejoin our noble bachelorette ranks. And by the way, ‘Price?’ Ugh. But as it stands, you’re nailing everything with at least one tit and a willing hole up on Higgins 3. Which, to my mind, is what you ought to be really concerned about.”

“Believe me, I am.” I let out a sigh, slumping down in Marcus’s rickety office chair. A girl from Vickie’s floor happened by then to check her mailbox. Vickie pivoted seamlessly into chitchat with her resident, and the moment she was out of earshot, whirled back to me.

“You are? Because it sounds like you’re letting your so-called Hotties—stay classy, by the way—run roughshod over you. You’re the boss boy, Spence! But these girls got your number.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I grumbled.

Apparently those seven monosyllabic words were enough to spark a new level of curiosity in Vickie. Enough that soon, I found myself signing into my cloud and bringing up my log. Vickie read along, pausing for me to elaborate where appropriate.

“This is real…?” she asked, stupefied, when I was done. “Like, you’re not making this up.”

“It’s real.”

“Spencer, that’s… This is…” She shook her head until her incredulity lifted her to her feet, hands thrown in the air. “That’s insane. That’s what that is. I’m not calling you a liar or anything, but that?” She jabbed a finger at the monitor on the line about Kendall and Georgia. “That’s mother fucking nuts.”

“You weren’t this taken aback when I told you about Quinn, Leigh and Andi,” I pointed out.

“First off, I was being nice. Second, that’s straightforward shit compared to this. One girl who oopsed her way into a hot naked guy’s bed, one girl who found out about it and wanted to pull rank, and an insecure girl on the rebound. Those made sense. But all this…? That’s really just from the past two days?”

“Yeah, well… Savannah said they’re just teenage girls. And a few twenty-somethings. They’ve got hormones.”

“Savannah wouldn’t know horny teenage girls if they sat on her hot stupid face. I know, and I’m telling you, normal girls don’t act like that. Is this new? Like, maybe your girl Andi was talking you up around the floor and…?”

She read my rejection of her theory and let me respond. “No. This is pretty much how it’s been.” I gave a few more examples. The girls changing into their slutty t-shirts with me in the lounge, Dana’s mom flirting with me, even the weird no boys allowed coincidence on the roommate agreements. A hundred little moments of cracked doors and whispered comments and straying gazes and attempted chants.

“Fuck me.” She made a wry face. “Since it’s you, I should point out I don’t mean that literally. But man. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah… This is…”

“This is what? You know something?”

Suddenly Vickie was crouching between my knees. After all her shouting and carrying on, now her voice was low, intimate. Clandestine. “I know people, Spencer. And this isn’t like people. Have you considered at any point over the past month that there’s something really weird going on, and you’re at the center of it?”

I frowned. “I mean, it’s unusual, sure, but… what do you mean, exactly? Weird how?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. But look at it. There you are. A good-looking guy, yeah, but so what. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but what I heard was that this whole guy RA on a girls floor was some kind of large-scale typo?”

I explained what Ramona had told me, a housing officer who’d used shorthand in a way that made the roster look coed when it was anything but. What very little I’d learned from Bob. It sounded pretty ridiculous when I said it out loud, and I remembered then thinking the same when Ramona first explained it. I’d simply gotten used to it.

“Yeah, that’s about what I heard.”

“You sound like you don’t believe it, though,” I said cautiously. Where was she going with this?

“I’m not saying anything. Only that that’s a huge coincidence, if it’s true, to explain—partially—another huge coincidence. For that to be true, you’d have to have a dozen or more girls with non-gendered names—”

“Or nicknames. Like Kendall and Georgia were Kenny and George on my roster.”

“Bleh, of course they were. So yeah, you’d need that. And they’d all have to be smoking hot—”

“Not all of them were hot.” She arched an eyebrow up at me. “OK, all but a few. Although, um, I guess those few are all gone now.”

