“Don’t short yourself—the question was ‘did you fuck her,’ and you did, no ‘more or less’ bullshit about it. Surprised you didn’t parade her around campus like you did that bitch Emily after our little thing the other night.” She smiled teasingly.
“Well, I did, um, sort of take her out, after, and, uh, talked her into a tattoo. To commemorate it.” Why was this so hard to talk about?
“Inked her, huh. What’d she get? ‘I heart blowing my students’ or something?”
The first time he answered, he mumbled so badly that she made him repeat it. “It said ‘Bitch From Hell.’ On her lower back.” He explained the bit about the dress code then, too.
Ashley laughed so hard she almost spit out a gob of burrito. “That’s harsh. Though from what I hear about her class, fairly spot-on. Always trying to fit in with her students like she’s one of us. I fucking hate profs like that—just grow the fuck up and move on already. Well, nothing to help a bitch fit in with college girls better than dressing and acting like a ho.”
DJ just nodded, and an awkward silence ensued for a while until Ashley broke it. “So you get off on the public stuff, do you? Enjoy an audience and all that?”
He considered. “Well, not specifically. I, uh, I guess I just, well, seized the opportunity. And the opportunity happened to be in public.”
“Sure. Just like it was with me and Emily the other night, huh?”
He blushed. “Hey, in my defense, you and Charlie were already having sex in the lounge before we showed up.”
Ashley just grinned slyly for a long moment and then made a show of slowly sucking a little gob of cheese off of her finger. She leaned across the table and murmured in a dusky voice, “that’s because I get off on the public stuff.”
DJ’s brain was mired somewhere between the sight of Ashley sucking on her finger, her sensual murmuring, and the memory of seeing her naked and fingering her to orgasm not even a week ago. It couldn’t pull its feet out of the muck enough to manage an intelligent response. “If you’re worried about Charlie,” she went on in his stupor, “don’t. It was just a fling, and I ended it over the weekend.”
“Oh,” DJ monotoned. “Well that’s good. Not for Charlie, I guess.”
She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, DJ.”
Then, just as wild imagination had him convinced that Ashley was about to lay down on the table strip her clothes off and fuck him, she instead stood up and grabbed her tray. “Well, think about it, OK asshole?” It was what she’d called him every time she’d interacted with him until today, but her tone was all affectionate. Too stunned to react, he watched her saunter away, certain the extra wiggle in her hips was for his benefit.
He would most definitely be thinking about it.
It was only with the most herculean of efforts that he made it back to his dorm room without grabbing the next hot girl he saw and fucking her on the spot. He had a checklist, after all; much to do and less time to do it in. Next up was trying to secure a line of credit—he’d at first reasoned he wouldn’t need one, since no one seemed to be of a mind to bust him for shoplifting, but shopping online would require a credit card, and likewise if he wanted to let someone else benefit from his gift or go out and run errands for him. It took a lengthy conversation, talking his way through three layers of bureaucracy, but it finally ended in the acquisition of a credit card with no spending limit. Their system wouldn’t let them make one that wouldn’t require payments (for obvious reasons), but he made sure the regional manager noted on the account that no one would cancel his card for failure to pay, as he surely had no such intentions.
The card was in the mail, but they’d made sure the number was available for immediate use; as such, he set about fulfilling a few other whims. By the time the evening rolled around, he’d racked up charges of a little over $10,000. (Shipping everything overnight was pretty crazy expensive, after all.) After grabbing a quick dinner (this time, in genuine solitude), he went back to his floor and called a floor meeting. DJ ushered each student in there; unlike last week’s failed floor program on his birthday, nobody tried to weasel out of this one, or sneak away at the last minute. Soon, the lounge was jam-packed with almost every one of his four dozen plus residents. Although the floor was co-ed, men and women lived on opposite ends, and even here, they had self-segregated by gender.
“All righty everybody—just wanted to review a few new policies I’m going to be putting into place,” he announced. “First off, there are going to be no more judicial sanctions—no write-ups, no j-board hearings, none of that.” He allowed a moment for them to hoot and holler their excitement before continuing.
“Instead, there’s now a system administered ad hoc by me. That means if you do something I don’t like, I’m going to handle it how I feel like handling it.” Someone asked for him to clarify. “OK, say I find people having a big loud party one night, and it’s disruptive or dangerous or just bugs me. I might stop in and just fine everyone there $50 apiece.”
“What happens to that money?” a girl asked in the back.
“I keep it.” There was some grumbling, but no one seemed to want to argue. “Or say someone’s blasting their music too loud—looking at you, Dylan. I’ll come in and chuck your speakers out the window. Or a girl makes a big mess in the bathroom—I’ll come down to her room and administer a spanking.”
The girls frowned; the guys were a mixed lot. One girl, a heavyset freshman named Alyssa, spoke up with a raised hand. “Wait, so that means if you don’t like something I do, you’re going to… spank me?”
“Not you, Alyssa—that’s something I’ll save for girls with nice asses. You, I might just make clean it up and then issue a fine. Or whatever I feel like. Look, my point is this folks—there are still rules around here, and I’m still enforcing them. The important things to remember are: DBAA—that’s ‘don’t be an asshole’—and the punishment will be whatever I feel like. Any other questions?”
When no one spoke up, he went on to his next point. “All righty. For the guys, that’s it—head on out. Ladies, stick around—I got a little more that pertains only to you.” The guys shuffled out of the lounge, already talking about whether or not this new system would be to their benefit. He was glad that many sounded optimistic. Once they left, he continued.
“All righty. From now on, the girl’s bathroom is going to be a limited co-ed bathroom.” The girls immediately began to shout over one another to complain, and he raised a hand to silence them. “Limited, I said. That means it’s only going to be me. And no, Terri, that means your boyfriend still isn’t allowed in there. The other guys on the floor, and any guys visiting, are still down in the men’s room. I’ll probably do my business down there, but I plan on using the girls’ room to shower, and I’d like some idea of when it’ll be available. So what I need from each of you is to fill this out,” he began distributing a sheet with a grid on it, “with your name and the times you usually shower on it.”
It was Alyssa who spoke up again. “Um, why do you need this? If the showers are full, you can just wait in line.”
DJ laughed. “Oh, no—this isn’t to make sure it’s unoccupied. This is to make sure it’s occupied by the right girl, so I have a shower buddy to keep me company. Now come on, let’s go, fill those puppies out.”
There were some sour looks, but as DJ circled around the room prompting them, they all began to fill it in. “Good, good. Don’t forget your names there; that’s the whole point, after all. Fill in the whole thing. That’s what she said, right?” Nobody laughed. Whatever.