With my elective choices decided for me, the only remaining stop was Cora's Sensuelle. Her choice of Masseuse came as a surprise.
"If you're spending all day on your tiptoes, someone will have to rub those calves," she reasoned. I waited in the soft, orange reflected glow of the École's tower, coming to terms with the latest indignity.
Reilin's crimson curls bobbed uphill, alone. I'd placed eyes on her a few times as we strolled the yard, though she hadn't paid me any mind, likely based on Cora's presence.
Now seemed as good a time as any to crack that ice. I was tired of brooding and could use a distraction. Ainset pulled over my shoulder as I approached her from behind, "This one again, you enjoy punishment?"
Apparently.
"She's not that terrible," I reasoned. My cock still ached from the rough treatment I gave her, and I felt a twinge of duty to resolve the situation. I doubted Cora would present much resistance, publicly at least. Her way was to run and hide from confrontation rather than face it head-on.
Reilin's eyes were set on something in the distance, inward on the campus's circular map, nearer the auditorium. Tracking her sightline, I came upon a familiar gaggle of girls, Cechele and her posse.
"Rei!" I called to her; she gave a small jump and turned, then crossed her arms and rounded back.
See if I care, better angle to view your ass from.
It was a sight, a sensation, I could still feel the bounce.
"What do you want?" she asked as I pulled closer, her thigh twitching.
Round two.
I left that unsaid, thinking it best not to cue my probation officer into our mid-concert communion. Ainset was already sniffing at the air, veering toward another group of girls, likely in search of sexual residue.
Making use of the moment's distraction, I stopped beside Reilin, letting the back of my hand brush her hip, "We don't have to avoid each other."
"To what end, further tarnishing my reputation?" her button-nose wrinkled.
"Cut the shit. Jealous lover isn't a good look for you," I jabbed her with my pinky's knuckle.
"Not your lover," she straightened up, "That was a one-time thing..."
Rei...
"This is why we don't feed alleycats."
I could have gotten mad, but I was coming to understand that this tet-a-tet was her form of foreplay.
"Right. Lest you end up with a litter of kittens."
"Fuck you," her eyes rolled. She'd touched up her make-up in the time in between, "Now shoo, I'm busy."
"Your leash?"
"Yes." Cechele still had it, apparently. I owed the bitched a visit but still hadn't found my angle. At this point, she was beginning to feel like an afterthought, my panty crowning a minor inconvenience compared to the rest of the morning's highs and lows.
I could just get it over with. Eat the consequences. I didn't put on these panties for nothing.
"Got any dirt on her?"
"Nothing solid," she rolled her shoulders, "Hemill might be a sore spot."
"Hemill, isn't he gay?" I wasn't faulting him; he was nice, but he made it pretty obvious.
"It was before we knew," she added.
How did you not know? Even among nobility, the guy dressed extra sharp.
A wave of giggles rolled across the garden, grabbing my attention. The skank brigade's edges rolled like slime, enveloping a young woman who'd taken the wrong path. I recognized the frizzy brown mop. Vivienne, my forty-eight. She was the least prepared of us to face that nonsense.
"What's that leash worth to you, princess? You willing to drop the one-time nonsense?" I asked and set off down the trail.
I didn't wait for a response. Someone needed to set that bitch straight.
"You're not going to..." Reilin said, tailing me.
"Ainset!" I glanced over my shoulder, making sure she heard. The brass brat gave some girl's pigtail a tug and peeled herself away to join us.
"There it is again!" she inhaled sharply, rolling to my side, "Why can't I place it?"
The sauce was weak.
I did as best I could in unsure shoes, adding some swagger to my walk as I approached the crowd. With a bit of fishing, I pulled the leash strap from my pack and held it out to Ains. "You promised..."
"Oh, your panty pay-off! Ready to teach that tramp a lesson?" She grabbed its end and vanished. The strap purred into my palm.
Cechele was making a show of things, running an ivory handled brush that matched her white skirt and jacket through Vivienne's messy hair as she dressed her down.
"How is it you can draw such pretty girls, getting reamed by ogres, and not give the slightest attention to your own routine maintenance?"
Vivienne shrank, beet-red, offering no response. After her sketchbook was stolen and passed around the lycée, she'd been the target of constant ridicule and had eventually switched schools. It still ate at me that I took part. The drawings were good; she drew liquids well. One in particular came to mind, a series of panels in which a roper's tentacles vigorously claimed a traveling maid.
"Easy for you to say, Cece, with hair that short!" I whipped my head, braid wrapping my neck, "Did it work? Did those headlice ever clear up, or did they just move South?"