We all hate The University.
They think they’re so superior, and we’re nothing. Just because they were founded by some tycoon and have a gazillion dollars, and their campus is like a movie set, and they get all the newest technology, and they booked Arcade Fire for their Homecoming Dance—so what?
Oh, and they constantly beat us in every sport you can think of, sports I’ve never heard of. I guess that’s why they picked up for the Homecoming game, to have an easy win while the rich alums got wasted in the stands. So me and my boys decided they needed to be punked. Hard.
But one by one, our plans had been foiled. There was some kind of alarm that went off when we tried to paint that stupid bell, and their stupid cow was guarded 24/7 so we couldn’t snatch it. They even had Campus Security patrolling their stupid Sacred Oak, so we couldn’t even TP it. But we had one last plan up our sleeve….
I had a chauffeur’s hat and shirt, and we found out which Limo service was going to provide cars for the Homecoming Court. It was easy to divert the real driver with some weed, and I got behind the wheel of the limo without anyone the wiser. Now it was just a matter of seeing which girl was assigned to my car— and we hit the jackpot, it was the Homecoming Queen!
Damn, she deserved it. She had a body that was poured into that dress, and it even matched her hair color! I wondered if that was just luck, or if she had a dye job, but either way she was just ridiculous. By the way, these days that means “good”.
No one suspected a thing for the first 2 miles of the parade. She was sitting on the back waving to the crowds and I could tell she wasn’t as snooty as I expected, her going to The University and all; she was nice to me and we even had a little small talk. So she was as stunned as anyone when I got to the place where I could take the left fork and leave the parade! I gunned the engine and we were gone! We were going too fast for her to jump or anything, she just slumped down into the backseat and looked like her eyes had turned to saucers.
In 2 minutes I pulled into the 7-11 where the guys were waiting with the panel truck. I ditched the hat and shirt as I got into the driver’s seat while the guys manhandled the redhead into the back. As I drove to my house I could hear a lot of bumping and noise in the back, but didn’t think it was anything serious.
Man, was I wrong. The guys had taken it way over the limit— before tying her up, someone had pulled down her gown and exposed her boobs. Don’t get me wrong, they were superb and the ropes just enhanced her curves, but this was sexual assault! We could get some serious charges, and I knew we had to think fast. As we pushed her inside the garage, I whispered to Tiny “we have to do some good cop/bad cop thing or we’re in it deep!”
Tiny was one of those guys you can underestimate. Of course he got that nickname since he was 6′ 4″ and weighed close to 300, and he usually had that goofy smile going like Randy from “My Name is Earl”. But Tiny was sharp, and he immediately started talking about needing to get rid of her and looking around for a tub and some concrete. She started screaming and twisting in her bonds— an amazing sight— and I stepped in to take over. I slapped Tiny (not too hard but I made it look real) and told the guys to drop that idea, that I’d take care of it, just get out. Tiny played along beautifully and got them out, so now it was just me and her on the mattress we had ready in the garage.
I made the big sacrifice and put my jacket around her; I didn’t really want to cover her boobs, but I needed her to trust me. I assured her that it wasn’t supposed to get this intense and nothing was going to happen to her. I could see her relax, but wasn’t at all prepared for her to shrug my jacket off her shoulders. Puzzled, I carefully pulled the duct tape off her mouth, and as soon as she could speak she told me that she believed me… and she had always had a fantasy of being taken this way… and asked me if I would “ravish” her.
As it turned out… she really was a redhead!