You decide it's better to let the girls settle it for themselves. You might get busted by that RA Cathy, and that would ruin your whole weekend. Instead of following Ellen, you take a little time to investigate the room.
The two sides of the room were mirror images of each other in their essentials. Small desks at the head of each bed, a dresser at the foot, and closets next to each dresser. Against the wall, between the desks was a small fridge, adorned with some of those fridge-magnet letters that were so popular back home. And running the entire length of the wall beside the desks was a large window that began at waist high, and ran to the ceiling. The curtains were closed - obviously Amy wasn't about to show her birthday suit to the world.
Scanning that side of the room, there were clothes on the bed which is unmade, (you took special note of the lacy black panties) books on the floor, along with artist tablets and pencils. Unpacked boxes, and empty water bottles and diet Coke cans. Pairs of shoes and boots lay scattered under the bed like soldiers fallen in battle.
In contrast, Ellen's side was an immaculate model of order and tidiness. Her bed was made, books were on a small shelf, and no clothes were visible, excepting a white, fuzzy bathrobe that hung on a hook behind the door. There's a family picture hanging over the head of the bed, and some more in frames on the top of the bookcase. There's even one of you in her collection, a pretty good-looking one of you with Ellen at prom-night. You'd forgotten she’d made you get that one taken. Maybe she'd felt sorry for you 'cos you’d gone stag, you're not sure.
Ellen's been gone longer than you thought she would be. You're about to head after her to investigate when your eye notices a funny shape under Ellen's bed. You crouch down and pull it out and find a cardboard box covered by a cloth the same colour as her light-blue sheets. Curious, you open up the box and find it full of video-cassettes arranged in three piles in their cases. The ones on the top look just typical of Ellen, 'Moulin Rouge', 'Forrest Gump' and 'Saving Private Ryan' (she always a bit of a sucker for Tom Hanks) films you know she's watched at least a dozen times each. Something urges you to dig a little deeper, and it could be the fact that you can't see a TV-set, let alone a VCR in the room.
Your inquisition is rewarded when under a copy of 'The Princess Bride' you find a porn flick called 'Licking Lesbian Lust Laboratory'. You feel a stirring in your groin as you realise the potential of this discovery. Making sure to put the tapes back in the right order you're just closing the box up when Ellen re-enters the room. You quickly slide the box back under the bed and stand up, kicking the cloth under with back of your foot.
Ellen looks a sight. Soaking wet and with ripped clothes, she stares as if surprised to see you. The front of her dress hangs down limply, exposing a semi-transparent low-cut black bra. One cup isn't on right, it had obviously been pulled off and the breast not put back in properly. You can almost see the top of her areola, which is apparent because of the see-through nature of the material that is covering it. The pantyhose of her left leg is laddered in several places, and there's some blood running from the scratches. And she's holding one shoe in her hand (but not, you note, the offending dildo that started the whole mess).
"Oh, shit" she manages eventually. "I forgot you were here."
"That’s ok," you reply cheekily, "Just don't let it happen again."
The shock on her face melts into humour, and she half-heartedly throws the shoe at you. "Oh ha ha. Very funny. I s'pose you think this sort of thing happens all the time here?"
"The hope has crossed my mind," you quib back, giving her a wink. "Are you just going to stand there staring at me all day, or are you going to clean yourself up?"
This time she laughs genuinely and moves into the room, shutting the door behind her. "I don’t know, that all depends on how much privacy a girl can get around here." There is a challenge in her voice, but you're not sure which way she wants you to play ball. Should you offer to help, or let her do it herself? |