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To add to this mysterious dimension was the presence of a single bike in the parking lot, the concrete expanse showing no other signs of recent use. More surprisingly, it was a girl's bike, all pink and lavender, with a basket up front. Wondering which girl could be spending her time so fruitlessly (even the library had closed by now), I headed in, past the foreboding gate and the equally suspicious glance of the gatekeeper, into the main building. Now our college was built in the 50s, when colonial architecture had gone out of fashion but artistic sense had not yet taken its place in the minds of architects. The result was a Soviet-style block of concrete that had narrow slits for windows, more for use as nesting places for birds than as inlets for light, let alone warmth. In my two years here. I had come to know the structure and its interior by heart, though each passage was as boring as the previous and the next, each staircase as dark and steep as the one in the next wing, and. "Hello, this is Stephen." "My, oh my, you certainly were prompt in answering the phone, Stephen." It was Jessica, and she sounded like she was having fun with this little arrangement of ours already. "If you're worried about what kinky thing I want you to do to me, you can relax. I was just testing you to see if you would answer." Jesus, I was nervous as hell when I picked up the phone. It was a relief to know that I wouldn't have to meet her somewhere in the middle of the night, although the prospect of running off to provide a sexual favor to Jessica wasn't really such a bad thing. "A test?" I asked. "Yes, Stephen. I want you to know that I won't be testing you any more, since you passed the test with flying colors. But you must know that the next time I call you it will be the real thing. I might need someone to tuck me in, if you know what I mean." "That won't be a problem, Jessica. I'll be ready and willing whenever you call." "Very good. You can go back to bed now, my dear..
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