Scott's apartment was quiet when he walked inside. That was no surprise—a college guy's apartment was a dead and silent place at 7:30 in the morning. His one early-bird roommate was out the door by 6:30, and the rest of them didn't believe in morning hours in the single digits.
Scott stumbled a little through the darkness until he found his room. He closed the door firmly behind him, and fell on the bed without undressing.
He was in that same position when his phone alarm went off three hours later.
Scott jerked awake, wiping drool from his face and checking the time. His first class that day was in 40 minutes.
"Hell with that," he said, sinking back down. Erika had kept him up most of the night, and then kicked him out early. He let his eyes drift closed again. He'd be okay missing this class one time. After all, half the reason he took it was...
Scott's eyes shot open, and he jerked upright. He yanked out his phone again, and stared at the app he now had shortcutted on his home screen:
RG. The Relationship Game.
Scott felt a small thrill go down the skin of his back and a stirring in his pants. "No way I'm missing that class today," he grinned. "Not when I've got this."
He immediately slid off the bed and got to the floor, digging around a bit until he pulled out his backpack. More rooting with a hand produced a couple of textbooks and his power bank. He opened his bag, replaced some of the books that were in there with the new ones, and zipped it shut. Then he plugged his phone into his charger, just to be safe, and took a quick whiff of himself. He smelled... he smelled...
He smelled like sex.
Not the worst smell in the world, but it could be off-putting to certain people in certain circumstances. So he quickly stripped down, dumped his clothes in a laundry bag, grabbed his bathrobe, and headed for the shower. Thankfully, no one was using it (for once), and he got in a lightning-fast five minute scrub before he rushed, dripping, back to his room, paused, rushed back to the bathroom to put on deodorant, ran back to his room, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, and put a stick of minty gum in his mouth.
He grabbed his bag and phone, checking the time. He still had 20 minutes, and class was a fifteen minute walk away.
Alan strode outside with a grin on his face and a semi in his pants.
***
The Brian Lancaster Language and Reason Building ("the Blurb") wasn't the college's largest. It was a little older: brick and squat where most of the newer ones were glassy and tall, and tucked in to the corner of the southeast end of campus. The inside was also more cramped and winding, with brown walls and grey floors and odd smells. It wasn't exactly a gem.
Scott slid through the glass outer doors and immediately made a right, heading down a flight of steps with a nicely polished but slightly shaky handrail, and down the hallway a ways until he got to a set of double doors. He pushed inside.
The room that held his class was just barely large enough to be called an auditorium. It had the tiered seating, but held probably only about 60 seats. The seats were the permanent, fold-down kind that had cushions with a comfort level slightly less than a theater seat but just a smidge better than a church pew. Its location in the basement kept it at a just slightly cool temperature year round.
Usually, Scott would have ensconced himself somewhere in the middle a few rows from the back, but this time he chose a seat just a couple rows from the front, on the left side. There were already a few others dotting the seats, including one or two girls that he might have paid more attention to were this another class. Others were rapidly streaming in. He settled in the seat, unzipped his backpack, and pulled out his folder for this class.
Japanese 100: Introduction to Language and Culture. It was a two credit class intended to give students a chance to sample what it might be like to take a real Japanese language or history course. It was a trap: just easy and fun enough to fool you into taking a deeper dive to succeeding classes that no doubt jumped the difficulty up to Super Hard half the semester in, and by then you'd invested time, money, and credits into it. Scott had been fully aware of this when he scoped out the class. As long as you knew it was a trap, you wouldn't fall for it, and get easy language credits.
He'd come for the credits, but stayed for the instructor.
On cue, the side door of the auditorium opened, and she walked in.
"Minna-san, ohayou gozaimasu," Lydia Sato smiled. That smile was so cute, the students couldn't help but given her an enthusiastic, "Ohayou gozaimasu!" in return.
Lydia, or as she prefered with her students, Sato-sensei, wasn't even a year out of grad school. Her nose was a tiny button, and her hair was a gorgeous flowing wave of blue-black. She always wore bright lipsticks, mostly pink or red, but otherwise only used subtle hints of makeup: dark, perfect arcs of eyeliner and only the tiniest hint of foundation. Really, she didn't need it much.
"I hope you all had a great weekend," she continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement in a way that put kittens and puppies to shame. "We have plenty of things lined up for class today, though, so we better get cracking."
She had the eye of every heterosexual male and most of the females from both sides of the fence as she turned and started to write on the chalkboard. She made an adorable little straining sound as she stretched to write as high as she could. Scott leaned in to watch.
Lydia wasn't just cute. She always wore very reserved business suits and dresses, except for the occasionally slightly short skirt that showed off pale legs that looked superhumanly smooth. But you could just tell, from glimpses and slight movements, that her stodgy wardrobe was attempting to hide a small but incredibly tight ass, a tiny waist, and a pair of tits that were about a size larger than you normally see on her body type. Whether they were real or not was a hotly debated topic.
And Scott intended to find out.
As Lydia continued to write, pausing occasionally to talk in detail on the plan for the lesson, Scott pulled out his phone and missed the little "RG" icon twice in his excitement. Once he'd managed to thumb it, the Relationship Game booted up, and he set the filter to Proximity. Sure enough, his screen grew crowded with names of students around him. But he was close enough it only took a bit of scrolling to find "Lydia Yue Sato" among them.
