I still remember the first time I met Anastasia Richardson. She was tall, with dishwater blonde hair and a thin, wiry frame. Anastasia wasn't the kind of girl that could just sit on her laurels and do nothing with her life. She had goals, plans, and dreams that she wanted to see through until the end. She had stayed goal-oriented and driven until she had landed herself an academic scholarship at a college that most students wouldn't even want to attempt to go to, for fear of the difficulty and rigor. That's where we met - in college.
She didn't look like the academic type and I guess that threw me off. I wasn't sure I wanted to be friends with a girl that could act as a stunt double for supermodels in mainstream movies. After all, a normal girl like me would look downright ugly standing next to a girl like Anastasia. I wasn't sure I wanted to compete with her for the attention of the guys that sometimes looked my direction if I got lucky. Turns out, I didn't have to.
"Hey, are you a Freshman too?" Anastasia asked me as I tentatively sat at a table in the cafeteria on that first day of college.
"Yes."
"Oh, good! Me too!" Anastasia smiled as she took a seat next to me. "Maybe we can be friends. I feel so alone here."
"Me too," I agreed honestly.
"Well, I'm Anastasia, your new best friend." She stuck her hand out formally as if she wanted to shake it. I awkwardly offered her my hand and shook hers.
"I'm Giselle." Her eyes sparkled with mischief and that was the first glimpse of the real Anastasia, the one that no one really knew but me.
At first, I didn't see it. She seemed like every other private Catholic schoolgirl who had escaped the oppression of high school only to realize that the oppression was safe and comfortable. There were no signs that she was anything but normal until the day we met Brett Forrester.
"Who is that guy?" Anastasia's head turned as she sat in the dining hall endlessly twirling her spaghetti on her fork. She wasn't the type of girl who ate a lot. She didn't binge eat or have a weight problem. The "freshman fifteen" were pounds lost, not gained for a girl like her.
"I don't know," I answered, looking up from my humongous slice of pizza. Brett wasn't very tall. He was well built with a wild, untamed mane of blonde hair and a firm chest that was on full display as he walked into the hall.
"He's not wearing a shirt."
"I'm very aware of this fact. I'm going to fuck him," Anastasia got up from the table abruptly and my mouth dropped open as I watched her demeanor change. Gone was the meek, reserved student with an academic scholarship. In her place, was a supermodel, sauntering across the dining hall with a purpose, a mission to get the guy she had her eye on.
I saw the exchange, Brett looking up with shock and then surprise. He thought she was sexy. I took a bite of my pizza as I watched Anastasia work her magic on Brett. She giggled, smiled, and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. His whole face lit up and I wondered what she had told him.
She pulled him by the hand down the hallway that led to the bathrooms. I saw her turn and glance back at me. She was beckoning me to follow them but I didn't want to leave our food sitting there. She shot me a look that told me I had better get over there. I stood up quickly, leaving our food there on the table. I tried to walk as nonchalantly as possible down the hall but I wasn't as cool, calm, and collected as Anastasia.
"Come on, hurry up!" She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into a room that I would later find out was the International Student Union. It was filled with desks, tables, and chairs. Anastasia pulled me inside and locked the door. "Have you ever sucked dick before, Giselle?"
"Sucked dick? What? Why?"
"Get your dick out, Brett. I want to see if she can do it."
