9 comments/ 33788 views/ 7 favorites Shell Game By: Ironiclaconic Halloween "You can't win a shell game." The upperclassman spoke with an air of authority, but Courtney thought it was undercut by the presence of a giant inflated condom on his head. He was instilling his undoubtedly hard-earned wisdom on a blonde freshman, who was either as dumb as she looked, or a hell of an actress. Courtney thought the former. Courtney herself had gone blonde her first year in college, playing the ditz for a few months just to broaden her repertoire. She had discovered that no matter how dumb she acted, men took it as a challenge to outdo her in feats of stupidity, resulting in a race to the intellectual bottom. Playing the dumb blonde was exhausting, and she had soon switched back to her natural auburn. College is about discovering yourself, and Courtney knew she could not bear to go through life playing dumb. "Why not?" the blonde asked. "I can follow the shell even from here." She brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at her would-be mentor, and pointed toward the fake-walnut shells being manipulated around the table by the operator -- a skinny runt of a man, looking like a street-smart con man who decided to come to a costume party dressed as a street-smart con man. Courtney could barely breathe in her corset, and the glittering mask and makeup made her skin itch. Trav had the air conditioning at full blast, but with a houseful of costumed inebriates, the temperature was suffocating her. She needed air, or she needed someone to rip the corset off her body. Preferably both, she thought. "That's what you are supposed to think," the upperclassman explained with more condescension than Courtney thought was warranted, "but the operator is a con artist. The ball is wherever the operator wants it to be after you choose. Either the ball is palmed, or he drops a spare under a shell you didn't pick. You can't win." Courtney's impatience added to her sense of suffocation. Where was he? "At the Halloween party tomorrow," Michelle had said yesterday, "our boyfriends plan on switching costumes without telling us. Mike is going to try to fuck you, and Trav is coming after me." She had spent the last day devising her plan. Her suitor wouldn't see this coming, but Courtney was discomfited that she hadn't seen their move coming even earlier. It should have been obvious that Mike would escalate after the Phantom of the Opera. --- Three Weeks Earlier "Dude, you know what would make this a better horror movie?" Mike watched as the Phantom stalked across the screen to the accompaniment of plinking piano music. Courtney had been digging her fingernails into her forearm to keep from nodding off, but her ears sensed an impending tirade, which she felt would ease the monotony of Trav's movie-night borefest. Trav ignored Mike, which was fine with Mike as he preferred to answer his own questions anyway. If you asked him why, he would say it made for better dialogue -- daring you to point out that a dialogue required two people. If you rose to the challenge, he would reply that he needed a second person to listen while making him a sandwich. Mike was very fond of telling people to make him a sandwich. "Do you know what would make this a better horror movie?" Mike repeated. "Actual horror. You know, like if the Phantom took a knife and started slashing the shit out of people, or if that underwater river of his gets oil poured on it, started on fire, and burns everyone alive. Instead, he tries to kill by chandelier, which has to be the gayest murder weapon ever." The only response from Trav was a flash of a vacant smile that indicated he wasn't really listening, caught up as he was in a cineaste paradise of monochrome and mime. Mike hated being ignored. "It would at least be slightly scary if he jumped up and yelled 'boo', but he would have to do it holding a title card because... it's a Silent! Fucking!! Movie!!!" Courtney covered her face and coughed to cover the laugh, but knew she couldn't leave it at that. She was Trav's girlfriend. Even though the film was like watching a glacier melt in slow motion, she knew it was her role to defend Trav. He would never do it himself, and he might otherwise notice that she was as bored out of her skull as Mike was, which wouldn't do. She had invested too much time into pretending to like Trav's hobbies to throw it away now, so her voice rose in feigned annoyance. "You chose American Psycho, Travis chose this. Now shush." Mike glared at her, but bit his tongue to ward off the verbal rejoinder. Mike knew that Trav might be gutless when it came to defending himself, but he had enough chivalry to defend the honor of his girlfriend. Courtney's behavior couldn't go unpunished, however, so Mike redirected it somewhere safe. "Michelle, make me a sandwich. Ham and Swiss on white. No mustard." Michelle had been as engrossed in the film as Trav, but silently rose and walked to the kitchen. Michelle's blonde locks used to bounce when she walked, but the bounce disappeared from her step last spring, around the time she started dating Mike. Mike's lips parted in a mocking smile, and he challenged Courtney with his eyes while Michelle obeyed his orders. To add imaginary insult to the imaginary injury he thought he had inflicted, he sucked down his bottle of beer, then obscenely tongued the opening, never breaking eye contact with her. He then called after Michelle. "And another Summit!" The sexism was supposed to annoy her, so she pretended it did, scowling back at Mike. If Mike wasted his time pushing non-existent buttons, he wouldn't find real ones. Courtney briefly considered whether Mike's treatment of Michelle should have annoyed her. The plucky little psych major Courtney had roomed with for two years wouldn't have put up with Mike's shit, but Courtney saw no reason to fight Michelle's battles for her. College is about discovering yourself, she thought, and it's your own damned fault if you discover you are nothing but a doormat. Anyway, starting an argument about how Mike treated Michelle would distract Trav from his movie, which he probably wouldn't like. Courtney looked back at the screen, frowned, and sent Michelle a quick text. What's the name of the actor again? The reply came back from the kitchen thirty seconds later. Lon Chaney. The man of 1000 faces.. Courtney now had something with which to work. "That's impressive make-up. I read somewhere that Lon Chaney did his own and it's why he is called The Man of a Thousand Faces." Trav reluctantly tilted his head away from the screen, as if fighting the resistance of an elastic cord connecting his eyes to the screen, but once he met eye contact with Courtney his attention was all hers. He smiled, showing brilliant teeth. Trav's smiles were beautiful, fueled by naive wonder, a lack of duplicity, and the best orthodonture money could buy. Courtney returned his grin and Travis pulled her close and left a soft kiss on her mouth, which Courtney dutifully returned. Trav left his arm around her when he pulled back. "Yeah, the guy was amazing. He has wires pinning his nose up. Imagine Brad Pitt doing that to himself." Mike grunted his exasperation at the screen. "Does he figure out a way to spare us the misery of listening to a harp for another hour? Why the fuck did they switch to a harp? I thought silent films only used pianos." Mike stopped and peered at the screen. "Wait, is that color?" The Phantom was wearing a skull mask and was clad in red. Courtney was proud of herself for catching an Edgar Allen Poe reference without coaching from Michelle. After an hour of monochromatic boredom, the crimson costume on the screen was welcome respite. Courtney decided to show off some more. "You rented a Ted Turnerized version? Surrender, Pod Person, and release the real Trav!" She was pretty sure he would be pleased by her knowing that colorization was deemed an outrage by film buffs. It