Milla at College - Week 02

"You up?" read the text on Milla Adamley's phone.

It was noon on Sunday and the blonde college freshman had only started stirring. The previous night had been her first shift as a cocktail waitress at a campus hangout called the Corner Cafe, and she had wound up having sex with a bartender named Grady and hadn't gotten back to the dorm until nearly 5 in the morning.

The text was from her friend, Linda, a stunning-looking Latina whom she'd befriended her first day on campus at UC Santa Rosa and from whom she was now practically inseparable.

"Nearly," she wrote back.

"Feel like going for a run?" was Linda's reply.

Milla most definitely did NOT feel like going for a run, but she thought going out into the California sunshine for an hour or two might be just what her body needed.

"Give me half an hour," she texted. She wrapped a robe around her naked body and slouched to the shared dorm bathroom. Brushing her teeth in the cool, green-tiled room, she tried to wipe the blear off her mind.

Grady hadn't been the guy she had hoped to hook up with at the beginning of the night. That was Lee -- a sophomore on the school's wrestling team with whom she was doing a psych class project. The professor had suggested students use regular activities as possible settings for a social experiment, so she and Linda had gone earlier in the day and gotten themselves into a sexual froth watching Lee and the other wrestlers grapple with each other.

Similarly, he was supposed to come watch Milla work at the Corner Caf, but had texted her to say he couldn't make it after all, which had left Milla all hot and bothered and Grady as the beneficiary.

Back in her room, she put on her fuchsia jogging shorts and a navy blue sports bra. Exercising was the only time she ever wore a bra, even though her breasts were not small. She walked into the hallway as Linda approached her room.

"That's an energetic color," Linda said, indicating Milla's hot pink shorts.

"Eat death," Milla answered.

They ran past the new dorms and then the empty football stadium. Linda was clearly holding her pace back for Milla's benefit, which was appreciated. Milla was happy to discover that Linda wasn't a chatty runner -- it made the experience less taxing.

When they got to the quad where the business school buildings were clustered, about a mile and a half from the dorms, they took a break on the lawn of grass that stuck out unnaturally in the arid California landscape.

"Running is the shit," Linda said after a moment. "Good for what ails you."

Milla snorted. "You have no idea."

They sat together a moment in quiet. A quizzical look took over Linda's face, and she said, "You remember at breakfast the other day when Gaby let it out that she's lesbian?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Did that shock you?"

Milla actually started laughing. "You're kidding, right?"

Linda started to shake her head, but then the penny dropped in her mind. "Your mom."

"My mom," Milla said, "and her live-in." Fatima was her mom's girlfriend's name, and she had come and gone -- but mostly stayed -- at the marijuana farm in the Sierras where Milla had grown up.

"At first it was weird for me," Linda said. "I mean, my family is pretty old school Catholic. But then, you know," She squinted into the hills above them. "Gaby and I messed around."

"Huh," Milla said, taking in the information. "What did you think?"

"A little weird," her friend said quietly. "But kinda good too." She paused, then asked "Are you at all curious about that?"

"Not really," Milla answered. "I wouldn't object, I guess, but right now I feel so totally besotted by dick."

Linda broke up."I had noticed," she said. Adding, "So, Grady?" Linda worked as a waitress at the Corner Cafe as well, just on the restaurant side.

"Yeah, Grady."

"And what about Rane?"

Milla nodded. "I still have his Bible" -- she had met him when he stumbled into her dorm room after having stolen a possibly historic old Bible from a frat house -- "so I'll see him again. I think." They had ended the evening fucking at the site of giant star made up of hundreds of light bulbs in the hills above Santa Rosa.

"And then there's the wrestler," Linda said.

"I hope," Milla said, remembering again Lee bailing on her the previous night. "I'm such a slut," she said, laughing. "I mean, if one of those guys over there" -- she pointed with her chin to a group of three students, maybe in their early to mid 20s, sitting across the green and chatting like they were -- "walked over here right now, unzipped his pants, and stuck his dick in my mouth, I don't think I wouldn't mind at all."

"I got a little wet just from hearing you say that," Linda admitted, laughing.

Milla chuckled and said, "Me too."

