Get to know Michelle better

Michelle takes a minute to get set-up at her workstation. As she waits for her stuff to boot, she glances over at you.

“How’s work going on?” she asks.

“Good. Fantastic, actually,” you reply, pointing eagerly at your screen. “See, look, I got the function to work correctly!”

“I did see you celebrating like a toddler at a birthday party,” she says drily. “Congratulations.”

“Look, I got to take my wins where I can get them,” you say.

Michelle covers the side of her face and chuckles, a husky thing that comes from deep within her throat. She’s hot. It’s in casual moments like these, with the way her hair falling to the side, exposing the arc of her neck and her exquisite features, that you marvel at how you lucked out working alongside such a beauty.

“Stonewall’s got you down bad, huh,” she says.

“I’ve got classes with too much work, clubs that take up too much time, and all these girls pining for my attention,” you say, exaggerating the painfulness of that last bit with a hand brushing across your forehead.

“Uh-huh,” she says, echoing your tone. “Somehow I have my doubts about that last one.”

“I’m super popular,” you say. “So popular with the girls, in fact, that I’ve got a ten out of ten sitting right here next to me right now.”

Michelle chuckles again, seemingly unmoved by your flattery.

“Such a sweet tongue, and yet, where’s your girlfriend?” she asks.

Oof. Way to hit a man while he’s down. You glance back at her, seeing the teasing smile on her face.

“Like you’re doing any better?” you fire back.

The moment you say it, you realize your mistake. Trust your wit to call this Theta babe single. You wince, fully expecting to get a deserved smackdown. But instead, you see her expression soften a touch.

“I haven’t got a girlfriend,” she says. “Or a boyfriend, which is probably what you meant.”

“What? How?” you ask, feeling mildly shocked.

“Just haven’t found the right guy who's into me yet,” she shrugs, almost too dismissively.

“No way. I don’t believe it. With looks like this—” you gesture at her “—and brains like this,” you gesture at her computer, whirring away. “Any guy would be crazy not to go for you!”

She shrugs again, conceding your point.

“So you’d think I’d be happy,” she says, a faint bitterness in her voice. “Would that I could be.”

You pause, concerned. “You doing okay there?”

She smiles a bit, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Fine enough,” she says, turning to her computer.

Suddenly, just like that, it seems like the conversation is over. Her eyes are glued to her monitor, fingers racing across her keyboard, code being written like she’s playing typeracer. You have no idea how this girl does it. You turn back to your work, trying to figure out this next task that you have to do, but the last moments of your conversation with Michelle keep playing over in your head. Did you do something wrong? You’re bothered and it’s hard to focus on the code when all you can think about is her. You want to ask her about it, but you’re scared to broach the topic. What if you make it worse? The thoughts swirl in your head, until eventually, you decide that you may as well let it out. You’re not getting work done anyways.

“Did I do something wrong?” you eventually ask, breaking the silence.

Michelle pauses mid-keystroke, blinking rapidly. She turns to you, tilting her to the side, her deep green eyes boring into yours.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just… the way you reacted when I said you could have any guy,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “You didn’t seem happy about it.”

“It’s a me issue,” she says. “Not your business.” She opens her mouth and closes it again. Something’s on her mind, that much is clear, and you wait, giving her the space to decide what she wants to say. Eventually, she shakes her head, sighing. “You’re right, I can pretty much have any guy that I want. Except, I can’t.”

You frown, puzzled. That makes less sense than any of the questions on your latest round of homework, and that’s saying a lot.

“Um… why can’t you?” you ask.

She grimaces a bit, seeming to pause again.

“It’s a me thing. Like I said,” she says. She sees the look on your face, still confused, and bites her tongue. “It’s hard to phrase.” She thinks for another moment, and when she finally speaks, she does so, almost agonizingly slowly. “There’s certain things that I’m not comfortable doing. Things that guys want to do with me. Things that I want to do with guys.”

“Oh,” you say quietly. It’s starting to make a bit more sense now.

“I really shouldn’t burden you with this kind of thing,” she says. “We have work to do and—”

“It’s not a burden,” you say firmly. “And don’t worry about the work. It’ll get done—do you even see yourself? You’re bullet-quick!”

Michelle smiles at that.

“Yeah, but you’re not,” she says. She catches herself and frowns. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. I appreciate what you just said.”

“I’m serious,” you say. “You can talk to me.”

She stares at you—really seems to stare at you, into you, as if piercing into your soul. You struggle to maintain eye contact, not because of the usual ‘she’s hot and I want to sneak a peek at her tits’ reasons, but because of the sheer intensity of her gaze. She swallows, looking away.

“It’s easier if I just show you,” she says. She shifts her chair closer to yours, putting her hands on her knees. She leans towards you, her eyes still trained on you. Then, two words slip out of her mouth, delicately formed, achingly expressed: “Kiss me.”

The shock almost makes you fall out of your chair. As you right yourself, now looking at Michelle, drop-dead gorgeous sorority sister perched on the edge of her chair, offering herself to you, you find yourself unsure…

“Don’t you want to? You just called me a perfect ten,” she says, a hardness in her voice.

“I do,” you manage to say, leaning towards her. You stop. “But… Professor Styles…”

“She won’t come out of her office for another few hours. She’s more of a workaholic than you or I,” Michelle says. The smile on her face is sardonic.

“Okay… okay then,” you say, getting closer to her still.

You can feel the heat of her breath across your face. Her green eyes still stare at you intensely, a desire there that you can practically feel radiating off of her. You can’t resist her. You circle your arms around her, pulling her body into yours, as your lips meet hers. She kisses you back, the two of you Frenching like there’s no tomorrow. Your tongue slides against hers, she kisses you back. She’s melting in your arms. Your kisses against her stir a passion downstairs, and you feel yourself growing bolder, hands tracing up from her waist, up the side of her blouse, those unbuttoned buttons revealing her beautiful cleavage all spilled out…

“Stop,” she says, suddenly pushing you away, just as your hands have grazed the sides of her breasts. “Stop.”

You back away, pulling away, lips separated from hers, hands in the air.

“Whoa, you good?” you ask her.

Her lip quivers ever so slightly.

“No,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. She slumps back in her chair. “But I’ll be okay.”

“So there’s lines you can’t cross with guys,” you say, trying to sound as gentle as you can. “That’s fine.”

“Try living ten years like that and see if you still agree,” she says, her breath hitching.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” you say, feeling your chest sinking.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she says. She turns back to her screen. She resumes typing for a couple seconds, and then pauses again, glancing at you. “Thanks for playing along. It was nice while it lasted.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, it was.”

Michelle nods too, and then turns back to her computer, leaving you to stew in your thoughts once again.

Michelle +20