was another tip Courtney had picked up from Michelle. Trav switched into full lecture mode. "That isn't colorization. It's a Technicolor two-strip process. Only red and green. No yellow. A bunch of films had color scenes in The Twenties, and a few filmed the whole movie that way. Maybe we can watch Black Pirate next week." Courtney forced a smile. She hadn't heard of it, and therefore doubted it starred Johnny Depp at his sexy best. "That sounds wonderful," she lied. Trav's attention was back to the screen. "Wait, this is the scene I really wanted to watch." Courtney leaned forward. "What, for your Halloween Party?" "Bal Masque, mon petit chou chou. A Halloween Masquerade Ball. I want costume ideas." Trav paused the movie, taking notes. Courtney did a quick tally: harlequin; guy with black hanky on face; Marie Antoinette before she met the sharp-toothed child of Monsieur Guillotine; Marie Antoinette's hotter, younger sister; guy with bird mask, and another guy with a hanky on his face. Not a single catwoman, ninja, french maid, phantom bride, or sexy she-devil. Damn, the French were boring. No scion of billionaires is ever short on friends, and Trav would drop enough money that it would be a well-attended party with fun had by most, but Courtney knew it would be less than it could be. Trav had too many geeky pretentions, which sucked some of the fun out of any room, like tonight. It was why he needed someone to manage his social affairs — someone like Courtney, but she sensed it was too soon to make that move. "How many kegs?" Mike asked, fulfilling his role as designated neanderthal. Trav considered. "Probably five, plus a punch bowl which you have permission to spike." Mike would have done it anyway, of course. "And a champagne fountain. There is no sense in doing this half-assed." Courtney saw an opening and couldn't resist taking it. She missed the insult banter she had perfected with her old high school friends, and Mike was one of the few people who could benefit from having his ego punctured once in awhile. "With Mike here, you should have no problem making this fully- assed." Mike's smile looked benign to Travis, but Courtney looked for, and saw, the knife behind Mike's humorless grin. She caught her breath and involuntarily flinched away from him. Satisfied with her reaction, Mike turned to watch Michelle walk toward him with a ham sandwich on a plate, and a beer. He threw Courtney a brief glance to tell her that the next line was for her benefit. "What, no napkin? Michelle, you have to be more considerate to Trav's furniture." Courtney rolled her eyes as Michelle went off in search of napkins. She wondered once again how someone as sweet as Michelle could bear to be with such a jerk. Whenever she asked Michelle that question, the response was "Michael and Michelle just kind of go together don't they? And he makes me laugh." Trav provided an answer similar to Michelle's whenever Courtney hinted he should be kicked out of the house. "Mike's fun. Yeah, he can be an asshole, but that is just part of having no governor between mouth and brain. People who stop to think about everything they say rarely offend anyone, but they aren't as funny as Mike." Michelle and Trav were welcome to Mike's jokes. Courtney had to admit that Mike made her laugh as well, but she thought Trav was wrong. She had known several people who managed to make her laugh without being assholes. With Mike, there was always menace lurking behind his words. In many respects, he was a bully, able to dish out verbal attacks, but not take them, particularly if the attacker was a woman. Courtney much preferred the safety of Trav's stability, temperament, and bank account. If only she could convince him to trade more on his family name. This was becoming a point of contention between them. All Trav had to do was pick up the phone the day after graduation, and his sophomore-year switch to a major in film studies would be forgotten. He would be admitted into Harvard Business School, and be back on the fast track for success. It might have been tolerable if he had planned to be a major Hollywood director, or producer. Trav's family name would easily secure financing, and Trav almost certainly had the talent, but of course he wouldn't consider that path. Instead, he wanted to make documentaries, or independent films with bleeding-heart themes, where the entire likely global audience probably couldn't fill Trav's home theater. So far, Trav had brushed off Courtney's hints that he reconsider. So far. She wasn't defeated yet -- not by a long shot. "I am just worried you will regret disappointing your father," she had said. "I know how much it means to him for you to follow him, and eventually take over." "My father will get over it." "You really think so?" Trav shrugged. "If he doesn't, we are used to disappointing each other." It was like he wanted to be estranged from the 63rd richest man in the country. College is about discovering yourself, and Courtney was determined that Trav would discover he was his father's heir. Trav had thought he was rebelling from his father when he went to Minnesota instead of Harvard or Yale, but the old man had bought Trav a large house in the Dinkytown neighborhood for him to use during his education. For all his protestations of independence, Trav had grown used to the comforts of privilege, and hadn't been able -- or willing -- to turn his father down. The four-bedroom house was too large and lonely for one college student. Trav hadn't sought roommates, but had found them just the same. Mike had been the first one to wheedle a spot, spilling his troubles to Trav after having been kicked out of the dorm his first semester for a practical joke on his R.A. where, with the help of advance planning and a power drill, he had removed and stolen every screw in the R.A.'s room in the brief time the R.A. was in the shower. Mike had befriended Trav during a film studies class. Trav had taken the class because he was considering it as his major. Mike had taken it because he thought he would get college credit for watching "really old" movie classics like The Matrix and Spider-Man. Mike described the prank in the class, and ended with what was supposed to be a rhetorical question. "So, he comes back to the room, and discovers his bed is dismantled, and every door has been removed. How do you think he felt?" Trav had the quick deadpan reply. "I imagine he became unhinged." Mike had laughed, and after class, Trav invited Mike to stay at his house. While Mike insisted on paying rent, Courtney knew it was a token amount, about a fourth of what Mike had paid in the dorm, and a twentieth of what would normally rent a room in a house as large and well-furnished as Trav's. Courtney had taunted Mike with that in the kitchen before the film started, and he had only returned the accusation, which infuriated her. It was true that Trav hadn't explicitly invited her to move in, but after spending the summer sleeping over at Trav's, it had simply been practical. She had cancelled her own lease, moved her things into one of Trav's unused bedrooms, and Trav never said a word. His lack of backbone occasionally had benefits. But that was different. Courtney was Trav's girlfriend. If Mike were the one to sleep in Trav's bed, and fuck him every which way he wanted (which thankfully weren't that many ways), then Mike might have a point. She wanted Mike gone. Courtney watched as a horde (of what she presumed were angry opera fans) mutely chased the Phantom of the Opera through the Parisian sewers. She conceded that the direct approach had it's advantages, but Courtney believed she was making progress on her plans to have Mike evicted from the house, and she preferred the ancient, "more feminine" route of hints, sabotage, and sexual manipulation to a risky confrontation which could easily backfire. It was time for her to step up her game. College is about discovering