All Hail the Dean
Denise's phone bleeped. Lucky she was in the car; her phone lived there, permanently attached to a charger cable.
Her sartorial choices left little room for a phone. Boxers and running shoes were her usual warm-day apparel, like today. And nothing else. She was notorious on campus for many things, but only freshmen commented on her attire. It was her most visible foible, but the least interesting one.
Unless she stuffed the phone down her shorts (which she had resorted to on occasion) or strapped it to her running shoes like a race tracking device (never!) she'd be forced to carry it in one hand. So, she elected most days to just leave it behind.
Fishing it out of the console by the cable, she flipped it over - Shelly had texted "The twins have found something you may want to hear"
By 'twins' she guessed Shelly meant the two new team members who seemed attached at the hip. Or at the crotch more accurately - they spent an inordinate amount of time on sex. And rarely stopped rattling on to each other. Very communicative, with good vocabularies and good imaginations, it was usually quite entertaining.
Whatever could that text mean? What would she 'want to hear' that couldn't wait?
Another text popped up - from the Dean! "If it isn't too much trouble, kindly visit me in my office". The Dean was a little old-fashioned and never got around to abbreviations nor emoticons. She'd rather die than end a sentence in a preposition, much less 'lol'.
Well. Were these messages related? In that event she'd be better off informed. The dorm it was!
The days of matrons and porters was long past, so it wasn't clear to Denise how she'd find them. Denise was bad with names. Go trolling down the halls, hollering "Runner new girls!" and see if she got an answer?
Parking behind the faculty building she grabbed some papers, stuffed them down the front of her shorts and slammed her car door. Her car was never locked, and God help anyone who wanted to steal something in it. The back seat was a disgraceful assortment of dirty clothes, papers and mail, old running shoes and empty sunscreen bottles.
The dorm was at the foot of the sloping quad, behind the old limestone church. Some early founder had figured it would be healthful for students to hike uphill to classes. Wake up the circulation, more blood to the brain. Well nowadays they knew it actually was a good idea to exercise before studying, so no harm done.
Entering the front door, she met a young man she recognized - a sophomore recruit to the running team. Gotta get better with names. He seemed apprehensive but brightened when he spotted her.
"Uh, Coach! I'm supposed to show you where to go. Third floor!"
Sounded fine to her. "Lead on!"
Up two flights of stairs - worn marble steps from generations of student feet. Old oak railings, brass gaslights converted to electric. Like every other old building on the quad as this building was built contemporaneously.
Denise sprinted two steps at a time; her young guide had a little trouble keeping up. She moderated her pace so as not to embarrass him.
Down a hall thick with smells of testosterone, estrogen and pizza, her sophomore pointed at a room with its door ajar, then hared off in the other direction. "Thanks!" she called to his retreating backside.
There was a hand-decorated sign taped to the door with 'Virgizza' in puff paint and sparkles. Peering at the official dormitory residence card she saw it was a double with occupants 'Virginia' and 'Melissa'.
Huh. So now she knew their names. And a handy moniker when referring to them in the plural, which was the more frequent occurrence.
Knocking, "CaMin!" came chorused from within.
They were propped up in one bed together on pillow-chair thingys facing each other, each studying intently. Pantsless, crotch to crotch in scissors position, a vibrator buzzing somewhere.
The other bed seemed to be unused, without sheets or pillow and strewn haphazardly with the detritus of student life - a tennis racket, two pair of running shoes, what looked to be a shoebox full of dildoes, well-used notebooks.
Each had a textbook and notes open on the bed, a pen in hand and a substantial wet spot where they connected sex to sex.
One wore a Hello Kitty shirt with sparkle paint, the other a tattered muscle shirt with 'Pussy Whore' stenciled in black on grey. And nothing else. Denise approved.
"Shelly says you got something for me?"
Virginia(?) uncoupled with a sucking sound, swung her lean legs over the side of the bed, put her bare feet on the floor. Leaving the other (Melissa?) with a fluorescent-pink two-headed cock vibrator slowly sliding out of her cooch, buzzing impotently. She reached down absently, twisted the head to turn it off without extracting it. She continued to read and take notes while her cunt drooled around the vibrator onto the wet spot.
Virginia: "Leaving Human Development, over in Hatfield Hall, went to Prof's office for tutoring schedule, heard Prosser saying something about 'got that twat now!' Figured that had to be you."
Denise smiled at that.
"Had that gutless assistant with him, brought some pictures, they hid them when I came in. But I think I saw the running team! In the woods somewhere?"
Interesting.
"I appreciate the heads-up. But don't worry. The Lynxes' performance speaks for itself. I'll talk to the Dean."
She departed as Virginia(?) was re-coupling and Melissa(?) was fiddling with her phone.
Heading back up to the quad she decided she could turn in her track schedule on the way to the Dean. Entering the old administration building on the North palisade, nowadays used by buildings and grounds, she greeted the school staffer behind a counter and got a casual greeting in return.
"Got next week's rota!" Denise announced as she fished down the front of her boxers, pulling out a sweaty fold of hand-written notebook pages.
The staffer, an older man with a Bronx accent, took it with a comment about the beautiful warm day. He was more interested in practice field conflicts than nakedness, and long accustomed to the sight of Denise's athletic frame. Everything was apparently in order, and her practices could proceed as planned.
Crossing the busy quad Denise greeted a Senior team member Gene travelling in a cluster of other senior men, all dressed for rugby. She waved, smiled. They accepted Coach, respected her, some having been in her Physical Therapy class. Smiles and nods, nothing they haven't seen a hundred times before, they resumed their talk of plays and schedules.
Meeting a younger group of mixed Frosh hurrying somewhere heads swiveled, one young woman staring open-mouthed. Looking at Denise, down at her own shirt, back at Coach, again at her own shirt. Denise could almost hear new ideas forming in her fresh moldable brain.
The office she was heading for was in the northeast corner. The dean had a prime spot, with windows on the north and east sides and a separate entrance and parking space in the back. Denise used the public entrance in the quad, pushing through the oak-framed glass panel gilded with the Dean's office and credentials.
The foyer was not empty - Shelly and Virgizza were waiting. Quick work to get here before her!
Shelly: "We're going to prepare you for your Mundane encounter. Think of it as a Power Makeover."
Denise looked skeptical. "Is this necessary?"
Virgizza were un-dissuaded. "You have to meet these people in a way they understand. It's not for you; it's for them! So they know who they're dealing with!"
