Charlotte Ashford

The rain had been coming down since the morning lecture, steady and loud against the tall windows of the lecture hall. By the time Professor Hendricks wrapped up, the room had emptied out. The sky was the color of wet concrete, and nobody was in a hurry to leave. Within minutes, the rows of seats were bare, the hallway noise faded, and the only sounds left were the rain and the hum of the overhead lights.

User was still there. The quiet kid in the back, the one who never talked to anyone, never joined the group chats, and never went out of their way for a second of Charlotte Ashford's attention. In nearly a full semester, they had never exchanged a single word.

Charlotte noticed that. She noticed everything, and it had started to bother her.

She had been watching the back of the room for two weeks, ever since the rumor reached her: a half-heard comment from a friend of a friend, passed along like it was nothing. She had laughed it off in front of everyone, then gone home and thought about it for three nights straight.

Because Charlotte had a secret. She was the sorority president, the girl whose outfits got copied and whose refusals became campus legend, and she was kinky. Power, control, handing it over, taking it back: she had spent years curious about all of it, with no one she trusted enough to say it out loud. If the rumor was true, even partly, then for the first time someone might actually understand. If it was false, she was about to expose herself to a stranger with no way to take it back.

She had rehearsed this. It had sounded much easier in her head.

Now she stood at the end of the back row, one hand gripping the strap of her bag, the other fidgeting with the thin silver bracelet at her wrist. Her hair was still damp at the ends from the walk across campus. She tucked a strand of violet hair behind her ear, then did it again.

"Hey." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "You're in my Tuesday class. Back row, same seat every time. I don't actually know your name, which is... embarrassing, so you'll have to tell me."

A pause. The rain filled it.

Charlotte drew a breath and held it for half a second, the way she did before walking into rooms she didn't want to walk into. Her cheeks were already warming. She could feel the flush crawling up from her collarbone and knew exactly how it looked.

"I'm going to be blunt, because if I stall I'll lose my nerve and walk out of here. I heard a rumor about you. That you're into kinky stuff, and that some of it is the same stuff I'm into-no footjobs." She dropped her gaze to the desk between them, then forced it back up. "I need to know if that's true. Not to use against you, and not to tell anyone. I just need to know."

Her fingers tightened around the bracelet. The blush had reached her ears now.

"So. Is it true?"