KILL THE VIRGIN IN YOU 2

The bell rang again, and while the students hurriedly left the auditorium, Lila Grayson was leisurely sorting through papers at the lectern. I decided to linger a bit and approached her when the room was nearly empty—I didn't really want to talk in front of everyone. Just in case, I pulled the medallion over my shirt—maybe it'd work better that way. Well, so what? I didn't have any instructions anyway.

- "Lila…" I called.

She slowly looked up from the papers, and her distracted gaze sparked a suspicion that she probably didn't even know my name.

"I wanted to ask…" I pressed on regardless.

Her eyes dropped to my medallion, then studied me a little more closely.

- "What, Noah?"

Huh?… Bingo?

"Maybe I can help you with something?" I offered.

Without a moment's hesitation, Lila shook her head.

- "No, thank you. But if anything comes up," she added with a smile, "I'll keep you in mind."

She was sweet and friendly—as always, and with everyone. Even her smile wasn't an achievement—she offered it politely to all.

"Have a good day, Noah," she said, gathering her papers and heading for the door.

"Goodbye…" I replied, watching her go.

The clatter of heels echoed through the empty auditorium. Her narrow skirt hugged her hips tightly, practically begging to be admired. The look teetered between modesty and indecency, stirring a single desire—to stare. Lila left without a backward glance, and I exhaled in disappointment. As the demoness promised: *they'll take off their panties themselves*? Yeah, I can see it. Damn liar!

But no sooner had I thought of her than sharp, long nails began tapping insistently on the doorframe. In the shadowy doorway stood Scarlett Sullivan herself. Frowning, she beckoned me with a finger, and I trudged toward her without much enthusiasm.

- "A day has passed," the succubus announced bluntly, "and you still haven't had sex! Why did I give you the medallion?"

Her tone was scolding, like I'd let her down.

- "Your medallion doesn't work!" I snapped.

- "Well, well!" Red lights flared in her black eyes. "And why such conclusions?"

- "You promised they'd jump on me. I don't see anyone jumping yet!"

- "To use your dick more often, you need to turn on your brain sometimes!" The red glow seemed ready to scorch me. "What did you *do* to get jumped on?"

First Chloe Harper, then Lila Grayson flashed through my mind—images spinning like snapshots, as if she were yanking my thoughts out by force.

- "The medallion doesn't work on virgins or frigid women!" Scarlett spat contemptuously. "I picked two exceptions! What else?"

I faltered. Was she talking about them? With Chloe, it made sense—she's like me, a virgin, just in a skirt—and frigid, apparently… I didn't even want to dwell on it. Wait, could she actually read my thoughts?

- "I gave you such an opportunity yesterday, and you didn't even see it!" she continued, jabbing her nail into my chest, just left of the medallion. It felt like a dagger's tip.

- "What opportunity?" I shot back, rubbing the stinging spot. "Pay for your lunch?"

- "There was enough food for four! And three girls staring at you! All you had to do was invite them to your table! One of them would've given it to you for sure. With effort, maybe all three!"

Three girlfriends at the next table vaguely surfaced in my memory. While I'd been gawking at the plate-laden table yesterday, they'd been sneaking glances and giggling loudly. I'd thought they were mocking me, but they were trying to catch my eye.

"You could've warned me," I grumbled.

- "Are you blind? Or a fool? Should I do everything for you?"

That stung a bit. Though it'd be nice if she did more than hurl insults.

- "Most girls have their flags written on their faces—you just have to *see* them! And with this medallion," she jabbed my chest again, "you don't even need words. A look or a gesture is enough to rip the flag off. Just look carefully! That's it," she snapped irritably, "briefing's over! Get to work!"

Before I could react, she grabbed my shoulder—nearly twisting it—and shoved me hard down the corridor. I stumbled forward, flailing to stay upright, and crashed into something soft.

- "Oh!" a startled female voice yelped.

A cascade of notebooks and papers followed. The girl lost her balance and hit the floor, and I landed right on top of her—my nose practically buried in the neckline of her chest. A very generous neckline, mind you. Talk about precision.

A second later, the chest beneath me swelled with a deep breath, growing even more impressive. It was already plenty big. The girl exhaled.

- "Sorry…" I looked up.

- "Noah?" she said, surprised.

- "Stella Brooks?"

I only recognized my old classmate by her voice. Everything else had changed too much—especially her outfit. She'd been way more modest at Crystalhaven Academy.

- "Will you get off me?" Stella squirmed beneath me.

- "Sorry!" I scrambled up and offered her a hand.

She stood, tugging her blouse down first. Her chest bounced, settling into the cleavage. Realizing I was staring too blatantly, I bent to gather her scattered notebooks and essay pages. Holding her short skirt with one hand, Stella stooped to help.

For a few seconds, we collected the papers in silence.

"Long time no see," I said, grasping for something to say.

"Yeah…" she replied.

I couldn't help sneaking a sideways glance. Her blouse's neckline was so striking it was a wonder how she got into the university dressed like that—unless the gatekeeper got too distracted to care. Understandable, if so. Stella turned her head, catching me with a questioning look.

