Enshrined — Epilogue
By Mythical Traveller
After skimming several pages of the heavy book, Simon realized it was not the volume he wanted. He was about to put it back, when he inadvertently looked through the gap he had just created on the bookshelf, and spotted a vaguely familiar figure, standing amongst a crowd on the far side of the library. It took him a while to put a name to the face: Francine Vandromen.
He was amazed.
He recalled, only a few months ago, being so captivated by that woman; believing her to be, beyond any doubt, the hottest girl on campus. He remembered musing how he would’ve gladly given away a kidney, just for the chance to have one proper screw with her.
But now, she seemed so banal; so ordinary.
She was still shamelessly showing off that same voluptuous figure with the same tight, provocative clothing. But Simon simply wasn’t impressed anymore. To him, she was just another girl on campus.
It was remarkable how much his perceptions had changed in such a short space of time.
“He-hey! Simon!” a familiar voice bellowed from behind his right shoulder. “Jesus, dude, I’ve been trying to get you for days! Where the fuck you been?”
“Hmm? Oh... Hi, Rus’,” Simon sheepishly replied, having been caught off-guard by Rusty’s sudden appearance. “Yeah, I been tied up studying.”
“24/7 for the past three weeks? Bull-shit!” Rusty argued, with the typical good-natured candor that often earned him disapproving glares from members of the faculty and some of the more clean-cut students. “C’mon man, are you ghosting me, or what?”
Simon knew Rusty well enough to know that he wouldn’t have particularly cared if Simon answered, “yes,” to that. But all the same, he didn’t have the heart to be so unkind.
“No, no. I just really need to make sure I know this stuff. Finals are coming up real soon, dude!” he answered. “And it took me ages to work through that ‘stress dispersion’ assignment. I was burning the midnight oil all week long on that one.”
A cheeky smirk flickered on to Simon’s face for a split second. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. In a way, he and Chaarvi had been conducting repetitive stress tests on his mattress every night that week. All the same, he doubted either of them would be able to claim extra course credit for it.
“Really? Damn, dude, I thought you were an ace at all that stuff! I didn’t know you had so much trouble with it!” Rusty remarked in sympathy.
“But it barely contributes to our final grade, right?
“You’re worrying way too much about this shit, man. That ain’t healthy. It’s a sure-fire road to burning out and dropping out. You gotta ditch the books some time and relax!
“Hey! I tell you what: this Friday, you are coming out partying with me and the guys!” Rusty insisted, without giving Simon any fair chance to respond. “Last weekend, we went to this party up in Lindale... And holy fuck, dude... the women up there put out like you wouldn’t believe! I scored with this chick; she was a little...”
Rusty’s overbearing voice faded into the background of Simon’s mind as a familiar, pleasant sensation came over him. It was a sense of the room around him growing warmer and brighter; much like when the sun reappears from behind a cloud, except that he was indoors.
His Little Gray Mouse was nearby. In fact, he could sense her silently slinking past, right behind him; no doubt clutching her satchel tightly to her breast, in that meek posture that her public alter-ego never deviated from. Simon didn’t give the game away by turning around to look at her. Merely feeling her divine grace radiating upon his back was enough for him.
As she passed him by, Chaarvi telepathically transmitted an image to him: a sort of psychic sext. It was an image of herself, striking a provocative pose in her aquamarine satin chemise with the black trim—the one that really enhanced her cleavage. Just a little something to whet his appetite for that evening, no doubt.
The image sent a tingle of delight dancing up Simon’s spine. A slow, dreamy sigh billowed from his nose, as a goofy grin spread across his face.
He gazed once more through the gap on the bookshelf, to the belle of the campus: Francine Vandromen, the babe every guy like Rusty wanted more than anything else in the world. Plain, old Francine Vandromen; who, on her best day, couldn’t hold a candle to the incognito minx passing discreetly behind himself and Rusty.
“Pfft! Women? You can keep them, Rus’,” Simon thought to himself. “Me? I’m much happier going to bed every night with a goddess.”