3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
I f I had a dollar for every time I woke up on a strange bathroom floor, I could probably afford another semester at this godforsaken college.
When I’d found myself in this situation before, getting out as quickly as possible was usually my go-to move. On this particular morning, however, what I wanted to do more than anything was shove my hand so far up my pussy that I could tickle my tongue with my fingers.
I’d never been so desperate for relief. I needed dick, and I needed it bad.
My skirt had gotten hiked up during my fitful sleep, and the skin of my bare ass stuck to the cold, unyielding floor.
But if I looked at the bright side of there not being a light in here, I couldn’t see what filth I was lying in.
I needed to change clothes and… Shit.
Shit shit, fuckity shit.
“Backpacks aren’t allowed on campus,” Ms. Tissdale had greeted me when I first arrived yesterday evening. “Security protocol.”
“This isn’t a backpack,” I’d argued while she’d beckoned for it. “I mean, well, it is, obviously, but…it’s my suitcase. My things. My luggage.”
She’d continued beckoning while I’d continued shaking my head and throwing out synonyms that might break through her blank stare and get the point across that my backpack didn’t have a gun in it with which to shoot Xander. There was no room for a weapon inside. I’d crammed it so full of all my worldly belongings that the zipper was on the verge of giving out.
Finally, she’d laid down the law. Without handing over my bag, I wouldn’t be permitted to as much as get a passing glimpse at Xander.
So…all of my belongings were still with Ms. Tissdale. Unless she’d tossed them in the nearest dumpster as revenge for me going feral on her damn muffins.
I dragged myself over to the sink and splashed some water on my face. My bladder was in about the same shape as the zipper on my bag, so I squatted over the toilet and did my business.
It took for fucking ever, so I searched my phone for something I knew would give me some semblance of peace—one of Mom’s voicemails.
“Geulia, do you know where I put the damn fingernail clippers? I’ve got a hangnail. Oh. There they are. Apparently, I just had to call you so I could see them right in front of my face. Anyway, love you most. See you when you get home.”
I simultaneously smiled and fought back tears, my warring emotions stitching up my throat. God, I missed her. Even on her worst days, I still loved her with my entire bruised heart.
After I finally finished peeing and washed, I smoothed out my clothes and ran my fingers through my wig. My phone was at two percent, one of which I used to locate the other exit. It turned out there was a doorknob, high up on the wall above eye level. Fucking weird.
My muscles aching, I snuck out of my “hole,” and an unpleasant surprise slapped me in the face. I’d expected the door would spit me out onto the back lawn of the building or something, but no… I walked right out into a chaotic hallway, crowded with students.
Keeping my head down and too self-conscious to look anyone in the eye to ask how to get to the dean’s office and Ms. Tissdale, I wandered until I found it.
Ms. Tissdale printed me off my schedule, filled with classes I hadn’t enrolled in. “Sorry, but those are the only classes available. The ones you requested were all full.”
She didn’t sound very sorry, though, about the classes or about transferring my things from my backpack to a literal garbage bag.
“To check for contraband,” she said.“Damn, so I guess you confiscated my crack pipe, then.”
If she was at all amused, her disapproving glare did an excellent job of hiding it.
With a pinched expression, she gave me my meal card for the dining hall, letting me know that I could only afford the one-meal-a-day plan, and a stack of used textbooks.
My first class was Calculus 101, which according to the clock on the wall, I’d already missed. Super. The next class was Literary Traditions, which started in exactly thirty seconds.
Nice. Everything was going so great.
Carrying my garbage bag, I hoofed it through the freshly painted halls to room 208. Through the small window, it looked like class had already begun. I adjusted my wig nervously as I stepped through the door, acutely aware of my heart threatening to burst through my ribs.
Be brave , my mom’s voice echoed in my ear.
Huffing out a breath, I pushed into the classroom.
“Oh, hello,” said the male professor, who looked only a few years older than me. “Ms. Tissdale told me we had a new student joining us today. You must be Tuesday.”
I nodded slightly, immediately regretting the gesture as the eyes of my peers scrutinized me from my head to my feet and back again, all pausing on the garbage bag. My worst nightmare had always been standing in front of a crowded room as the center of attention.
