4 comments/ 21525 views/ 10 favorites Violating the Honor Code By: Mostodd07 Like all the other male university science students I had fallen in love with her. Okay, honor code time: maybe not in love, but strongly in lust. That fall, about 11:15 am on my lucky mornings, she walked alone from the science and engineering buildings across the quad, not stopping to talk to anyone. She had a heart-shaped face, golden blonde hair curling to just past her shoulder, and small, puckered, smiling lips. She often wore jean shorts that would need another inch or so just be called Daisy Dukes. When she walked, her curvy hips swayed on shapely legs. Her waist seemed impossibly narrow. A back pack rested on her shoulder, arching her back slightly which made her perfect breasts seem larger. The most exciting thing? She loved the commotion she caused. Her appearance was so exciting that I upgraded from my phone video to an advanced zoom lens camera. She would be creeped out if she knew. When I played it back, I fantasized lying on those pillowy thighs while kissing her ample warm breasts. She had that kind of effect. When we finally met, it seemed like fate. It had been a rotten night and a worse morning. My roommate, a varsity wrestler named Petralski, or "the Troll," slept with the windows open. So I froze all night. When the wake-up alarm sounded, I forced myself out of the warm blankets, onto the icy floor, more to video that sexy blonde than to attend my early physics class. Just my luck, Professor Heinz kept the physics class late, screaming about the theft of his precious purple calculator. Encased like rectangular plum, with his initials etching onto it, it was nothing anyone one would ever want. There had been a raft of thefts in the science and engineering department despite the university's stellar campus police department. The loss of Professor Heinz's gaudy purple calculator sent him into a rage that lasted well past the bell, his bow-tie bobbing at his scrawny throat. When finally dismissed, I raced with my camera, hoping I wasn't too late. Still inside the hallway, I could hear yells and loud laughter echoing from the quad. Through the glass the doors, the effects of a gusty autumn wind could be seen blowing leaves and papers around, and plastering clothing tightly to the bodies of the students. The hooting became louder as I approached the doors. It had to concern my sexy blonde. I worried that she had teased the mob too far, and they had decided that she should pay for her haughtiness. But no. She had made the mistake of wearing a long woolen skirt that proved too light against the gusty breeze which lifted it high over her head as she walked. She was completely exposed from the waist down. She turned in circles, pushed down with her hands, but to no avail. The wind was winning. "Look at that ass." "I saw bush!" "She's wearing a thong. I'll bet you $20 bucks." I burst out of the doors, and the wind seemed to push her into my arms. She blushed a bright red, matching our school colors. She struggled in vain to hold down her skirt. She was nearly in tears, trying to protect her modesty. It was empowering to be in control your appearance, and completely unnerving to be at the mercy of the wind and the mob. "Take this." I offered my new jacket. I'm over 6 feet, and she looked about 8 inches less than that, so the jacket would help hold down the skirt. She didn't resist when I put my jacket around her, but pushed my hands away when I tried to zip it. The gathered onlookers began to boo my gallantry for ending their peep-show. She wouldn't face me or look up. "It's okay. Let me help you." Still nothing. Her deep brown eyes were tear-filled. Her round cheeks blushed warmly. When she bent her head forward, wind-whipped curls danced around her head. She looked even more lovely in close-up. A small smile eventually came to her lips, until I hefted her back pack. It nearly pulled me over, it was so heavy. She grabbed at it, but I what kind of gentleman would I be to let her carry it? The jacket covered her lengthwise past her hips, but was very tight over those hips and over her chest. I gulped to see how it firmly it squeezed her, while hanging loose at her waist. It did the trick though, and the wind couldn't lift her skirt higher than those soft rounded thighs. Keeping an eye on her back pack as though I might take off with it, she led the way to her university dorm without a word. Once there, she didn't invite me in, but held out her hand for her pack. Before giving it to her, I leaned down for my reward kiss. She was surprised, but her pouty lips smiled just a little. She kissed me gently at first, then threw both arms around my neck. The kiss surprised me, and I let her keep kissing me as long as she liked. Her breasts pressed into me. The whistles and cat-calls didn't rattle her; she kissed hungrily for at least a minute. When we broke the embrace, she looked embarrassed again. "Keep the jacket until you're inside. You can give it back to me later tonight when we go out." Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She looked at my lips while I spoke, making me embarrassed when she didn't agree at once. Didn't she get it? I was her knight in shining armor. She reached into the pocket of my jacket, found my phone and dialed. There was no ring, but her phone must have vibrated. She pulled it out of her skirt's waistband, and handed me my phone. I swallowed hard to think where she had felt the phone shimmying. She began to text. "BUSY 2 NITE. THURS?" Three days. I could wait I guess. I played her game, and texted back, "OK. U R?" She watched my face until the message arrived. She looked down, and swept the hair off her brow. For sure a smile played on those tiny lips. She took my phone and created a new contact for me. "IMOGENE." "Imogene." Saying it out loud kept me from laughing at the quaintness of the name. I liked it, I guess. I would have liked any name she gave. "CALL?" She thumbed her phone. "TEXT ME." "Y?" Her eyes rolled like I was the biggest fool she knew, which I probably was. She texted her answer. "I'M DEAF." Now I blushed and apologized. She rubbed my arm, and grabbed again for her back pack. It opened a little and I saw what made it so heavy. Not only did she carry some monster calc and engineering books, she had a slew of calculators in there. She grabbed the pack from me, looking frightened. She put a delicate finger to her lips, meaning "Shh. Our secret." Then she kissed my cheek and ran into the dorm. I didn't feel the kiss, because I was too shocked. I had recognized the calculator with the purple case immediately. The school has an honor code, and all students and faculty swear to uphold it. The university had a zero tolerance for lack of honesty. So, I knew my duty. At the very least, Imogene was in possession of stolen property. She may have swiped them, too. She might be a danger to the university community. If it was later learned that I knew about the calculators and hadn't reported her, I would be expelled. Then again, my jacket had fit so snugly around her hips and chest. To be honest, what did I really know? Was there a reason behind Imogene's actions? Maybe I didn't really see what I thought I did in her back pack. I certainly didn't understand it. For sure, if I reported what I thought I saw, Imogene would never forgive me. No chance of my resting on that curvaceous bod if I ratted. I would be a rat, and someone who didn't trust her. So, okay. I guess I'll wait until our date on Thursday. She must have a reason. After all, some women are just worth the risk. # # # My room at the frat house was not conducive to thinking things out, or to study for that matter. It was barely conducive to sleeping. I blame my roommate, Petralski, a 5th-year senior nicknamed the Troll. He was a big-time varsity wrestler who turned our fourth floor room into an extension of his gym. Loud music blared. Towels, some clean, some not, drape over desks, chairs and bedposts. There were rings hanging from the ceiling so he could do pull ups, ropes on pulleys from the floor boards, bars on the walls, hand weights to stub my toes if I got up at night, and a medicine ball. He sports muscles on all the surfaces of his body, including his toes. In the past, I've tried to reason with him about such things as closing the windows, cleaning up, and a quiet time for study or sleep. He doesn't do well with reason, or any type of opposition. When we were first thrown together, the Troll explained the facts of my new life. He worked out religiously at the gym, and he preferred to work out after midnight, where he had the run of the gym. He would