I flipped through my test. There were three questions and nine blank pages for calculations. The first question of my Thermodynamics test pertained to a Carnot engine. It'd take some time to set up the problem, but I could do it. The second question was pure calculation—lots of them. It involved a black box, three thermal bodies, enthalpy and entropy. It'd be easy enough, if I didn't make a stupid calculator error, but it'd take a lot of time. I only had an hour.
The last question was simple. Other than the values, the problem was straight out of one of our homework assignments. I'd done the problem, while studying, at least thirty times in the past week. I started with the last one first.
Seven minutes and a page and a half of scribbled calculations later, I was done. The answer felt right, but if I had time I'd come back later and check my math. Fat fingering the calculator was a curse, one that'd bitten me multiple times in my college career. I pushed my dark, flat ironed tresses, behind my ear and flipped back to the first problem on the test.
I had to draw the Carnot engine described in the problem. I wasn't sure why, but if I could see it, setting up the math was easier. Still, I crossed out my first two attempts at writing the equation and then modified my third. Finally happy with my starting point, I started computing. Sometimes I had to go backwards, crossing out my work when I took it in a wrong direction, but twenty minutes later I had an answer that felt designed. Professor Ward liked nice round numbers with only three significant digits and the fact that I had gotten one, told me that I was correct.
Well, at least I'd get a thirty-three and a third percent on my test. If I'd gotten question three one-hundred percent correct I was rocking a solid D on my test. I hastily flipped to the second question—my last. Anxiety skittered over my nerves. What if I hadn't gotten question three correct?
I spared a quick glance around the room. The auditorium was filled with men and the occasional women. Just like me all of us were furtively glancing at the clock while we scribbled furiously. Only Shannon, in the front row, looked calm. The blond bomb had it all—rich parents, runway looks, a supercomputer for a brain and Gucci. She was working through her test at an almost leisurely pace. I wanted to hate the biotch, but I couldn't. Shannon was nice.
And a friend.
A woman in engineering.
We girls
needed
to stick together.
My gaze dropped back to my test and I scribbled out the nine frickin' equations I'd need to solve the problem. I glanced at the clock once more. My nerves electrified. There was no way I could finish in time. I tried to work but I was stressed and starting to make mistakes.
I glanced about me. Nothing had changed, except the clock. Everyone was in a race that no one could win. No one I could see was looking at me. I didn't dare check the three rows behind me. Professor Ward took cheating seriously.
I moved my left elbow off my chair's folding "desk" and dropped my hand between my thighs. My breath hitched as anticipation fired my nerves. My body knew what I was doing and in the past few days, I'd become conditioned. I'd not yet done this someplace so public but I had to release this stress and Todd had given me a way to do it.
I fished my hand under the hem of my sweater. It was a white, knit, fall of the shoulder type that looked really good with my dark hair and the black strap of my bra. It was long enough it could almost be a dress. Not that I ever wore it as one, I didn't usually like my girly bits playing peek-a-boo. For the occasions when I was into that, I had other clothes that served the purpose better.
I uncrossed my legs. I slid a finger up the juncture of my thighs. My fleece lined stretchy pants made things a little more ambiguous than when I was wearing jeans—or a skirt—but I found the lover buzzer at the apex of my crease and pushed.
A warm, liquid wave rolled through me. Anxiety sizzled like drenched embers as the wave passed over me before it and the anxiety drained away. My muscles slackened. My nerves relaxed. I bit my lip to hold back my contented sigh.
Oh-em-gee that felt good. Too good. Another tension filled me. My legs trembled and I willed myself to not-clench. A trickle of heat wormed its way through my core. My bra was suddenly abrasive against my nipples.
Through the fabric of my pants, my finger circled my love buzzer clockwise, once, twice, three times. I switched direction.
Pleasure detonated in my clit. Heat coalesced in my core and everything below my bellybutton liquefied. I must've made a sound, because both my neighbors flicked their gaze my way. I brought my hand back up to my desk. It was trembling. I was trembling. I started writing.
I hadn't come—God I wanted to—but oh-em-gee that had felt good. Now instead of anxiety all I felt was the desire to be stuffed.
Apparently thoughts of dick were conducive to thermodynamics. Not only was the dewpoint in my panties increasing, but ten percent of my brain screamed through my test while the other ninety percent fantasized about Todd's King Kong dick.
I finished before pencils-down. I had enough time to spend three minutes checking my math on problem three. Per Professor Ward's instructions, we passed our tests left. I was horribly tempting, but I didn't sneak a peek at the other tests that passed through my hands. A TA collected our tests and we were dismissed.
Shannon was waiting for me outside the lecture hall. Her Prada boots fell into step with my cheap knock-offs.
"How'd you do?" she asked.
"I failed." There was no way I'd solved that last problem while I'd had dick on my brain. My girly bits were still simmering with lingering heat.
"Girl,
you
did not fail."
"Yeah, okay, D, maybe." I was pretty sure I'd gotten the first and last problems correct. Partial credit might earn me a C.
Shannon laughed. It was a bright, sunny sound. We stepped outside and I briefly wondered if my panties would freeze. It was that cold outside and I was pretty sure I'd made them wet.
"If you got a D, it'd be your first ever."
That was true.
"Shit, if you got a B, it'd be your first ever. Laura, you fuckin' aced the test. I was trying to figure out if you'd somehow found a way to earn extra credit, because I know you did."
Had I said I wanted to hate this biotch, because I think I loved her—Vince cashmere coat or not. "I was distracted."
"Well, duh, you're dating Todd."
I blushed so hard I couldn't feel the February wind-chill while we descended the steps of Brigham Hall. Shannon plucked my gloved hand from my side and tugged me towards the quad. "I'm cold. Let's get coffee."
"What does me dating Todd have to do with anything?" Was I dating Todd? I mean, we hooked up all the time. Shit, we'd had two booty calls last weekend but we hadn't dated dated—unless the parties, dinners with friends, lunches, coffee breaks, movies and study sessions counted as dates. I mean, no one had called them dates. Had we been dating?
Shannon looked up at me. She wasn't short, but at five eleven plus, I bordered on freakishly tall...for a woman. She rolled her eyes so hard she should've sprained a muscle. "That man's dick is magic. No woman, no straight woman, can fall in bed with that and then not think about it every remaining second of her waking life."
What? How? Chlorine gas filled my lungs. Now I did hate her. Shannon had no right to know that. A slurry of enriched uranium had replaced my blood.
Shannon's summer sky eyes widened. Then she laughed. She hid her face from me but the giggles kept coming.
"
What
?" The word came out snippy and full of venom. I wasn't thinking about my test anymore.
"That look on your face." She continued to giggle. "I think you wanted to murder me."
I fuckin' did. My emotions were all over the place. I wasn't usually like this. I did a mental check. I had another week and a half before not-fun set in. I didn't
feel
like I was early.
She patted my arm with one knit glove. It looked like any other knit glove. Knowing her it was probably Gucci. "
Relax
. I'm not into him anymore and even if I was, I'm not competition."
