The wheels of a rolling chair scuffed against the floor in her dorm room. Turning her attention away from her desk and her makeup mirror, Amanda stared at the clothes on her bed for a few seconds, shook her head, and sighed.
Amanda had been, in a word, incredulous.
It wasn't that she didn't find the outfit that laid there to be sexy. If it was anything, it was that, even above being what she would call a costume. All that it consisted of was a microskirt that she was sure wouldn't be able to cover the entirety of her rear end, and a piece of cloth that might have been a shirt if she squinted at it, but the more she looked at it, the more she doubted it. The underwear she was wearing, red lace in the very case that she got lucky tonight, was less revealing than the outfit that she had been given by him; her tank top obsoleted the shirt.
Amanda understood that this was supposed to be a college frat party. It was the perfect time for her to let loose, to forget about the incredibly rigid standards her parents had set for her; it was a place where showing skin was paramount, but even wanting to escape from the stresses of her life, this was going too far for her. It felt exhibitionistic in all the wrong ways. To have chosen it herself would have been one thing, but to have someone pick it out for her was what put it over the edge for her. It felt wrong.
Pulling her attention away from her thoughts, her phone buzzed against her dorm desk. She saw her phone screen light up, and it was from James.
Are you excited for tonight's party?
Amanda let out a small huff. As much as she wanted to thank James for bringing this party to her attention and giving her the much needed post-midterm relief she sought, it was the one message from him in their conversations since he brought it up that didn't hold that mildly repellant yet wholly intangible vibe that radiated from his messages. She couldn't bring herself to scroll up the messages, the flurry of texts much more green than they were grey, but even the messages above held this kind of gross current to them.
You should go as a schoolgirl.
I'll give you the outfit. Promise.
And give her the outfit he did. This miserable excuse for an outfit was entirely his design. The only aspect of it which was any bit interesting was the glasses, which were beside her phone on the desk. At least those could be useful. She wished that he was able to read the disinterest in the messages that she sent, and that every solitary 'k' was a request to leave her alone; regardless, he was able to get it into her hands through campus mail and a messaged dorm number.
It would have been one thing if she knew James; she did know him, but only as a fellow student that shared the same Biology class in their first term of college together. She only had his number because they were a part of the same study group, one that James had pushed to make himself, consisting of himself, her, and a few other people. Compared to how many texts he had sent her, he practically didn't even exist in the group chat, leaving the others to make it into a personalized hodgepodge of test answers and biology memes. It felt like an excuse to get to know her better by barging into her personal space, and the texts he sent regarding the party felt like a recapitulation of that bullshit.
Rolling her eyes, she gave yet another disinterested reply; as much as she didn't want to deal with him, she knew that being quiet would mean that she was out of a ride for the party.
yea
Almost immediately, her phone buzzed in her hands; it was another message from James.
Great! I'm on my way ;)
Amanda put her phone down, feeling the slightest need to grab her hand sanitizer. There was that vibe again.
And looking at the outfit on the mattress, barely breaking up the floral pattern on her sheets, she felt it once again, a dawning realization as to why he had been so adamant on having her dress up as a schoolgirl and have her wearing something that worked more for a porno than a frat party. He didn't even have the respect to make sure the outfit worked; the big ribbon looked straight out of something from an anime. She reached as far as she could and picked up the clothes, keeping them as far away from her as she could before putting them in the trash. She knew that she could cobble something together that was better than that ill-informed disaster.
Opening her closet, she already found what she was looking for.
Numerous business-related meetings and interviews had already supplied her with all the clothes that she could have possibly wanted for her outfit. Sets of blazers and pencil skirts she kept in her closet made only choosing which would look best on her for the night difficult, in various different colors and makes. She chose a black polyester set, one that she remembered getting long ago back in high school.
Putting it on, it was tight, but not too bad. Keeping a few buttons undone on her blazer, she noted the peeking white of her low-cut tank top, the slightest bit of edge to remind her that this was for a costume party instead of an interview. Even with the peeking cloth, it was also too tight for any other occasion, hugging her curves just enough to provoke but not enough to cause discomfort. Her skirt was much the same; while it hadn't been the miniskirt that James requested she wore, it barely covered her thighs; the pair of black sheer leggings she wore did the job better and only went up to her mid-thigh, and even then there was a peek of uncovered, tawny Korean thigh when paired with her heels.
This might not have been the costume that James had in mind, but Amanda certainly liked it a lot more. Bringing a finger to the bridge of her nose, she adjusted her glasses--the one thing James got her that she actually wore--, surprised that she could see out of them perfectly.
Her lips curled up into a bright red-lacquered smile. She could feel herself wanting to grab the ruler on her desk and smacking it against the wall as if it were a blackboard. It didn't hurt that "Doctor Cho" had such a nice ring to it, especially as she said it aloud to herself, even if it did elicit the slightest of giggles. Bringing her hands to the back of her head, she quickly pulled her thick black locks into a tight bun that rested on top of her head. Her smile grew more; it looked like she was about to get tenure, and she hadn't even finished her bachelor's degree yet.
Although it was conservative, it was definitely better than looking like a character out of a porno.
She rolled her shoulders as much as she could with her outfit on, testing the limits of her range of motion, and turned her body slightly, giving herself one final once-over. She smiled at herself as she struck a slight pose, sticking one of her legs in front of the other and bringing her hand to her glasses, as if she were a teacher who had been informed of something and had to pivot to it immediately. It gave her a sense of power and control, one that made her cheeks flush a slight bit more pink than her blush.
This was going to be a fun party, she could already tell.