yourself, and Courtney believed Mike was about to discover what it was like to be homeless. --- Halloween The heat of the costume deflected Courtney from her musings. Why the hell did we choose Marie Antoinette costumes? she thought. Her breasts were were packed tight enough that she could serve hors d'oeuvres on the shelf of her exposed cleavage, but at least they could breathe, unlike her face, back, and most importantly, her lungs. She congratulated herself on her decision to not don underwear for the night's festivities. They would only get in the way later, and they at least helped cool her crotch, which was surprisingly warm anyway. Another effect of the costume, she thought. There was nothing about tonight's events that should drive her to become aroused. She was ice cold -- "That Bitch Courtney" had been her nickname even among her closest high school friends -- she was only aroused when it suited her purposes. No wonder aristocratic ladies always carried fans. Courtney used hers liberally while she scanned the room, and billowed her skirts to cool her calves and thighs. Where were they? Trav had made a few announcements as host an hour ago, but he had recently disappeared. Courtney was sure the costume switch was occurring, and she had chosen a conspicuous location on the stairs to make her easy to spot. Michelle must have had similar thoughts, as she stood near the patio exit, idly watching the guy moving the walnut shells. The invites to Trav's party had all specified that it was a masquerade ball, not a costume party, but most guests had ignored the suggestion and shown up in standard Halloween gear. Batman was ass dancing with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. James Bond was staying in character, swilling champagne from the fountain. Zombie JFK and Zombie Nixon debated the best zombie movie in the kitchen (Courtney could only assume they were some of Trav's film geek buddies). A Frank-the-Tank wannabe was doing a keg stand in the corner. Stuck In her stiflling dress, Courtney envied them. But there was no sign of the man in black wearing a white porcelain mask. --- Three Weeks Earlier Courtney rolled off of Trav, feeling his spent cock withdraw. She had ridden him as if he were a bronco, yelping the way he seemed to like until he grunted and spurted inside her. She was proud of herself, having successfully counterfeited three orgasms. Trav should be putty in her hands for at least a half hour. She rolled over and sighed. Trav was too caught up in post-coital bliss to notice. His hand traced a line up her hip and across her flanks. He clearly thought he was being cuddly and romantic, but it was actually annoying. Courtney gritted her teeth to endure it and sighed louder. This time Trav noticed. "What's wrong honey?" "Oh, nothing." "Good. You sounded upset." God, he really could be thick sometimes. She sighed loud enough to stir the curtains. "You are upset. What is it? Didn't you enjoy that?" No worse than usual. "You were magnificent, Trav, I am just distracted." "By what?" "I just see him looking at me in a disturbing way, sometimes. I am not sure what he is thinking, but it isn't good." "Who, Mike?" "Yes, Mike," she replied. Courtney felt the bed stir, and heard Trav walking around. The sound of the door opening and shutting caused her to turn and look. Trav was no longer in the room. Fuck! Courtney pulled on her robe and hustled into the hallway, hoping to preserve her plan to talk Trav into promising to evict Mike. It was too late. Trav was already at Mike's door. Mike was staring at him, with the dead, bleary eyes of interrupted sleep. Courtney could see Michelle lying facedown on the bed behind them, with her hands seemingly pinned behind her back Were they tied? Shell Game "Mike, Courtney says you are looking at her funny. Stop it. Thanks." Trav had already turned to flash Courtney a reassuring smile, so he didn't notice when Mike just shook his head and chuckled silently as he shut his bedroom door. --- Halloween Courtney was too much the skeptic to believe that people could sense when they were being watched, and she knew she was hot enough, particularly when showing the decolletage of an eighteenth century French aristocrat, that she was watched all the time, but some instinct told her to look behind her, and she saw the black-clad bandit at the top of the stairs. The porcelain mask was itself masked -- a black band extending beyond eyes framed by arched brows. The expression etched into the mask was one of jaunty bemusement -- a lopsided smirk topped by a narrow pencil mustache. She was certain that behind the fixed, impudent grin, she was being silently assessed. Thank God. She needed to get out of this costume fast, and her deliverance was at hand. She suppressed her reaction, and let her glittering, golden mask present the impassive face she wanted. Let him read that. Michelle was being pulled away toward the guest bedroom in the basement, and she followed, meek as a mouse. Courtney watched and nodded to herself. The main risk to her plan was that the boys would chicken out without her knowing about it, leaving them in an awkward situation, but with both Trav and Mike making their moves, it was clear their plan was still on. Courtney looked back up the stairs, and the bandit gave a crisp nod down the hallway, and then turned to walk in that direction, not deigning to see if his prey would follow. Courtney followed. Yesterday "Mike is going to try to fuck you, and Trav is coming after me." The autumn air grew more chilly as Michelle spoke in a voice that seemed low and heavy with resignation, but Courtney considered that maybe it wasn't resignation in Michelle's sigh, but anticipation. Jealousy flared. Michelle had once been interested in Travis. No, it was impossible. Well, it was half-possible, Courtney conceded. Mike concocting a scheme to try to fuck another woman was plausible to the point of being self-evident. Mike was amoral, uncouth, deviously clever, and he would surely love to sexually humiliate her. But Travis? He was considerate to a fault. She didn't believe it. Michelle had slumped on the patio deck chair, studying her cuticles and frowning. "How is Mike planning to pull this off?" Courtney remained standing, brushing an errant leaf out of her hair. "I tried to disguise myself once to seduce a guy without him knowing it was me. It's harder than it sounds. He saw through it in seconds." Courtney was less convinced than the words she spoke. The man in question had always had been able to figure things out faster than anyone else she knew. Maybe Courtney herself would have been easier to fool, or maybe her disguise hadn't been as good as she thought. "Mike and Trav are switching costumes halfway through the party." "Trav says it's a ball." "Halfway through the ball," Michelle corrected. "They aren't planning to tell us. Then they will each pull us to a bedroom, playing the strong silent types. Mike wanted to switch girlfriends for the evening, and talked Trav into it." "You know Trav as well as I do. How did Mike convince him to do that?" Despite her words, doubt was gnawing at her. They were talking about sex, after all, and guys were inherently untrustworthy on the subject. If Mike convinced Trav he would be able to taste forbidden fruit and get away with it, who knew where even Trav's cock might lead him? Michelle covered her face in her hands, and seemed to be blushing. "Mike is a little... forceful in the bedroom, you know?" Michelle dared a glance at her friend. Courtney had heard them through the walls often enough, and recalled a few glimpses like Michelle's tied hands in bed a few weeks ago. Courtney secretly enjoyed hearing the words Mike would call Michelle in the heat of passion, and the acts he would command her to do. She thrilled in the contrast with having a loving, sensitive boyfriend like Trav, and the sounds of Mike and Michelle's vocal rutting would often stir Courtney to touch her own wonderful boyfriend until he awoke and had sex with her. At least, that was the obvious explanation for why hearing them seemed to be one of the few things that aroused her. Michelle continued. "Well, Mike was bragging about... all the things he does to me. Trav acted jealous, and said that you would never let him do... those things. Mike said he just needed to practice on a compliant woman, and you needed to be... well... broken in, then Trav would know how to control you in the bedroom and you would know how to..." Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged her shoulders. Courtney couldn't believe she was hearing this. All of her plans were in jeopardy."What? Submit?" Michelle merely blushed again. "Anyway, Mike suggested they swap partners for a night, but Trav said you would never go along with it, so Mike suggested a costume switch at the masquerade ball, and they struck a deal. They didn't know I was listening from the hallway." She sounded almost apologetic that she had eavesdropped on them. That was what clinched it for Courtney. Michelle was telling the truth. She was too beaten down by Mike, too useless to lie, and there was no purpose to a lie anyway. A vertigo of dismay swirled through her head, and Courtney collapsed into a patio chair. Trav was critical to her plans. She had their entire life mapped out. She would be the guiding force he needed to rekindle his ambitions and follow in his father's footsteps. They would marry, have brilliantly successful business careers, and when finance and social journalists wrote stories about her, the fact that she was the daughter of a failed farmer would just be a testament to her inherent talent, acumen, and will to succeed. Courtney's own body was insignificant to her, except in the pursuit of her ambitions. Before she first went to bed with him, she had already decided she would have let Trav do almost anything he wanted. She would be whatever he wanted her to be. She would take him in her mouth and swallow, learn to deep throat his cock or take it in her ass, pretend to love being tied up and fucked while Trav penetrated her other orifice with a vibrator, or let him bring other women into bed and follow his orders for them to kiss each other and go down on each other. Whatever it took, she would be the woman he needed, and she would satisfy him. Her body was just meat. It was her goals, her ambitions, her mind that mattered. Courtney remembered the feeling of liberated power, arousal, and contentment when she realized how far she was willing to go to achieve her ambitions. She had, of course, been relieved when Trav's bedroom tastes had proved more... pedestrian. Trav wasn't sexually adventurous, relieving Courtney of having to pay the price she had been willing to pay. Courtney had been perfectly content with that. Perfectly content. Now it seemed that Trav indeed had sexual ambitions of his own that he had never voiced to her. Had she miscalculated? Had she missed a clue to Trav's interest in something more exotic? Could she recover from this? Could she use this? Except for the conflict with Mike, wrapping Trav around her finger had proved almost too easy, and she felt her competitive instincts stirring something within her. Michelle seemed on the verge of tears. "I don't know what to do. It's so hard to say no to Mike, but you are my friend, and Trav is my friend, and this seems wrong. How do I make it right?" God, Michelle had turned pathetic. She couldn't even make a decision any more. Courtney would have to decide for them, she realized. "We just tell them we know what they are planning, and that it won't fly." The thought of sex with Mike repulsed her and the thought of Trav fucking Michelle evoked strong feelings of jealousy. Michelle, with her doe eyes and blonde locks, was much prettier than she knew. Maybe Trav would discover he liked a compliant woman and would leave Courtney before she had a chance to show Trav just how accommodating she could be to his unvoiced sexual desires. Michelle had a stricken look on her face. "You can't. Mike will know I told. You weren't in the house that day." "Sorry, Shelly, I am not fucking your ape of a boyfriend just because you are too scared to confront him." "I know! But please don't tell him. You are smart about these things. There has to be another way." Courtney's first instinct was to ignore Michelle's pleas and go to Trav anyway, but Michelle's challenge intrigued her. Michelle was right about Courtney being smart about these things. Michelle may be unmatched except for Trav when it came to arcane knowledge and obsessiveness about highbrow art, but Courtney knew men and manipulation. She could spend a minute considering options. Maybe there was something better than simply confronting the men, which had it's own risks. If she called out Trav and Mike in advance, he might feel guilty, but guilty people sometimes lashed out in anger at the person who made them guilty. He might just dump her. She couldn't risk that. Another alternative was just to just refuse the men the night of the ball, but she had to admit that the thought of a new challenge excited her. She felt a rising flush of heat that she only experienced in the throes of competition. The answer came in a flash. "We will switch costumes as well." Michelle frowned. "What? How will that work?" "We have our own masks and we will be wearing wigs. We are about the same body shape, and they won't be able to recognize us with the masks on and the lights out. We will both be wearing large, uncomfortable costumes, so if we don't walk or move like we normally do, they will just think it's the costume. Let them do what they want. Mike will wear Trav's costume and do whatever sick things you normally let him do to you while you wear my costume. I don't give a shit if Mike thinks he fucked me so long as I don't have to touch him. I will wear your costume, and handle Trav." The situation was pregnant with possibilities, and Courtney saw all of them. If Trav chickened out, she could let the matter drop and he need never know, which would buy her the time to adapt to his unexpressed bedroom desires. If he went through with it, she could make sure he had the worst sexual experience of his life, and he would blame Michelle. He would come back to Courtney's bed feeling both dissatisfied and guilty, and she would use both emotions to bind him closer to her, killing him with kindness while she fulfilled the sexual fantasies he wouldn't dare speak. College was about discovering yourself, and Trav would discover that he needed Courtney to be happy. Michelle looked unconvinced. "Are you sure we can pull it off?" Courtney smiled. "Of course. Worst case is that they catch us. If it's before they try to seduce us, we just confess to having the idea ourselves to tease them. If they catch us during the act or after, what can they say?" Courtney's smile broadened. "You worry too much. What can go wrong?" --- Halloween Courtney tried to adjust her corset as she followed Trav down the hall. Her ribs felt like they were grinding together, and there was a dull throb of pain every time she breathed. Trav was wearing Mike's bandit costume, striding with a quiet confidence that showed he had studied Mike's movements in preparation. He was actually too good at it. Courtney considered that maybe it really was Mike after all, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Michelle had explained the entire plan, and so far the boys had done everything Michelle had described. Their entire behavior tonight -- the masquerade, the joint seduction, the silence -- only made sense if the switch had occurred and that was really Trav in the costume. There was no way it could be Mike. No way at all. Trav paused outside the door to Mike's bedroom, and gave another head nod ordering her inside. The inert smirk on the mask somehow took on the expression of a knowing leer. Courtney