Ben and Moussa had been going to the college for 2 years, both in the graduate biochemistry program. They were from somewhere in the Middle East, maybe Israel, maybe Lebanon. Ben was a good looking guy about 6'1" with dark hair and a big smile, liked to talk -- in slightly accented English—and had no trouble attracting the girls. Moussa was a little shorter, well muscled, also attractive, quieter, but not really shy, just more private. They had been friends since they met in the program 2 years ago, now roommates in a nice apartment near campus for the past year. Everyone assumed that they came from wealthy families; after all, a great apartment -- hardly the style one usually associated with "starving" graduate students -- each had a car, and they dressed well. Yes, these guys were obviously not hurting for the bucks. They were known for having pretty good parties with good beer, good wine, and other things. If they were Muslims, they certainly didn't let it get in the way of a good time.
"What do you think? This Saturday?" Ben asked his roommate.
"Why not. I could use a little fun after these past weeks of being buried in books. And we've got rent to pay, Hey Ben, you know?"
"Yeah. We did pretty well in that last one. How much do we bring in?"
Moussa thought for a moment, doing a little calculation in his head. "About $1500."
"Not bad, " Ben laughed. "Let's do it. I'll get the word out."
They finished their coffee, grabbed their books and left for class.
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Sarah was a 22 year old poly-sci student in her final year at the college and thinking about what in hell she was going to do with this ridiculous major. She was from a small town in rural Virginia called Farmville, the youngest in a large traditional family.
"My parents told me to get into pre-med," she said to herself as she was walking back to her little apartment, "but I knew better. I was going to study ways to bring peace to the world. Well, short of bringing in the millennium, what am I going to do with my life? Maybe I'll just find a nice guy and let him take care of me." She sighed to herself.
For a girl as cute as she was, Sarah was fairly timid when it came to men. She remained a virgin through high school and remedied that in her sophomore year of college. In many ways, she was the proverbial small-town, traditional, nice girl. She'd had only two real boyfriends in college, but plenty of first dates. It was just that most of the guys she met were so shallow. Sarah wasn't a knockout, not a beauty queen type, but at 5'6 and 120 lbs, with long dark hair, long legs and a curvy, "provocative" figure, men did notice her. Her main problem was that she was too damned smart, running intellectual rings around most of the drones who asked her out. And she didn't want to play the game and hide her mind. If a guy wasn't up to her level, she got plain bored and quickly.
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Like most institutions of wayward learning, this university had a drug problem -- typical, fairly innocuous stuff, but thanks to the recent articles in the paper, people in the community had been complaining about it. So finally the local police officials were taking an interest. In cooperation with the campus security, they sent a man onto the campus to look for signs of "suspicious activity". He was so obviously out of place that he was spotted almost immediately: a narc, a snark, an aardvark was amongst us. And an odd vark he really was. He stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. A poster-boy for a junior G-man. He may as well as worn a sign around his neck when he walked up to a group of kids and asked if they knew where he could "score". About the only thing he scored was derisive laughter. After a few embarrassing days of this, he was pulled off. A new approach was needed.
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The head of campus security, Maurice Stans, called Sarah into his office. He had heard about her from one of her professors. Sarah was said to be smart, level-headed, conservative and definitely not involved with the drug scene.
"What do you think, Sarah? Would you be willing to do a little law enforcement work as credit for your final community service project?"
Sarah was dreading the community service boondoggle she, as a senior, would be forced to go through, so her interest was piqued.
"I don't know. What would I have to do?" She asked.
"Nothing dangerous. Just help us out with a little undercover work. We're trying to find out the source of these yellow pills that have been flooding campus."
Sarah opened her eyes a little wider. "Those little yellow ones? Yes, I've seen those around. I've even been offered them a few times." She quickly added, "I've never taken them though."
Mr. Stans further explained, "We think we know who is behind this, but we can't get close enough to verify it. And we don't want to call in the DEA or any outside agency; It's not big enough for them and could be embarrassing for us. We think we just have some students selling these happy pills, not some big time coke dealer here."
"So what can I do?" Sarah asked. "I don't know anything about it. I don't have anything to do with drugs -- except the occasional beer."