return any time between 2 and 3 am, throw open the window, and sleep until noon. I was not to touch any of his stuff, especially two prized items. The first was a troll doll given to him by his hometown honey (whose existence which I doubt); the second was exotic, overpriced, imported hair restorer, which obviously worked everywhere on his body except on his balding head. He hid a medium-sized safe in the corner of his closet, and both treasures were kept there with other unspecified, and likely ungodly, items. Not that I cared. Other rules: "This room is open to all our frat brothers to visit, got it? Anytime. They just stop in. I protect my stuff so they can't mess with it or use it. I suggest you protect your own stuff." He pointed to my video camera, laptop, and headphones, all sitting on my desk. I nodded. "Good thing we have locks on the door." It was supposed to be a joke, but he squinted at me and frowned. He stepped outside the room, wearing only a small white towel, which was barely sufficient to cover his little troll. "Close and lock the door." I did. "Padlocked?" he called from the hall. "Now it is." "Step back." He roared, threw his body into the door ripping the locks off their frames. The door burst open. It's been swinging open ever since. However, I have yet to see any of our fraternal brethren stopping by to visit. We're on the top floor at the back of the house, so I guess it's not that convenient. The Troll's not around a lot, though. He travels. When he's not wrestling, or checking out other wrestling squads, he's road-tripping to support the university's other teams. He was red-shirted, has most of his courses finished and as a 5th-year senior is a lock to graduate this year with a degree in applied chokeholds. When he is not at the gym, he showers several times a day. He wears only the small white towel and flip-flops between showers. I rarely stop back between classes. The less time I spend in the room, the better. But I did need something to replace the new jacket that Imogene had. So, I stopped in to get a sweater. The Troll was there, packing. "Road trip!" He threw several small white towels into his gym bag, a red tee shirt, flip-flops, and a soap on a rope. "You should come. They know how to party in Pocatello!" He squatted near his closet, checked over his shoulder that I wasn't watching, and removed his hometown honey troll and his magical hair goop from the safe. Getting up, he almost lost the white towel barely covering his rock-hard ass. "You should take a sweatshirt at least. And a belt. It's may freeze soon." "Good idea. Hey, I mean it. You should come. Really." "How long would we be gone?" "I'm thinking a week. Today's Monday, so we'll stay the weekend." "Ooh, sorry, I have to feed Schrodinger's cat. Next time, okay?" He's smaller than me, but grabbed me around the neck and pulled my head down just to tousle my hair. "Don't wait too long, little brother. These college years just fly by!" He left, still only wearing his white towel. Of course, with the amount of hair on his body, it just looked like a small bear going for a walk with a gym bag. # # # That Monday night, I intended to go to the library, but found myself outside Imogene's dorm. Even in my sweater, it was cold, but I persisted. Each guy I saw going in might be the one dating her, and it tore me up. I didn't have a plan. I just wanted to see my competition. I forced myself to video scenes of the campus while I waited. When she came out, Imogene was smiling sweetly. Her brown eyes watched only her date's face. He was only a little taller than she was, but a lot older, pushing early 30s, wearing dark slacks, a blue sports jacket, loafers and a tie. Nobody wears a tie anymore. Geek. He looked like he had been dressed by his butler. My camera caught his arm snaking around her tiny waist as he led Imogene toward a BMW convertible, top up. He even opened the car door for her. She left nothing to the imagination in a pair of black yoga pants that stretched tightly over her legs and her round bottom. Her heels were high, and gave amazing lift to her shapely calf. She had a golden blouse that was cut low enough that you didn't need to guess how lovely her cleavage was. It takes a lot of confidence to wear something so revealing. Either that, or she knew she wasn't going to be wearing it long. My stomach clenched when she turned to kiss him before entering the BMW. Her arms were around his neck, her head turned to the side, she rose even higher on her toes, and her breasts squished against his jacket. A memory of the same kiss crashed upon me. The kiss kept on, and when it ended, she slowly moved her head away, watching to see the effect she had on him. He was breathless. I knew that feeling. He held her in his arms, and she rose up again. In the tight pants, it was almost obscene the way her ass tightened. I wanted to grab her with both hands and pull her to me. Her date must have had the same idea. As she turned to enter the Beemer, his paws found their way to her butt, and gave a playful squeeze to each side. My mouth was dry. Imogene straightened up immediately, and smacked Mr. Mens Warehouse across the face. Twice. Once for each grab. It was loud enough to attract attention. She slammed the car door shut, pushed him back so hard he tripped backwards. She walked determinedly back into the dorm. Thus endeth date 1. Not very satisfying for Imogene or her date. I was happy though. Lesson learned: Don't tap the booty. I didn't see her the next morning, Tuesday. I texted, but got no reply. The day dragged slowly through my class assignments. I needed to know if she had a date for that night as well. There was only one way to find out for sure, since she wasn't responding to any texts. I waited outside her dorm again. Tuesday was warmer, a kind of Indian Summer, with no bugs. I brought the video camera to have something to do if asked why I was hanging around. The camera had a night vision feature, just in case. Imogene came out wearing a gauzy flowered skirt which in bright sunlight was probably transparent. Even now, there was no question as to the smooth shapeliness of her thighs. She wore flats, a sign that her date was probably short. Her top hugged her curves and her waist. It was some kind of tube top, and she wore no bra. She really didn't need one; her girls perched high and firm. The top ended above her navel, and some jewelry dangled there. She smiled sweetly when she saw her date. The guy was not much to look at, and dressed like a cowboy to hide it. His levi's looked newly purchased, and his tucked-in madras shirt was partially open to show off some chest hair. He wore a black ten-gallon hat and matching cowboy boots, and a ten-gallon bronze belt buckle on a too-narrow belt. He swept his hat when he met her, and revealed a shaved head. So far, I was not impressed with Imogene's taste in men. Imogene ran to meet him, pushing herself into him. Again she raised her arms around this fellow's neck, and kissed him as if no one was watching. She ended slowly again, then pecked a few other kisses on his cheeks, eyes and lips, until he began to laugh and backed away. She was killing me. "Slow down there, girl. Save some for later." Imogene groaned and stomped her foot. She put both arms around him as they walked toward his black pick-up truck. When she saw it, she clapped her hands and jumped. "I'm glad you like it." He walked her to the far side so she could get in. As he walked around, Imogene slid over the bench front seat. Before he had time to close the door behind him, she roped him with her arms again, and pulled him toward her, kissing his lips slowly. She needed to stop that enthusiastic behavior, except with me. I used my camera to get a little clearer look at them both. I'm glad I did. She nibbled at his lower lip, and then looked into his eyes to measure the effect. The effect was to make me uncomfortable, and I adjusted my boxers. She was seated on her round hip, and faced him with both barrels. When she inhaled, they tested that stretchy fabric. As she reached to kiss him, she arched her back, which made her breasts just that more inviting. As if he read my mind, the cowboy's hands moved from her thighs to her waist and then softly cupped each breast, his thumbs searching for a hard nipple. My camera caught it all. They were quite the handful. Imogene's eyes popped open in alarm. Her arms flew across her chest to protect from his groping. The cowboy's mouth began working, but it was hard saying if any words came out. If they did, they didn't work. Imogene shoved him hard out of the truck, and he got road grime on his new jeans. She