“Tuesday Dare,” I managed to whisper.
No one reacted to my name. Not a single snort or eye roll. It was almost as though they couldn’t care less, which was kind of great.
"Welcome, Tuesday," the professor said warmly. "I’m Mr. Owens. You can take a seat in the back."
Odd that those were the only empty seats. In high school, it had been flipped—vacant in the front and full in the back.
"Thanks." I avoided eye contact with everyone as I made my way to a large empty table in the very back.
As I settled into my seat, I carefully observed my surroundings, taking note of the blonde with perfect, glossy ringlets doodling skulls in her notebook and the surly-looking guy in the front corner who appeared to be practicing his throwing arm with a crumpled piece of paper into the trashcan.
"Okay, let's continue our discussion of symbolism in literature," Mr. Owens began.
I couldn’t pay attention to him, not with the purple haze floating on the other side of the classroom. A hallucination or just the way the January sunlight played with the raven hair of the twins who sat close together, I couldn’t tell.
The haze writhed rhythmically, the same tempo as the one twin rocking forward in her seat, over and over again. Subtle but definite. She braced an elbow on her desk and covered her mouth, her eyes slowly closing.
What the fuck? Was she getting off on the wild moors from Wuthering Heights ?
But no, she was getting some help. It was then I noticed her twin’s shoulder was also moving in the same rhythm, as though she had her hand buried between her sister’s legs.
The realization spread heat across my thighs and climbed it higher to the tips of my ears. No one seemed to notice what they were doing. No one else cared, but I sure as shit did.
I couldn’t keep my eyes to myself as the one twin’s breathing sped audibly, though she tried to contain it. Her thrusts deepened, and then a long, quaking shiver bolted down her back, making her fists clench. Hers and mine.
Immediately, they traded places, so to speak, the other getting off this time with the help of her twin’s hand.
I had to be hallucinating. Around me, everyone else seemed oblivious while my blood pumped harder and my inner thighs grew slick.
I couldn’t help it. It was fucking hot. They were fucking hot. And taboo. And forbidden. And god. Damn . I didn’t even swing that way, but they were getting me all riled up. I laced my fingers together, my hands pressing into the wood of the tabletop, summoning all the self-restraint I had. I wriggled in my seat.
Fuck, I needed to touch myself.
How was no one else reacting?
“…Tuesday,” Mr. Owens said
I snapped my head up. “Huh? What?”
My voice sounded ragged, startled, guilty, like I’d been caught shoplifting.
A couple of titters and stares.
Mr. Owens smiled kindly. “I said that’s time for today, but I’ll see you all on Tuesday.”
“Oh.” Well, at least I’d responded to my middle name without hesitation, right?
The purple haze surrounding the twins faded. They stood from their seats as though nothing had happened, and it was then that I noticed the subtle differences between them. One had a straighter nose. The other had deeper-set, darker blue eyes. Maybe they weren’t sisters.
But still. What the fuck was that?
I found myself following them as they sashayed down the hallway, arm in arm. When they pushed through a set of imposing double doors, I slipped through, too.
I blinked.
What the hell was this? Some sort of labyrinth made of ancient books? Endless rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves stretched as far as I could see in every direction and…
Oh.
This must be the library, but…not the front of it, not the entrance. We were deep in the stacks.
Huh.
Damn, I’d lost them.
I blinked again. Why had I been following them anyway, like some sort of stalker?
But then I heard a giggle, and when it came to my brain’s connection with my feet…well, NO SIGNAL. I crept in the direction of the sound. There they were, one with the other pressed up against a wall, staring into each other’s souls like they were fucking with their eyes.
Swallowing hard, I ducked back then peered around the shelf again as they, holding hands, swept through another door.
I waited a beat, then hastened after them into…a stairwell.
Another door, high above me, closed. They must’ve run up the stairs.
I took the steps two at a time. It was like I was in a hypnotic trance, and I couldn’t turn around and go anywhere else. I had to catch up to them.
And I did, on what must’ve been the third floor.
A gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it, but they didn’t notice me. I doubted they would’ve noticed a meteor slamming into the building. A few feet away sat a large trash can, and I dove behind it. My breath heaved in my chest and my thighs quivered as I peeked around.
