<strong>ASHERAH:</strong><br/><br/>Your quote-unquote benefactory scoots over, and you take your seat beside him, folding your hands in your lap and pressing your legs together. Almost immediately, though, his hand snakes over to you, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh. For a moment, you wonder what he wants (because he's giving off that air) before you remember your agreement; in exchange for your spot on the bench, you have to let him have fun with you. Gulping, you spread your legs apart enough for him to reach between them, and you feel his fingers go to work. He strokes you, slow, gentle motions, thumbing the top of your slit, coaxing your clitoris out of hiding. You shudder - he's experienced despite his age, his fingers moving with serene purpose. It feels...<em>good</em>, but at the same time you're keenly aware that you're only in this situation out of necessity, and you're not entirely doing this willingly. That dichotomy, for one reason or another, just makes you hotter, wetter, and already you yearn for more but don't dare vocalize it.<br/><br/>Instead - an idea pops into your head, and you glance over at the man. "Do you have a car, dude?" You ask. A car would solve (most of) your problems - you'd be able to get back to campus without being seen by anyone else, and then you'd be able to get to class...it wouldn't solve your lack-of-pants issue, but one step at a time.<br/><br/>"A car? I might." He continues to stroke you, and you feel a jolt of pleasure as he starts to push into you. "It depends on how well you do here over the next hour, I guess. Why does it matter?"<br/><br/>You resist the urge to huff, remembering that nobody who might pass by can see how exposed you are, and that you could be stuck out there. "I - I need to get to class," you say - you're not sure how well you'd be able to lie, the world already gone topsy-turvy like this, making it hard to concentrate. "I'm not sure if I can afford to miss it."<br/><br/>"I know how that's like," he replies.<br/><br/>You wait a beat, to see if he's going to say anything else; when he doesn't, you pick up where you left off. "It's not for a little while, and it's not very far - I just want to get there without being, you know - " you gasp as he finally slides a finger into you, but by now you're plenty wet and it goes in smoothly. " - s-seen."<br/><br/>"Mmm." He crooks his head to the side, keeping his attention elsewhere - though you still see him glance at you on occasion, at the cleft between your legs. "Well, I<em>suppose</em>I could drive you...it's not like I have much to do right now. But when you got there, you'd still have to deal with the fact that you wouldn't be wearing any pants. Not that I care, I'd at least get a great look at your ass as you walked away."<br/><br/>You bite your lower lip; he's right, of course, you may get to class on time but you'd still be half-naked. Still...he slides another finger into you, and<em>man</em>, he manages to stroke you just right, and for reasons you can't quite grasp, an idea crosses your mind.<br/><br/>"You - could you - " You shudder again. "Could you - lend me - your pants?"<br/><br/>He purses his lips, considering it...you hope against hope that he's humane enough to do that much for you without asking for something in return. But just as he's about to answer (you see his mouth open, his tongue starting to work, funny how all the little details are standing out now), you hear footsteps approaching from the left - and around the corner steps another person, a little older than your companion. Folded over this newcomer's arm is a blue apron; you see a wrinkled white logo on the front, and you don't need to be able to see it that well to know it belongs to the supply shop.<br/><br/>"Hey, Fred," the man sitting next to you says, raising an arm at the passerby. "You're opening today, huh?"<br/><br/>"Oh, hey there!" Fred stops in his tracks and waves at your buddy. He's far enough away that you hope he can't see everything, but even then, your friend's fingers are still at work, and it's hard to keep from moaning and oh man it would be so easy to give it all away. "Yeah, I wasn't planning on it, but the boss got a nasty bug from his kid, so it'll just be me for a few hours. Why don't you come on in? Once I get the register set up, I can ring you up, and there's no reason to leave you out here like this."<br/><br/>"Cool." He nods, a grin flitting across his face. "Mind if I bring along my friend here?"<br/><br/>Your eyes shoot wide open; no, no, that wasn't part of the deal! You want to tell him this, to shut him down outright, but your mouth doesn't seem to work right, and before you really can, Fred says, "Sure, I don't see why not, Jack. Just keep an eye on her, okay?"