Chelsea Annipua... Spoiled brat, dealer, and party animal

"It's Chelsea Annipua" you announce timidly. You stand there waiting patiently for her to open the door. No one would ever figure you for an Ivy League troublemaker, but that's what you turned out to be. You're kind of concerned about this meeting with Triple D in a way, but you are pretty certain if you get into too much trouble, your parents, both alumni, will cover it over for you. In fact, you start to grow in confidence over this fact as you push strands of your long blond hair out of your eyes. You begin to wonder what, exactly, could be taking Triple D so long to let you in when the door suddenly swings open. There before you stands a very frightened boy you've seen around campus before. He looks like he didn't have an enjoyable visit with Triple D at all. It's enough to make you wonder what you might be in for as you watch his speedy departure, and any confidence you might have gained through logic and reasoning has just walked out the door in a fast retreat behind him.

There, standing before you, is the quintessential raven haired succubus herself the entire school has come to know as Triple D. "Come in, Miss Annipua" she says with a bewitching and beguiling smile. "Close the door behind you please." She walks away from you, and takes a seat behind her antique mahogany desk.

You close the door behind you, and it seems to slam shut as if sealing you inside a prison cell. The sound of it echoes a feeling of foreboding and finality. You stand before her, nervously waiting.

Triple D looks you over in a way that makes you feel violated. She licks her lips, then smiles. "Please, sit down Miss Annipua. Let's get to know each other for a bit. Tell me about yourself."

"There's not that much to tell that you probably don't already know" you begin. "Both my parents are Cambria alumni, and they wanted me to follow in their footsteps."

"I know all about your parents" Triple D interrupts. "I know they are the reason why you're here, creating all kinds of mayhem on my campus. None of that concerns me, Miss Annipua." The tone of her voice has suddenly changed from cordial to commanding. "Take off your clothes."

"W-what?"

"Did I stutter? Did I not make myself clear?" Triple D looks at you like a vulture swooping down on its prey. "I said take off your clothes. I want you to do it quickly, and I mean every stitch. Did I say it slow enough for you to understand this time? Now get to it!"

"M-May I ask why?" you ask, nervously looking at the door, wishing someone would come to your rescue.

"Because I said to." Triple D stands up, and walks around to your side of the desk. She spins your chair around to face her. "Consider it a strip search for , and any related items I might happen to run across. I know you've been dealing."

'This is really bad,' you think to yourself. Fortunately, you don't have anything on you today. You left everything back at the frat house. Still, you'd feel a lot better if you didn't have to do this. Still you can't help but try to play the parents card. "My parents would not approve of their only daughter being strip searched by a Lesbian like you."

Uh Oh! Wrong move! Triple D looks at you, boiling with rage. "Your parents have no power in this office. I'm also sure your parents would wonder why you, their only spoiled brat of a daughter, ended up expelled from one of the best colleges in the Ivy League. Now, unless you want me to call in the city Police to search you, and your frat house, I suggest you do as I say, and strip!" She backs away from your chair slowly. "You should also know that I'm recording this entire event. So don't try anything."

'Good one, Chelsea' you think to yourself. _'Now you've got her right where she wants you.' _What else can you do now, except comply with her demands? You stand up, still helplessly hoping someone - anyone - will come through the door, and stop what's about to happen to you. You glance over at it, but nothing happens. You look at Triple D, and she's grinning victoriously.

"Just put everything on my desk" she tells you.

You put your shoulder bag on her desk, lower your head in shame, and slowly start to unbutton your black leather duster.