Lisa’s brain was hurting like a motherfucker from all the studying she was doing. She took a break to clear her head, heading out for a soda pop in the Science Building.

The looming vending machine that contained row upon row of Coca-Cola was surrounded by guys. They were chatting animatedly about Bitcoin. Lisa wondered what the big deal was. Even though she had taken computer science courses (as an elective), she was less than enamored with the whole crypto currency thing. It all seemed like a big scam to her. So Lisa ignored the talk, excuse me’d herself, and punched in her selection in the machine.

One of the guys was staring at her curiously. She tried to ignore this — as one of the few female engineering students on campus, it was one of the hazards of the job — but he insisted on probing.

Lisa, with Coke in hand, walked away down the hall and whistled the theme song from the Twilight movies. Her hearing was excellent, and she heard the words “bitch” and “hottie” behind her. She not only let it slide off her back like water off a duck, but also got even by giving them the finger as she walked along.

The weather outside was cold, unforgiving, raw. A strong wind had whipped up and it almost penetrated her thick winter jacket. She hunched her shoulders against the wind, then began trudging toward the techie library, where she would meet her friend Adam. Unfortunately, it was against campus rules to invite a boy over to single-sex dorm rooms, or she would have been studying there with Adam.

A chirping bird that hopped from spot to spot on the grass, paused 12 feet away. The bird cocked its head to look at her as if she was a giant from another star system. Lisa passed by the avian sucker, her hair blowing in the wind and frozen by the deep chill breath of Mother Nature.

The Canadian flag fluttered briskly overhead, signaling dominion over land, and Lisa hurried past it. There was often displeasure over such sights as girls protesting the patriarchy, girls ignoring guys, and girls who refused to sleep with professors. This reaction to a perfectly normal thing was something that baffled, annoyed, and frustrated Lisa. She wanted to be treated as an equal, allowed to speak her mind. Canadian society allowed that, to an extent, but it was not forgiving if you were too open, too forceful. It was perceived as rude for a woman to be less than agreeable, unless she was specifically given permission by the male hierarchy structure.

Feminism was where it was at. She still had her copy of The Beauty Myth stashed somewhere in her locker, a readable book that detailed how physical appearance was just a social construct and what counted was the inner person. She agreed completely.

She stopped for a moment as a parade of cars went by on the campus road. Then she resumed her journey. The wind was stronger than ever.

In a classy move that showed her true colors, Lisa allowed a wheelchair-bound man to scoot in front of her in his electric chair. She was touched by his disability and vowed to give him money if he needed it. He looked like a good person. OMG, there was Chad!

Chad Thundercock, wild and untamed and beautiful, his hair flying in the wind, looked toward the north as if pondering a conquest of the Inuit. Lisa immediately melted inside. How cute he was! And how serious he looked! She allowed herself to drift closer to him, careful to stay outside the magnetic range of his dominating body language. This maneuvering, delicate as a flamingo’s mating dance, was not sufficient to hide her from Chad’s gaze. The alpha guy turned his full attention on her, and she wilted. Oh no! He noticed me!

Immediately after making eye contact with Chad, Lisa dropped her eyes, not fully understanding the hot, bothered reaction that infested her body all of a sudden. She was not a virgin, yet she was acting like one. It was as if she had been transported back to grade 9 in a popularity-obsessed high school where being cool meant sucking at math (she was always top 1%) and where the jocks dated cheerleaders exclusively. Feeling left out, she had drifted to the drama club instead.

A few drug-addled girls stood by the entrance to the library, joints in their hands. They were smoking up in contravention of university policy and they didn’t care. Lisa, a non-drug-user, felt clammy and nervous going up to the pothead girls, and quickly made her escape.

Once inside the library she quickly scoped out her favorite library carrel, located in the far corner of the building. There was a blue carpet that supported aisles and rows of books, most of them brimming with information on technical subjects and cherished by engineering students for their perspicacity. Lisa the engineer was a natural bookworm and absolutely loved reading the hard textbooks. Suddenly a piercing howl filled the air.

Despite the alarm going off in the building, none of the studying students were moving. Which was strange because Lisa could see signs of a real fire. It was blazing away behind the math proofs, which were stored behind a thick plastic guard. Lisa ran for the doors. The fire, beginning to spread now, reached the absolute point nearest to her. Panicked, she burst through the exit doors with an outstretched hand.

