Yes actually

As I get up, I slip against the bench and blush again. I still put my panties and jeans on, even with the wetness, I hope it doesn't soak all the way through. Chet, who I'd recognized at some point during our bet as being our football team's quarterback, motions courteously toward the student union and the atm just inside the doors. He even moves as if to put his other arm around my waist, but I dodge forward quickly a couple of steps to avoid it. "Really?" he asks. "I just bet you like your signs says, and I'm about to give you a hundred dollars, too." I guess the sign keeps people from understanding that I don't really want any of this, too.

"Yeah, but that was the bet, but I don't really know you otherwise," I reply.

"I suppose not," he says, but he still steps ahead of me to open the door open. He immediately goes to the ATM, and a minute later, I'm putting another hundred dollars into my wallet. If this goes on much longer, I'm going to have to make a deposit so I'm not carrying so much cash on me. It's still not worth it. As I turn to go to the cafeteria/restaurant in the union, I see another guy look at the sign and then up at me.

To my surprise, I find myself able to say, "Sorry, I need to eat, and then I have comparative religions afterward." I'm going to be able to eat and continue going to classes? I think. On the other hand, I'm not enthused by what I say next. "So if you're still interested, you can find me at the humanities building around two o'clock."

"Sure, great, I will," he says and Kyle and I turn to find a table. A few of the others find tables, too, and the rest leave to go about their business, the show over for the moment. As I sit, I put my backpack on the table at the place next to me and brace the sign against it.

"I have to get rid of this thing," I say, and Kyle looks confused.

"But how will people know to bet you then," he asks.

"If I get rid of it, I'll be done with the bets."

"Oh, OK."

At that point, a waitress -- a fellow student working part time for the school -- comes up to take our order, looking at the sign, then me, and the blushing, but we order without incident. Kyle and I talk, the conversation oddly normal with the sign in sight, but I guess it's otherwise out of the picture with him having already bet me something and my ordeal on hold for lunch and my next class. I even manage to forget how horny I am, and I come down from the edge quite a bit. When we finish lunch, I grab my pack and the sign, and, seeing as I'm clearer headed than I've been since I got it, resolve myself to toss it in the trash can by the door as we leave.

I walk by it, the sign still prominently perched on one hip. I couldn't even twitch toward the can. I'm going to have to give it to someone after all. I don't want to do that, but I can't let the bet's, or my own unrequited arousal keep building up for much longer. As we walk to the Humanities building, several people look like they want to take me up on 'my' offer, but fortunately I'm still able to fend them off. Unfortunately, I keep letting them know when I'll be available again. I have six, six, appointments by the time I sit down in comparative religions. I have to get rid of this thing!