College -- West Lafayette, IN
I decided to go away to college. Greg Gibbons and Suresh were pursuing me, and it took all that I had in me to fence both of them off. I couldn't handle having two lovers at the same time, and if I chose one over the other, the one not chosen would be emotionally destroyed. The solution was obvious: I chose nobody, and had a nice, chaste period before heading off to college.
I decided to make a new start at college. I chose Purdue University for four reasons. It was a good school, with an engineering focus, and I wanted that; it was in Indiana, far away from Southern California, which is where I grew up, and therefore far away from anyone I knew; I got a scholarship, something rare for out-of-state students, so it was affordable; I liked that Purdue had 57% male students and 43% female students, a ratio that appealed to me!
I was still in love with Jason Jones, but he had left me behind, and was dating scores of other girls. Jason got into Cal Tech. I had applied also to all of Cal Tech, MIT, Carnegie-Mellon, and Cornell Engineering, but I didn't make any of their cuts. Purdue was one of the top-rated engineering school and it admitted me, and what's more I got a scholarship!
Most of all, however, like Cornell, Purdue also had a world-class agriculture school, and there was a professor there, Professor Blut Trinkhaus, who was a renowned expert on the blood of animals. It may not be too surprising that I was interested in blood.
More than just blood, however, I was interested in what blood did to my mind: All of the times when I had feasted on Jason's blood, Greg's blood, and Suresh's blood, something had happened. My mind had felt quite strange, but in an extremely pleasant way, and I could see things other people could not, such as -- for example -- when I knew that Greg's blood was type AB, and Suresh's blood was type O. The hospital technicians confirmed I was right, before they did the transfusions.
Seeing blood types for no reason whatsoever was child's play for my mind, when it was high on a meal of fresh blood. I felt as if there were few things I couldn't do. If I knew some advanced math, I probably could have solved an open problem, or two. With enough blood, I felt as if I could have brokered a peace in the Middle East, or convinced Putin of Russia to cancel the invasion of Ukraine. I saw the effects of global climate change in my eyes. It was stunning. It was amazing. It was thrilling. It was, most of all, overwhelming. Obviously, I was bat-shit crazy. I knew I was crazy, too. Bat-shit crazy.
Yes, yes, yes, of course. Of course, I had read every story, book, treatise, even jokes about vampires, both the bats and the supposed humans. I knew it was all fiction, really all fiction, except for the bats. However, fiction that persists over time likely has a grain of truth to it, or so I told myself. I found the works on Vampire Bats to be the most interesting, since they were true.
Vampire bats had a natural deficiency of various items needed to live, and blood, most any blood (birds, fish, mammals), provided those items and let them live. Denying blood to a vampire bat for even three days would lead to their death. Thank goodness I was not dependent on sucking out people's blood in order to live.
No, for me, blood provided other things, qualities I had yet to figure out enough, even to name them. I knew, however, that they were there, when I was high on a meal of fresh blood. It also seemed to be connected to sex, and more intriguing, to me having an orgasm during copulation. Solo masturbation had no effect. That was troubling.
I had gone shopping before college. I needed some special clothes for my clandestine campaign. I signed up for Professor Trinkhaus' class, using my pre-enrollment materials, even though I did not yet have the prerequisites for the class. For example, a few of the key prerequisites were an intro to biochemistry, an intro to calculus, and basic (post calculus) statistics.
The computer kicked me out of the class, because I did not have the prerequisites. No problem, I contacted my old friend and lover Greg Gibbons, who was ensconced at Cornell Engineering, and who was some kind of computer whiz. He hacked into the Purdue administration's program and I was allowed to register, but he could get me only on the wait list for the class. He couldn't get me directly into the class, however, because the classroom was full. I knew I now owed Greg a favor. I had some vague idea of what he would want for the favor.
I'd have to pay him back during the first vacation when I went home. I knew that, and he knew that, and Cherry Hill knew that. Indeed, I could almost see Cherry Hill, awaiting us in all of its glory.
Thanks to Greg's efforts, I was put fifth on the waiting list, amongst 120 other wait-list students.
With a little research, I learned that if he had a good reason, the professor could sign me into the class, wait-list or not. My randomly assigned adviser suggested I attend the first few lectures, and then ask to be let in, just before the deadline to add classes. "Make sure he notices you amongst the 85 attending students," my adviser added. Maximum class size was 85, since that was the number of chairs (all bolted to the floor) in the classroom. He explained that a lot of students shop around for classes the first two weeks, and a large chunk, maybe even all, of the wait list will eventually be admitted.
That seemed like a good strategy, and I decided to implement it. Dr. Blut Trinkhaus was married, and there was no evidence he fooled around, especially not with students! That was a major no-no. Or, as Dr. Trinkhaus was wont to say, it was strictly verboten.
I had to give Dr. Trinkhaus a reason to sign me into his class. I knew he wouldn't fool around with me, but maybe nevertheless he liked to look, and to fantasize? I figured that was my best chance. Each day I attended his lectures I got to class early so that I could sit in the front row. The first day, I wore my new push-up bra, and my new blouse with major décolletage. I made sure to sit in the front row. At one point I dropped my pen, and bent over to retrieve it, giving him an excellent, free, down-look; if he chose to take it. My new friend Marsha Simpson told me he definitely took the look. That was Monday.
On Wednesday it was unseasonably cold, so I wore my new miniskirt, along with a long coat that completely covered me up. Getting to the room early, to grab the same front row seat I used on Monday, I casually removed my coat, giving the effect (I hoped) of being comprised of nothing but my long, shapely legs. Dr. Trinkhaus stole numerous glances at my legs during the lecture. Even I could tell. I just smiled.
On Friday, I upped the ante by going without a bra, but wore the same blouse as Monday with its deep décolletage. I once again bent over to retrieve a dropped pen, and Dr. Trinkhaus once again took the look. My guess is he might even have seen my nipples.
I gilded the lily, by winning over the TA of the class, via a long visit to his office while not wearing my bra. The number of down-looks the rather tall TA took was so numerous that I lost count. In my calculus class it would have been called uncountable, hee, hee.
When I went to Dr. Trinkhaus' office hours to beg admission to his class, to my surprise, he grilled me on my knowledge of blood! He didn't know who he was dealing with. I had been reading about blood all summer.
"What percentage of body weight does blood constitute?" Dr. Trinkhaus asked me.
"Eight percent," came my quick reply.
"What percent of blood is red blood cells?" he asked.
"Ninety-nine percent," I replied, smiling and winking with my reply. These were easy questions.