“Spencer, you’re missing the forest for the trees, babe. My point is, what are the odds that out of the, say, hundred hottest freshmen girls at Lakeview, a third of them wound up on your floor? You, a penis-possessing boy person.”

“You know, I actually ran the math at one point. It’s meaningless, kind of, since you can’t mathematically rate attractiveness—”

“Try me. You eight, me seven but I can go full nine if I want it.”

“—but if I recall, the odds were something in like a billionth of a percent, factoring in available housing options, the size of the incoming freshman class, and the best I could do for an X factor, for my being the guy RA of the girl floor.”

“A billionth of a percent. Sounds high.”

“People win the lottery every day, Vickie. Unlikely things happen sometimes.”

She chuckled, but still spoke in that same conspiratorial half-whisper. “Or, you’re a guinea pig in some kind of weird hottie zoo, and someone’s testing how much booty can be tossed in your lap before you break.”

“I broke on move-in day, so that theory’s gone.”

“Or whatever!” she hissed. “Don’t be so literal. My point is, what if there’s something… deeper. Something making this happen. I don’t have a why, yet, but everything in my gut tells me that if half of the stuff I’ve heard and seen is true, there’s more to it than hormones and typos.”

“If you’re trying to make a big conspiracy out of this, though,” I went on, “you’re forgetting a pretty important counterpoint. Namely, the Higgins staff. Say what you want about Janis, but she’s pretty, and you’re pretty, and Carmen, and Vanessa, and obviously Savannah…”

“Why ‘obviously’ Savannah?”

With the view I had down Vickie’s neckline in her crouching position, it was hard to say in the moment, but I went on with my broader point anyway. “The staff here, they fit the same profile, and I can’t imagine the powers that be would or could impose hiring decisions to make sure every woman I routinely interact with in Higgins is beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” She grinned, but impishly.

“I think you’re making something out of nothing. Yeah, the math on working with five attractive female RAs is better than living with thirty, but there’s also Ramona. Another looker, if we’re being honest. But she’s also on board with everything that’s happening. If this is some kind of weird experiment to see what happens to a normal guy immersed in a cauldron of hormones, Ramona would have to be in on it. Heck, I made out with Savannah, so her too, probably. Maybe you’re in on it, too, for all I know.”

I was kidding, and I’d thought it obvious that I was kidding, but she still looked very serious. “Who says I’m not?”

“What? Come on, I’m making a point. Don’t…”

Vickie’s hands settled on my thighs. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t that.”

She rubbed up and down them, inching closer towards the middle. “But what if I want to? I’m a young, horny, hormonal girl, alone with the inimitably sexy Spencer, RA to the stars.”

“Vickie, you can’t—”

Then she vaulted into my lap. She landed with her pelvis pressed firmly on mine, legs hooked over the arms of Marcus’s fragile office chair. “I can. Come on, you have to have noticed me noticing you. And Vickie? Short for Victor, maybe, right? Maybe I’m just another one of your Hotties.”

“You’re making me really uncomfortable.”

“So lets take our pants off. Get comfortable.” She pressed herself against me, whispered in my ear. “You won’t believe how comfortable I could make it feel, Spencer. It won’t ever want to leave.”

I didn’t have a rebuttal for that.

“Tell me you want me more than Savannah, and I’ll rock your fucking world, right now,” she went on, her breath hot and wet against my ear. “Tell me she’s nothing, that you want me, and I’ll get back on my knees and suck ten years off your life right through that legendary cock of yours. Right here, right now, at the center desk. Nobody will even have to know. They’ll come up to say they’re locked out, or they need change to tip their dasher, or just to say hi. And they won’t know that the reason you’re red in the face is that there’s a girl ten times sexier than that frigid bitch Savannah Grey kneeling under the counter giving your dick the lovingest suck it’s ever known.”

I had no words. My cock was doing its darnedest to stab through all the layers of clothes between us to get at that pussy. I’d always been a sucker for dirty talk, and Vickie’s gift for gab was seeing some incredible new use all the sudden. Could she really mean…? No, that was nuts. No one was that jealous. She had to be proving some kind of point. Right? But… what?

