I unfolded and reread the note, "I saw you naked."
I felt the same chill of excitement.
The plane lifted off the ground and I wondered who wrote it.
The past several days had been a blur. The author would have to wait.
I settled back into the seat. I refolded the note, closed my eyes, and thought about how my life seemed to have changed so much, so quickly.
---
I set my glass of wine down, stretched, and forced myself to focus on reading the online job listings again. I should not have left finding a summer job this late.
This is not what I wanted to be doing right now.
My mind had been drifting. Despite my desire to find a job tonight, I couldn't help thinking about the soft feel of the friction of my tee on my nipples, or the naughty teasing of the looseness of track pants on my panty-free pussy. I hadn't been able to resist just rubbing myself just a little.
I should be in bed ... resting ... alone ... and sleeping.
The sounds of the dorm had quieted down and only the sound of an occasional door closing broke the silence. I had almost finished the bottle and I had lost track of the number of times I had read these job listings tonight. I hadn't started until I closed my textbook at about 11 pm.
Now, the clock in the lower right corner of the screen read 2:17 am. I knew I should be asleep. I should be resting. I shouldn't be letting this get to me. Exams were almost here. But I wasn't and it was.
I knew I was a good student and normally I didn't drink by myself much ... I smiled. I shivered a little as my fingers touched me just in the right places ... I bit my lip gently ... I did play with myself a lot though, and I moaned a little.
"Seriously though Angie, focus," I told myself; I needed to find something soon; I felt like I would scream the next time my parents or anyone else asked me again if I had found a summer job yet.
Exams were virtually here and would be over quickly and if I wanted to return in the fall, I needed to make some money.
I stretched again, and despite my tiredness, that friction thing kept happening.
"Focus, Angie, focus," I tried to tell myself, but my body was telling me, "But, Angie, it feels sooooo good," and with the wine and my ever-present need for sex and relief, I knew my body was right.
Somehow though, the voice of responsibility won and my eyes returned to the screen and I took my fingers out of my sweatpants...
... for now at least.
I had seen or had done all of the same jobs for fast food, clothing stores, cleaning companies, and student summer jobs a million times. They were all low pay, mostly part-time with stupid hours, dull and predictable, no adventure, and totally boring.
Every summer job I had since I had been grade 9 had been one of those jobs.
I was a good worker, I had always done a good job and any of those places would hire me back in a second, but ...
... this year I wanted something different.
I needed something different; I wanted something exciting, something fun, something that wasn't ordinary. I was tired of ordinary. I was so tired of working my ass off all through the school year only to be rewarded with boring summer jobs.
I drank some more wine; I thought about what might be different.
All my life people had told me I was pretty and I knew I had a sporty body, if not a little on the small size, so maybe I could be a model. Wearing lots sexy clothes or wearing very little sexy clothes, I laughed. That would be exciting, travel, exotic places; I let my mind imagine spending the summer doing that for about half a minute.
My fingers were in my sweatpants again, "Mmmmmmmm," I gave into the feelings my fingers were generating and other soft sounds came from deep inside me.
Several moments passed and I my breathing became more ragged ... I enjoyed doing this, I could see myself modelling, I could imagine myself getting undressed by other models, then, like an alarm clock waking me up from a dream, the logical part of my brain reminded me modeling wasn't something you started doing in the middle of finals.
I may have been pretty, even sexy, but I wasn't a size zero, and even at twenty, nobody was going to break down my door and offer me a summer job full of bathing suits, semi-nudity, and photographers.
"Fuck!" My favorite word these days.
My "wine-inspired" adventurous side wasn't going to give up yet, what about being a dancer, the logical and smug voice almost started again when my fun voice cut it off and said, "Not a dancer, but maybe an exotic dancer," to which the logical voice replied, "What, a stripper?"
"Why not."
I thought, there were plenty of clubs not far from campus, I read stories about students like me making a killing studying during the day and stripping at night. I paused, and thought, "Stripping would be fun, naked in a crowded room full of people," my breathing and touching was making me feverish. I moaned again a little as I realized now both sets of fingers were inside my sweatpants now.
I heard my voice say aloud, "Angie, it would be interesting and it would beat waitressing. The thought of being naked or nearly so in front of men and women all screaming at me to strip, tucking money into my G-string ... "Mmmmmm," I could do that.
"Hmmmmm," the money would be good too, what a way for me to indulge my fantasies and get paid for doing it. I enjoyed this momentary image of sluttiness; then my brain seemed to scream at me, "What about your parents, professors, and Ryan (boyfriend)," the voice inside my head was shrill and sounded unsurprisingly like my mother ...
"Fuck."
I said louder than I thought to the empty room.
"Angie, let's just enjoy the fantasy for a few minutes," I told myself, my fingers knowing what to do without any purposeful instructions from me. I thought about some of my professors who might be willing to pay if there was any truth behind their frequent innuendos and non-so-subtle hints made when they made to me when they thought nobody else was listening.
I thought about one silver-haired professor, their lean body, strong hands, and lips that were the subject of many imaginative fantasies as I listened to their lecturing, my thoughts torn between being a good student and wanting to be naked in their arms.
I could just hear my graduation presentation, "This year's scholastic award winner, Angela, is top in her class, whose hobbies include stripping, blowjobs, and being a slut."
A series of small tremors rumbled one after another through my body, I inhaled softly and let several low moans escape into the quiet moonlit room.
Finally, I sipped a little of my wine again. Smiled, and reluctantly forced me to look at the screen, trying to focus on the endless sandwich artist jobs posted online.
I craved adventure, and different people; hell, even if I had to waitress again, I wanted to be at least someplace different.
A little sex would be nice too. Is that too much to ask?
"Actually a lot of sex would be more than nice, I craved it, and except for during exams, sex was what I thought of almost all of the time. I wanted so much sex, the kind of sex that would make it hard for me to walk the next day," I giggled to myself feeling buzzed and horny at the same time.
Another few minutes passed, my little orgasms fading, my fingers were soaked, I couldn't resist tasting myself, my scent hung in the air, I could do this all night ... then responsibility slowly crept into my mind again and I wanted to scream.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, and more fuck."
Collecting myself, I knew this wasn't helpful and I forced myself to keep scrolling through the same boring, name on my shirt, interchangeable online jobs one more time, maybe I missed something.
"FUCK!!!!!"
The empty room, my books, the dark night, none of them responded; they didn't notice or care I was swearing at them. I was just one of thousands of students in the same position, all of whom had left getting a summer job too late.
"FUCK!!!!!!"