The Wicked Virgin

By: Cassandra Dee

And I’ve become really wicked.

There’s a women’s restroom down the hall from me, and I’ve been using it for fun times. It’s my guilty little secret. I’ve got a locked drawer of sex toys in my desk and I take them with me to the women’s restroom for a small pick me up a couple times a day now. It’s so delicious, tremors running up and down my spine, my little cunt flexing and creaming, and the hours go by so much faster now. Did I say I was a good girl? Well I’m not … I’m bad.



The bus ride to work this morning had been tough. Instead of getting to study, I’d been subjected to a number of different trials and tribulations. First, there’d been the bus itself. I don’t know what happened but the Midtown Express today was especially creaky, its shocks worn-down and aged, and it seemed like every pothole was a giant indentation in the road, jouncing us up and down, making all the passengers bobble. It was so bad that I was even a little car sick in my seat in the back, my stomach queasy, slushing around, a headache coming on.

So I got up and moved all my stuff to the front of the bus. Sometimes it’s better to ride closer to the engine, there’s less swaying and swift jerky turns that way. Except the only seat I could get was next to a middle-aged man, a guy who looked okay at first but immediately started chatting me up when I sat down.

“Hey, what’re you reading?” he asked.

I looked up politely. That was a common enough question, nothing odd.

“Organic chemistry,” I replied. “It’s tough but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Oh really?” he asked. “What are you studying for? I’m a pharmaceutical sales rep, I know some of this stuff,” he said with a wink.

I was immediately on alert. Even though I’m just starting out in the medical realm, I’d heard so much about Big Pharma and their unscrupulous ways that my defensive shields shot up.

“I’d like to be a nurse,” I said slowly. “I’m a student at Hudson University downtown, I’m hoping to get my B.S. in Nursing in a couple years.”

“Oh great!” he replied, “My sister got her B.A. from Hudson too. Nursing you said? I think Kristen was Creative Writing, but she really enjoyed her time at Hudson.”

“Oh me too,” I said, smiling a little now. “I love the school, I just wish I got to participate more.”

“What do you mean?” the middle-aged man asked, taking in my work outfit, the skirt and blouse neatly tucked in. “Aren’t you going to classes? Or is this get up for a part-time job?”

I looked down at my corporate gear, so different from the casual jeans a student might wear.

“Yeah, I have a full-time job in addition to my classes,” I admitted ruefully. “I work during the day and take mostly evening classes so I feel like I’m not really a part of the Hudson community. Most events happen during the day, the club meetings, the rallies, all the good stuff, but by the time I get home at night, I’m so tired that it’s impossible to drag myself out again. Not that I have any time anyways,” I said a little wistfully. “Between work and classes, I’m completely booked.”

The man looked at me skeptically again.

“Really, no time whatsoever? That’s a hard path for a little lady like you.”

And I colored slightly.

“It’s not that bad,” I replied firmly, straightening my shoulders, holding my chin up. “I’m lucky to have the chance to go to college, I just didn’t want to take out a ton of loans so I decided to work full-time while taking classes.”

And the man nodded thoughtfully.

“I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “I’ve got thousands of dollars in student debt, I’m still paying for it even though I’m forty,” he said with a wry grin. “Can you believe it? There’s something seriously wrong with the American education system.”

“I totally agree,” I said, shooting him my first real smile. “I just don’t want to have a mountain of debt after I graduate because entry-level nurses don’t make much, and I can’t afford to be paying student loans on top of rent and bills,” I said. “It would be overwhelming, I’d probably forget something and disaster would strike.”

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