The Underclassman

A Not So Friendly Wager

Mick always dreaded going to English literature class and this Monday morning was no different. He just could not connect with the subject matter and was struggling to keep his grade up where he wanted it to be. Today they would be getting their midterms back and he was not looking forward to seeing his test score. Having Whitney Harrington sitting next to him only irritated him even more about the class. Mick also figured that he would catch a raft from Abby for cutting out early from the Halloween party. He had managed to dodge her over the weekend but there would be no avoiding her momentarily.

The professor was standing at the door returning the tests to the students as Mick entered the classroom. Walking to his seat with midterm in hand he saw that he had beaten Abby and Zoe to class as usual but not Whitney and her sorority sister Lauren Palmer. Whitney turned to him as he pulled out his chair and gave him a quick, forced smile to acknowledge his presence which he returned in kind.

Mick opened the folded-over sheets to find that he had scored a seventy-eight on his midterm. He huffed in frustration as he had studied pretty hard for the exam with considerable help from Abby.

"Studying helps," said Whitney arrogantly, "You might want to try it for the final."

Mick turned to her dumbfounded. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes. It has been known to help," she replied.

"NO," said Mick, obviously rankled by her comment. "Are you serious as in you haven't said two words to me all semester," began his diatribe. "I say hello to you and you can barely muster the courtesy to return the favor," continued Mick," but you can go out of your way to take a swipe at me like you just did?"

At that moment unbeknownst to Mick, Abby had walked up behind him. She grabbed him by the arm and turned him back in her direction. "Hey stranger! Good to see you," she said to him, "I was going to file a missing person's report."

Mick replied in depressed tone, "Hey. Please don't rag on me about the party... Not now." As Abby asked him what was the matter she saw his test on the table and noticed the grade. She mouthed a silent "oh" in Mick's direction. With his back to Whitney he discreetly made a pointing gesture at her and said quietly to Abby, "And this one just made a smart-assed remark about it."

"Okay, please take your seats so we can get started," bellowed the instructor. Abby looked at Mick and with a frown said, "Who cares what she thinks?"

The professor used most of the session to discuss the midterm questions and the answers. Towards the end of the class he remarked, "Now some did not do so well on the exam and a few of you are borderline for the semester. As I said when I handed out the syllabus at the beginning of the year, I don't believe in grading on the curve so your grades are what they are. However, I've decided that the student who turns in the term paper that in my opinion demonstrates exemplary effort and excellence, I will award them five extra points which will be added to their final grade for the semester. That means if you are averaging a sixty-five, your final grade will be a seventy."

Between the noise of students shifting in their seats and their murmuring to one another, it became difficult to hear the instructor. "Did he say five extra points added to the final grade?" Mick blurted out to no one in particular. "Man would that be of help," he thought.

"Well I don't really need them," he heard Whitney say, "but I'll just have to finish with a 4.1 instead of a 4.0 in this class I guess."

Mick turned to Whitney and blasted, "You really are a stuck-up little snot, aren't you?"

Whitney just sat there for a few seconds giving him and indignant look before informing him, "It's not being stuck up when it is fact."

Students had begun to exit the classroom but all that Mick noticed was an anger rising steadily inside him. Abby could sense it too by his body language and she placed her hand on his arm and said, "Come on let's go." Mick did not turn around but responded by putting his index finger in the air and saying, "One second," without bothering to turn in Abby's direction. Unfortunately he let his temper choose his next words for him.

"Want to make a bet?" he challenged Whitney, "I'll bet you I get those five points and not you."

She stared blankly back at Mick for a few seconds before closing her eyes and laughing to herself. "I guess you probably don't know this, but I am a literature and languages major, and I am here on partial scholarship for it," she told him.

"Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about, now shouldn't you?" Mick replied.

"Let me guess. You want to put twenty dollars on it?" said Whitney snidely.

"First, I don't want or need your money," Mick stated confidently. "I doubt it!" she retorted disparagingly. "I had some much higher stakes in mind," said Mick. "Okay," said Whitney, "Let's hear this."