dismissed it as a figment of her imagination. She made a point of bowing low in her curtsy, knowing Trav's eyes would dart to her cleavage, so she made sure he had a good view before she stood to proudly brush past him. Courtney had always prided herself on her regal nose, and she held it up high as she walked in the room, and heard the door close and lock behind her. Courtney had only glimpsed Mike's room before, with its images of scantily clad women holding beer bottles, a signed photo of the U of M hockey team, and a poster of the current roster for the Minnesota Wild, but she now observed another layer under Mike's frat-boy persona. Courtney had never thought to ask what Mike studied, but she saw well-thumbed business textbooks lining the bookshelves, with what appeared to be three years of back issues to Forbes, Fortune, and The Harvard Business Review. The books and magazines seemed well organized. He is probably flunking out, she thought, but she didn't really believe it. That was when the lights went out, and her world began to change. Strong hands seized her around the waist. She began to lean back into the embrace, but instead she was was spun around and shoved face down on Mike's bed. The impact against the mattress expelled the air from her lungs with a "whoof". She had been expecting something like this, although Trav was more forceful than she would have thought. Her first concern was that the noise she made would identify her, but Trav didn't seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was hiking up her suffocating skirt, allowing a cool breeze to touch her legs along with his insistent hands, which gripped the backs of her thighs to spread her legs apart. Courtney knew Trav. He was the sensitive type who cared about a woman's pleasure. Nothing would take the joy out of the experience more than if she just lay there like a rag doll, non-responsive but compliant as he had her way with her. She would even make things more difficult by shifting her hips wrong, resulting in an uncomfortable angle for him, or she would break rhythm to cause an unplanned withdrawal just when he was getting excited. She would lie here and take it, but she would make sure the sex was so bad, that tomorrow, when he spent himself between Courtney's legs, in Courtney's own bed, it would be heaven in comparison. She readied herself for the inevitable penetration. Instead, a sharp pain flashed through her ass synchronous with the smack of Trav's hand. He had spanked her! She tried to flinch forward, away from the blow, but Trav was ready for it, and she felt his other hand press down on the small of her back, pinning her to the bed. I didn't know he was this strong. Trav's hand had landed across the lower expanse of both cheeks, dangerously close to the folds of her labia. The stinging sensation was already fading, but the skin near the impact site felt hot and swollen. Trav had full access to her backside, she knew. The cold air against her thighs and the rustle of fabric against her back told her that her skirt was completely lifted and pinned up behind her, underneath Trav's hand. Anger flushed through her, and she tried to use her hands to push herself off the bed. Smack. Courtney bit her lip to contain a yelp as the second blow struck her rear -- this time flat across the left cheek, sending another jolt of sensual pain coursing through her body. Before she could recover, a third blow struck her right cheek, a fourth across her upper right thigh, and a final blow on her upper left. She felt liquid oozing down her thighs, and in a moment of panic, feared it was blood. It's not blood, she realized. Her own body was betraying her. A warmth was spreading from her navel down her pelvis to her pussy, which she could feel was swelling, lips parting in anticipation of pleasure. She found herself involuntarily arching her hips to provide him a better angle, but she caught herself in time. No, no no. It was one thing to let him do this by choice, but responding in this way would throw all of her careful plans out the window. She would lose control, and she was all about control. If Courtney were wet, she might respond. If she responded, Trav would enjoy it and give credit to Michelle. She needed to regain control. Courtney's feet pawed at the floor, trying to find purchase against Mike's carpet. Her knees bent to thrust herself forward, but Trav seemed to anticipate her move. Courtney's wig was torn off her head and thrown to the side. The mask was gone with it, and she felt Trav's fingers entangle themselves in her hair. She silently thanked the darkness, as without her wig concealing the auburn hair so different from Michelle's blonde, Courtney's identity would have been obvious, and without the mask he would have known her immediately if he ever looked at her face. She was trapped. If she pushed forward, she would only succeed in tearing a clump of hair out by her roots. Trav sensed her predicament and firmly pulled back on her hair. Courtney had no choice but to swan her neck and arch her back in compliance. The mild pain from the hair pulling only fueled her body's betrayal, Courtney realized with embarrassment. as she suppressed a moan and forced her hips still. Why was this exciting her? She didn't like pain. She was flinching with every slap and hair pull, and she wished Trav would stop and just fuck her like a man. Hard. She wanted to feel his cock thrusting through her and his pelvic bones pressing against the skin of her ass. She wanted his hands to tear off her suffocating dress so he could touch her breast and squeeze her nipples with the new strength he was showing. Smack This one landed across her upper thighs, and Courtney was only spared a direct slap against her labia by mere millimeters. This time, however, Trav did not withdraw his hand. Instead, his fingers sought her folds, and she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her as he noticed just how wet and ready she had become. This wasn't like Trav. Trav was always slow, stretching sex out with foreplay, and he was constantly watching her to see whether she liked what he was doing. All the women's magazines said that was what women were supposed to like, but It was tedious, really, and Courtney always had to pretend like she enjoyed every insipid caress. This was different. His hands were forceful, not tentative, as if he didn't care whether she enjoyed it. His fingers penetrated her only incidentally to arouse her. She knew their true purpose -- to call attention to her inflamed state. Trav was touching her to show he knew how aroused she became by his rough disregard. Courtney's face flushed with the dismaying heat of humiliation as her lust transcended to a place she had never experienced. Why is this turning me on?. Images and desires flashed through her fevered imagination. Trav pinning her arms behind her back as he penetrated her from behind. Trav leaning over to spank her while she orally serviced him. Where were these coming from? She felt Trav lean over her as he continued to explore her shame, fingers slipping past the vulva as Courtney hissed in response and involuntarily spread her legs further to grant access.Yes! Trav's voice was hot in her ear, sending a cascade of chills to traverse the length of her spine. The words themselves, however, were worse. "When we are finished, you whore," he said in an angry snarl, "you can make me a sandwich." Shell Game Mike? Michelle's face suddenly rose unbidden from Courtney's memory, mouthing a disappointed whisper. That's not fair. --- Six Months Previously "That's him, there. Sitting under the elm tree." Michelle grabbed Courtney's arm as Courtney started to walk toward him. "Wait, what are you doing?" "I am introducing myself." "No! You can't let him know you know who he is! I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. He only admitted to me who he was when I recognized the name." "Then I guess I should go without you. What's he reading?" Michelle's brow was furrowed. "It's one of our course books, essays from Cahiers du Cinema, about the French New Wave." "French New Wave? Like Devo?" Were they French? "No! Movies. Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Andre Bazin." Courtney remembered a French movie that a high school sometimes-friend once made her watch, before he would help her with a calculus assignment. The movie had been all edits and ennui. What was the name? "Breathless?" "Yes, that was Godard." "Well, if I can't talk to your friend Travis about how he is the son of Walter Bickle, oil baron and 63rd richest man in America, I need something else to talk to him about." "Why talk to him about anything?" "I would like to get to know him. He looks cute." Michelle's face was dismay itself. "No." College was about discovering yourself, and Michelle was about to learn that in this world, she needed to move fast, particularly when it came to one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet. Courtney placed an expression of concern on her face. "He hasn't asked you out,or anything, has he?" "No," Michelle conceded, looking down. The feigned concern was replaced by feigned relief. "Good, because I wouldn't want to betray our friendship by hitting on someone you had a claim on." Courtney walked toward Trav, not looking back at her friend. "That's not fair," she heard Michelle whisper faintly. "You are reading Cahiers du Cinema? A fan of the New Wave, are we?" He looked up and smiled. He really was cute. "I saw 400 Blows when I was fifteen, and it knocked me on my ass." "Me too, except I was seventeen." Given the title, Courtney hoped that she hadn't just admitted to watching a porn movie. "Breathless was my favorite. It was very..." what was the word her high school friend had used to describe it? "...kinetic." It was the right word. The man smiled. "Why don't you sit down? My name is Travis." Courtney spared a glance to Michelle, but couldn't hold the sad, dead gaze that was returned. --- Halloween Mike. I am being fingered by Mike. Oh God Had she walked into a trap? MIchelle had rebounded quickly into Mike's arms, but had Michelle set Courtney up to be fucked by Michelle's beast of a boyfriend? How had she forgotten the way Michelle looked at her when she had cut in front of Michelle's ponderously slow and doomed attempts to get Trav to notice her? Was this payback? Courtney couldn't take the chance. She took the small bite of breath that her corset allowed her, and summoned her reserves of strength, trying to scramble out of his (Mike's? Trav's?) clutches. It didn't work. He had been leaning over her just in case she reacted this way to his words, and he simply pressed the weight of his body on top of her, driving the wind from her lungs. He then gave her ass another smack as punishment as she heard a cruel chuckle in her ear. Courtney's efforts turned from escape to mere survival. She needed air, and was able to inhale what she needed only by relaxing her body to take off some of his weight. It was barely enough air to keep thinking. No, it doesn't make any sense.The men had approached the women in costume, just as Michelle had said they would, and it had been Courtney's idea to switch costumes, not Michelle's. Maybe this really was Trav, just imitating Mike. The mask muffled the voice. Telling her to make him a sandwich was definitely something Mike would think funny to say while finger-fucking a woman, it could just be Trav's clever impersonation. Who was he? Whoever, he was, his fingers were sloppy, smearing her juices all around her folds and lips, neglecting her clitoris. Why was he neglecting her clit? Please, it would feel so good if he would just touch her... No! She needed to retain control. Courtney tried to squirm away, but was again restrained by a hand grasping her hair and his weight upon her back. If only she could think straight. The corset still strangled her. She could scarcely keep the oxygen necessary to function, and she was growing lightheaded from the constriction around her chest, and from the feel of Mike's fingers rubbing the slick wetness of her sex -- or was it Trav who was claiming her with such fierce determination. If it's him, why doesn't he take me like this all the fucking time. Courtney was losing herself to the touch of Mike-or-Trav's insistent fingers, the strong weight of his chest on her back that denied her any choice but to be lie there and be taken. A low moan escaped her lips, and she raised her hips off the bed, pressing back against his fingers. Just do it. Fuck me with your fingers. Then fuck me with your... No! She should just put a stop to this. She could scream -- or yell "rape". Wait, aren't you supposed to call "fire" instead of "rape"? People would hear, they would come running. But what if this really was Trav? How could she explain herself? If it was him living out his fantasy and she rejected him, she was finished. He might not kick her out tonight, but she would be done, she knew it. There was no choice but to go through with it and keep her identity. This wasn't her responding like she was to some generic fantasy of mistaken identity and anonymous rape. She was That Bitch Courtney, not some doormat like Michelle just wanting some man to dominate her. She would never be such a fucking cliche. She bit her lip and started reciting economic accounting identities in her head, to distract herself from what was happening to her. Send my mind away, don't think about how he is touching me, and how wet I am, and why I don't feel this way when Trav touches me, and why he doesn't just stick his cock in me and fuck me 'til I come. Oh, but that is what I want, isn't it? She allowed her hips to orbit around her captor's fingertips, thrilling in every variation it provided to the intimate friction between her legs. She managed to maneuver her clit to a brief contact with his fingers, and it was an electric jolt of pleasure, causing her to open her legs for him as she groaned. Mike-or-Trav must have sensed her readiness, as the fingers withdrew, replace by an erect cock pressing between her legs, demanding entrance. Yes! Courtney spread her legs to give him what he wanted, and an incandescence travelled from her cunt to her cortex as she felt him force his way inside her. Oh God! No, he didn't force himself, she had to admit. She had wanted this. If she had dared to speak she would have begged for it. Please stick your cock in me, she would have said. She almost said it anyway, even though he was already fucking her, thrusting inside her open and willing flesh with his magnificent member. Why did this feel so different from normal with Trav? Was Mike bigger? She felt like she was being split open but maybe that was just her reaction to her own elevated lust. Was he a better lover? No, the technique was nothing special. It was just a cock fucking her. Trav showed much more interest in her clit and her own pleasures, and he loved it when she came, not knowing that every one was faked. Wasn't that it? Trav was so gutless and naive. She manipulated him with ease. He was no challenge. It was only a matter of time before he caved to her wishes and would accept the life wanted by both his father and Courtney herself. But what kind of man let himself be pushed around like that? No, this couldn't be Trav behind her. The lover abusing her pussy was a man -- strong, determined, and imposing himself upon her will, her life, and her sopping, wet cunt. She wanted to cry, to scream, to shout, but the corset was still too tight, and with Mike-or-Trav on top of her, her lungs were burning with a fire almost as hot as the one that inflamed her loins. "Can't breathe," she managed to whisper. His hands moved up her sides and spine, finding the zipper to her dress, and pulling it down to reach the laces of the horrid, uncomfortable corset. He was suddenly almost gentle, and