The College Spread Ladies of Week 3

The lights ease into a moody glow, casting long shadows across the stage. The College Spread logo hovers behind Rhett like a velvet threat. He strolls forward with the poise of a man who’s seen it all—and knows the next mess is only moments away.

“Week Three. And we’re already short a player. Not from heartbreak. Not from humiliation.

But because Zeke Kensington III thought ‘consent’ was optional—and an adjunct professor politely disagreed… by body-slamming him into the floor hard enough to dent it.”

The crowd explodes. Somewhere in the back:

“Hey, Fresher, maybe you should try a BDSM challenge with her—she’d make what Kailani did to you look like a caress!”

Rhett lifts his mic slightly and smirks. “Savage. And accurate. With Zeke out in orthopedics and probably making a starring appearance in "Zeke Says No: Prison Version", that means this week we only draw six cards. One for each of our surviving risk-takers.”

He turns toward the massive LED screen behind him. The College Spread logo evaporates in a swirl of digital mist, clean and deliberate, revealing six pristine card backs sliding smoothly into place.

“Here they are… The Ladies of Week Three. Fresh off the deck and full of danger. Let’s see who gets lucky—and who gets schooled.”

Your tablet buzzes as the first of this weeks Ladies of the College Spread deck appears on its screen.

Rhett glances up at the screen, sees the image settle, and tilts his head slightly—half-curious, half-resigned. “Melissa Tran. Creative Writing, twenty-one. She’s got the ‘Friday Reading’ sign behind her and the cardigan to match. Definitely more poetry club than pole dance, and she says she ‘writes sonnets, not sexts’—which is either a challenge or a warning, depending on your confidence level.”

Another card spins into position on your tablet as the second lady is revealed.

Rhett stops mid-step as the sharp monochrome image appears. He gives a low whistle, raising his brows slightly. “Nyx Caldwell. Philosophy TA, twenty-six. You’re not gonna out-think this one—hell, most of you won’t survive a sentence. She teaches metaphysics and moral reasoning and still looks like she might silently judge your soul out of existence. Tagline says, ‘Think hard. I do.’—and right now I'm wondering if that double-entendre is deliberate... or just a warning to back away slowly.”

Another buzz and another girl.

Rhett takes a look before introducing her. “Next is Morgan Blake. Marketing major, twenty-one. She's the kind of girl who knows how to boost engagement—except maybe her own. It says she ‘works the brand better than her own,’ which, fair warning, might be the most brutally honest tagline we’ve seen all year.”

The fourth lady spins into view:

Rhett looks at it… then squints, leans forward a little, and lets out a soft, sympathetic wince. “Karen Lindström. She's 19 and in the mathematics track. And… yeah, she looks exactly how that reads. The deck says she's ‘Perpetually awkward,’ and honestly, I’d call that generous. Still, she's here, she's eligible, and she’s got more brainpower than most of this stage combined—so if you’re hoping to bluff your way through this one? Good luck with that.”

And then the fifth and penultimate girl of the week:

Rhett clocks the outfit, the book, the vibe, and gives a little nod, folding his arms casually. “And the second-last Lady of the week is Kennedy Brooks. Philosophy major, twenty-two years old. The tag says ‘Thinks deeply. Dresses cutely.’ I mean… yeah, that tracks. There’s something about her that says she’ll dismantle your worldview and still ask if you want to get coffee after. Solid pull—not flashy, but smart, stylish, and probably out of your league if you quote Nietzsche wrong.”

With just six players left in the game, there is just one more card to draw...

Rhett takes one look, lets out a long whistle, and folds his arms slowly like he’s bracing for fallout. “Well damn… another Queen. That’s three weeks in a row we’ve pulled an adjunct professor—and so far, neither one has made it to the scoring table. Zeke failed with one and got hospitalized by the other. And now? Dr. Isabella Aragon. Political Economics professor, and just thirty-five years old. Her tagline says, ‘Markets obey me. So do men.’ You perverts should choose carefully. This is not a curve you want to be graded on unprepared.”

He turns back to the audience. "And now... drum roll please... it's time for our players to make their selections for the week. We'll be running from youngest player to oldest this week. So, Fresher, make your play!