The Beauty and the Beast -- (Author) GeraldRoss

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The Beauty and the Beast -- (Author) GeraldRoss

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Author: GeraldRoss
Timestamp: Jan 31, 2019 at 10:37 PM
Content: First, I want to apologise to anyone who may have been waiting for the continuation of my first story, "A Space Trip Gone Wrong". Seriously, guys, I'm sorry. I'm just not in the mood to finish it.

Instead, I started writing another one. It too has high chances to stay unfinished, but I'll at least try.

Now this part I'm posting here is supposed to be something of an introduction. It's also an experiment, this part and this whole story. I write it in a way, that is most natural for me, trying to keep true to myself as much as I can. That's why I'm not sure other people will like it or even understand some of the things I hide between the words. But anyway, since it's and experiment, let it start!

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I press an UP button on a controller. Across the lecture hall, separated from me by other students, carefully writing down the professor’s words, a girl tenses up. A few minutes later I press the same button again. A glance at the girl. She shuts her eyes for a moment. Her cheeks are rosy, I can see it from here. Some more time and one more level up. I hear her quickened breathing, feel her heart thumping with excitement. One more press of a button. How long can she resist, I wonder?..

Now, while the girl still braces herself, probably distracting her now reeling mind with the professor’s droning voice, I feel I owe you an explanation, my dear reader. I believe I know what you have been thinking all through the first paragraph, but let me assure you – it’s not what you think. Well, not exactly.
Let me start by introducing myself. I’m Gerald. A usual student, not someone gifted with exceptional studying skills or good looks – that’s what you’d think should you meet me somewhere in your university. And would be just about right. However, what I look like does not matter for this story – just imagine some generic nerd and that should be enough. The girl, who is now desperately fighting against waves of various sensations, though, deserves special attention.
She is what one may call a “queen”. Best grades at school, brilliant progress at the university, natural beauty with long, dark hair, and a perfect body that has already seduced an almost impossible number of both males and females alike. And yet… And yet when the two of us first met, she was alone. No boyfriend, no lasting friends… And so she asked me out. Just like that.
You are probably wondering, how such thing can be and how can such a perfection as her fall for someone so average as myself. Well, here is the secret. A very dark secret, exposing which will most certainly make her cringe with shame.
She is a pervert.
Yes, just like that. And one of such scale, that those bold enough to try and start any relationship with her ran off in matter of days, not even having fully grasped the depth of her perversity.
What must you be thinking of me, now that you’ve learned this terrible truth? Actually, I don’t care. Because whatever you think is not true. I have absolutely no interest in that side of hers and yet, I do what you’ve seen me do – press buttons and watch her slowly moving towards the edge.
I hope, that as the story progresses, you will grasp the full meaning of this. For now however, let’s return to the lecture hall – the end is near.
Just as professor, as usual, begins asking, if all was understood, I look at the girl yet another time. She’s slightly shaking all over and visibly straining to keep her tearful eyes from rolling into the back of her skull. All that while covering her mouth with her hands, mind you. Students around her wear different expressions. Uncertainty, concern, poorly hidden glee and even open resentment. Despite her half-conscious state, the girl, believe me, percieves this pretty well, and it only fuels her excitement, threatening to flood her with emotions…
Knowing it won’t be long now before the floodgates (oops, did I say too much?) burst, I check if everything is ready. In this case things are simple – the door is where my trap should be set.
And sure enough, invisible to most, a fine spider web of a spell glistens in the doorway. All set. The final “UP” and the peak is reached just as professor gathers his things and all sounds are drowned by the students scrambling to get up.
I fight my way through the crowd across the lecture hall, turning the controller off as I move. There, a familiar scene – face down on the desktop, still shaking very slightly, saliva dripping from half-open lips, drawn in ecstatic smile. And the looks of shock, astonishment, mocking delight and outright anger, all turned towards me as I gently touch the girl’s shoulder.
“Til? Are you all right? What happened?” – I feign innocence, unnecessarily. A feeble answer, barely a moan. I shoo the spectators away, most leaving with only a few glances over their shoulders. The angry look stays, though, boring through me out of a pair of dark, attentive eyes, clearly unconvinced by my more than plausible act. But in the end it leaves as well. It always does, that look. Only to give way to a look of discontent and slight embarresment. “How long are you two going to do this?” – asks Til’s friend, Irene. The only one to remember these things.
“Don’t ask me” is my usual impassive answer. And she understand it, herself. The only other person except myself, who knows about Mathilda’s secret.
The last of the students are leaving the lecture room, but Til is still in her fantasy world and shows no sign of returning. Irene wants to leave, too, but stays, nervously glancing at the door, postponing the moment of passing through my spider web. Well, only one thing to do, then.
I put Mathilda’s things into her bag and hang it on my shoulder. Then stoop and pick Til up, making sure her skirt does not hang loose, thus hiding a thick and quite full absorbent undergarment Mathilda’s wearing.
“I still don’t get it, how you can carry her like that” pronounces Irene her usual phrase, meaning, of course, my less than muscular build. “It’s all in the mind, Irene” I answer customarily with a smile, stepping through the doorway and we both know it is indeed so.