Chapter 3: New Goals Calibrating
Disclaimer:::: This chapter turned into a giant tease, so... I'm sorry? Also skip part 2 if you're against pee/ watersports.
Cassie smoothed out her skirt and adjusted her crop top, butterflies all in her stomach. The girl sitting in the mirror was nothing like the preppy overachiever she was used to seeing.
I can't actually go out like this, can I?
The skirt ended just above her knee, and even sitting with her knees touching she could her panties. But her eyes kept drifting back to the word 'jealousy' written in white across her chest.
I can't actually wear this outside.
She opened her legs and leaned back on the bed.
Uhg, I want someone to push me down... How about I just wear the top? I've got black workout tights that will go with it. I kinda want, like, a choker to go with this. I'll order one later tonight. Definitely painting my nails white, though. Oh and what about a naval piercing?
She spread her legs, knowing she wasn't going to wear the skirt to class and day dreamed about Mia seeing her in this.
It had been a week since Cassie's talk with Mr. Kim, and she'd diligently finished listening to the new Mindfulness audios every night. Sometimes she'd change it up and listen to an older one, just for a different calming soundtrack while she studied or got ready for bed. On the floor of her room were a bunch of new fashion magazines (wearing a lot less clothing) that she used to decide which new fits to order. Everything was so expensive, though.
And she needed to choose her major...
"Dad?" Cassie came down the stairs after noticing the time, minus the skirt, and saw him with his head in his hands at the dinner table, bills covering the tabletop. A total mood killer.
"Not now, Cassie. Shouldn't you be at school?"
"I'm going," she said, a little annoyed. The distress on his face brought her back to feeling juvenile: unable to help, or even ask to help. Just a dumb kid.
He turned before she left and grabbed her wrist, noticing her crop top, she guessed, for the first time. They both knew he had no say in the matter, though. So instead of complaining, he rubbed his stubble and reminded her to submit her university applications before the deadline. She accepted.
But I have no idea what I'm trying to become.
"You're smart, squirt. Just follow your interests."
She rolled her eyes and left for class.
Don't call me squirt... it's inappropriate now.
In class Cassie spaced out imagining her future as the guys next to her spaced out staring at her chest. It was 9 am, and she was nibbling on the tip of her pen while her teacher droned on about Pavlov's Dog.
Maybe I could be a therapist?
Wearing pencil skirts and stockings while holding a clipboard sounded fun. A receptionist did that too, though, didn't they? And they didn't have to work as hard.
And they had a boss ordering them around.
Would I want a male boss or a female boss?
"Miss Berg, would you mind giving the class your thoughts?"
My thoughts?
Cassie scrambled to recall what the teacher was talking about and form a reasonable non-answer when a wave of anxiety hit her. Suddenly for whatever reason Cassie was so nervous she could barely talk. 'Uhm, uhm, uhm...' She also felt compelled not to just give up and apologize, but answer her instructor. Eyes squeezed together, she replied: "If I'd want a male or female boss..."
Someone chuckled, most of the class cringed.
"Right, well that's not what we're talking about is it? I expected more from you, Cassie. Would anyone else like to guess what Pavlov applied this experiment to?"
Cassie turned bright right and slouched down into her books. A text vibrated her purse.
(M) do you still want your reward slut?
(C) Yes please.
(M) its literally miss or mam or captain. Why is that so hard?
Nvm you'll learn later
I convinced my boyfriend you could be fun
Come over friday night
Don't come over looking like a teenager
Be hot for once perv
Cassie's breathing quickened.
I mean, yeah, obviously she has a boyfriend.
Why did she think otherwise? She'd been with a guy when they went to the theaters — obviously. Cassie exhaled. It still stung, but it also wasn't like she could just rewind her emotions and stop being excited to see Mia. Carefully, she re-read the texts and replied: "Yes, captain."
There was a problem, though. Her bank account was literally in the double digits. She had the outfit, sure (if she was brave enough to wear the skirt). But Mia's fashion sense included the whole package. Cassie needed jewelry, accessories, the right heels, the right make-up. She'd need a miracle to come up with that kind of money so fast, and it wasn't like her dad was loaded.
Who has that kind of cash?
Mr. Kim. That golden trophy sitting in his office. I could... steal it.
Now that was an idea! And stealing from Mr. Kim in particular was even more so. He was just so perfect to steal from? From others, it would feel wrong, but from Mr. Kim it just made sense. Why did he deserve to have stuff and not someone from the actual swim team? He was probably already paid well enough; whatever she took from his office wouldn't even be noticed. Well, a trophy is a display piece. She'd have to replace it with a plastic one or something.
Like a cat burglar.
Cassie felt goose-bumps across her bare stomach and rubbed her thighs together.
Who's going to suspect me? If he's dumb enough to just leave it in his office, he doesn't need it at all.
After class, Cassie was so fascinated by the idea she stopped by the dollar store and bought a plastic look-alike of the trophy in Mr. Kim's office. It was identical. Totally stock-standard.
In the store, however, she was definitely attracting more attention with her croptop than normal. Eyes lingered from both men and women, but somehow women were more brazen about it.
Jealous?
She smirked and hummed Karma while flirting with the idea of stealing a candy bar.
I'm kind of bad, aren't I?
At the register the clerk was a middle-aged, balding white dude who couldn't help himself from taking a glance at her cleavage after each item. Cassie soaked up the attention and grabbed her wrists behind her back, bouncing up and down absentmindedly.