Mick started in. "I don't have rich parents to pay my way--I work and pay my own tuition. Between working and studying, sometimes I don't get to my laundry and my room gets dirty," he said before continuing. "I saw you in your little French maid costume at the party. Pretty ironic choice seeing who was wearing it," Mick told her. Whitney let out an indignant huff as he continued. "If I win, you come to my dorm room in your little servant's outfit and you will do exactly what I say, and everything that I say, for two hours," stated Mick, "And I mean EVERYTHING and ANYTHING I say... Do you understand?"

"And what are you putting up for this wager?" Whitney inquired in her normal tone.

"Name a fair price," Mick replied. "Five-hundred dollars," spat Whitney. "Done!" Mick shot back, his words coming again without much thought prior to giving them.

Condescendingly Whitney said, "Usually I give money to charitable causes but I'm going to enjoy taking it from one this time."

"Then we have a deal?" Mick asked.

"I'm not sure I can trust you to not renege when you lose," she replied.

Mick said, "Well seeing that a neutral party can't hold your part of the wager like they can hold mine, I guess you are just going to have to trust me."

Whitney stood up and said, "Well I guess I see another purse or set of boots in my future, not that I don't have more than what I know what to do with already." She then pushed past Abby and Zoe as Lauren followed. Mick stood up and looked at Abby who just shook her head at him, before turning and walked away.

On the Saturday after Mick and Whitney had their dust-up, Abby woke to the sound of someone knocking rapidly on her dorm room door. Sitting up she looked at her alarm clock which read 7:48 a.m. Bleary-eyed she walked over and opened the door and Mick burst in. "I need to borrow your car for the day," he blurted.

Abby brought her finger to her lips and shushed him saying in a faint voice, "You'll wake Zoe."

"Abby," he replied, "me banging on the door didn't wake her."

"I can't believe you woke me up this early on a Saturday morning," she said sounding annoyed because she was. "What is wrong with your car?" she inquired.

"Um, nothing," he said, "Nothing more than usual."

"So are you going to get around to telling me why you need my car so I can go back to bed?" Abby asked him.

"I want to go up to Denver for the day and the last thing I need is for my heap give me trouble while I'm up there in the land of dope fiends," he told her before saying further, "It is over an hour away and I just don't trust my car."

Abby went and sat back down on her bed. "Why are you going to Denver? Don't you work tonight?" she asked.

"For my English Lit paper," he said, "My topic is American West poetry and apparently there are some original manuscripts and documents at the public library and historical society. Harold something, I can't remember his name. I'm swapping a shift at the bar so I can go."

Abigail looked at him expressionless and silent for a moment. "Listen... This bet with Whitney... I don't think it's a good idea" she told Mick, "I'm afraid it is beginning to consume you."

"I'd never hear the end of it for calling it off and I don't want to call it off," Mick replied. With a hint of desperation in his voice, Mick told his friend that, "I actually do need to do well on this paper and could really use the extra points."

"I know, I know," said Abigail. "I'd just prefer..." her voice trailing off.

Abby reached into her nightstand beside her bed and handed Mick her keys. "You know the rules," she stated clearly, "You scratch it, crash it, let it get stolen--"

"I know and I will take good care of it I promise," he interrupted. He gave her a quick hug, looked at her and said, "Thank you, and I promise I am going all out for the right reasons. I want to do well on this paper." With that he turned and hurried out her door closing it behind him.

Mick's visit to the historical society had yielded more information than he expected but he had spent most of the day there. He did not arrive at the public library until almost 4:00 p.m. which only left him one hour at best. If he was unable to get what he needed on this trip, he was not sure when his schedule would allow him to return, if at all.

An elderly gentleman at the information desk directed him to third floor in the north wing where the special collections department was located. When Mick walked through the ornate brass door he marveled at the large, open room. The shelves were made of a richly colored wood as were the wainscoted walls. The high, vaulted ceiling contained frescos depicting the history of the area. In the center of the room was a long, sturdy wooden reading table with Tiffany style lamps at each of the seats.

