"I refused to spend another Valentine's Day alone in my dorm room eating chocolate that I stole from what my roommate's boyfriend got her," I said. My best friend Emma held the ladder as I taped more paper hearts to the dorm hallway. Every person walking by us was holding hands with their significant other. "Even Betty has a date for Valentine's Day, and she stabbed two guys last year."
"Yeah, but the rumor is she gives good head," Emma said below me.
I climbed down the ladder, deciding I was done decorating. "I'm not going to find a date taping paper cutouts to the wall, despite what my Mom claims. I might have to actually ask a guy out," I said, crumpling the paper cupid in my hand.
"Denise, it's noon on Valentine's Day. I think it might be a bit late for this. What if you work on getting a date for National Employee Appreciation Day on March first?" Emma suggested. Are you kidding me, Emma? Restaurants are already booked solid for that holiday. But it doesn't matter. I'm not giving up on getting a date for Valentine's," I said, slamming my fist into my open hand to emphasize my resolve.
Down the hall, I saw Edward Oswald, my long-term crush, and I became inspired. "I'm going to ask out Edward."
Emma looked up and saw me staring at him. "Good. You've been lusting after him ever since that time he laughed at you when you tripped into that tray of old clams in the cafeteria."
"God, his laugh was sexy. I still get wet every time I smell seafood" I shook my head. I needed to focus on actions. Another night masturbating to the eight pictures Edward had posted on his Facebook page wasn't going to get me a date with him, despite what my sexually open roommate claims. It was nice of my roommate to say I could masturbate while she was in the room, but it became weird when she started getting mad when I did it without her around.
"So go and ask him. He's just over there," Emma pointed out.
"Are you crazy, you dumb bitch," I said, using the nickname I use for Emma.
"I really hate it when you call me that, especially when you sign my name on group projects with those words. I had to repeat calculus as the records showed I hadn't completed the final project. Dumb Bitch though, got a solid B."
"And I've told you. In my family, you call the person you care about most 'dumb bitch.' I understand it has a different meaning to you, but to me, it's a term of love," I said, reminding her of this for the zillionth time. "Anyway, you can't just ask out a guy like Edward with nothing to bring him. This is Valentine's Day. I need to get him a card, chocolates, flowers and have a reservation for dinner ready to go."
"Those are things guys usually get girls for Valentine's. We girls have it easy. We just need to bring the tits and ass," Emma pointed out.
"That was true when our grandfathers took their dates to the racial exclusive sock hoop, but this is 2024. The rules have changed." I watched as Edward stood in the hallway and admired the Valentine's decorations we had been putting up. "But I can't just get him any old gifts. They need to be his favorites. But I don't know anything about him besides that he throws up when a girl trying to flirt with him smells like old clams. I need to gather information on him."
"Denise, is this going to be one of those times you highly overthink something and make an over-complicated plan with unforeseen consequences? Remember when you accidentally live-streamed that sorority house's shower to the entire internet for a month? All for a physics assignment?"
"I got a 72 on it, so I call that a win," I said. With how much those girls experimented with each other in the shower, I think it's fair to say they were going to end up doing porn at some point anyway.
"First, I need to know his favorite color. His academic advisor, if he is any good at his job, should know that. Next, his favorite flower. His best friend lives on the floor below ours. He should know."
"Why do you think his best friend will know his favorite kind of flower? Do you know mine?" Emma asked.
"What am I, your lesbian lover? I don't have a fucking clue. Anyway, I also need to know what chocolates he likes. His parents live in town here. I'll go to his Dad for that. Finally, where does he want to go to dinner? I'll go to his Fraternity brothers and ask them," I said, writing all this down.
"You said you didn't know anything about Edward yet know who his advisor is? You know where his parents live," Emma questioned. "Also, why don't you just ask one of those people all four questions. Why just ask each one question," Emma pointed out.
"Because, dumb bitch, it would be creepy to ask one person all those things. You need to spread it out so you seem crazy."