slammed closed her side. As she ran toward the dorm, I swear the camera caught tears coming from her blue eyes. I would check later on the replay. Thus endeth date 2. Lesson learned: Don't pet the puppies. I hate Wednesdays because all morning is taken up in a physics lab. I'd much rather be under a tree waiting to video Imogene again. I may have to rethink my major here. I didn't bother texting Imogene since I was tied up all morning. Her face did not leave my mind though, and I replayed the last two evenings, partly for the laughs, partly for the insight. Wednesday night found me outside Imogene's dorm again. The night was still Indian Summer warm. At about eight o'clock, a woman dressed in a short black cocktail dress, black high heels, and clutching a small purse, walked ever so erectly out of the dorm. Her hair was swept up in a sophisticated coif. Were those diamonds sparkling and dangling from her earlobes and from around her throat? Perfect posture elongated her neck and emphasized her voluptuous hour-glass figure. It was Imogene. She strode with authority out to the curb. There was no joyful burst of running like other nights. She gracefully controlled her movement, and each step sent ripples to the appropriate body parts. I couldn't tear my eyes off her, and neither could other students who watched. At least one guy got gut-punched by his own date for his wandering eyes. I was lucky. I could savor her walk all the way to the end of the sidewalk, and capture it on video. I didn't see any cars waiting. Instead, there was a thin, elderly man with a bow tie, a walking stick and a cardigan sweater. I zoomed, and almost dropped the camera when I saw his face. Professor Heinz. Stick to the movement of heavenly bodies, Herr Doktor! Leave the earthly bodies to me. Imogene kissed his cheek, and he smiled thinly. She didn't exhibit the same osculatory exuberance she displayed earlier in the week. Fine by me. He didn't kiss her back, but offered his arm and they strolled to the University Club. I followed discretely. To my surprise, Professor Heinz could sign, and as quickly as Imogene. I resolved to learn to sign, too. Inside the Club, there was a very fine restaurant which could be viewed from the bar. I sat where I could see Professor Heinz but not be seen, and ordered the fruitiest drink at the bar to discourage my drinking it too quickly, or at all. Violating the Honor Code They spent a long time choosing champagne, then an appetizer, and finally a meal. They laughed occasionally. It took them nearly three hours to dine. She was probably explaining why she had nicked his calculator. From the position of his eyes, he was more interested in the intricacies of her cleavage. Over dessert, his scrawny claw closed over her hand, and she let it. The dessert must have been enticing because I saw him drool. It was nearly midnight when Professor Heinz, leaning heavily on his walking stick, accompanied Imogene back toward her dorm. On the way they passed a shadowy copse, and decided to duck into the trees' cover. It was quite a test of my camera's night vision. Thank God I hadn't eaten anything or drunk more than four fruity drinks, because what I saw turned my stomach. In the shadows, with low level lights from the base of a few of the trees, I saw her kiss Professor Heinz's withered lips. And not just a peck. Imogene kissed him like he was a younger Brad Pitt, with her arms around his neck and her breasts hard against his cardigan sweater. His breathing became rapid, and when Imogene let loose, he was panting. He leaned on the walking stick with his right hand, and with his left gently took her hand in his. She smiled and came close to kiss again. He guided her hand to the zipper of slacks, and held it there. His head leaned back, his eyes were heavenward, his mouth agape, or else he might have seen the shock and disappointment on Imogene's face. She didn't move her hand, and eventually, Professor Heinz looked to see what the delay was. She shook her head, wagged her finger, and made a sad face. Hers was nothing compared to Professor Heinz's sad face. "Please?" he signed. She shook her head again, but gave the old boy's old boy a firm shake goodbye. She left him and walked properly back to her dorm. Professor Heinz stayed put for awhile. My camera captured his consolation prize, a silver medal for personal performance. Thus endeth date 3. Lesson learned: Keep the monster caged. # # # For a girl who walked alone, talked to no one and couldn't hear, she sure had a lot of dates. Thursday morning she wore my favorite, her abbreviated jean shorts with a western shirt tied at the waist. Cowboy's subtle influence? I videoed her jaunty stride through the quad. Then she saw me and surprised everyone by waving enthusiastically and running up to me. I stowed the camera. It was hard to concentrate on her brown eyes, her petite smile and her golden curls when so many other parts of her body were jostling for attention. I must have done good though, because she put her hands on my shoulders and leaned in for one of those soft, long kisses. "Ready for that date right now?" I asked. I certainly was. She looked at me sideways, meaning I should know better. "Okay, tonight it is." Quick kiss, and she was off again. The camera loved her as she was leaving, too. As the evening approached, I was nervous. Given the constraints that Imogene set on interpersonal hand movements, I had to wonder if this date would satisfy either of us. I had high hopes though. At eight I showed, dressed in casual student attire. Imogene wore dark jeans, a blouse with a scooped neck and a drawstring at the waist, and loafers. Not as sexy as other times, but I was happy just to see her. The dark jeans seemed painted on, caressing each curve from her hips to thighs to her calves. The blouse was a light blue material, and the scooped neck was generous enough that it was clear no bra constrained her. She returned my new jacket. Before I could thank her, she put her hands around my neck and we kissed. My hands stayed safely at her waist. It was so tiny I could put touch my thumbs and long fingers together while encircling her. Below my hands was the heft of her pelvis, but I behaved. We kissed until I could no longer trust my hands to stay in a safe zone, but I caught the teasing look in her eyes. Imogene just loved to be kissed. She surrendered herself more and more with each touch of our lips. I enjoyed kissing her, too, but even more when I saw what the effect of kissing her could be. It seemed as long as I kissed her, I could do no wrong. Hand in hand, we strolled to the campus foreign film festival. "La Dolce Vita" came with subtitles, but lasted over three hours. At the end, Imogene cried at the lovers' isolation. She was familiar with isolation. I kissed away her tears. We found a bar, and shared a bottle of vino. Our hands were tight nearly the entire time. No kisses at this time, though. She looked eager to offer her lips to me, but I wanted to wait a bit. It was nearly 2:00 am when we arrived at her dorm. She pulled me to her. We kissed me again, and I behaved as well as I could. Still she held my hand. Then, with a slight smile, a partially raised eyebrow, she pulled me to her room. She may be giving me a green light. Imogene's single was on the first floor, and handicapped accessible. Bulbs lit if someone phoned or was at her door. Her computer and TV were closed captioned. There was an emergency button located in each room, should she need help. The smoke detector flashed like a stun grenade instead of just beeping. Wires led to pads on the bed that vibrated if needed. "Just like your cell phone?" She smiled and pulled back her blouse hem to show where the phone lay, deep near the front of her waist. "Every call must cheer you up." A little salacious but okay. She laughed at my joke. I was used to music, or just noise in general. But it was suffocatingly quiet in Imogene's room. She pulled a desk chair for me, and positioned it in front of her bed. Then she sat on the bed. We kissed again, my hands on my own thighs, her hands around my neck. I found that I really like kissing this woman, and she really liked being kissed. As she lifted her head back, I kissed her earlobe and then her neck. I found the artery in the neck that women like for applying perfume, and sucked gently on it. Her breathing quickened and her chest began to heave. I didn't quit, and kept on kissing the neck. At one point, I stopped to look at her. Her eyes were closed and she was lost in her pleasure. Then she opened her eyes and questioned me with them. Why had I stopped? I looked at her. There was no need to