Mick walked over to the curator's desk to give them the number of the manuscript he wished to have pulled but no one was there. He needed the material and he needed it fast, and became anxious and annoyed as the seconds ticked by. Mick was just about ready to go wander the large room to try and find an employee to help him when an attractive woman approached. "Do you need some help?" she asked Mick with a quiet voice. "Yes, thank you," Mick replied, handing her a note card with the manuscript catalogue number on it. "I'll have to retrieve that from the vault in the back," she said before instructing him to, "Go have a seat and I will bring it to you."

Mick again felt uneasy. This sounded like it was going to take some time. He went and sat down and pulled a pen and notepad from his backpack so he could get right down to business when the manuscript arrived. Fortunately it did not take long at all as Mick spied the woman returning with the material soon after he settled in. As she approached he noticed how tall she was, her long legs disappearing into a navy colored skirt several inches above her knees. She sported horned-rim glass and her long black hair was pulled back into a messy bun. "A hot, nerdy librarian... How about that?" he thought to himself, rather amused by the attractive young woman.

Mick was reading as fast as he could when an announcement blared out from the library speaker that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes. He knew that would not be enough time to finish so he decided to start photocopying the pages of manuscript to take back with him. Mick walked over to the photocopier and began feeding it dollar bills which he seemed to have enough of for the task. He was halfway done when he once again the silence was broken by the public address system announcing that the library was now closed and everyone was required to exit. Mick was so engrossed in completing his task that he had not noticed that everyone else had already left the room. He looked around and spotted the librarian at the doors locking them. As she came strolling back past Mick he pleaded, "Is there any way you could give me five more minutes?" knowing he would need at least twice that amount.

"I still have some work to do," she replied, "I have no issue with you staying as long as I do." Mick thanked her profusely and the woman asked, "Working on a school project?"

"Yes," said Mick, telling her that "I'm doing a paper for English literature."

The woman stuck out her hand and said, "My name is Julie."

"I'm Mick," he told her as he shook her hand, "Nice to meet you and thanks again."

"Not a problem," she replied before further saying, "I'm actually glad to have someone here after closing."

Mick inquired, "Why is that? Is the place haunted?"

Julie laughed and said no, then told Mick that, "We have some problems with vagrants which congregate in the area. There is a soup kitchen down the street and between meals they will come in the library and hang out during the day. Every now and then security misses one hiding in a stairwell or bathroom after closing."

"That's probably not good," Mick interrupted.

"No it's not," said Julie as she continued, "A few weeks ago I was by myself and ran into one after hours in the elevator. There was no one around. It was very unsettling."

"I guess so," he replied.

Julie told Mick that a few times she has been walking to her car and the panhandlers have gotten a little aggressive with her, and even though security provides escorts to the lot, there is not always someone available.

Mick asked her, "The self-pay lot around the corner?"

"That's the one," she replied.

"That's where I am parked," said Mick, "I can definitely walk down with you as it is the least I could do for letting me stay."

Julie smiled at Mick and thanked him. "I have to get work," she said. "Me too," replied Mick.

As Julie moved about the room shutting down the area for the weekend, Mick couldn't help but follow her movements with his eyes as he worked to complete his own task. She began to return books to a case near the copy machine which required the use of a small step stool. He watched as she stretched to reach the top shelf, making her skirt ride up slightly. Mick let out a soft "ooh" and tried to concentrate on his copying.

Mick had just finished his last copy when he looked over to see Julie at the reading table turning off the lamps. Just then she seemed to stumble and she grabbed the edge of the table to catch herself. She then turned around and leaned back against it putting both of her hands down along the edge of large desk to support her weight. From the sound of it, Mick assumed she was in some discomfort. He immediately walked over and could see by her stance she was trying to keep the weight off of her right foot. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Stupid high heels," she said with an annoyed tone.

He asked, "Did you twist your ankle."

"No, but I get these wicked cramps in my calves sometimes and I definitely have one now," Julie told him, "I keep telling myself not to wear these shoes but I don't listen."