"Stop fucking calling me that, Denise!"
"Term of love, Emma. Term of love," I said, reminding her.
I looked back at Edward. He was in his fifth minute of admiring the pink heart I taped to the wall. "Edward is such an innocent, pure being. That's why I'd be perfect for him. I've never even kissed a man before, let alone been touched by any. I'm as pure as they come," I said softly.
"With the exception of the excessive masturbation you do," Emma replied.
"Well, of course, with that exception. I'm horny as hell all the time. Even innocent girls need to flick the bean." With my conversation with Emma ending as they typically do, with me admitting I'm horny, I made the walk to campus to find Edwards's academic advisor.
I lucked out and found Prof. Christian alone in his office. Knocking on the door, I let myself in. "Professor? I was hoping you could give me some information on a student you advise. Edward Oswald?"
He turned in his chair to address me. "I advise like 200 students. Also, as an adviser to a student, all that means is once a semester, they tell me what classes they want to take, and I nod and say some bullshit line about achieving excellence. Other than that, I don't know shit about students I advise," he admitted. Perfect, I thought. He'll know Edward's favorite color for sure.
The Professor typed something into his computer. "But I see you are correct. I am the adviser for Mr. Oswald. But the information is confidential. I'm not allowed to give it away. I'm sorry," he said.
"I understand," I said sadly. "I understand you will give me the information in exchange for seeing these puppies!" I pulled off my shirt, exposing my bra to the Professor. It had become evident that my only path forward to finding out what I needed to know about Edward was I would have to show off my body to him. Guys with boners will tell you anything you want to know.
"I've had plenty of college girls trade their bodies for improved grades. This is the first I've heard of a girl offering her body in exchange for information on someone else's grades. What do you want to know if Edward got a B in art appreciation? Cause I can tell you now he somehow didn't appreciate it enough and got a C, the moron."
"No, professor, what I need to know is much different than his grades," I replied, trying to do a seductive voice. It came out sounding like Ursula from the animated Little Mermaid movie. I reached behind my back and undid my bra hook. I paused momentarily and thought about what I was about to do. I was going to let this middle-aged college professor I had never met before be the first man to see my naked tits. Shouldn't I maybe let the man I love, Edward, be the first to see them? I can't undo this once I allow another man to see them. Perhaps I should slow things down and rethink what I'm doing.
Then my hand slipped, and my bra fell to the floor, revealing my naked boobs to him. Oh well, on with the plan. "Holy fuck, you are really going to do this? If you don't want to know his grades, what then? His planned graduation date?" The Professor asked with his eyes examining every inch of my breasts.
"That's not it either," I said, pulling down my pants.
"You know what. I'm just going to shut the fuck up and not question this anymore and just enjoy the show," he replied. I took a deep breath as my fingers found the top of my panties. I can do this. It's just showing off my pussy to a stranger old enough to be my Dad's age. "Are you okay? You don't have to do any of this. Whatever this is," the Professor questioned, noticing my nervousness. I then pulled down my panties in a swift motion, gasping as I felt the breeze from the fan in his office hit my bare pussy.
"Never mind then," he said, staring at my exposed pussy. "Jesus Christ, your pussy is soaked. Is this turning you on," he asked. He wasn't wrong. My pussy was dripping wet, but it was embarrassing for him to point it out.
"No! I mean, yes. I mean, shut up. You have no clue what it's like being a girl in her early twenties. I'm so horny all of the time. Everything that even kind of looks like a cock I think about putting in my pussy. My best friend has to keep her TV remote locked away from me," I complained.
"It sounds like you should go out and get laid," the Professor suggested, still staring at my pussy. I jumped up and stamped my feet on the ground, causing the Professor's eyes to quickly divert to my bouncing naked tits. "What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do. But it's so hard to get laid. There's so much information gathering and side quests you have to do before you can ask a guy out. It sucks," I bemoaned.