<br/><br/>"You got it. We'll be right there, Fred." Your benefactor - Jack - finally looks at you directly as Fred continues past, going towards the supplies store. "Here's how I see it," Jack says, and you're not sure if you like his tone of voice. "With Fred doing me this solid, I can go in, get my shopping done, and then we can see about getting you some pants. And no, I'm not giving you mine."<br/><br/>"But - "<br/><br/>"<em>However</em>," Jack continues, "I would help you get some...if you do what I tell you."<br/><br/>You whimper, his touch is sooo good, and, well, he's offering a little help at least...<br/><br/>"Come with me into the store," Jack says. "You'll be my personal shopping cart, and don't you dare try to hide yourself from Fred. He's good people, so he won't spread the word and won't take advantage of you if I tell him not to, but he's my buddy and we have to watch out for each other. Do this, and I'll drive you to the nearest clothes place. From there, I'll drive you to class, and all three of us are winners today."<br/><br/>"And if I don't...?" You ask.<br/><br/>"If you don't...enjoy the bench and I'll catch you around, I guess." Jack shrugs. He stands up, but doesn't remove his fingers from inside you. "It's your call."<br/><br/>Ugh. Men could never make it easy, could they? You could FOLLOW JACK INTO THE STORE and do as he says, which guarantees a pair of pants somewhere down the line, or you can STAY ON THE BENCH and see if you can find your own way.<br/><br/><strong>CHLOE MILEV:</strong><br/><br/>The professor sizes you up, but rather than looking angry, he seems...disappointed, almost. Like he'd expected better of you. You can feel<em>everyone's</em>eyes on you, both classes of students, and you fidget under their combined gaze. Even though you're not looking at anybody directly, you can tell they're getting the most out of this that they can.<br/><br/>"Is this some sort of sorority prank?" The professor asks, though it seems largely rhetorical. "Honestly, what were you thinking, coming to class like this?"<br/><br/>Your mind races - trying to think of something to say, should you tell the truth, or should you lie? Would he buy either one? Did it matter? Oh God, what would happen to you? But even as you scrabble for purchase, trying to sort out what to say, to do from here, your brain latches onto something. Before you realize it, you blurt, "Sociology experiment."<br/><br/>This gives the professor some pause. "I'm sorry?"<br/><br/>"It's a sociology experiment," you continue, and you're still thinking at like a million miles an hour, but now that you've forwarded an excuse, it's so easy to continue and your voice works almost on its own volition. "I've got a term paper due next month and I wanted to see how people reacted to a woman in my position and how it changed their everyday routines. The results have been fascinating so far, and this instance alone will net me two or three full pages."<br/><br/>Wow, that was pretty slick of you. Despite the fact that all that was separating you from complete indecency was a single sheet of paper, you feel pride welling up into your chest, your ears buzzing.<br/><br/>By now, a low wave of chatter had risen up amongst the students, mumbling to each other about - well, you. And a quick look at the professor's face tells you that he's not entirely sure he buys it; he's a learned man, after all, and he didn't really have a reputation for being gullible. But...stranger still, he shrugs and says, "Very well, though I'd have appreciated it if you'd told me sooner."<br/><br/>He so doesn't believe you. So why...?<br/><br/>"But the least I could do is help your experiment along," he continues, and you feel a knot of dread inside you, heavy and hot. To add to this feeling, he says, "I'll take your quiz from you now; you can finish it after class in my office. And if you would please sit on that table over there? I think this will be a good experiment for me to run, too - to test how well my students can concentrate. Just be sure to keep your legs open, okay?"<br/><br/>He points at the table in question, situated almost in the middle of the room, where everyone would have a good look at you - and the fact that he's, he's asking you to expose yourself like this...<br/><br/>"Of course, if it turns out you're making this up, then I'm afraid I'll have to take your test as it is and send you on your way." The professor's tone is casual, as if - as if he didn't really care, either way, and that unnerves you.<br/><br/>What will you do? Will you GIVE HIM THE TEST AND SIT ON THE TABLE, where both classes will have a clear view of your vagina? Or will you FESS UP, and be forced to leave without the chance for making up the test? Not to mention he's offering you a modicum of shelter afterwards if you keep your facade up...