The long, cold, windy, gray, sniffle-inducing winter trudged onward. Punxsutawney Phil had predicted another six weeks of winter, yet these six weeks seemed to be dragging onward. As she forced her feet through the snow on the unshoveled and unsalted sidewalks, as her breath was blown by the icy wind passing before her face, she shifted the backpack on her shoulder, wishing that she had chosen a different major just so that she was not carrying so many heavy books to and from campus each day.
Passing the small park at the center of the student neighborhood, she saw a few young teenagers building a snowman. At least that was appropriate for the weather, and there was definitely plenty of snow to be used in building a snowman – or a snow fort, as some older teenagers were doing on the far side of the block-sized park.
She thought of the snowman again, and returned her attention to the first group to watch as they lifted the large snowball which would form the snowman's head. It reminded her of that morning, when she had passed by the Humanities building on campus and laughed that someone – apparently during the night – had made an anatomically-correct snowman. Even stranger, the socially-unacceptable snowman was still there that afternoon, still standing just off the sidewalk near the front door of the building, so apparently the campus police thought it was amusing as well.
But then she sneezed. With a sigh, she hurried back to her apartment as quickly as she dared on the unsalted and unshoveled sidewalks.
*****
Despite the cold winter winds icing the sleepy suburb, she was completely nude as she slipped underneath the covers. She had long preferred sleeping in the nude, and had done so almost every night since moving from the dorms to the apartment complex – the only exceptions were during her period and during her little sister's visit around Halloween.
From the laptop in the living room, music softly reached her ears, as usual. She turned off the bedside lamp and, feeling a little frisky that night, she began to fondle herself. She thought of her former roommate's touches and tried to emulate them as best as she could, but there was no way that she could mimic the Spaniard's alluring accent while whispering naughty thoughts into her ear. She thought of Ben and his large hands, but she could not fit as much of each breast into her small palms. As the soft music became interspersed with the sounds of a woman having sex, she thought of Trey and his incredible girth, remembering how he had stretched her throughout their ungentle entanglement in the living room of the frat house while friends and strangers alike sottishly cheered their performance.
Without the cover of the din of a drunken crowd in a small space, she tried to keep quiet, but the memories of the weekend's wild party tipped her over the edge and set her voice free. As her chest heaved in the dark, as the reality of what had just happened swirled around within her skull, she realized that she had just given her neighbors a "radio show," and even though no one could see her, she turned over, burying her face in a pillow as she blushed, yet the memories of the frat party and the continued sounds of ecstasy set to music followed her into slumber.
*****
She opened her eyes to two sounds.
The first was not a surprising sound, given that she lived in a mostly-students apartment complex: the sound of a bed continually smacking against a wall while a guy grunted and a coed moaned. She envisioned that the guy was over the coed, driving himself deep and somewhat forcefully over her while she clutched at his upper back, keeping her legs spread as far apart as possible to give him the best possible access to her body.
