Author's Note: I had inspiration after reading the thread "Mysterious Heroine of the Nice Guys" in the Story Ideas forums by mythtrav16. I might not have caught his vision for the story, but I had fun writing this.
A work of fiction, all characters over the age of 18.
Comments and Ratings Appreciated! Enjoy
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"Looks like spring has finally sprung," sniggered a voice from the table behind me, "Look at what Lana is wearing today?"
"Man, I didn't know they sold shorts that short in stores?" questioned another of the boys watching Lana from across the cafeteria.
"I don't think she went in the store to get those," postulated yet another voice, "I saw them on Woot! dot com a couple weeks ago, I'm betting she got them off the internet."
"What are you doing shopping for girl shorts on the internet, Doofus!" jeered voice number one.
"I wasn't... I'm just sayin... ugh! fuck off Jerry." complained voice number three.
Jerry laughed, then snorted, "Regardless, William, Lana certainly has me sprung. Think she's the Minx?"
"Nah, the Minx has brown hair," offered voice number two.
"How would you know, George?!," retorted Jerry, "Besides, you know superheroes always wear a disguise, the Masked Minx could be wearing a wig."
"You're an idiot Jerry," asserted George, "Superheroes wear costumes or uniforms, they only wear disguises when in their alter ego persona. Remember Superman's magic glasses?! Besides, I know for a fact, that the Minx isn't wearing a wig."
I smiled as the rest of the table fell silent, then stifled a giggle as the other two chairs loudly scooted closer. "This should be interesting," I thought to myself.
"What?!" hissed Jerry, suddenly interested in what someone else had to say instead of his own pontifications.
"Dude, you've met the Masked Minx?" echoed William.
"Yep, I think I was her first," stated George cockily, "at least I haven't heard any stories that happened before we met."
The silence was deafening as William and Jerry slowly processed this announcement. George was professing to be the first, "victim," of the Masked Minx of Missoula. The legend of the Minx started over winter term at the University of Montana. Allegedly, the brunette bombshell surprised young men in their dorm rooms, seduced the unsuspecting male into a having intercourse, then leaving them to move on to her next victim. According to the lore, she always left after teaching them some new technique, and word had spread that the Minx's victims were invariably good lovers.
"Fucker, why didn't you ever tell us," whined Jerry.
"Because, Jerrold I'm a gentleman, and a gentleman never tells." explained George.
"Tell us the story, George," asked William respectfully, "we won't tell anyone. --- Will we Jerry??"
I could almost feel the hard look that William was shooting Jerry behind my back. I quietly continued eating as I mentally I reviewed what I knew of the Harlot of Aber Hall, a.k.a. The Masked Minx. Aber Hall was one of the dorms at the University, separated from the rest of the residence halls clustered on the southern end of campus. Physically apart from the active social life on campus, Aber Hall was also the home for the more studious students, a.k.a. the Geeks. It was said the Minx had a fetish for the intelligent breed, with a majority of her victims being from Aber.
"Okay, okay, mum's the word," said Jerry sullenly, "I promise, I won't spill."
"Well okay, but I reserve the right to "rm -rf *" your entire porn collection if I hear gossip about this from you Jerry." commanded George.
"Dude, that's two terabytes of quality video!" complained Jerry.
"All the more reason for you to keep your promise," threatened George, "Now do you want to hear my story or not?"
I slid a little closer, because I wanted to hear the story too. I chewed on my collection of celery sticks, and pretended to be absorbed in my book; some nonsense about vampires and werewolves my best friend had forced me to read. I'd peruse a review on the internet, and fake it with her. George's story was far more interesting to me.
"Okay, remember back in December when that sorority bitch Valerie Bentley poured that red slushie over me?" began George.
"Oh yeah, the cunt." breathed Jerry, always the colorful vocabulary with this one.
"Hey, hey watch your language!" said William.
I silently thanked William, because while I haven't forsworn using foul language from time to time, it's my belief that one shouldn't use the 'C' word to describe other females. Even if it's a good description of that devious bitch Valerie Bentley.
George laughed, "I'll try to remember that to only use words that can be heard on television as I tell my tale. Just doing my part to preserve your virgin ears, young William."
"Whatever," William groused.
"So anyway, after the whole school laughed at me, I went back to my dorm room, and sulked. I was having my own little pity party. I didn't understand why I was her target, I was just enjoying the festivities at the winter carnival in the quad, and I guess I veered too close to the popular crowd. That explains why I'm sitting on this side of the cafeteria, and Lana Simpson is over there. I don't trust that bitch. Wait, where was I?" George wondered.
"Pity party. Dorm Room. Post Slushie." Jerry and William said in concert.