A man had joined them, and all three of them were naked. Naked and fucking.
I shoved my fingers into my mouth, both to keep my inevitable sounds muffled and to give myself something to suck.
The man had stark-white hair, and that’s all I could tell about him because one of the twins sat on his face, facing her twin, who sat on his dick. While they bounced up and down on him, they made out. One twin held the other’s face while she plundered her mouth with her tongue. The other fondled her twin’s nipples into two hard points while she massaged the underside of her tits with her palms.
Holy shit. The guy had to be a faculty member. Why were the twins having a threesome with a grandpa professor in the library?
That purple haze surrounded them, undulating like a living thing, like tentacles made of shimmering mist. It drifted towards me, beckoning, drawing me in.
It’s hungry for me , I thought.
Which was ridiculous, but…
A cry ripped from my throat. Before I could even process what was happening, my pussy walls began to clench. With no build-up, an orgasm blasted through me. I fell back onto my ass, my entire body rocking. My hips humped the air, my clit pulsing like something was inside it, trying to burst free.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…” I muttered around my fingers in my mouth, drool dripping down them.
I bit down, teeth against bone, tasting my own blood.
My vision blurred as another wave of pleasure crashed over me, more intense than anything I'd ever felt before. It bordered on pain.
The purple haze enveloped me now, its tendrils roving my skin with an electric touch that sent shivers down my spine. It seeped into my very pores, filling me from the inside out. I arched my back, my body no longer under my control. My muscles spasmed and twitched, my toes curling so hard I thought they might break.
"Oh god, oh god," I moaned, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
When it began to subside, I lay on the floor, sweaty and spent.
Had I just been possessed or exorcised or both?
"Join us," a voice whispered.
Who was that? Had that come from inside my head or somewhere else?
With legs made of jelly, I scrambled to my feet. My vision swam, and I could barely make out the shapes of the twins and the older man. Their bodies seemed to meld together, becoming one writhing mass of flesh and ecstasy.
I tore out of the door I’d come through and tripped back down the steps. My juices dripped down my thighs, my knees, my calves. I was still gushing, still convulsing.
Like a drunk, I stumbled blindly back the way I’d come. The hallways blurred with student-shaped shadows until I wound up back in my “hole.”
***
A pparently, it takes about an hour for a girl to fully come back down after a spontaneous orgasm high, and once I crash-landed, there were two facts I couldn’t deny.
I was ravenous.
I smelled like a whorehouse operated out of a men’s locker room.
I needed to eat, and I needed to wash off the sweat and sex.
My stomach rumbled. I hauled myself up and cracked open the forbidden door into the apartment. I was a little surprised Connor hadn’t locked it from the other side, but the prick was obviously used to getting his way and expected me to obey his orders without question.
Holding my breath, I listened. My mom had always said I had the hearing of a dog. She—
My throat tightened, and I shoved the thought away.
No one was home.
I hurried to the kitchen where I all but inhaled an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, then chomped down three bananas. I washed it all down with a beer because that was the only beverage in the fridge.
It was probably pushing my luck to take a shower, but fuck it. I needed one. The entirety of the human race needed me to have one.
The bathroom door didn’t lock, which was unfortunate, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, which was the theme for my whole life. I stripped out of my clothes and—
FUCK!
My garbage bag.
I must’ve left it in Mr. Owen’s classroom.
I bit my lip. I should go get it right now before a janitor came along and mistook it for actual trash. But…who knew when I would get another chance to shower?
I’d make it quick and then go. But ugh, I’d have to put my nasty clothes back on. Oh well.
Turning the water on as hot as it would go, I stepped underneath the spray with a satisfied groan. I reached up to adjust the pressure to the highest setting, and my eyes drifted closed as my clit twitched. The showerhead was detachable. But first things first.
Careful not to get my wig wet, I lathered up, thankful there was an unscented bar of soap next to the different high-end men’s body washes. Squeaky clean at last, I pulled the showerhead down and spread my feet wide, leaning back against the slippery tile. Aiming it with one hand, I used my free hand to spread my pussy lips and then groaned, jerking, when the stream hit the right spot.