say anything. We both knew we had reached a critical point in our new relationship. From observing her previous dates, I knew the next step was not up to me. Imogene had to give the green light. She pushed her hair back, and realized it was a mess. So she knotted it on her head, leaving her slim neck vulnerable to more arterial kisses. She stood up, and kissed my forehead. Then she took the bottom of her blouse and lifted it gracefully over her head. Glancing everywhere in the room but at me, she stood exposed, topless. Her breast were more lovely than I had dreamed. They were full, lush, and nearly symmetrical. The pink areolae were on the upper side of the curve. Nipples as firm as pencil erasers jutted from the center. I saw her ribs, her abs, then her torso tapered to the narrow, intriguing waist. "You are beautiful, Imogene." She stood with her hip cocked and wouldn't meet my eyes. She was blushing, or flushed from kissing. I tried to stand but she pushed me back into the chair. She sidled closer, and her nipples were centimeters from my mouth. Then with two fingers she touched my lips. I kissed her fingers, and she moved them to her left breast, and encircled the tip. I hesitated. She repeated the sign. This time I understood. She was giving me a green light. Ever so slowly, I leaned forward. There must have been static electricity in the room, because I felt a shock on my lips, and from Imogene's gasp, she felt it on her left breast, too. But she didn't back away. She let me linger for a while, and I heard her breathing more insistently. After a while, she took two fingers, touched my lips and then her right breast. I moved close to her other breast. Again, there was the same shock, almost like the charge from touching the tip of your tongue to a nine volt battery. Softly I kissed her pencil top nipple, then sucked it until it slipped into my mouth, and my teeth could hold it. Imogene ran her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. I nipped with my teeth, and she shivered. The next time I bit just a little harder. Her fingers were tight in my hair. When her fingers touched my lips again, she directed me to explore the sides, the underside and the center of her bosom. I kissed her pink areola, and then traced the curve of her breast with my tongue. In the center of her chest, between both breasts, I paused and kissed her breast bone. I placed both my hands on her hips, then put my fingers into the waistband. She smiled, but wagged her finger at me. Oh, I couldn't! I wouldn't! But she sighed deeply at the same time. I kissed her nipple again, and the same spark passed between us. I opened my mouth wider, and used my tongue more quickly. Soon she was panting, and pulled my head back to stop me. I thought that might be it, night over, but instead, Imogene unzipped and stripped off her dark jeans. Without looking at me, she put her fingers into the strings of her thong, and zip! It flew off, too. She was unshaved there, but wetness showed through the wilderness. The honey-blond thatch matched her hair. Imogene stood with her legs slightly apart. With her fingers she touched my lips, and then she touched herself. I swung her onto the bed, and knelt down between her legs. She laid back, supported by her elbows. Her pubic hair was surprisingly soft and silky. My tongue found a way through, and I enjoyed the taste of her. She was flushed, or blushing, again. As I licked her, she rasped heavily, until she laid flat on the bed, her arms over her head. She moaned, she hummed, she made deep guttural noises. Her thighs shivered. I kept licking until my jaw threatened to lock up. Imogene gave another shudder, and sat up. She took my hand, found two fingers, and placed them on her own lips. Then she pushed the hand back to me. She was playing our game, and offered to give me a turn. I touched her lips with two fingers, and then my own. She looked surprised. She pouted, but leaned forward to kiss me. This time we both stood, and I held her completely naked body. Her right leg pushed up against my groin. She held onto me, and wrapped her left leg around me. She must have known what she was doing to me. She ripped open my shirt. Buttons rattled against the wall and on the floor around us. If she could have heard them, it would have really turned her on. It aroused me. My two fingers touched her lips and then my own nipple. She smiled slyly. She was a good student. She found the small nub of nipple and tasted it, raising her eyebrows playfully. Then she took my hand again and raised it to her lips. She wanted another place to set her lips. Oh, hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I touched the outline of my penis. She wagged her finger again. Oh, I couldn't! I wouldn't! So I bent down and began to softly kiss her breasts again. She played cool, but soon she was arching her back and tossing her head side to side. From the look in her eyes she had changed her mind. She pulled open my jeans, and liberated my throbbing penis. With gentle fingers she traced along its length, and rubbed the tip. Now it was my turn to pant. Maybe I'm just flattering myself, but I don't think she ever sucked a cock before mine. She brought her lips close to its tip and studied it closely, for too long. Then she kissed the tip a several times. I gave her a thumbs up. She laughed, and soon found room to put the entire thing in her mouth. She sucked, she slurped, she rolled her tongue around it. She giggled as she did it, innocently enjoying. I hoped she would kiss my balls, too, but that was probably asking too much for a first time. My pressing problem was whether to cum in her mouth or pull out and spew wheresoever God wills. One is physically pleasing, the other aesthetically satisfying. Oh, hell. They both feel good. Quite the moral dilemma. Imogene solved it by stopping fellatio. She took her two fingers and raised them. But instead of touching my lips, she touched the tip of my penis. Then she touched herself between her legs. Green light. I fished a condom from my pants pocket as quickly as possible. She watched wide-eyed while I began to roll it down. It looks a little crazy the first time, and she hesitated. Which is her prerogative. Although we had gone awfully far along. "I understand, Imogene." She shrugged her shoulders this time, along with the finger wag. So I kissed her again, on the lips this time, and she seemed to melt into me. I found the edges of her lips and kissed them, and moved from there to her neck, her shoulder and the middle of her chest. She was breathing deeply, expectantly. So, I went to the well one more time. I felt the electric shock from the tip of each nipple, tongued the warmth of her areolae, and sucked on her trembling breasts until she was digging both hands in my hair. Her right hand strayed down the length of my torso, and stopped at my pelvis. Then, she took a deep breath, grabbed my throbbing cock, and positioned it at her engorged mons. I took if from there. I entered gently at first until I felt resistance. Her first time. I looked at Imogene, who was biting her lower lip. She nodded her head, then closed her eyes. I thrust with my hips, and plunged deep into her. I expected a scream, but out came a kind of squeak. We rocked into each other, and found we had a natural rhythm together. We enjoyed the rhythm, the warmth, the pleasure together for as long as I could stand it. She came, and I exploded, too. As I lay on her, both of us lost in postcoital sweat, breathing and heart rates, I realized my dream had come true. I was resting on her pillowy thighs, while kissing her voluptuous tits. # # # For the next few months, we were inseparable and probably unhygienic. I was reluctant to take her to my room very often. First, I didn't want to bump into the Troll. Second, after the first few nights together, I found I was missing a textbook or two after she left. It was probably unfair to blame her. At least I still had my calculator. On balance, a small price to pay. Imogene was uncomfortable staying in my room, and after being in her room, I understood. There was nothing that would alert her visually to dangers. She didn't want to close her eyes after we made love, but huddled into my side. Every few minutes she raised her head, expecting some kind of trouble. We made love in classrooms, the science library, the bookstore and cafeteria, and outside in the quad for God's sake. Imogene proved to be quite clever in finding new trysting places. Who was this sexy minx who had started out so shy and reserved? She relished the risk element. We took precautions, but were not completely successful. Occasionally we were