There was nothing "boyish" about her body, though. Her red flannel shirt could not hide the prominent, high-riding breasts. The shirt was tucked into a pair of khaki shorts whose cuffed legs were wider than her slender thighs. Bulky white kneesocks and ankle-high hiking boots completed her great-outdoors look. She was a natural beauty, and I was impressed. My friend told me she was certain that the two of us would hit it off, because Marcel also like to "swing both ways," as Mona put it. I think I made Mona's day when I gave her the go-ahead to set up a dinner date for us.

I felt funny knocking on Marcel's door. Although I was only a few years out of college myself, meeting a date at a dorm again made me feel a little like a dirty old woman who had gone "cherry picking". Then again, the more I thought about Marcel's picture, the less that feeling bothered me. The door opened. I don't remember if I actually said "Wow!" but I should have. Marcel had on a white beret, a fluffy white cashmere top, white knit tights and a red plaid miniskirt. She looked like the kind of sweetly innocent "nice" girl who is secretly dying to be quite naughty. She smiled and mouthed the word "hi," but nothing came out.

I thought that was sweet. She motioned for me to come inside. When I introduced myself and tried making some small talk, she looked around before answering. She found a pen and used it to scribble something on a notepad from the nightstand. The note said, "Sorry, can't talk. Laryngitis." Marcel pointed at her throat and shrugged prettily. I asked if she had a fever or anything. She wrote, "No. Lost voice from shouting at football game.

Boyfriend is quarterbacks.

Without thinking, I said, "Boyfriend?" Marcel grinned and started writing again. "Don't worry. You're cuter." I was ready to push her onto the bed, peel off her tights and eat her pussy right then and there. Her silence made her seem adorably helpless, and both of us obviously knew we wanted each other. But that's when her dirty-blonde roommate barged in and flopped onto one of the room's twin beds. She barely acknowledged me, and told Marcel, "Great, you're heading out. I've got a lot of studying to do tonight."

She cracked open a thick book and became absorbed in it immediately. Marcel gave me an apologetic look as we stepped into the hall. She wrote "Sorry!" on her notepad. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, "No problem. I have a hotel room."