“Holy shit, Vickie, you’re so—”

Our lips met. With both her fingers seizing handfuls of my hair, there was nowhere else to go, though I wouldn’t have gone there if there was. Her kiss tasted like root beer, but the regular kind. Maybe I’d have to give the diet a try. I couldn’t seem to stop sucking on her tongue.

Vickie suddenly released me, leaning back, but only with her neck, just out of range of my lips. It was enough to let me remember I was at work, in full view of anybody who might happen by. “I, um… Maybe we shouldn’t, erm, at least until, you know, when we’re both…”

That was all I had. At work or no, if she so much as looked at them, I was going to rip my pants off here and now.

The duty radio, sitting beside me on the desk, beeped, and Carmen’s voice came through. “Vickie? Waiting for you to start rounds. You coming?”

“Am I coming? Radioing the wrong RA,” she joked with a sly grin. Without moving a single unnecessary muscle, her chest still squashed firmly against mine, Vickie picked up the radio, holding it to the side of her mouth so that her lips brushed mine when she spoke. “Sorry about that, Sandiego. I was helping Spencer with something at the center desk. He’s having a hell of a hard time up here. Be there in a sec.”

I groaned when, a moment later, she slithered up my body and back to her feet.

“I… You… That was…”

“Obviously,” she said. Then, when I only stared at her uncomprehendingly, “You know, like ‘obviously Savannah?’ Now there’s your ‘obviously Vickie,’ dickhead. God. You didn’t really think I meant it, did you? How do you guys make it through the day with your brain flying copilot to your penises?”

“Vickie, you kissed me. Are you… are you…” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you in on it?”

Vickie shook her head. “See? There you go using your head for a change. Like I said, normal girls don’t do… that.” She opened her other can and chugged it, shooting it like a basketball at the trash can with a hopeful “Kobe!” that didn’t pay off. “Anyway, think about what I said. And whatever you do, leave me the hell out of it. If you are into something weird, I sure as hell don’t want to get dragged into your drama. I’m a drama llama, but I don’t go slip on my mama drama trauma pajamas for a piddly $200 a month. You figure something out, I’m interested, but whatever you’re into? Thank you no, no thanks.”

She caught me watching her leave the center desk and smirked, but well pleased, over her shoulder.

What the hell had just happened?

And what the hell was going on?

“Hey, what did we tell you about using their real names in reports?”

“Huh?”

“Here. ‘Prime met with Andi in 310. She made advances…’ And so on. Not her number. Andi.”

“Oh. Can’t we just do a control H on that shit? It’s so fucking tedious looking up their serial numbers over and over again, hour after hour, day after day.”

“Pff. Do your homework. I had the major players memorized before classes started. ”

“Bullshit. We didn’t even know who the major players were until… Shit, we still don’t. Like anybody thought Andi, or 4897 or whatever she is, was going to win the pool. Hundred to one.”

“Who’d you have?”

“3283 all the way. Fucking should have, too.”

“32… That’s Charlie, right?”

“You call that gorgeous piece of coed ass Charlotte when you dare speak of her, you Philistine.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Hell, my stupid ass went with Peyton. Then she shows up with her goddamn girlfriend.”

“Ha. Bound to be at least a couple. Can you believe somebody actually picked… Fuck, you’re not gonna make me look up her number, are you?”

“You’re kidding right? That’s for the reports, not the watercooler.”

“Oh. I mean, obviously. But you know, Ramona.”

“I saw. Unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable is right. Wish our boss had an ass like that.”

“Hey. Not cool.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, just make sure you use the numbers, right? Anything leaks…”

“I know, I know. Wouldn’t mind seeing Ramona leak, all over—”

“One more word and I’m writing this up.”

“All right, all right. I’ll use the fucking numbers from now on. Prude.”

“Attaboy.”