Maureen opened her eyes. Her dorm room was warm and the sun peeked through the dirty dorm shades. Tranquility was in the air and Maureen shifted lazily in her sheets. She squinted at the clock, 7:02. She could afford five more minutes. Concepts of Mathematics didn't start until 8:15 after all. She rolled over and closed her eyes, letting the aura of sleep settle around her. Then it all came back to her.
RA duty. Pat and Kristen. The night air and a werewolf. Each memory hit her in succession like a row of cascading dominoes. Her toes clenched and unclenched at the thought of it. That man, er werewolf she corrected, who could he have been to recognize her? As if on cue, Maureen expected the man to burst in right now, to silence her for learning his dark secret.
In spite of herself, Maureen chuckled. She was leery of this nonsensical situation. She studied equations, mathematics, and computer science. Logic and the Bible were her tools and werewolves did not fit in either. It was a mere dream. A vivid, detailed dream. She threw off the covers, and gasped in surprise. She was completely naked with a faded stain right under her pussy. Her pussy twinkled in the light, shaved save a few blond hairs that were starting to creep up. She never slept naked and the realization hit home. She shook her head. Impossible. So she masturbated last night (the mere memory sent a little quiver through her), big deal. She masturbated last night because of the Pat and Kristen episode. But there was no werewolf. Not at all. She quickly grabbed her towel, sandals and shower gear and let the memory drop from her mind.
Concepts of Mathematics. Not a bad class per se but not one Maureen had much interest in. But it was a prerequisite for Calculus III, so here she was. She flopped in her seat, her bag dropping beside her like a limp bag of cement. She shuddered, goosebumps popping up and down her arms. Dr. Hannon insisted on keeping the room cold to "increase brain activity." Or to stop kids from dozing off. Her leg bounced up and down to get the blood pumping, her thin sweater material was doing very little.
"Hey Maureen"
Ryan grabbed a seat next to her, sliding in with flair. Tall with dark tight curls, Ryan was a first year RA with Maureen in McGuthrie Hall but a junior. He adjusted his frames and lazily shifted his ass to get cozy. He was wearing a Minnesota U hoodie with a winter hat jammed over his head with enough space to let his springy curls fall out.
"Missed the alarm Ryan?"
He nodded, his tired eyes set on Maureen. He smiled jovially, a goofy grin with a smirk tugging at the right corner.
"It wouldn't be presentable to have y'all see me with bed head," he said spreading his hands out like a performer.
Maureen giggled. Ryan was an actor first, student/worker second. He was a Mathematics major, begrudgingly accepted in order to avoid the pitfalls of being a stereotypical waiter.
Her boyfriend Andrew and Ryan were best buds and had been roommates their sophomore year. Heck, Ryan was the reason they had met in the first place. She could recall many mornings sleeping over and seeing Ryan trudge to the bathroom in his athletic shorts, a slight bulge from morning wood. Ryan was cute, with his charm and humor laying the foundation for his success with women.
Ryan leaned back and yawned languidly, his eyes darting between Maureen and the board. He jammed his hands in his athletic pants, moving them around in the spacious pockets. He squirmed in his seat, apparently trying to get comfortable.
Maureen cocked her head. What the hell was he doing? She looked at her notebook. Boys are weird.
"Good morning class," said Dr. Hannon in a monotone voice amidst the actions of murmurs and half-hearted greetings.
The class was typical; it was still early and they were covering the basics. Every so often, Maureen would catch Dr. Hannon's eyes upon her. Ryan was doing the same, his left hand still in his pocket as he moved about. Oh God, she realized, as color flushed in her cheeks. She had something on her face. A bit of breakfast perhaps? How embarrassing.
She scooted out of her chair and excused herself. Covering her face partially in an embarrassing haze of hightailing the hell out of there, she stumbled over the feet of a guy at the end.
"Sorry," she muttered.
She heard a response, but it didn't register. Clambering to the door, she let herself out before she drew any more attention. In the restroom, she peeked in the mirror. No, no stray food or a weird bogey. Nothing. Just blue eyes, shoulder length blonde hair, an oval face that some felt was cute and a mole near the corner of her mouth on her cheek. It wasn't until she looked down at her torso, that she figured out the problem. Her nipples were poking through her shirt!
She cried out and defensively covered up her pointed breasts, despite being alone in the restroom. How could she forget to wear a bra today? So that is what they were staring at. Damn Dr. Hannon and his increased brain activity B.S. And that Ryan, getting an erection from her tits, the horn dog. As embarrassed as she was, she felt a nudge of pride. She looked down at her breasts, clinging to the material. They hung there, loose and ready to spill out with the pull of her shirt. She wiggled her body, watching them dance and bounce back with firm resolution. God she loved her breasts. The way Andrew caressed and held them. Her mind wandered as she held her breasts and didn't even notice or hear the door open.
A figure caught in her peripheral and she jumped. It was Marisa, a junior Math major. If people had a stereotypical idea of what Math majors were, Marisa was not it. Sleek black hair, dark eyes and a tight body in yoga pants was Marisa. Many of the guys in class would stare as her hips moved to take their seat.
Marisa smiled embarrassingly at Maureen. Oh Jesus, her hands were still on her tits. Maureen dropped her hands hastily.