she shifted from being convinced it was Mike behind he to certitude that it was really Travis. She felt a light tugging on the laces, and some downward pressure on her back. Was he untying them? No, he worked his fingers up the laces, and as each lace popped, she knew he must be using a scissors or knife. He moved fast, taking only seconds, and with each severed lace, the tension in her waist relaxed, and finally the last lace snapped and the corset was flung across the room. Her ribs were finally able to unknot, her naked chest could expand, and she opened her mouth to inhale the most delicious breath of air in her entire life, tasting of autumn, sweat, sex, and the exhilaration of freedom. The sensation of air filling her lungs coupled with a cock filling her cunt resulted in a sensual explosion from within. Courtney had experienced a few pleasant sensations she thought were orgasms with some of her earlier boyfriends, but this showed them for the lie they were. She had never felt this heat, this fire, this release. Those previous, pitiful sensations were flashlights next to a supernova in comparison to what she had just experienced Courtney felt hands pawing at her newly liberated breasts, squeezing her nipples with a sharp pressure that was a thrilling contrast to the dull confinement of the corset. She released her breath as a long, passionate sigh, recovering from the sensations still exploding within her. One of Mike-or-Trav's hands stayed on her breast, and another reached lower, as he continued to fuck her with the same relentless, insistent rhythm. What was he doing? Everything was black, but Courtney could feel a moist pressure on her anus. Is that his thumb? A second explosion sent her darkened vision into a kaleidoscope of pleasure. Tremors surged through her body as this climax exceeded the last. She wanted to scream. She needed to scream. Courtney screamed. It was as if her life before this moment had somehow primed her for the most humiliating climax possible -- taken forcefully from behind like a bitch while her lover's thumb violated her ass. No one had ever touched her there before. Why did I let him?, she thought, as her scream descended into an incoherent moan. The pleasurable aftershocks quaking through her hips forced a correction. Why didn't I let anyone else do this earlier? Why didn't I demand it of them? Mike-or-Trav gave her well-abused nipple one more twist of pleasure as he increased the cadence of his thrusts, seeking the impossibility of a climax to match hers. Courtney raised her ass off the mattress as much as he would allow, and leveraged her arms to push back against him, trying to extract as much pleasure from the contact as she could. She had come twice, and wanted another. "More," she whispered. The muffled low chuckle came from behind his mask. "Aren't you a greedy little bitch." "Yes, I am," she admitted, grinding her ass against him for both his cock and thumb to penetrate as deeply as possible. "Say it. Tell me what you are." "I am a greedy little bitch." With that, he pounded her harder, claiming her for his own. If he could make her come like this, she would spread her legs at every command, every slap, every time he called her a whore. She would suck his cock, learn to deep throat, wear a leash, and take his cock in her ass and fuck him until he was spent. Courtney vaguely remembered making similar promises before she first slept with Trav. She realized she had been hoping that was what her lover wanted of her. She didn't care who the man behind her was, so long as he would fuck her like this forever -- or if not like this than any other way he wanted, on his own terms. She didn't care who her current lover was, but she knew as she felt him detonate with in her. There was too much self-regard and contempt in the fucking she had just received. It couldn't be Trav. It was Mike, and with that realization, the greedy little bitch got her wish, and came a third time. --- Halloween Michelle waited. She had been outside the door, and listened as the night unfolded as planned, hearing every cry of Courtney's submission and defeat. Michelle had stepped away from the door and watched the bandit leave immediately after he finished his task, still clad in his mask. She had removed hers and she locked eyes with him. He stared at her for several seconds, not expecting her presence. She had nodded to him, and he walked away, emission accomplished. But now this was the most important part, or it was all for nothing. They both had to see, so now she was sitting on the patio, waiting. Michelle didn't have to wait long. "How did you know?" Courtney closed the patio doors behind her. Her dress had been discarded. Michelle recognized one of Mike's t-shirts, which must have covered Courtney like a shift while she walked down the hall to get a pair of her own sweats. The handful of guests remaining inside the house were too caught up in their own bacchanalian pleasures to pay her any heed. "I lived with you for two years. I watch what kind of guys you look at, who you flirt with, who gets you hot. I know what you want, even if you don't." Courtney feigned offense. "Trav was perfect for me." " Mike is the one who is perfect for you. Mike is the type of guy you will be happy with, not Trav. I am trying to make you see that. Mike is a smart, ambitious, business major who is almost as sociopathic as you are. He will go much farther on Wall Street than Trav ever will in his dad's oil company. Mike is the alpha male your type always wants, but Trav's money threw you off the scent. The only thing perfect for you about Trav is his wallet and his father's connections, but he won't have either very long." Courtney seemed genuinely shocked. "What?" "He is your fucking boyfriend, and you don't see he is going to walk away from the family fortune? It might be tomorrow, or after he graduates, but he is building up to a massive fight with his dad where he tells his father to take his billions and stick them up his ass." Michelle tried to conceal the pride she felt her in voice. Courtney appeared to be considering Michelle's words. "Why this way, tricking me into getting fucked by Mike. It doesn't make any sense. You could have sent Mike to me in Trav's own costume and I wouldn't have known." "Exactly." Courtney frowned. "You had to be able to figure it out. I knew you would suggest that the two of us switch costumes. You would see a way to outsmart someone who thought he was outsmarting you and you would jump at it. You can be so predictable. Did he tell you to make him a sandwich? I told him to say that. It's when you realized the truth, isn't it? You had to know and you had to keep fucking him anyway, so you could finally see the truth about yourself." Michelle let the anger show. "Also, You have been pretending to be me for six months, and I felt you should find out what the real thing was like." "You think I stole Trav from you and this was your revenge?" "Does it feel like revenge, Courtney? I heard you in there, just as I have heard you in Trav's bedroom. You weren't faking tonight." Courtney wasn't the type to look down in shame. She held Michelle's gaze, but couldn't stop her face from reddening. "You just want Trav for yourself," she said weakly. "You took him while I was up with Mike. I saw you." But it didn't matter. She was defeated. She knew Michelle was right, and she wanted nothing to do with Trav any more. College was about discovering yourself, and she had realized that she was a greedy, horny, little bitch who could only be happy with someone very different from Travis. "So now you just don't want me to win?" Michelle shook her head. "It's too late for that anyway. You pretended to be me to catch him, picking my brain, asking me all the questions about things you only pretended to love, but in order to convince you to release those claws you had sunk in his flesh, I had to become you, playing the part