"Well," laughed Mr. Stans, "you could try to get into the social circle of our suspects and let us know what you saw. That's all. Just a little reconnaissance."
Sarah was a somewhat intrigued. "What, you want me to try to date some guys? Some guys I don't even know."
"Well, not necessarily date; they have parties, and we thought you might attend one of them and just keep your eyes open. Like I said, nothing too intense. You just have to play the part of a college girl, which you be able to do quite well, since that is what you are." He laughed.
"You mean, I'll get credit for going to a party?" She smiled, "I'm in."
Mr. Stans smiled back at her, "Good. Let me get you fully briefed, as we say."
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Ben usually took care of most of the party preparation: the beer, the food the music. Moussa took care of the "goodies" as he called the ecstasy pills that he sold. He was careful of his customers; he either had to know them well or be convinced that they were not cops or narcs. Those little yellows made for a nice lifestyle, and he wasn't going to jeopardize this by getting sloppy or greedy.
Sarah knew of Ben through her friend Cindy who had dated Ben briefly and still remained friends with him. When she asked Cindy about the party on Saturday, Cindy said she was going and asked her if she wanted to come. Trying to be coy, Sarah told her maybe, she would think about it. But Bingo! She was in.
Sarah thought about what to wear; what she wear to fit in with that crowd. Maybe something halfway between the prim missionary look and the super slut. Something fetching but no too obvious, but then again not too standoffish looking. She knew the people who went to these parties were a very casual lot: jeans and t-shirts were de rigueur for the guys. The girls usually wore jeans and t-shirts or maybe halter tops. Sarah decided to join the humdrum and wear jeans and a t-shirt. And sleeveless to add a little risqué to the ensemble. But what about the bra situation. Hmmmm. She didn't really need one. Her breasts were quite firm, and lots of girls went without unless they were too pendulous. She didn't want to appear too obviously proper. She decided on no bra. Maybe that would make her more accessible to her quarry. But the shirt would definitely not be see-through.
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At the party on Saturday, Ben was introduced by Cindy to Sarah. They spoke briefly; he gave her a beer; and then he went to the door to let in some more guests. He looked back later and saw Sarah there; she seemed to be "feeling no pain" and dancing alone. No one had yet asked her to dance; Cindy was busy with some guy; she didn't know anyone else here, so she danced by herself. He noticed that she had very nice breasts -- not very large -- but firm and high, bouncing a little when she danced. She was obviously not wearing a bra under her shirt. She was poking through distinctly. Ben thought she looked interesting, good possibilities here. But Sarah wasn't thinking of Ben as a possible date. She as ever aware of her mission at this party -- Ben and Moussa were the suspects after all. Now was time for her move. Sarah saw Moussa not too far away and walked up to him.
"Hey, how's it going? You're Ben's roommate, right? I'm Sarah, a friend of Cindy's."
He looked her over and said, "Hello. I'm Moussa. Welcome to our humble pad. What's going on Sarah, friend of Cindy's?"
Sarah laughed and said, "Like everyone else, I'm just here for the free grub and suds."
They talked for a few minutes, loudly, over the music. Sarah thought Moussa was nice, kinda cute -- for a drug dealer. Well, a suspected drug dealer anyway. She was beginning to get into her role as double agent or whatever she was supposed to be. This was fun. And much better than some community service drudgery. So Sarah the undercover agent sprang into action, but tried to do it casually, offhandedly, subtlety.
"You know, Moussa, I've been really tense lately what with grade pressures and all; so would you ... ummm... guys have anything that might relax me a little?"
Moussa laughed and said, "We have beer. Could I get you a cold, relaxing beer?"
Sarah smiled at him coyly and answered, "I was hoping for something a little less... liquid, if you know what I mean. What are those little yellow jobs I've been seeing around."
"I don't really know, Sarah."
Moussa looked at her and thought, "Something is a little fishy with this one. She's just a little too cute. And doesn't seem the usual type to be interested in our stash." Sarah seemed to him to be too overt for a first meeting.
He grinned at her and said, "Let me see what I can do about relaxing you. Let me talk to my guy Ben. See him over there. The tall, dark one, not as handsome as me of course, but a good guy."