Mick inquired, "Is there anything I can do?" "Probably not," she replied, "although stretching usually helps it some."

Again, Mick offered to help Julie and directed her to hop up on the top of table which she did. He grabbed her right leg just above the ankle and raised it up straightening her appendage. He then began to gently push the ball of her foot back towards her shin stretching her calf muscle. "We would get cramps and pulls all the time during P.T. in the service," he said, "and we'd help each other stretch them out."

"I've been getting these a lot lately," she admitted before further telling him that, "Turning thirty sucks."

Mick chuckled, "I don't think you're quite ready for a walker." He had figured she probably had a few years on him, but not that many as Julie looked quite young.

Mick pulled up a chair and sat down. He rested her foot on the top of his thigh and began to massage her lower leg. "Wow," he exclaimed, "I can definitely feel a knot in there."

"You're doing a great job," she said. "It's definitely starting to feel better--thanks."

Mick wasn't sure if it was because of the way she got up onto the table or because of the way she was sitting, but Julie's skirt hem had significantly migrated up her thighs, and neither of them could avoid being cognizant of it. She was more concerned about flashing Mick and was doing her best to keep her knees together as he massaged her leg. To break the tension Julie asked him about his research and told Mick that she had been a literature undergrad. She further volunteered that she was now going to night school for a master's in library science.

Julie became very chatty talking literature with Mick and it helped take the edge off the situation a bit for them both, and as she did, she became less aware of the position of her knees. She would break eye contact with Mick frequently, glancing away in thought during their conversation together. He would take the opportunity to quickly peek between her widening legs where he caught glimpses of her purple panties. Mick's manhood began to straighten inside his pants which resulted in it coming into contact with the edge of her foot.

"Shit," thought Mick, not knowing what to do. He did not want her to think this was what he intended and that he was some sort of pervert. Mick also did not want her to be embarrassed should she become conscious of where her foot was. He sat there trying to figure out how to inconspicuously move her foot away from his growing dick.

Julie did not notice that the pain in her leg was subsiding because she was so totally engrossed in their conversation. She also did not realize that now comfortable in Mick's company, she was unconsciously moving her foot around his lap in addition to wiggling her toes. All of this movement only furthered the hardening of his Johnson.

Julie was enjoying her exchange very much and was becoming more and more animated with each passing moment. She was laughing and gesturing with her hands, shifting around on the table and her foot just would not stay put. More and more, the position of her foot roamed from its original position until it was completely overtop his now rigid phallus. It felt like to Mick that she was making circular motions with her foot over his cock and her wriggling toes were perfectly positioned on his bulbous head.

Mick was in disbelief and could not figure out if she was intentionally playing some sort of coy game with him or was she subconsciously masturbating him with her foot by accident. He was beginning to have trouble concentrating and maintaining eye contact with her and started to blink inordinately.

Julie's legs had drifted apart, enough that Mick could see the embroidery on her panties. He did not even realize that he had stopped rubbing her calf altogether and was now staring straight between her legs. At that same moment, Julie came to notice that she no longer commanded Mick's attention and that his hands were no longer massaging her calf. Suddenly Mick realized that her voice had fallen silent and he looked up to find that Julie was sitting there quietly peering back at him. "Fuck!" he silently said to himself, "She caught me!" He didn't know what to say or do.

The reason for Mick's distraction was more than apparent to Julie. She had gone from trying to prevent playing peek-a-boo with Mick to giving him a good show, which he was obviously partaking in. Then she looked down and came to her own realization--that she had been giving a foot massage to some stranger's cock.

Julie too was frozen, partially from her unintentional public display but also from her unintended game of footsie. She was overcome with a wave of embarrassment and could feel her face getting flush she began having difficulty breathing. They both just sat there, neither of them knowing what to say or do.

Without much thought, Mick began to softly caress her leg again. Immediately Julie drew in a deep breath followed by a long, audible exhale which sounded to Mick like she was pleased by his resumption. The warm feeling in her face slowly subsided but another began to burgeon in the intimate places inside her.