Because it was late fall, and because the temperature was dropping steadily, the fire department elected not to make the students wait outside for the fire to be put out. Clots of young people, in twos and threes, drifted away from the fire-ravaged building to find their way to the dorm buildings. Here, there was safety and opportunity; everyone was safe. It was good to be safe.

Lisa was being subtly pushed along not by the crowds of students but by the janitors who wielded their broom sticks like clubs. She fell in the path of a sweeping broom and screamed. The yellow bristles struck her in the head, a blow that almost knocked her unconscious. Someone ran past her, stepping on her exposed wrist in the process. Campus police, armored up in kevlar body armor and gripping steely-gray Berettas, ran up to the students and began shooting. The students returned fire with super soakers, which sprayed viciously on the cops but did no real damage.

Lisa was paralyzed; she didn’t know what to do. As she dropped her books, engineering texts falling to the ground according to the known acceleration of Earth’s gravity, a boy bumped into her chest with one flailing elbow. He didn’t apologize but merely continued on his way. OMG! So rude!

In delaying her retreat from the area, she was exposing herself to worse danger. When a soccer ball came at her head from nowhere, she ducked, but it still managed to strike a glancing blow, bouncing off her head. She winced, scowling.

Chad Thundercock came up to her and put an arm around her shoulder. It was comforting and sweet and she leaned into him. “There, there,” he soothed. “There, there.”

She glanced down in time to notice he had an enormous erection in his jeans. Immediately she was embarrassed and moved away from him. It was awful to be reminded of male sexuality all the time. The boys had constant hard-ons, and didn’t hide them well enough. Muttering an insincere apology, Lisa was swept away by the wind and deposited on the steps of the engineering building.

She looked around. A storm was coming, by the looks of it. The distant suburb of Burlington was being rained on as she watched. Hamilton was next. McMaster University, which supported 22,000 full-time students, seemed parched, dry; in desperate need of rain. The weather’s unpredictable patterns, however, were bothering her. I wonder if we’re going to have a tornado, she thought morosely to herself.

Giving her books a tighter hug and moving into the shadow of the building, Lisa felt an ant crawling up her arm. Looking down, she saw that it was not an ant but a gross spider. She screamed in horror, flapped her arm like a chicken, and tried to dislodge it futilely.

Chad Thundercock came to the rescue. Thankfully, he no longer had a boner, but he was hot as hell anyway. Lisa stared at him as he squashed the spider with one Doc Martens boot. Then he grinned at her and brushed his bangs back.

There was a speck of celery stalk in between his two front teeth. She longed to tell him about it, but felt too shy to risk being rude. This was a magical moment like none other. Lisa felt she really understood Chad Thundercock. He didn’t just want her for a hook-up; he wanted a love interest and was passionate about her. Dizzy on her feet and swaying dramatically, Lisa was stoked for love and life, freed by a passion which knew no bounds.

Chad touched her breast with a passion that melted her heart. He was squishing and moving around her titty and it felt so wonderful! Chad was truly a sensitive person. Did he really like her, or was he just being polite? Only time would tell!

Lisa moved closer to the Chad-ster. Her breasts swaying under her sweater. Her hands clammy with sweat. He was there. He was close. He was the Man.

Chad smiled like a pimp. He had good teeth and excellent body language. He was really confident, and that was sexy af. When he moved closer to her, bringing her his heat, it seemed to explode her senses in a flurry of wetness, quivers, and general desire.

The look in his eyes, the soft touch of his male member, and the magical aura around him (was a Sagittarius! she really hoped so!) were liable to make her lose her head and fall in love with him.

Lisa was speechless. Chad continued touching her hair and talking softly to her, as if she was a deer in an animated film, perhaps Bambi.

There was a sense of danger about him, something wicked that was simultaneously (and yet paradoxically?) appealing. His spread legs seemed to say, I have nothing to prove, and yet I know I’m sexy, therefore I’ve proved it. She was stunned by his wordless eloquence.

Just then a rapist came by and killed Chad with a blow behind the back by a hammer and raped Lisa as she lay staring at the sky with her books on her chest and her panties down. But it hurt so good. THE END.