One by one they were called into the office, and soon enough, Jillian’s number was called. She went in heart in hand, hoping to God she wasn’t about to find out she wasn’t going to be able to afford school next semester.
In the office, there was the student loan officer, an older woman who might make a suitable extra as a dwarf in a Tolkien movie if she’d just let her beard grow in. Jillian thought she remembered meeting with her at the start of the year to fill out some paperwork. What was strange, however, was that sitting next to the woman was none other than DJ, her RA. “No, this one’s a definite,” he was saying as she entered.
“DJ? What’s going on?”
“Hiya, Jill. This is Mrs. Hofstadter, and she’s helping me out with a few things. Have a seat.”
She did. “Am I in trouble or something? Is this another kind of… inspection?” She didn’t want to go into detail in front of Mrs. Hofstadter, the several times DJ had fucked her to make sure she was on the pill.
“No, it’s not—just…” He gestured for the woman to speak.
“The university is investigating claims of alleged misconduct, Jillian, and your name is one of the many brought to our attention as one of the involved parties.”
“Misconduct? What, like cheating? I never cheated on anything in my life! OK, once in middle school I copied my friend Terri’s pre-algebra homework because I’d been out all night at the Twilight premiere, but that’s it, I swear!”
The woman regarded her dryly. “Not misconduct on your part. Misconduct of which you were a victim.”
She thought back, trying to think of someone had somehow “victimized” her. “No, I don’t think so…” she said tentatively.
Mrs. Hofstadter looked between DJ and her for a moment before proceeding. “Jillian, I need you to think carefully before you answer. Can you think of anything that has happened to you, or around you, during this past semester that may have negatively impacted your emotional or academic well-being?”
She thought back on this past few months. It had been pretty normal on the academic front—depending on how her finals went, she’d be getting two A’s, two B’s and a C+ in her entrepreneurship class. Pretty normal for her, really.
On the home front… well, there things had definitely been pretty crazy. She tried to remember it all.
There was that floor meeting where DJ had announced all the rules changes, where he’d picked her out for inspection, and fucked her right there in the lounge, in front of every girl on the floor.
Friday mornings, her spot in the shower rotation. Gently sponging off every inch of DJ’s body. Sucking his dick. Lying down under the spray so he could fuck her tits. The time he’d brought in Cassie, the German exchange student, and fucked Jillian while Cassie sat on her face. Ich werde deine schöne Gesicht reiten, Miststück! Jillian had no idea what it meant, and when she’d asked her later, the Fraülein had blushed and hustled away giggling.
The night one of DJ’s girlfriends, Ashley—the really bitchy one—had walked into her room without knocking, grabbed her by the waistband of her panties and pulled her into DJ’s room. There was that girl Mercedes; Ashley told Jillian to make out with her and make it nice and theatrical. The two girls sucked each other’s tits, then took turns eating one another out. They 69ed for a good half hour while he watched. Then Ashley rode him to orgasm.
That had been so fucking hot.
Damn, she loved her floor. Last year her RA’s best contribution to making a cool community was occasionally being lenient with quiet hours.
“Not really.” she responded.
The woman looked to DJ, who sighed. “I know you feel bad talking about things in front of me, but I actually want you to. You’d be doing me a favor, honestly. Nothing you tell Mrs. Hofstadter here about what’s gone on between us could possibly upset me, or make anyone think you’re mad at me. Just be honest. Please, just tell her what happened between us.”
She arched an eyebrow. It was super embarrassing to bring this stuff up in front of a stranger, but… she didn’t want to be a cunt and tell DJ no. “Well, OK I guess. We had sex. A lot of sex? He said it was to check me for birth control, but… honestly, I think he just wanted to fuck me. At first, I just felt bad saying no, but then I honestly started looking forward to it. My boyfriend and I had this really ugly break-up over the summer, and it was nice to just have someone to have fun with sometimes with no strings attached.”
DJ blinked. “You… don’t have to say you liked it if you didn’t.”
“No, I did! Honestly. Unless… do you want me to say I didn’t? I can, if you want. But if you wanted me to be honest…”
He smiled, then turned to the administrator beside him. “All right, I guess we can put her on List B.” The woman nodded, and Jillian watched as she tapped away at her computer, bringing up a spreadsheet and adding her name to the second of its two columns.
“What’s this? What’s List B?”
“I’m beginning a scholarship, the Emily Turner Memorial Scholarship. It’s going to give tuition to young women who’ve been… mistreated. Your name is among those in consideration.”
“One of hundreds,” Mrs. Hofstadter added in her gravelly voice.
“But… I just told you I wasn’t.” She wanted to kick herself—this was a scholarship!—but compared to letting DJ think he’d hurt her, especially when he hadn’t… There could be no consideration of that.
“That’s List B. People who’ve been affected, but not necessarily negatively. Or more positively than not, I suppose. It just means you still get the scholarship—full ride, as long as you’re here—but you don’t need other compensation. For loss of property, legal fees to help suppress and recover photos and videos. Counseling. That kind of thing.”
“And those people… that’s List A? She peered at the screen, but Mrs. Hofstadter switched it to another window before she could ascertain anything beyond the lengths of the two columns. She was surprised by the balance of it, considering.
“Don’t worry about it. For now, just know you’re taken care of, and if you ever look back on things and realize you feel differently, let me or Mrs. Hofstadter know, and we’ll take care of it. All right?”
She nodded, a little too dumbstruck by all this to process it as yet. A full ride? A full fucking ride! Her sister had graduated with almost $30,000 in debt, and now… “Thank you so much for this, DJ!”
“Please, please don’t thank me.” He sounded tired.
She didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Well, OK then. And, um… well, I know the semester ends tomorrow, but are you still going to be around?”
“Sure, Jillian—what’s up?”
“Well, it’s Friday. It’s my last turn of the year.”
“I’ll see you there, Jill.” He smiled, and she smiled right back.
Mrs. Hofstadter ignored the two of them and called the next number.
When Earl got home from work, the house was quiet—and, he quickly realized, a bunch of his stuff was missing. He thought he’d been burglarized, until he reason a burglar wouldn’t have stolen a picture frame full of old photos of him and Heather and Brittney. He yelled for his wife even though he knew she was gone. She’d pulled a stunt like this once before, and evidently hadn’t learned her lesson.
“Heather’s not here,” said a voice from behind him. He whirled around to face the speaker.
“Hey, I remember you. You’re Brittney’s friend from school. Picked her up at Thanksgiving.”