I stepped out of the throng and handed Reilin her leash, saying, "Here, no need to thank me." She was simmering, her eyes kept to the side, obviously upset at having lost it in the first place.
"You didn't need to do that," she said, clutching the rolled length tight. Ainset, surrounded by first-years, fielded questions on the intricacies of combat sensuel. Reilin, my royal pain in scarlet, brought her lips to my ear, "Don't look so dour. I'll pay you back later, in private."
Her breath on my skin set me to throb. The heightened sensations from the defi still rolled beneath my skin, and all I wanted was to press into something warm.
A sigh ripped its way from my chest, eyes rolling over freshly watered tulips, imagining they were something else, as a mop of frizzy brown hair rounded Reilin's side.
Vivienne.
She waited patiently, keeping her spectacles pointed in the other direction.
I pressed my nose into Reilin's curls. The smell of her hammered into me, cherries and sweat. In this state, it was so intense that my toes curled. "We could head back to the fourth floor."
"Cut it out," she said and pressed her fingers into my sternum, guiding me back a step. The slight dip of her cleavage only tempted me further.
Wishful thinking. I need to get my head on straight.
"I'll see you later, Ser," she said and turned, leaving me alone with the girl I'd just rescued. Cora still hadn't exited the École de Massage.
Come on... The last thing I need is a porn-girl tagalong...
Even with Reilin gone, Vivienne couldn't bring herself to impose on me. Besides her lacking personal maintenance, which I could hardly fault her for, she wasn't unappealing. Bloom set its bar high, and at five foot two, she passed right beneath it. She was just awkward, aloof. The way she looked at things, and people for that matter, making small movements with her mouth, it was like she was trying to dissect them into parts. That made sense with her penchant for drawing, but it felt unnerving. We'd all seen the sketchbook, and more than a few of her characters would look like people I knew if you just switched out the hair.
How did she even get in?
"Viv?" I said, then she turned to flash a thin-lipped smile.
"Oh, Ser-" she was obviously nervous, tripping over her words, "I wanted to… That was really nice."
Her smudged glasses enlarged her eyes, two dark-green orbs.
Cora, how long does it take?
The stained-glass of the [École de Massage] reflected orange light across the lawn. No one stood outside.
She's dawdling, fine.
"Someone needed to do it," I said and looked back at Vivienne. Her arms were crossed in a fuzzy, navy-blue sweater, fingers dusted with charcoal.
You've got to be burning up in that thing.
She didn't offer much in the way of conversation, just staring at me, "Yeah, sorry she did all that…"
My plans for Cechele weren't over. I'd have to find another way to draw out her public confession.
"Have you ever seen a… a dick, like up close?" Vivienne asked, pulling a sketchbook from her pack.
What?
Ainset's head crested over the group of surrounding girls, beaming at us. I shot her a death glare, and gracefully, she receded.
How the hell does Viv know? She's a fucking transfer student…
"Sorry… I didn't-" Vivienne went on. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have a clue. Cherry red bloomed across her cheeks, and she turned to make a retreat. Then it hit me, her dick question and the sketchbook were related. Whatever she was getting at pertained to art.
I tromped after her and grabbed her shoulder, "Yeah, I have. Why do you ask?"
She flipped open the sketchbook, thumbing through page after page of vivid charcoal drawings. She'd improved drastically since I last saw them. The curves and shading were lifelike, but the drawings were in a style that was uniquely hers. Girls were the primary focus, with oversized eyes, mouths open or biting their lips, stretched open by oversized cocks and tentacles.
Why does she need my help? She knows how to draw a dick...
Then she settled on a page, an illustration in colored pencil. It was her, completely nude, drenched in sweat and cum on her knees. In it, she grasped the side of a massive erect penis with one hand. Her tongue lolled along its shaft, eyes rolling up into her head, while her other hand worked her pussy. Despite her face's soft features, she was thin. It was hard to tell with the oversized clothes she often wore.
She turned to me and said, "I'm trying to get the colors right."
The cock was still only sketched, the last piece waiting to be filled in.
Right, you want me to tell you what color a dick is...
My breath caught. I couldn't help but imagine the scene, her worshipping me with everything she had.
"All my... reference materials are in black and white. I have pencils for a bunch of flesh shades," she said, tracing a smudged fingertip across the cock's length. I actually felt it.
Okay, cut that out.
I repositioned my legs and leaned in, trying to avoid any show of bulge. Nestling my cockhead against my hipbone, this underwear situation actually wasn't that bad.
If I could find a pair that actually fits...
A trio of upperclassmen strolled in our direction. The optics of the situation hit me, and I slapped her sketchbook shut.
She nodded and tucked it under her arm, "So I was hoping you could help me pick out colors? It doesn't have to be now, just whenever you're free. Or if that's too weird..." She blinked up at me, waiting for a response.
"Yeah. I- Sure. We'll find a good time to do that," I managed to say while willing my erection away. The lines of her fingers buried in her slick were still etched into my eyes.
Would she actually do that?
I wanted to find out, drag her to the washroom, and give her a live model to work with. We could live out every one of those fantasies.
She pulled me from my thoughts. "You're Tacticienne, right? Do you have a designer in mind for the draft?" Her chest swelled, and she held her breath. I hesitated.
Do I really want porn-girl in my équipe?
The prospect didn't excite me. Vivienne was nice, and apparently a freak in the best way. However, that unhinged nature could prove a detriment. The role of designer took the last spot on my list. It was almost an afterthought. Even dancers were more practical. It took me a moment to formulate a polite enough response, all the while the hope in her eyes pressed into me. "I... Chances are you'll be picked before I get a shot at you... Your art's pretty top tier."
"Thanks," she squeezed the sketchbook in the crook of her arm, "I just hope I'm not dernier choix."
The last pick.
Dernier Choix was an unofficial Bloom tradition, the last girl to go in the draft. Most were hazed to the point of dropping out in their first week. Those who remained faced a lonely existence and an uphill climb. They were essentially untouchable; anyone seen associating with them would receive similar derision. Given her past and how she just let Cechele put her on display, she was a shoo-in for the spot.
"If that happens, I think I'm going to drop..." she said as a tremble caught in her lip.
"I'll make sure it doesn't," I said and winced as the words left my mouth.
Smooth, you moron.
"Really?" Her mouth opened in a weak smile. "I... I'll make sure it's worth it- just tell me what to do, anything..." She reached out a hand, then held it back.
What a waste.
I'd have to kick my own ass if I went back on that one. Still, each draft round was ordered at random. If I saved my last pick for her, I could end up going last, placing her as dernier choix. To make sure that didn't happen, I needed to give her my second-to-last pick, effectively saddling myself with two twelfth-round girls.
It also meant giving up on a complete twin-set. Elza and Orelia Roths, identical raven-haired twins, were enrolled as a designer and a dancer, respectively. The two were this class's one shot at making that happen. I dug my thumbnail into my palm.
Wait, anything? How did I miss that?
I licked my wounds.
You're tacticienne, this is metal wanting to be reforged. Work her.
"It's not a big deal," I said, placing a palm on her shoulder, "I'll be happy if you wind up on my équipe. Could you clean up a bit before the draft, put on something nice? I'd like for the team to look their best."
"Vivi!" Cora's voice rolled from the École de Massage. She came rushing toward us and scooped Vivienne up in her arms, "Oh my gosh it's been so long!"
At the same time, Ainset alit at my side, grasping my hand and yanking toward the auditorium, "Illia beckons...