Digital Tension

He could hardly even remember her name yet he couldn't get her out his head. Twice a week for an hour's length he sat right next to her. That was all. The two of them hardly spoke other than to ask to borrow a pen or exchange notes. Just a classmate was what it felt like she was ever intended to be. Just one of the many people he'd sit next to in classes and later forget about throughout his college years.

At the same time though, he knew something about her that he felt he shouldn't and while her behavior around him was that of someone who didn't know, it was already confirmed that she indeed did know. Why, though? Why didn't she ever say anything and why was it that he could never find words to say to her either?

____________________________________

The two of them had found themselves in the same Art Appreciation class. The kind of class that he was sure a good 80% of the students were taking for the college credit to get basics out of the way just like himself. The class in a way was a breather from the other more intensive courses he was taking this semester as a good portion of it was vocabulary, projects and essays, so his attitude there was generally a positive to neutral one. The girl he sat next to had more or less blended into the background. Nothing more than part of the scenery.

Perhaps a few weeks into the semester, he had noticed that she was indeed attractive. Her skin silky and smooth contrasting from her coarse, and frizzy black hair either worn down, or in a half pony-tail the curled tips sweeping against the desk as she'd bend over her notes. More than a gothic impression, Snow White was the kind of beauty he thought she'd most resembled. If he were asked at the time if he thought she had a nice body, he'd have to think about it for a minute as she dressed in a way that neither accentuated nor hid her figure, but he'd probably have said yes.

Much like how she dressed, she was neither a wallflower nor a social butterfly either. She'd sometimes raise her hand and ask questions or engage in a small discussion with the class, but that was the extent of it. Other than the professor, he never saw her talk to anyone all that much. Surely she had an entire life outside of functioning as an NPC in his own, yet he'd never found himself interested in her enough to think about it.

About halfway into the semester, the professor had each student partner up with whoever was to the left of them for a project meant to compare and contrast two different periods of art. Him and the girl had gone over the list together and decided which they wanted to do with a rather agreeable and nonchalant attitude. To this day, he couldn't even remember what he had chosen, but for reasons he'd find out a bit later, he recalled the girl (who had told him his name, but he quickly forgot) had decided upon Rococo. From there they exchanged phone numbers and he agreed he'd text her a good time for them to meet up on campus to work on the project after he got his work schedule for the upcoming week.

A few days passed, he got his schedule and a day after that suddenly remembered he had forgotten to text her his available days. As expected she responded a few hours later and their short, dry conversation ended with an, "Ok sounds good" from him that evening.

That was until...his phone suddenly vibrated half an hour later and he was greeted with a video message from his project partner that he could never unsee.

At first, he was a little taken aback to see what appeared to be straight up porn playing on his phone. A pair of legs wide open, shamelessly exposing every part of what was between them, the quality of the video high enough for him to see the folds, the clitoris, labia, everything in crystal clear detail. He could even see exactly where the clear liquids seemed to spray out from like a fountain as she came; droplets of the juices hitting the camera, blurring the view as they ran down the lens. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit over having most likely accidentally been sent explicit porn by a stranger, but his expression immediately switched to one of shock when the woman picked up the phone, wiping her fluids off the lens while panning over a luscious pair of breasts spilling out of a lace bra for a moment too short before smiling directly at the camera revealing herself to be no other than the girl from his Art Appreciation class.

Holy shit.

Using just regular deduction, she had probably meant to send it to her boyfriend and accidentally clicked on the name of the contact she had just been texting, yet there was something that baffled him about the 15 second clip and it was the look on her face in the end. It didn't seem like the look of someone trying to impress a lover, rather it was one of someone who was fully aware that they were doing something risky and out of the ordinary for an unfamiliar audience.

Of course, he had to see her expression again so he watched the video two, three, ten or so more times. To analyze her facial expression of course. No other reason.

He had to admit from a more shameful part of himself that her boyfriend must be a pretty lucky guy since this video was like something you'd see in a compilation with how well it was done and well..how much she squirted and how hot her moans were. The more he listened to it just as well, the more he could relate those moans to the voice he'd only heard a few times from his classmate.

As much as he considered texting back and saying she had texted the wrong person, he kept overthinking her response and of how awkward it could be for her to know he had seen all of that when they met in the library to work on their project in the next two days. Of course, she'd be wondering why her boyfriend didn't respond, right? Well...oh well. Inevitably she'd find out herself that she had texted the wrong person.

_________________________________