I rocked my hips back and forth, my mind conjuring up images of the twins fucking the professor, wondering how one got an invite to that party.
My pleasure mounted higher, and higher still, when the door to the bathroom opened.
Fuck.
Someone entered and closed the door behind them. Through the steamed-up glass shower door, I could only see the shape of Ghostface’s mask on top of a nude body.
I dropped the showerhead, the water going wild, as I flung my right arm across my tits and covered my crotch with my left hand.
“Occupied!” I yelled.
The shower door swung open, and the cocksucker stood there, the same guy who’d gone down on Malcolm, the gladiator. Was Jones his name? Through the large cock-shaped hole in his mask, I spied the poutiest lips I’d ever seen.
“Dude,” I snapped. “As much as I’d be open to sharing a shower with a gay male bestie, you’re a stranger, so—”
“I’m not gay,” he said.
“Oh. I shouldn’t have assumed. I didn’t mean to sound biphobic, but, um… Could we actually discuss this later because… Hey!”
Before I could point out that he didn’t need a shower—he smelled damn good, warm and spicy like the human equivalent of cider—he stepped into the shower with me and with his mask still on, leaving me pinned between him and the wall. Both of us naked.
Do not look down, do not look down, do not look down.
“Excuse me, Jones! Is that your name? Please—”
“Call me Kade. Kade Jones—”
“I’ll call you whatever you want as long as I can call you later !” I blurted. “I’m showering here.”
“Actually, babe, now we’re showering here. And, for the record, at WIC, everybody just kind of fucks everybody. Labels are kind of…beneath us.” He casually replaced the showerhead in its holder then twisted the controls.
Suddenly, ice-cold water blasted down.
I shrieked. He chuckled, a deep, seductive rumble.
Fucker.
He grabbed the bar of soap I’d used. “I’m doing you a favor. You obviously need to cool the fuck down. Just be glad it’s me that busted in here, not Connor or Malcolm. I’m the nice one.”
Nice being subjective in this context, I was sure.
“Could you please…” I gestured for him to move over, to let me out, but he turned around so his back was facing me.
Do not look at his ass. Do not look at his ass.
Damn.
He had a perfectly sculpted ass.
He lathered up his hands, set the soap down, and then lowered his hands to his junk. “Grab that loofah and scrub my back, huh.”
It was not a question.
“I’m not washing your back, you dick,” I hissed.
“Mmmm, yeah, speaking of…” He turned towards the water to rinse off his dick and balls. “How ‘bout a little reach-around while you do my back? Make both of those hands useful.”
I was tempted to punch him, but he chuckled again, pulled the shower door open, and stepped out. I quickly shut it behind him. I shut my eyes, too, and held my breath until the bathroom door creaked open and slammed closed.
Who the fuck only jumped in the shower to wash their junk? Obviously somebody who’d done a lot more than give head.
Exhaling, I turned off the water and stepped out onto the plush rug. When I glanced around, my eyes widened. That fuckrag had taken my clothes.
I cursed under my breath, shivering. He’d left me alone in the fogged-up bathroom, soaking wet, naked, and stranded. So far, Whispering Ivy was beating me by humiliation alone.
I snatched a towel off the rack, intending to wrap it around myself. But of course, it was a hand towel, so the best I could do was use it lengthwise and drape it down my front, leaving my backside fully exposed.
Deep breath. All I had to do was make it back to my “hole,” as Connor had called it. Then I’d figure out a game plan. I couldn’t just traipse back to Mr. Owen’s classroom to get my things in my birthday suit, with only my nips and pubes covered. If I was quiet, and quick, maybe I could slip down the apartment hall without being seen and steal some of Kade’s clothes or something.
Ugh. Since when had my luck ever been that great, though?
Steeling myself, I slipped out of the bathroom. But before I could take a step, someone snatched the towel out of my hands.
Malcolm and Connor both stood there, shirtless, leaning against the wall like they were personally responsible for holding up the damned building with their broad shoulders. But it was Malcolm who’d yanked the towel away from me and was currently twirling it in the air like a fucking lasso.
They definitely got a glimpse of the whole show before I could cover anything.
And they were definitely looking at me like they’d just found their next prey.