discovered. Imogene would smile demurely, quickly dress and we'd escape leaving the discoverer with an image burned in the brain. Students who stumbled over us were cool with it. Professors pretended not to see. Librarians tsk'd loudly. TA's tended to use cell phones to capture a part of the show. But nothing diminished her enthusiasm for sex. I couldn't get enough of Imogene's body. She started taking the pill which made the frequency and spontaneity of our lovemaking even greater. In truth, she was beginning to wear me out. Even worse, I couldn't video her the way I used to since we were always kissing, cuddling or canoodling. Don't get me wrong: I appreciated having her in my arms. But I missed the sexy images that floated over my screen. Imogene began teaching me American Sign Language, and I concentrated on the nouns for all her body parts, and the verbs for what I could do to them. She delighted that I was such an apt pupil. In return, I taught her how to use the video camera. She had an eye for composition, color and the strangely unusual grouping. She was attracted to students with disabilities, which I understood. She progressed rapidly, and I showed her how to edit with software to enhance what she had captured. When she had become comfortable with the camera, it was time to use it in our lovemaking. The first time I pulled out my camera, she wagged her finger. We were secure in her dorm room. I kissed her repeatedly as I argued how beautiful she would look. "U LIKE?" she texted. "YES!!" She shrugged. "PERV" "OK." It took a few minutes and several long kisses more to convince her to trust me. I showed her how achingly lovely her face appeared on film. To further demonstrate, I taped her from the neck down while she was clothed. "See? No ID." Then she took off her top, and I video'd her soft bosom in flattering light. I replayed that for her. She reddened, but cuddled closer to me. She was curious but being so brazenly on display went against her reserved nature. "U OK?" She shrugged and put her blouse on. I signed, "I love seeing your pretty face, your sexy figure again and again." "You see me always any something." I think that's what she signed. "I understand. Still I want to picture of you." "It's not comfortable for me. At this time." "I know. Camera sees your nervousness. I love that." She kissed me, then bit her lower lip. "I fear." "Do you trust me?" "Yes, no doubt. I fear me." "I don't understand." "I fear I like it too much. A great, great amount." I swallowed and reined in my imagination. "In video camera?" She nodded. Her face said she was sorry for her conflicting emotions. She realized she was confusing me. "Only you see?" "OK." "No Internet?" "No. Personal. Private." She kissed me deeply. Then she dimmed the lights. She took the camera and put it into my hand. "OK. I love you." As the red camera light glowed, she performed a sexy striptease as the heavy shadows played across her zaftig body. # # # Our mistake was doing it in my frat house room one more time late in November. Sure it was a mess. Neither the Troll nor I had spent much time there. So what do you expect? I discovered Imogene liked the Troll's many mirrors and she could feel the blaring music. With the camera focused from my corner bookcase, she danced for me and I appreciated every twerk. She saw herself reflected from many angles as she moved. With the window closed, my room was warm on cold nights, and from the fourth floor, you had a good view of the campus. I had to remind Imogene that the campus had a striking view of her, too, as she stood exposed in the full length window. She shrugged, and signed, "Let them look." Then she pulled me toward her, and we kissed in the full length window. She was completely nude and she pushed me onto my bed but remained posing in the window for anyone lucky enough to be glancing up. Eventually, we made luxurious, sensuous love. Afterward, she slept next to me, barely wrapped in the sheets. That night I couldn't sleep, imagining what the camera had captured. The next morning, she knelt on my bed with the bed sheet pooling around her haunches, noodling her finger around my chest, teasing my nipples with her draped hair. I lay on my back with my hands behind my head, thanking God every minute. Then I heard flip, flop, flip, flop coming down the hallway. Imogene didn't notice the Troll come in, but he noticed her. Her back was to him, exposed to the crack of her rounded butt cheeks. Her hair hung forward but her breasts were clearly visible. Especially from the side, Troll could see the ample swelling of beautiful tits. I wrestled to get up, but Imogene thought I was teasing and kept pushing me down. Violating the Honor Code "Well, howdy do, little lady. What are you doing to my little brother?" She didn't hear him. I continued squirming, and finally pointed behind her. She glanced in a mirror, saw the hirsute Troll wearing his towel and flip-flops, carrying his shower supplies. She dove over me to the other side of my bed. She huddled against me and pulled the bed sheet for cover. She blushed from her head to her toes. Troll loved the show. "What you got there, little brother? Who is this sweet thang?" "Give it a rest, Troll. This is Imogene. Can you give us some privacy?" Troll leered at Imogene, which made her adjust the bed clothes tightly around her. "You see, little brother, I need the room right now. So, I suggest you and Miss Double D's find some place else to screw." He snatched at her sheet, but Imogene pulled it close. Troll humphed to himself, and knelt down to his closet safe. "Putting my valuables away." He looked over his shoulder to assure I wasn't watching. He didn't seem to care that Imogene paid close attention. As he stood up, his towel slipped a bit. "Whoops, you almost got to see a real man there, missy." He made a big deal of readjusting the towel. "Don't be a prick, Troll. Give us five minutes to dress, and we'll be out of here." Instead, he started doing pull ups on the rings. With each dip, the towel slipped lower. "You see I'm busy. Just get out. Dressed or not dressed, your call." His eyes feasted on Imogene's curves beneath the bed sheet. I gathered our clothes, and stood in front to block Troll's view. Imogene slipped out of bed, her back to Troll. The mirrors made her modesty pointless. Even I could see her reflected from every angle on each wall though she was behind me. When she saw that she was completely exposed, her whole body turned pink, making her look slightly feverish. I couldn't protect her unless Troll left the room. She was vulnerable, so tiny through the waist though her hips curved sensuously. Her tits seemed enormous, and the pink nipples stood obscenely erect. Her pubic hair made a rough triangle until she raised her generous thigh to put on her slacks. She pulled on her sweater and her shoes, not bothering with any undergarments. After each piece of clothing, she stood erect to measure the effect on herself, on Troll and on me, until she was fully clothed. She took so much time to dress, I believed she enjoyed being ogled by that odious dwarf. While I finished dressing, she glared at Troll who by now was sweating profusely on the rings. "Like...something you see...missy?" he huffed. "I like...what I see." I held her back. She shook my hand off her shoulder and approached Troll. When he pulled himself up, his groin was almost to her face. He held the pose. "I feel...something slipping...again." He dipped, the towel lowered a bit more. Imogene's eyes never left the towel. I waited for her at the door and waved futilely in the mirrors to attract her attention. A devilish smile played on her lips. Troll said, "I think...she wants to stay...little brother." He pulled himself up again so that his groin was again chin-level for Imogene. Imogene put her hands on his furry thighs and began to move her palms up the inside of his legs, bringing a moan from Troll and stirring life from beneath the towel. "Yes!" Imogene then whipped off his towel with a flourish. Troll collapsed onto the floor, stubbing his toe on a 10-pound weight. Then he unbent and stood so she could admire his full glory. She was half way out the door then leaned back in. She took a full leisurely gander at him, her tongue at the edge of her lips unconsciously, then held her thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. She shook her head, an exaggerated sadness on her face. I pulled her away. "Bitch!" The door slammed and bounced open again. "Cunt!" She laughed as we ran down the hall. I shook my head. "I'm a dead man," I told her as we walked the quad. She kissed my cheek. I flinched. My cheek? Had