They got up and walked along the side of the green for a minutes. Then Linda said, "So, are you ready to start running again or should we look for more dudes you can suck off?"

* *

Milla was was having a hard time walking in a straight line on her way to acting class from sheer nerves. She would shortly be performing a scene from a play in which her character, a waitress named Andrea, gets assaulted by a cook at the restaurant she worked at, played by none other than Professor Harrison.

At least, that's how the scene was written. Milla had asked Harrison to make a few changes, and she got the feeling that the divorced, 40-something teacher wasn't entirely happy about that, but he had gone along with it.

Another factor adding to her butterflies was that she was going to wear her Corner Cafe uniform --an opaque white peasant-style blouse with a plunging neck line and elastic under the breasts that left her midriff exposed, paired with an extremely short, flouncy black skirt. Since Andrea was a waitress, Harrison had advised her, "Do anything that helps you get into the character."

The uniform was fine for a darkened bar at night, but a little much for walking in bright sunlight, with her nipples totally visible through the light cotton of the top, so she slipped into the restroom of the specialized arts building to change out of her street clothes and into the uniform.

Like most of the bathrooms at UC Santa Rosa, this one was unisex and tiled in gold and purple -- the school's colors. When Milla walked in, a couple of girls quietly applying makeup at the sinks. She found herself an empty toilet stall and latched the door. Within a second, two guys entered talking loudly.

One of them said, "What was the name of that girl you did your scene with? The short stack brunette with the big--"

The other one cut him off. "Beatrice," he answered. Most of the other students in Milla's acting class had already performed their scenes, and the one who spoke second, she realized, must have been Felipe, a tall, doe-eyed Latino with floppy dark hair. His scene with Beatrice, who matched the first guy's description pretty well, had been about a couple breaking up. It was written in a strangely unemotional way, and Felipe had been thoughtful and quiet where others (such as Beatrice) would be tempted to be more over-the-top.

"She's hot," the first said about Beatrice. "What's she like?"

"I didn't really get to know her," Felipe answered, "but she was good to work with." Milla heard a stall door closing.

"Oh," the first guy said, maybe a little disappointed that his bro banter wasn't being responded to in kind.

As Milla finished changing into her uniform, she heard the conversation between the two guys pick up again while they washed their hands. "Who's doing scenes today?" Felipe asked.

"I think that Milla chick," the other answered. "Not sure who else." The faucets turned off. "She is one hell of a smoke show."

There was a short pause, and Milla found herself literally holding her breath for fear of missing Felipe's answer. "You're not wrong about that," he said at last.

Professor Harrison was leaning his elbows on the lectern when Milla arrived, scrolling through his cell phone. The students were arranged on a series of black wooden boxes. Felipe looked up at Milla as she walked in. She glanced away quickly, moving her gaze over the other guys in the class, wondering which one had been in the restroom.

Knowing that Felipe might be looking at her still was making Milla very aware of how her nipples had become erect after leaving the warm air of the restroom. As she sat, she adjusted her top hoping they would be less noticeable.

"Right!" Harrison announced suddenly. "The last two scenes today. Remember to say one thing your fellow students did well, and one where they could improve. First up we have Eastman and Jacinto." He looked up and around the room. "Where's Eastman?"

Harrison called everybody by their last name, but a student Milla knew as Brenda said, "They texted me a few minutes ago. They'll be here late, like in 15."

"That's an annoyance," Harrison said. "Very well, Adamley! Looks like we're on."

Every nerve ending in Milla's body led to and ended in the enormous lump she felt in her throat. She walked to the front of the class as the sound of the ambient air swelled in her ears.

She tried to remember all the things Harrison had advised the students to do: Be specific; be in the moment; enunciate; stress syllables; don't sway back and forth, give yourself something focus on. There had been about 12 other dictums that she couldn't remember when she most needed them.

Milla took a deep breath, and assumed a physical posture like the one she imagined Andrea, a former midwestern high school beauty in a dead end waitressing job, would have. She reminded herself of where the (imaginary) counter was and where the (invisible) glass bottle of Hunt's ketchup that she would be grabbing and smashing on Harrison's skull might be found.