of the manipulative bitch. You don't have to worry about me winning Trav. He knows what I did, and he won't want anything to do with me. But at least he will be free of you." "He knows?" Courtney knew she should act guilty. "I should talk to him." "I will handle it. You don't care what he thinks of you anyway, any more." Michelle pointed up toward Mike's bedroom. "Go to him. The light just came on. He is back in the room now." Courtney couldn't hold Michelle's gaze any more. The fight was gone. "Is he really like that all the time?" Michelle had to force a smile. "All the time." Courtney didn't leave. "Courtney?" Courtney stood still, her brow furrowed in indecision. "I don't know what to do." Michelle's eyes narrowed. Courtney knew exactly what to do when it came to manipulation, but now that she had actual emotions, she was at a loss. But the opening was too good to pass up. Michelle's lips broadened in a cold smile. "You might want to bring him a sandwich." Michelle watched in satisfaction as Courtney departed the patio and turned left into the kitchen. "Michelle?" She started at the sound of the voice. It was him. Had he been listening? "Shelly?" Guilt welled up within her. She had used him, badly, and now he would hate her for it. "Shell? Are you proud of yourself?" His words told her he had indeed been listening. Michelle took a breath and turned to face him. Trav had stepped out of the bushes behind her. He must have come around from the front. Michelle hung her head in shame. Trav wasn't happy. "You lied to me as well. You told me she was fantasizing about sleeping with Mike, and that she wanted to switch costumes with you so she could seduce Mike, to experience 'the darker side that I wouldn't give her'." "It's not too late. She is still in the kitchen. You can tell her the truth -- that it was really you, that I convinced you to switch costumes and pretend to be Mike, if that is what you really want." Please don't, her eyes said. "Courtney likes to say that college is about discovering yourself. I had never seen Courtney like that before. I hadn't realized she had been faking it with me, until I saw the real thing. Realizing she had been doing that for six months, manipulating me, pretending to like... being with me... it hurt." Michelle looked up in dismay. "Don't you see, she faked it because you weren't right for her." "That was the point, wasn't it? For me to see her when she wasn't faking? To see her without her mask? " "And for her to see herself, yes." "Well, it worked. It made me angry, provoking me into things I have never done before." He ran his fingers through his hair. Michelle knew it to be a nervous gesture. He wasn't comfortable talking like this. "You liked it." Michelle knew she was stating a fact. She feared where this might take him. Trav grimaced. "Maybe with the right girl, but the right girl wouldn't pretend to be someone else." He looked at her sharply. "Why did you do it, Michelle? Was it really revenge, or to free yourself from Mike by throwing Courtney at him?" Shell Game Michelle closed her eyes and sighed. "No, I was leaving Mike anyway. He used to make me laugh, and it was fun exploring my submissive side, but he is a man without a conscience. I wasn't kidding when I said they would be perfect for each other." "Then why? Her face looked stricken. "it was my fault," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. Trav's brow furrowed. "What was your fault?" "When I met you, I couldn't stop talking about you to Courtney. I thought she was my best friend, and I told her who you really were. It's my fault she got her hooks in you. If I had just told you what she was really like, you wouldn't have believed me. I had to make it right." Michelle nodded to herself. "I had to make it right," she repeated. Trav looked at her and frowned. "You were also right about me planning to cut myself off from family funds." Michelle said nothing. "And you were right about me detesting manipulation." "I know." MIchelle crossed her arms in front of her chest, and held herself as the autumn air suddenly seemed colder. She had succeeded, but she had known the price would be high. Courtney and Travis were broken up. She had atoned for her mistake, but only by becoming someone that Travis would hate. Michelle had reconciled herself to this outcome when the plan had first occurred to her weeks ago, but that didn't make Trav's contempt any less painful. "You were wrong about only one thing." Michelle looked at him, waiting. "What I hate about my Dad's manipulation, and what offends me about Courtney's, is the selfishness. Neither of them gives a fuck about whether I want the life they want for me. You, however, are the first person I have ever met that seems to want me to be the person I want to be. You were manipulating me to help make that happen." He looked at her thoughtfully, and she saw a small smile on his lips. "I could use more of that kind of manipulation in my life. Are you free next Saturday?" "What?" Her heart palpitated. She must have heard wrong. "Are you free Saturday? I would like to take you out for dinner." Michelle's mouth gaped as her heart soared, and when realized what this meant she was able able to show an unforced smile for the first time in six months. She had been so sure she had lost him, yet he understood. He understood. She wiped a tear from her eye. "Yes." She nodded -- too eagerly she thought, but she could tell by Travis's reaction that it flattered him. "Yes, I would like that very much." A thought occurred to her, and her smile broadened. "But you have to promise me something." Trav looked at her expectantly. Michelle stood, and walked up to Trav with a bounce back in her step. She reached her hand up to touch his face. Her smile shined before she spoke. "No sandwiches" --- This had been an unusual night for Mike. Trav had asked him to switch costumes at the last minute, which was annoying, but was the type of accommodation Mike knew kept him riding the low-rent gravy train. Then during the party, he was approached by Courtney, or someone dressed like Courtney, who lead him to the guest bedroom. Mike had thought Courtney finally wanted to climb Mount Michael, and had been shocked when the mask came off and it was Michelle, who then proceeded to break up with him. He had tried insisting that she wasn't the one who got to decide when they were through, but she had merely walked away. He tried physically intimidating her by blocking the exit, but she had called his bluff, asking how long Trav would let him live here if she showed up the next morning with bruises on her wrists or a black eye. The bitch had some spine after all. It had been an unwelcome discovery. He lost his taste for the party, and headed up to his bedroom to study. The room looked and smelled like a couple of drunk guests had recently fucked themselves silly, amd there was a sliced up corset on the floor. Mike threw the corset away, and changed the sheets, swearing under his breath at the selfish bastards who had so abused his bedroom. Mike was sitting down to study when there was a knock on his door. It was Courtney, bearing a sandwich on a plate. She said nothing, but merely walked in his room, set the sandwich on his nightstand, and sidled up next to him with lust in her eyes. Mike could only assume she had heard about the breakup and had decided to upgrade boyfriends. He sat back on his bed, and without a word, Courtney began removing his pants. College is about discovering yourself, and after being unceremoniously dumped by his supposed-doormat of a girlfriend only an hour previously, Mike discovered he really liked having Courtney suck his cock while she fed him a ham and swiss on white, with no mustard. --- The End Author's Note: Yes, this is the same Courtney from Might Have Been, having another interesting Halloween. Thanks for reading. Please vote, comment or send a message letting me know what you thought.