I been demoted to Professor Heinz status by this fiasco? She must have noticed my concern, because she signed,"I'll baby you, lover man." I did like the sound of that. After all, there were only five or so months until Troll graduated. It's possible I could avoid him until then. Highly unlikely, but possible. I had nightmares of him in a loin cloth tracking me and carrying a club or a fraternity paddle. Wearing flip-flops, of course. "Where is camera?" she asked. I shook my head. She frowned, and her face darkened. She punched my shoulder, and signed the equivalent of "asshole." I was surprised I knew the sign, but maybe I gleaned it from the context. "I'll get it back. I'll get it." "When, asshole?" I shrugged. "Soon." "Not good enough." She bit her lower lip, and I could tell the wheels were turning in her honey-blond head. # # # The next morning, I went to class and afterward watched Imogene promenading for the science students, wearing those black yoga pants that caressed her ass intimately and a turtleneck sweater looking knit onto her curves a stitch at a time. She carried her innocent-looking backpack brimming with recently snatched goodies. Probably because I was keeping an eye peeled for Troll, I couldn't fully enjoy her performance the way I used to. I know she saw me, but she didn't run to greet me, either. I guess she had other places to be. I worried how to get my clothes, my books, my calculator and especially my video camera. What if Troll starting snooping at the video files? After lunch I found a quiet place to study to take my mind off the Troll problem. I must have been really engaged, because the winter sun was setting before I left the science hall. I gathered my things and trudged to Imogene's dorm. She hadn't answer her phone or the texts, so I really didn't expect to find her at her room. But when I opened the door, she beamed at me, and with a flourish showed me what she had done. Inside her closet, she had placed all my clothes from the frat house. In a chest of drawers, she had made room for my unmentionables. Even my missing textbooks had magically reappeared. The calculator was on a pillow. "Are you crazy? What about Troll?" "You stay here with me, lover man." I struck my forehead with my palm. "Too risky! Are you okay?" She kissed me in reply. "Don't ever go back there. What if Troll saw you?" She brushed her palms like she was whisking away a bit of dust. "Psh." "I love you, but you are crazy!" She held up both hands to get my attention, and gave me her most naive look. "Okay?" What could I say? Of course it was okay, now that she was safe. At least for the time being. I held her tightly, amazed at the risk she took. Imogene pointed to the walls where a half dozen of Troll's mirrors had been placed. She waggled her eyebrows. So, she did like those mirrors. She slipped off her shoes, and tilted her hips side to side. I twirled my finger, and she turned around so I could see her black-clad ass. Actually I could see any part of her I wished thanks to the mirrors. Silent applause, and she bowed magnanimously to me. She turned her backside to me again and peeled off the yoga pants, an inch at a time. By the time her luscious thighs were revealed, my pants were feeling much too tight. Still she continue, drawing the pant leg slowly down her each calf, then kicking herself free. Her thumbs notched her fluorescent green thong, and stretched it seductively before bending forward, straight-legged, and pulling them swiftly down. She was clean shaven! She covered her small, pouty mouth with her hand, as if she were surprised at finding herself bottomless in front of me. She tugged at the edges of her sweater, but it didn't begin to cover her nether lips. What else could she do? She sat her bare bottom on my lap, swiveled her hips until my dick felt ready to burst the zipper. She got up, turned her butt cheeks to me and slapped a hand on each one, leaning forward so I had wonderful view. She fingered the edge of her sweater and began the same slow, inch-by-inch reveal of her magnificent hooters. When she was completely nude, she twirled the sweater over her head and tossed it onto her desk. There, for the first time, I saw the camera's red light burning and its aperture gaping. She was performing for me, sure, but capturing it all for our later enjoyment. Then next to the camera I saw two items that turned my blood cold. Imogene may have been squatting, spreading my knees apart, but I saw only trouble. Big trouble in the form of a troll doll and Troll's magic hair goo. My phone rang, and I knew who it was before checking the screen. "Little brother, you dickwad. I know you took my stuff. Nobody touches my stuff!" I had nothing to say. Good thing, because my mouth was like cotton. I listened, but watched Imogene stroking the inside of my thighs while she demurely looked at me. "You've got 24 hours to return my stuff. All of it. Plus, I want that camera and everything on it. That's the price you pay if you don't want a world of pain for you and your slutty twat girlfriend. 24 hours! You can keep the mirrors." He hung up. Imogene rubbed herself up my body until she reached my neck, and then began kissing. I stood up and tried to turn away, but she held me close. "Don't, Imogene! We have trouble." Her eyes asked what was wrong. "Not you. That! Those!" I pointed to Troll's stuff. "We have to give them back." She shrugged, not taking it seriously. "And he wants the camera." "Camera? No! Ours!" "He wants it and what's on it." "Why? Why? He can't." "You know why. He wants to see you." "No!" Her lips were firm, and her nostrils flared. She began to pace, oblivious to her own nudity."Tell him no! His stuff okay. Camera no!" I pulled her close to me to calm her. She was restless in my arms and I was restless in my mind. "When? How long?" "Tomorrow. 24 hours." She bit her thumb, then relaxed a little, and stretched languorously in my embrace. My mind tumbled between finding a way to return Troll's things without getting pummeled, and paying attention to the naked woman on my lap. "It's okay. Really. It's okay." She kissed my neck. I held her tightly, but felt guilty that I wasn't protecting her. God knows what Troll will do with the video. Imagine the number of chortling, smirking jocks who would be jerking off to Imogene's sexy body. Would they slow it down so they could salivate over her every private curve and precious fold? How long until the video went viral? How would Imogene feel about being exposed to the world? Certainly not "okay." She was usually so shy about her body. She tried to get my attention. She pulled my face to her. "Fuck me, lover man." "I want to, but..." I pointed to my crotch. Overthinking things can be a real deflator. She persisted. "Fuck me!" She grabbed my crotch and rubbed aggressively. It was nice, very nice, but not enough. Oh, God! I was relegated to Professor Heinz status! I lifted my shoulders, palms up. "Not your fault, beautiful." Not an acceptable answer. She unzipped me, tugged my trousers down, and began gobbling my knob like a fat man with a turkey leg. When it showed increasing signs of aggressive interest, she pumped it with her delicate palms, and teased it with deft fingering. She pulled my pants completely off and pushed me onto her bed. She straddled me, stroking my cock with increasing rapidity. Okay. She was good, and I was nearly ready. "Fuck me. Lover man." I entered her easily, she was that lubricious, and she moaned from somewhere deep inside where words don't live. She rode me with her eyes closed. Her fingers tugged her own nipples, distending them. She shuddered violently and gasped several short breaths. The muscles leading to her pussy trembled. But she wasn't done yet. She flipped us both over, in that boring missionary position that didn't seem anywhere near as boring while I was lying on her luscious body. We rocked in a steady rhythm. I intentionally made each thrust a deliberate, complete, but agonizingly slow entry and withdrawal. She pounded the bed with her fists. Her mouth gaped open, but no sounds came out. Then she grasped my ass, and pulled me deeply toward her. I pushed until I imagined I felt every bit of her vagina and stayed deep within her. She growled loudly, a sound I'd not heard from her before. Her eyes were red and dry. Suddenly, I felt her fingertip probe my anus. Good God! I felt pinned between her delving digit and her pulsing pussy. Her cheeks blew in and out, her eyes narrowed, and she jammed her finger deeper into my ass. I groaned, and came inside her for what seemed like a full minute. When I had been depleted, I collapsed on her firm, heaving