My grandparents also left me a cash bequest of twenty thousand. It bothered me that I never knew about the trust and was never able to properly thank ...hem.I used part of the twenty thousand to set me up in an off campus apartment, but other than that sophomore year was more of the same. I still saw Bonnie two or three times a week and when I wasn't seeing her I could usually be seen with one of the girls that Bonnie had talked me up to. Life was good, but every once in a while I would be. "At least voluntarily." Good for them!" Laura said. "Anyway. I guess we will be leaving soon so I'll go change."She left, and I decided to change into a suit. Not my style, really, when 'off duty', but I decided to rise to the occasion too.We met in the hall. She had platted her hair in a French braid and in her new dress she was a stunner. She got her new boots and coat on, and hung on my arm during the brief walk to the Convent Church. We looked the model of middle class respectability, and I. Screw that, she thinks, and stubbornly refuses to play the game.She conjures him in her mind, his face, his body, his smell, his touch . . .the list is endless. She closes her eyes and smiles. Silly, really, how justthe thought of him can calm her. Thirtyminutes. Should she go get someone, she wonders? She decides against it, andinstead traces those marks through her sweater and bra. Fortyminutes, and she decides she might as well remove the bra. It?s not like the interviewerwould notice. “I’ve been wondering what you felt like here.”I shifted to gain better access to the skin high on the inside of her thighs. So close to the spot where Tara wanted me desperately. I slipped my hands further, and Oh boy, she was not wearing her panties. Tara was much beyond my expectations. She was playing her own game, her style.She was getting wet at the thrill of my stroking. So fucking wet that I could smell her. Her eyes were telling me she’s not wearing panties, only for me to smother her.