This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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The foyer to the administration building seemed much more imposing and solemn in the light of day than it had been on Sunday night. The polished floors gleamed brightly in the early afternoon sun that streamed in through towering Victorian-style arched windows. And there, standing motionless in the center of the foyer, was the statue of the woman holding the spear.
Amy's eyes were drawn to her again. She was beautiful and strong. But there was also something undeniably arousing about her. Perhaps it was the way the sculptor had captured the shape of her curves beneath the flowing, marble fabric of her tunic. Or maybe it was how her slender, supple fingers grasped the spear...
"Geesh, take a picture, why dontcha?" Stacy said, noticing Amy's fixation. "The registrar's office is this way. C'mon!"
Stacy led Amy up the spiral staircase behind the statue and up to a balcony of sorts. Beyond this balcony were a number of offices tucked away from prying eyes.
"Hello!" Stacy exclaimed as she entered one such office. "I am hoping you can help me and my friend here."
The young woman sitting behind the desk looked up from behind a pair of bright green, retro-style, horn-rimmed glasses. Her hair was bobbed short and dyed almost the same green as her glasses.
"And I would be happy to help," she said with a smile that was even wider and more sincere than Stacy's. If that was even possible. "Just give me one second," the woman said as she turned back to her computer screen, "This day has been absolutely cray-cray."
Both Stacy and Amy had took note of the woman's name plate that was sitting prominently on her desk: 'Marni Ross, Registrar.'
Marni was a wispy, thin woman, most likely in her late 20s, who, despite dressing like she had stepped out of a 1960s sitcom, sported a number of tattoos on both arms and had a rather large tongue piercing. Clearly, the woman enjoyed being a walking juxtaposition.
"Really?" Stacy said, "Do tell, Ms. Ross. We love cray-cray!"
This made the woman laugh and peer over her glasses at the both of them.
"I just bet," she said. She punched the return button on her keyboard and turned her full attention to the two girls. "Now, how about instead you tell me what brings you here today?"
"We are looking for a student," Amy began, "One who works here, in your office. Aimee Archer."
Marni leaned back in her chair and narrowed her gaze on Amy.
"I'm sorry, who?"
"Aimee Archer. About this tall, has a round face, wears really big glasses?"
"And she told you she works here? In my office?"
"Yes."
"I hate to disappoint you, Miss...?"
"Schiffer. Amy Schiffer."
"Miss Schiffer, but students are not allowed to work in the registrar's office. It violates, like, a whole bunch of laws or something."
"What?"
"I am afraid this person you are looking for lied to you. Again, I am sorry."
Amy stood there, stunned. She had not expected this outcome. She had no idea what to do next.
"So, Marni," Stacy said, "Could you maybe look this girl up on your computer, tell us where we can find her, you know, give us her class schedule or her room assignment?"
"I could, but then we'd be back to me violating a whole bunch of other laws. And as adorably cute as the two of you are, I am not about to lose my job. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, I think we're done," Stacy said, "Thank you!"
Stacy grabbed Amy's hand and dragged her out of the office.
"Listen, the computer system they use at this school is all web-based and really easy to navigate," Stacy began, "I'm sure once I get in there I can find this Aimee Archer in the student registry."
"What are you talking about?" Amy asked incredulously. "Are you saying you're just gonna sneak in there while she's not looking and hack her computer?"
"Obviously not," Stacy said, "I mean she's right there. She'd see me!"
"Then what exactly are you suggesting?"
"You get her out of that office."
"And how the hell do I do that?"
"Please," Stacy said as seriously as she could, "The woman was practically begging you to fuck her."
"What!? Oh my God! You're insane!"
"And you're in denial. I am telling you, you can get her to follow you into that restroom. Keep her busy for, I don't know, fifteen minutes or so. I'll slip in, type, type, type, enter, enter, enter and bingo! We find your Aimee Archer."
Amy stared at Stacy. The girl was serious.
"Look," Amy said at last, "If I do this, and I am not saying I will, we need something better than 'fifteen minutes or so.'"
"Good point," Stacy whipped out her phone, "I'll text you when I'm done."
Amy followed suit, pulling out her own phone, "And I'll text you when this whole scheme falls apart because I won't be able to keep her in that restroom longer than it takes for her to figure out I'm a fucking idiot!"
"Great!" Stacy said, "We got a plan!"
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The registrar watched as the two girls left her office. She had to shake herself to stop thinking the thoughts that she was thinking. Marni had identified as a lesbian from an early age, and, though working at Franklin College was a dream job, there were times when the temptation was a bit too much. Under no circumstance were faculty and staff permitted to engage in sexual relations with any current student of Franklin College. President Bane had made this abundantly clear to her when she hired her. Failure to comply with this bright-line prohibition would result in immediate termination. President Bane had even made that point to the entire college last year when she fired an English faculty member for innocently kissing a student's forehead.