boobs while she squirmed her pussy around my still twitching cock. I was exhausted, but before I slept I had one question. Now, where in hell had she learned that trick? Some questions are better unasked and unanswered. We lay gasping for breath, then she giggled and laughed. Her happiness made me start laughing, too. And you know how it is. Once two naked people both start laughing, it's impossible to stop. "You fuck okay, lover man." "I need more practice." "I can help you. Again now?" I may have panicked. Oh, God! "No, but soon." A little nap first, then maybe. She kissed the tip of my penis and to its everlasting credit it trembled responsively. She giggled again, but came up to kiss my lips and snuggle her luxurious, warm body into mine. I was tired, but my mind wouldn't let go of Troll's threats. "You think too much, lover man." So, I pulled the covers tightly around us. Her breathing became regular. It was only 9:00 and here we were in bed like an old married couple. Kind of nice usually, but my brow furrowed. Troll loved his showers and couldn't miss a night at the gym. So, if I timed it just right, I could sneak in, return his stuff and get out of there without meeting him. Forget giving him the camera, at least for a while. I knew he would catch up with me eventually. And what had he said? "A world of pain" for me, and for Imogene. I believed him. Imogene slept deeply next to me. I loved that she felt so comfortable sleeping nude. I stroked her hips and marveled at hourglass curves. I was one lucky fellow, I thought as I drifted off to sleep. Deep, satisfied, exhausted sleep. I awoke with a start. No Imogene. I was alone in her bed. I checked the time — 3:30 am. I prayed Imogene had just gone down the hall to the bathroom, but I feared otherwise. When I turned on the light, the camera and the Troll's two treasures were gone. I threw on some clothes and my new jacket. How long had she been gone? Had she had set me up? Had she used sex to exhaust me just so she could leave? It worked. I had been dead to the world. I texted her. No answer. So, how soon after I slept had she slipped out? It could have been anytime since, what, 10:00 or 11:00 pm? I would have thought she could have returned by now. Just drop the stuff off and leave. What was she thinking? I texted again. "STAY AWAY FROM TROLL." She can't reason with the Troll. No one can. It'll just anger him. And you don't want him angrier than he was when I talked to him. I ran through a quiet winter campus. The dorm windows were uniformly dark. It had begun to snow, dampening the sound of my running. I saw my frat house. One window was still lit. The room Troll and I shared. At the edge of the lawn, I saw the full-length window which was undraped and cracked open. He likes the cold. There was a pale form in the room. Not in front of the window, but recessed. Snowflakes dropped into my eyes and I couldn't process what I saw immediately. I blinked my eyes clear and the pieces came together in one shocking instant. It was Imogene, suspended between the rings, her arms outstretched. I saw her breasts jutting proudly, her ass shapely and sensuous. She was nude, displayed shamelessly for anyone who happened to walk past the frat house once the morning broke. I ran up the four flights of stairs. The door to my old room gaped open. It was freezing in the room. Imogene hung by her arms, her toes barely touching the floor. She was cold, pale and exhausted. Each heavy breath raised her breasts until she exhaled and they settled. Who knows how long she had been up there? Goosebumps covered her legs which were taut as her toes stretched to find some support from the floor. Her blouse, skirt, and sweater lay ripped in pieces strewn on the floor. Troll didn't see me, but Imogene lifted her tired head just enough. She blushed pathetically, and it stirred something inside me. "Where's my stuff?" Troll asked in a husky, angry whisper. He slapped her ass with a fraternity paddle. The crack echoed through the hallway. "Tell me now, and you can go. Otherwise..." He smacked her again. I roared as I ran through the doorway directly into Troll, catching him unaware. He crashed into his desk, and a bone in his left arm cracked. "Let her down, you asshole! We'll give you your stuff!" I punched at his face, and he blocked me with his good arm. Even injured, he still had the advantage. He choked off my wind, and I clawed at his right arm, then at his face. Through the doorway I saw a fraternity brother in the hallway, drawn to the noise and shocked by the dangling woman exposed before him. Troll kicked at the door and it swung closed for a moment. I punched his left arm hoping to hit the break. I did. He screamed and I escaped his grip. I looked for a weapon, and picked up a ten-pound weight. Before I could heft it, Troll swept me with his leg and I crashed to the floor. In the doorway, there were three fraternity brothers now, watching the battle and the suspended nude prize. I kicked the door closed. Troll used Imogene's legs to help him stand, but kept outside the ambit of my reach with the weight. "Let her down, Troll. What were you thinking?" "What was I thinking? What were you thinking? Where is my stuff?" "You can have your damn stuff. But I swear to God you're going pay for this." The door swung open and a small crowd had gathered. A few brothers used their phones to capture the moment. "Call for help! Then get the fuck out of here, you perverts!" Troll and I circled each other warily. I looked out the window, and it was obvious the word had spread. A crowd below was gawking up, pointing and flashing cameras. "You're a sick bastard, Troll." "Me? I wasn't the one strung her up for fun. You're the sick one little brother. How could you leave her like that, knowing I'd find her?" "I didn't do that to her. You can't lie your way out of this." But something was not making sense. The crowd outside the door and below grew restless, sensing the performance had reached its crescendo. In the hallway, I heard them talking in awe. "That the girl from the quad?" "Oh, yeah. That's her. I'd recognize those tits anywhere." "And that ass. Jesus!" An officer from the university's stellar campus police department pushed his way through the frat boys, and acted like he was used to seeing a nude woman strung up like this on a regular basis. "Break it up. Break it up. Let's give them a little privacy. Go on, now." The officer radioed his report. "You're not gonna believe this." Troll held his arm gingerly, but was able to close the blinds on the full length window. We heard cat-calls and booing from outside. I found how the ropes were tied to the wall, looped through the rings, and knotted on Imogene's wrists. The officer was eager to help. He lifted the naked woman to take pressure off the ropes while I untied them from the wall. When loosened, she collapsed into the officer's arms. I covered her with my new jacket. She stumbled onto my bed, shaking from the cold and trauma. Violating the Honor Code "Who wants to tell me what is this about?" the officer asked. "I found her like that," said Troll. "She's his girlfriend, and I know for a fact that she doesn't like to wear many clothes." "She came here to give you back your precious stuff, and this is what you do to her," I shouted at him. "What stuff? She didn't give me anything!" I found a blanket in the closet and covered her. "What about those ripped clothes, Troll?" The officer could see we were getting nowhere. "Can she talk? I'm gonna need a statement. I think we're all going to have to take a little ride to the station." "She's deaf. She uses sign language. But she can read and write." "Deaf?" Troll hadn't realized that while he was abusing her. Imogene huddled beneath the blanket, and stretched out her arm, point to her clothes. "They are pretty torn up. I'll buy you new." I kissed her forehead. The officer began to gather the remnants of her garments. Under one pile he found a calculator. Under another pile was a second calculator. As he looked around, in Troll's open desk drawer he saw some science textbooks. "Whose desk is this?" "Mine," said Troll. "I've never seen those before." The officer began a more diligent search, and found three more textbooks in Troll's closet, and then his safe. "Yours, too?" "That's my closet, but..." "Open the safe, please. Or do I need to get a warrant?" Troll knelt to open it, and I was pretty sure what we'd find. Inside were his precious troll and magical goop. And a bevy of calculators, including a very distinctive purple one. Troll couldn't think quickly enough to speak. The officer radioed in. "I found some interesting things