She looked at Harrison, who was still handsome despite the gray in his beard. He was standing five feet away from her, just as they had rehearsed in his sitting room. "When you're ready," he said gently.

She began, voicing the dialogue in which Andrea explains to James, who really needs no reminder, that she had been a cheerleader and the homecoming queen, that her star had shined oh-so-brightly and that he couldn't understand how it felt for her to be now fading and falling into divorcée-hood.

Then Harrison started delivering James's lines about how he had observed Andrea during her glory years from the metal shop, through the haze of a cannabis high, and then later, from a string of dead-end jobs of his own. They went back and forth, talking at cross purposes to each other, not really acknowledging the other person, until James declares his urgent need for Andrea.

At that point, Andrea is supposed to become alarmed as James grabs her, kisses her roughly and tries to convince her that she actually wants to be with him. And that she really does want him to assault her sexually.

But Milla hadn't felt comfortable with having Harrison manhandle her for a class scene, so they practiced with James just lunging at Andrea and missing her. Harrison had warned Milla that the change would mess with what he called the "emotional truth" of the scene, but she didn't care.

So the last thing Milla expected, as she turned to face Harrison and say the line, "Wait, what are you--" was that he would already be on top of her, grabbing her roughly around her exposed waist, pinning one of her arms next to her body, and bringing his face into contact with hers for a hard kiss.

But he was, and he did.

Her mind raced as she breathed in the scent of basil and lemon that exuded from him -- was it the scent of his shampoo? -- and tried to think of what she should do. She could feel Harrison's tongue pushing to wedge itself between her lips, which she clenched as hard as she could.

She twisted her torso, trying to writhe out of his grasp, but he was stronger than she had expected, and the grip of his soft, manicured hands on her bare midriff felt oddly sensual and downright distracting. So was the realization that the hem of her short skirt was inching up, not to mention the undeniably erotic way her stiffened nipples rubbed across Harrison's chest.

For an instant, she thought about opening her lips and letting Harrison's tongue into her mouth, but one of the women in the class let out an audible gasp that snapped Milla's attention back to the scene.

She realized then that Harrison had left her right arm free, and that it was exactly where she had envisioned the counter, with the bottle of ketchup perched atop it, to be. She reached for the invisible bottle and "grabbed" it in an upside-down grip, as if it were a club. She pulled it back far behind her shoulder in an exaggerated swing, and brought it down on the crown of Harrison's head. As soon as the would-be bottle would have struck him, Harrison let go of Milla and crashed to the floor as if she had dropped an anvil on him.

She looked at Harrison prone on the floor, then at her hand and the bottle in its clutches. She put the bottle back on the counter quickly, with a look of disgust. Harrison moaned. For a twisted moment, Milla wondered if she had actually hurt him. She started to kneel down in order to check on him, but pulled herself back.

She managed to remember what they had rehearsed, so she straightened her clothes, which Harrison had actually rumpled instead of only pretend mussing. She started saying her lines about how no one could find out about James's attack or Andrea's defending herself. She felt like she was saying them too quietly, a little robotically. But she was very aware that she had gotten a little turned on by being in Harrison's urgent grip, that she enjoyed his smell, his touch, his scratchy beard. She wondered what it would feel like to have him perform oral sex on her.

It was only when Harrison opened his eyes and leapt to his feet nimbly that Milla realized the scene was over. The other students clapped, as they had for all the scenes, but this time there were a few expressions of disbelief.

"Thoughts?" Harrison called out chirpily. Milla still felt betrayed, and she wasn't sure the she could look him in the eye.

A couple of students raised their hands, Felipe among them. "Rodrigo?" Harrison called.

Felipe started speaking, a little quietly at first. "My mom took me to see that play on Broadway a few years back," he said. "Andrea's response didn't make sense to me -- they did it like she was just in shock." He paused and turned his gaze to Milla. "But I saw a very complicated set of emotions pass through Milla's face. Sure, there was fear, but there was also pleasure. And pride. As if James's actions confirmed all these things that Andrea had thought about herself."

Milla felt herself blush and wondered what Felipe would have said if he'd known that she very nearly let their professor French kiss her.

"Good," Harrison said. "And something she could have done better?"

