Rachel is Impressed

"Sorry," I mumble, head down and recovering a little after almost running into the girl on the other side of the door.

"No problem!" Rachel replies, chipper and cheerful as she stepped aside to let me pass, "I don't mind and I'm sure that if I was- Holy fuck wait."

Her hand snaps out and closes on my arm and I don't even make it a foot before she tugs me back and turns me to face her.

"Holy fucking shit, Em?" she says, her eyes running down my body and back up to my face, "Girl you look stunning."

The same, frankly, could be said for her.

There is a long-standing tradition on college campuses that people tend to give up after a while, at least in my experience. A bunch of barely adults away from home for the first time and the guys go a little too deep into the ratty jeans and busted t-shirt look and the girls all wind up gravitating to sweatpants and a hoodie at some point or another. That's provided that you don't go full pajama set.

Point being, people tend to wear casual on campus. Everyone starts off with good intentions but things slip time by time as the hangovers pile up and you do wind up just kind of giving in to it.

God knows I did.

Rachel Patrick never did, though. To every rule there is an exception and to this one she is it. She never dressed down. She always dressed to impress. Frankly she always looked fucking stunning, and today was no exception to that rule.

She was wearing a sundress, perhaps taking a page out of the book that I'd drawn from yesterday. But owing to the cut of the sundress and the absolutely drop-dead gorgeous nature of the curvaceous body beneath it the comparison ended in name and name alone. The two outfits were so very different that they were hardly comparable.

For starters hers was undeniably more feminine. A pale pink it was tight around the bodice and loose nearly everywhere else and made of a far more delicate fabric than mine, one that spoke to softness and expense. It had slight ruffles over the shoulders and at the top of the bodice, right where it was cut low enough to show off a generous amount of her cleavage and that was mainly because it felt like almost all of her breasts were pushed up over the top of it.

The term spilling out comes to mind, because it seemed like they just might at any moment.

Her breasts seemed to be straining the fabric and frankly the little tie in the middle between the two generous orbs seemed only to serve to draw attention to the long line of cleavage she had. Between that and the little dangling golden locket that came down just below her pronounced collarbone it was all I could do to keep from staring directly at her breasts.

That isn't to say that the rest of the dress was anything to sniff at. It was loose but in that kind of almost nightie way where every step and every bounce and every movement of the body beneath it only clung to those forms of her. Where it seemed like it almost outlined her feminine form and frankly it made her feel more naked maybe even than her being naked would make her feel.

And cut well above the knees it was anything but demure and decent. It was polite but positively lewd and with her long and flowing golden locks and her model good looks Rachel knew precisely what figure she was cutting and exactly the effect it had on the guys around her.

And right now, honestly, on the girls around her too.

My belly hadn't really stopped roiling from my little rendevous in the alleyway and frankly there was little that was keeping my head from spinning but Rachel seemed to put it into overdrive and the fact that she was seemingly taking her time looking me up and down and checking me out, well it had me thinking things.

It had me hoping things.

And it had my mind racing, trying to figure out how to make one of my fondest fantasies come true.

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