It was the first day of summer classes, a scorching, bloody hot June afternoon, and Lindsay found herself in a large hall, in the middle of some hundred and fifty or so students. It was summer, and she was at home, so she was taking a couple classes at the local community college. The professor droned through the syllabus, reading the damn thing to the students. Hipsters and nerds alike were falling asleep. A paper airplane lazily floated through the hot humid air. Everyone was sweating.
The girl sitting next to Lindsay started talking, and Lindsay turned in her seat and looked at her. She was sitting next to a guy. They looked like cousins. She started talking to the girl. They were both really hot, sweating. Lindsay started feeling a little uncomfortable, as she was wearing a thin white tank top over a lacy white bra, which her sweat had made clearly visible. She felt as though she was being stared at, although the idea that the person staring was, in fact, lusting after her, made her warm up even more, almost too much, but it had also suddenly made her pussy come to life, and she soaked the thong she was wearing beneath her little black skirt.
"Why doesn't someone turn on the fucking air conditioning already?" the girl next to Lindsay said out loud. People around them were in agreement, but the professor, way down in front, gave no notice that he even realized people were talking in his class. He continued with the reading of the syllabus. "It's too fucking hot in here," the girl said. "Do you wanna get out of here? He's just gonna read the fucking syllabus. I can fucking read. I want to get high, let's go."
Lindsay's ears perked up. She didn't want to be in class either. Almost as if the girl knew, she said: "hey, what's your name?"
"I'm Lindsay."
"I'm Amber. Wanna get out of here, get high, watch a movie or something? My brother here has some amazing pot," she said, leaning very close to Lindsay's ear and whispering.
"I'm Logan," Amber's brother said. "We're gonna blow this joint, wanna come?"
"I'd love to," Lindsay said. They stood up and got out of the auditorium. It was just as hot outside. Logan and Amber led Lindsay to Logan's car, an old convertible, the top already down, and they hopped in, Logan in the driver's seat, and Amber and Lindsay sat in the back seat.
Logan pulled back out of the parking spot, and stopped, as Amber lit up a joint, and then Logan took off, flying out of the parking lot, tires squealing on the pavement as he turned onto the road in front of the community college. He drove through red lights and in between cars, twenty, thirty miles over the speed limit, and Lindsay knew right away that all of this had been a terrible mistake. She had been sweating in class, but now she had broken out in a cold sweat. Amber handed her the joint and she took a big, long hit from it, but that only served to further her paranoia.
The second hit, however, helped her calm down a bit.