Felipe paused and then said, "I guess I didn't get a very strong sense of Andrea before the attack," he said after a moment. "It's like she came into focus only after that, which I honestly think is how the scene is written. But maybe Milla could have done some bit of business that helped make her feel more specific."

Milla registered the comment but was lost in her head for much of the remainder of the class's discussion. Harrison had lied to her. He had led her to think that he would adjust the scene to be less physical, but he had launched himself on her like a starving man on a piece of meat.

Despite that, he had brought out something that Milla now realized was in the scene but that hadn't been apparent to her before: Andrea felt good about being attacked by James. The assault restored her sense of herself and made her feel valued again.

What had Harrison called it? An "emotional truth" in the scene as written. Harrison might be something of a perv, but he was also a good teacher.

Her focus returned to the class when Jody Eastman arrived and quietly found a seat. One of the women in the class, a redhead that Milla remembered being called Thalia, was talking about the Corner Caf uniform and how appropriate it had been for the scene.

No one else seemed to have any comments until Harrison asked the class, "What object did you think Adamley smashed upon my head?"

Someone muttered, "ketchup bottle," and the rest murmured assent.

"Well, that's what it says in the stage directions, but how did you know that?" Harrison asked.

Felipe looked into Milla's eyes and said, "It was the way she grabbed it. It couldn't have been a cup or a coffee pot or anything else you find in a restaurant."

"Yes," Harrison said quietly. Then he boomed, "SPECIFICITY! That's its power." He turned to Milla and asked, "What brand of ketchup was it?"

"Hunt's," she said, relieved that he was asking about something that she had actually thought about.

"Not Heinz?"

"No," she said. "The Heinz label is white, which I associate with serenity. The Hunt's label is red, which is more violent and bloody. Plus, the name itself -- it's like James hunted Andrea through the decades to wind up in this scene attacking her." She glanced at Harrison and saw him smiling. "It just felt more right."

"Top marks, Adamley," he said, and he almost sounded proud.

* *

Milla walked into the Corner Cafe later that week and saw Grady standing behind the bar. He looked at her and quickly averted his gaze in order to concentrate on wiping down martini glasses.

"Uh-oh," she thought.

She found her way downstairs to the break room -- it was next door to the office where she and Grady had fucked the last time they'd worked together. She hoped that he wasn't going to try to get serious with her.

She found a place to stash her bag and checked herself in the mirror. She reined in a few stray hairs and reminded herself of what Linda said, that Grady had a rep with the restaurant waitresses as being a player. Nothing Milla had seen in the run up to their vigorous sex on the rolling chair had shown her any different.

He isn't likely to go all goopy on you, she told her reflection.

Grady cleared his throat in the doorway of the break room. He was a tall, thin white dude with fine features that gave him a feminine air, and which right now was making her nervous. "Hey," she said in as natural a simulation of casualness as she could manage.

"Hi," he said. "I just wanted to make sure --" he started and then stopped.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath and then said, "It's just -- I have a girlfriend."

"Okay," Milla said uncertainly.

"I mean we have an open relationship," he added quickly. "But I want to make sure you and I are okay."

"I see," she said, but she didn't quite. "Well, I'm not looking for anything serious," she said after a moment, and he exhaled long and loud. "I'm having too much fun in my life," she added, "but I do hope we get other opportunities to wear out the furniture."

Grady smiled a crooked smile and looked at her funny. "Who are you?" he asked after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you, like, the perfect woman?"

She laughed and released the tension from her body.

"I mean," he continued, "you fuck like a marmoset or some other kind of primate, all grunty and moany, and you don't make any demands on the dude afterward. I mean, what the fuck?"

"Shut up," she said and threw an order pad in his face.

Milla had just served her first drinks to the first table of her shift when she saw a tall Asian-American with broad shoulders and big biceps who had managed to squeeze himself into a tight cotton turtleneck enter the bar.

She waved, and Lee smiled in return. Most men had crooked smiles, or smirks really, that made them look like smart asses. Lee's smile was a bit crooked, running longer into the left side of his face than the right, but somehow it didn't make him look arrogant or like a know-it-all. He just looked pleased to see her.