here. We may have solved those thefts." "What? I never saw those before in my life." "That your doll? Your greasy shit in a can?" "Yeah, but..." "That's your closet, your safe?" "No. I mean, yes they are, but..." "You in the habit of giving your combination out to friends?" "Of course not!" "Let's go." He took custody of Troll, and led him toward the hallway. The paramedics were there, but he directed them to examine Imogene first. Before leaving he said, "I want to see you both as soon as she's able. We'll be discreet, but we're going to need a statement from her. She knows this wasn't the university's fault, right? One bad student can make it rough for everyone." "We'll be there." The paramedics confirmed Imogene suffered some rope burns on her wrist, but was otherwise fine. She leaned against me, just wearing my jacket. I found her shoes, the slip-on kind. She tucked her toes in. "You poor kid. What happened?" She just shook her head. "Does Troll have the video camera, too?" For the first time, I saw the hint of a smile. She went to my bookcase near the corner of the room, where I noticed a small red light and gaping aperture. She turned it off and slipped it into the pocket of my jacket. She put a finger to her lips. It was our secret. # # # Things happened pretty quickly after that. Imogene wrote out her statement saying Troll had surprised her and used his strength to overpower her. She didn't understand why, but knew he was extremely envious of me, his old roommate, because of her. He had been rude when he first met her, and threatened harm to both of us. She had stopped by the frat house because she had lost her textbook, and thought she might have left it there. She found it and others, and that's when Troll walked in. After that she was just too upset to continue. The university's legal team made sure Imogene got counseling, medical attention, replaced clothing, new textbooks and school supplies. The university apologized for the few pictures that did end up on the internet, and hoped she understood that they were outside of its control. Imogene cried when they showed her the pictures that survived on the web. She wrote, "Weren't all those pictures taken by university students?" The lawyers hemmed and hawed, but in the end, the university agreed to cover her full ride in whatever subject she wished to major, including graduate school. All it cost her was her promise in writing not to sue the university for every last penny. She signed the release, and the lawyers breathed a sigh of relief. Imogene and I had our pick of either her room or the frat house now, but she found it awkward to face any of my frat brothers. We stayed in her dorm. I gave her her space though. Nobody could fathom how humiliated she must have felt strung up and on display. It would take time, I knew. I slept on a chair while she used our bed. Gradually, she became a little more open, and then one Spring day, she even allowed me to hold her closely in my arms. The excitement had died down around campus. Troll was expelled, despite loudly proclaiming his innocence. He blamed me. He blamed Imogene. He didn't know how, but he had been framed. The university ethics board and the criminal jury thought otherwise. One rainy April evening after I finished studying, she made us both a cup of tea, and knelt near me as we sipped. It was beginning to feel like old times. She smiled with her cute little mouth, she laid her head on my knee and rubbed my calves and feet. We kissed a little. After the tea, she washed the cups while I studied. She came back wearing my jacket, which reached just past her butt. I smiled encouragingly, and she smiled back. Then she took the camera from my jacket pocket. I hadn't seen the thing for a while, and I really could have used a few of our old clips to get me through some cold winter nights. She kissed me deeply, sensuously, for the first time since the incident. I unzipped the jacket. She wore nothing more underneath. I got my hopes up. She wanted me to watch the camera first, though. The clip she played was new to me. It was that night. My frat room. Her in the frat room. She was alone. The digital time: 2:45 am. She removed her clothing very efficiently, and still very sexy. When naked, she opened the blinds and cracked open the window. She ripped her clothes and threw them into the corners, covering things I couldn't make out from the video, but I realized what they must be. A couple of calculators, a text book or two. She shivered from the cold. Gooseflesh showed on her arms and legs. Her nipples were tight. She took the ropes Troll used for pulleys and tied them together. She fastened them to the wall, and then fashioned little nooses in the other end. She tossed each through a ring in the ceiling. She climbed onto a desk chair, slipped her wrists through the nooses and stepped off the chair, leaving herself dangling helplessly. She kicked the chair away, and waited. Imogene fast forwarded the tape, since now it only showed her hanging from her self-made snare. She was beautiful dangling there, but occasionally needed to reach with her toes to make sure she didn't pass out. At 3:10 am she slowed the tape. The door opened. Troll walked in with his gym bag. I sat up sharply and stopped breathing. Troll saw her, and took a long, long look at her. "What the hell? Where is that dickwad? What are you, a peace offering? Get it? A piece offering?" Troll glanced around the room, but through the mess saw nothing that unusual. "Where's my stuff? You got my stuff?" Imogene nodded. "You have my stuff?" She nodded again. "Where's my stuff?" This time she shook her head, and stuck out her tongue at him. "You bitch!" Troll paced back and forth across the room. Imogene stuck her tongue out every time he looked at her. "Nobody touches my things!" He came right up to her, and started to poke her chest as he emphasized each word. "Nobody. Touches. My. Stuff." Imogene kicked him in the balls. He fell sideways, grabbing himself. "Nice shot," I said to Imogene. She breathed on her nails, and polished them on the jacket lapel. She was justifiably proud. But Troll now looked for someway to inflict a little pain on her. He grabbed the fraternity paddle, and showed it to her. She looked worried. "Where did you put my stuff?" Nothing from Imogene. So he smacked her one. Her eyes flew open. I know from personal experience how sharp the pain can be from that paddle. "It's okay to yell. That's gotta hurt like hell. Now do you want to tell me?" There were tears in Imogene's eyes, but she shook her head. Troll walked around her, letting her anticipate the blow. I could see he was getting a hard-on as he fondled the paddle in his hands. Without further warning, he struck her. Harder this time. Imogene pulled her buttocks in, arching her back. She bit her lip, and tears flowed freely. She was breathing heavily. "You're going to be putting on quite the show if you don't start talking. That door? It doesn't lock. Most of the time it doesn't even close. Every brother in this fraternity is soon going to know you up close and personal. Look down there. It's snowing now, but I know the kind of crowd that will be lining up on the lawn to see you like this." She swallowed, and struggled in the snare. "Make it easy. You tell me, and I'll let you down." She was shaking on the video. I was shaking just watching her. "I can almost promise for sure to let you down. Once I have my stuff and the camera. This would look good on camera, too, don't you think?" He circled her, keeping clear of her legs. He said in an angry, husky whisper, "Now, where is my stuff?" He smacked her on the rear one more time. A red imprint glowed on her ass. "Tell me now, and you can go. Otherwise..." He cracked her across the ass again. And that's when I burst in. We watched the rest of the battle between Troll and me. The increasing crowd at the door, the arrival of the police officer, letting her down and draping her in my jacket, the discovery of the textbooks and calculators, and Troll's confusion. We watched all the way to the point where Imogene took the camera from the bookshelf and switched it off. The clip ended. She sat at my knees looking up at me, seeking some approval. I looked down at her, unsure what I could say. Imogene slipped off the jacket, and knelt naked at my feet. She licked her lips and raised her eyebrows. Then she took two of my fingers and touched her lips. "Where?" She was back to her old self. Green light. We have an honor code at this university. It's why I chose the place. Of course, if anyone finds this video, we are both royally screwed. Some women are just worth the risk.