At a bar

You finish chugging down your third cocktail, and slump face-down on the bar. It's been a tiring day. First you had the first exam of your third year, of which the difficulty had ramped up considerably compared to the first two years. And the was followed up with a hundred-lap swim race, in which you just barely managed to once again squeeze into first place.

There's no doubt in your mind. You need a fuck, tonight.

Unfortunately, all of your established fuck-buddies are busy tonight. But that's okay. You feel more in the mood for some fresh meat anyways.

Sitting up, you decide you're sufficiently **** to get this show on the road. You check your clothes.

Your fishnet top and skimpy microskirt leave little to the imagination, and your visible underwear is sure to catch the attention of your target. Now all that's left is to pick one.

You swivel on your barstool, and look around the club, seeking out someone suitable to sit between your well-toned thighs until morning.