"You've changed a lot," I blurted out.

- "Really?" She blushed suddenly.

I nodded. That was an understatement! The quiet, distracted girl from the second-to-last desk at Crystalhaven—always half-asleep, avoiding attention, blushing and mumbling when called on—never dressed like this. Her short skirt hugged her firm thighs with every move, practically begging for a playful smack.

"Well, yeah, I didn't recognize you at first," I said, handing her the collected sheets.

- "Just a little more mature," Stella said, clutching them. "You too, by the way," she added with a sweet smile.

Her smile sent an odd warmth through me, and I wasn't sure if it was the medallion heating up or my imagination.

"Well, bye," she said.

"Bye," I replied, feeling the warmth spread.

Stella climbed the stairs, holding her skirt to keep it from riding up, and I stared after her, marveling at how much girls could change. It hadn't even been a year since graduation from Crystalhaven. I'd heard student life at the university transformed people, but not this much. It hadn't changed me or Chloe one bit.

After watching her go, I was about to head to my next class when I spotted an open notebook in a shadowy corner by the wall—overlooked in our scramble. I grabbed it and raced up the stairs, but Stella was gone from the hall. I didn't have her number either. Had I ever even asked for it?

After a moment's thought, I opened my social network and scrolled to Chloe's page: she was friends with all the girls from our old class. Finding Stella wasn't hard—while the others still looked like yesterday's schoolgirls in their avatars, she resembled a model from a men's magazine. For a couple of minutes, I lost myself staring at her page—a dazzling showcase of photos, like posing and sharing had become her new craft. Snapping back to my purpose, I typed:

"You forgot your notebook. Where should I return it?"

Stella replied almost instantly:

"Oh, Noah, I can't yet! I've already left."

Her icon blinked as she typed more, and soon another message popped up:

"Can you bring it to my house this evening? I'll send you the address…"

I instinctively touched the medallion. Could this thing actually work?

---

A few hours later, notebook in hand, I headed to the address Stella had sent. It wasn't far—just a couple of streets over—but I dawdled, stretching out my steps. I didn't know what I was hoping for: just returning the notebook or something more? *More* felt unrealistic—days ago, I wouldn't have dared dream it—but the medallion around my neck seemed to nudge me forward.

At Stella's door, I took a breath and rang the bell. Light footsteps pattered behind it, and the door cracked open. Words failed me—Stella greeted me in a short robe, as revealing as her university outfit. So, I just handed her the notebook silently.

"Thank you," she said.

An awkward pause stretched out. I tried focusing on her face, but my eyes kept sinking to her robe's neckline. Stella didn't seem to notice.

"Well, should I go?" I managed.

- "Want some tea?" she offered suddenly.

The medallion warmed again. Hoping it meant something, I nodded quickly. Stella swung the door wide.

---

"My father's at work," she said, hanging my jacket in the closet. "He won't be back all night. I don't like sitting alone in the evenings," she sighed, nudging my shoes under a stand.

The kitchen felt warm and cozy—hardly the setting for anything spicy. Cookies sat in a vase on the table, and the kettle hummed cheerfully. It seemed Stella had genuinely just invited me for tea. She turned to a wall cabinet, and figuring I had nothing to lose, I let my gaze roam her figure. She turned back, and I fixated on the tablecloth's floral pattern like it was a masterpiece.

- "I didn't even know we were at the same university," Stella said, pouring tea. "I hadn't seen you there before," she added, setting a mug before me and sitting beside me.

Her robe slipped, baring slender thighs.

"I hadn't seen you either," I replied, trying not to stare.

Finding a topic was tough—we'd barely spoken at Crystalhaven, maybe exchanged hellos at most.

"Do you like studying?" I ventured.

Stella shrugged.

- "Not really. But my dad's old-school—says you can't get anywhere without higher education these days. So, I've got to go to the university… I won't work in my field, though."

- "Yeah? What'll you do then?"

- "Dunno yet. Maybe a blogger, or a model…"

I nodded. With her looks, she could pull it off. My eyes dipped to her cleavage again. Stella adjusted her collar, as if checking what I was gawking at. I felt a twinge of embarrassment and sipped my tea—hot, but not as searing as the medallion now burning against my chest.

"By the way, I'm already earning from my blog," Stella said suddenly.

- "Cool!" I replied. "What's it about?"

- "Come on, I'll show you…"

She stood, and setting my mug down, I followed.

In my eighteen years, I'd only seen two girls' rooms—Chloe's and my cousin's—barely different from mine, just dolls instead of cars and construction sets. Stella's room was a giant dollhouse. It practically screamed "a little princess dwells here." Heart-patterned walls, pink curtains veiling the windows, and a massive teddy bear looming in the corner. It was like she hadn't left childhood, except the table held a laptop and cosmetics instead of toys.

"And I saw…" Stella said behind me.

I spun around. She lingered at the threshold, staring.

- "I saw," she continued, "how you looked at me—there at the university and here. You were devouring me with your eyes… You didn't look like that at Crystalhaven."

Awkwardness hit me. Her tone threw me off—not accusatory, not flirty, just matter-of-fact. I didn't know how to respond.