Sanya watched the curtains bluster outward. Or was it inward? They were moving towards her and away from the open window. It was these types of questions she pondered when sleep despised her presence. As far as she was aware, there were no Gods or Goddesses of sleep to offend, but she was beginning to wonder if some sort of sacrifice might be in order anyway.
She lifted her wrist grudgingly to see what time it was. On the final ascent to her face she remembered she'd ditched the watch hours ago with a nice toss towards the far wall. She'd gotten tired of knowing how few hours for sleep she still had to grab before her alarm clock blared. Speaking of which, where had she hidden her alarm clock this time? Oh well, she'd remember soon enough when it went off in its hideously soul piercing call of doom.
Drumming her fingers on her stomach, she pinched at her satin night slip. It clung to her in an annoying way. It felt more like a mourning shroud than something sexy and alluring. Not that anyone was there to take in the way it draped over her perky breasts, dipping just slightly into her cleavage, suggestive of a hidden landscape ready for exploration.
Deciding whether to take it off or leave it on was her next predicament. Moving would show defeat in the eyes of sleep. Did she want to admit she'd been a failure at sleep again? Not that being frozen in nearly one place was conducive to sleep. Damn, life questions were too much to face alone, in the dark when too exhausted to sleep. Of course had she been able to sleep any of the previous nights she wouldn't be exhausted.
Sanya put a track mark of teeth down her lower lip. There was still the remnant of her cherry lip gloss. It was wrong, just wrong that no one else's teeth or tongue was wicking away the last taste of cherry for her. Life wasn't fair.
Here she was in an expensive night slip, her hair was freshly washed and conditioned for lively buoyancy, according to the label, and she had the dorm room to herself. This wasn't even taking into consideration her kickass body from being on the gymnastic's team.
Her mind harkened back to class earlier in the day about the fall of the Roman Republic and Caesar's antics. Maybe it was time to relive history and go and conquer a sex slave for her very own. Caesar never had a cold tent at night. Now thousands of years later she was living with indoor plumbing and heat but her mattress was getting cold.
She punched her mattress for its insolence in only supporting her and sat up. It was time to go and hunt for a man. If Caesar could do it, so could she. She had Roman blood in her on her father's side after all. An army wasn't in her arsenal, but her legs could slay by contour alone and her slip did leave a lot of her body available for eyes to prey on. The little bit of her body covered could easily be shoved out of the way by insistent hands. Battle ready she was. Now she just needed an available cock to soothe her tired limbs by and thereby be granted the blessing of euphoria induced sleep. Now that would have been a great Roman name for a woman. Euphoria.
Sanya mentally jotted down that idea in her brain so she could bring it up in class and watch the men try to refrain from squirming and her teacher play with his suspenders. She did notice he played with his suspenders a lot when she opened her mouth or waltzed by him to find a place to sit. Suspenders were a great guide into the lower regions of a man's anatomy. Men should wear them far more often than they did, she rationalized, shifting her legs off the side of the bed and getting to her feet.
Shoes and slippers were unnecessary. At this time of the night, the only place she was going to find a captive was in the TV room at the end of the hall. Maybe, if luck was going to bless her, like it often had Caesar, a poor pitiful, male, soul would be watching TV instead of faking sleep. A poor pitiful, male, soul that didn't have a Macedonian war-prone, girlfriend hidden away would be even better. But she was desperate and would deal with any ignited war flames later, after she'd had her conquest and was satiated.
Giving her hair a toss to undo any damage lying down had done, she slipped quietly over the carpet out of habit. Not that her roommate came back much. Bitch. How dare she be more successful in bed than her.
At the door she turned the nob and listened. It was one thing to go half naked into a room that might be empty, but she really didn't want her floor masturbating to her image if she wasn't going to get any action out of it.
Outside sounded empty, so she shifted into the hall and left the door ajar behind her. An exit plan was always a smart move history taught, and she prided herself on being a fast learner who could apply history to daily life.
Sanya opted for silence over speed and proceeded down the hall under as much stealth as her poorly clad body allowed for. She certainly wasn't going to fade into the institutional off -white paint should somebody's door open to answer the call of a bladder or middle of the night hunger pain.
She now stood pressed against the door frame, her neck craning around the open door to see what exploits lay in wait.
Ah, the gods of sleep might not look kindly on her, but clearly the priestesses of sex did put in a good word for her. One, lonely, soul was contained by the room. And it was a man. Cock be with her.
The guy's back was to her as he slumped down in the sofa angled for prime TV viewing. Either he was asleep or her gymnastics were coming into use. Had she wanted, she could leap onto the sofa right now, but she needed her prey alive, not in the ER from a heart attack.
Hair style was too college male to help in identification so she crept closer. Not that it really mattered who he was, but it seemed polite to at least know who she was about to confront.
It was the shirt that eventually gave it away. Only one man that she could remember was married to grey plaid shirts and khaki pants, and that man was Xander. For his sake, she hoped the name was short for Alexander and not something his parents had intentionally done to him. It was almost as bad as misspelling women's names to make them sound cuter. How emasculating.
Xander was room number four-zero-four. Sanya noted in her in internal filing system in case she decided to start marking territory later. You never knew when sex would turn to civil war on campus.
He still was comatose.
Sanya looked up at the TV. The sound was too low to hear, but it was clearly a nature show about the less than moralistic sexual practices of ducks. Interesting nighttime choice but then again at this unholy hour the choices were probably limited as the TV didn't pick up cable stations.
Sanya approached as close as she dared before he might notice her presence looming over him. "You know," she said huskily, "males have to impress the females with their looks and prowess before a female will consent to sex without force in the animal kingdom."
She knew it wasn't entirely true, but it got the point across and proved he was alive and breathing as his body stuttered in a failed jump then fell back onto the sofa. "Don't worry," she murmured, leaning over the sofa and grabbing onto his shirt collar, "I don't expect much from you tonight. You can just lie there and let me do all the work. I just need you for your cock."
Xander started to open his mouth.
