Chapter 8

You slip through the crowded party, keeping a careful distance as Tyler leads Isabella—or rather, Bella—up the stairs and down a dimly lit hallway. The thumping bass from downstairs provides perfect cover for your footsteps as you shadow them, pausing behind corners whenever they slow their pace.

Tyler opens a door at the end of the corridor, ushering Bella inside with a possessive hand on the small of her back. You wait thirty seconds before approaching, noticing the door hasn't fully closed—left ajar in their haste. Positioning yourself in the shadows across the hall, you have a perfect view through the narrow opening.

Inside, Bella sits perched on the edge of Tyler's bed, legs crossed at the knee, displaying a confidence entirely foreign to Isabella's usual demeanor. Her navy dress has ridden up her thighs, revealing smooth pale skin that she makes no effort to conceal. Her eyes, normally sharp with analytical intelligence, now hold a heavy-lidded sensuality.

"So this is your room," she purrs, her voice pitched lower than Isabella's usual academic tone. "It's, like, so much nicer than I expected." She runs her fingers over the bedspread suggestively. "Good thread count. I bet it feels amazing against bare skin."

Tyler stands before her, transfixed by this transformation. "You're different tonight," he observes, loosening his tie. "I've seen you around campus for years. You never even looked at guys before."

Bella tosses her head back with a laugh that belongs to someone else entirely. "Maybe I was just waiting for the right guy to notice me." She reaches for him, pulling him between her spread knees. "Or maybe I was just, like, super repressed? Who cares about all that boring stuff when we could be having fun instead?"

Her fingers work at his belt buckle with surprising dexterity. "I bet you've got something nice for me under here," she murmurs, looking up at him through mascara-thickened lashes. "Something big and hard that a smart girl like me should definitely examine up close."

Tyler groans as her hand finds its target. "Fuck, Bella, you're so hot like this."

She freezes momentarily, head tilting in confusion. "What did you call me?"

"Isabella," Tyler corrects quickly. "I said Isabella."

The moment of dissonance passes, and Bella's seductive smile returns. "Call me Bella," she instructs, tugging his pants down. "Isabella is such a boring name. So stuffy and serious." She licks her lips as his erection springs free. "And there's nothing serious about what I'm about to do to you."

Downstairs, you catch glimpses of Gia through the stairwell railing. She's now straddling Jackson's lap on one of the couches, grinding against him shamelessly as partygoers watch with a mixture of shock and envy. Her red dress has been pushed up around her waist, revealing the thin strip of her thong as she moves. Jackson's hands grip her ass, guiding her movements as she throws her head back in exaggerated pleasure.

You descend the stairs, leaving Bella to her explorations with Tyler, and return to the main party area where Gia and Jackson have become the center of attention. The crowd has formed a loose circle around them, students recording with their phones as Gia performs what amounts to a lap dance on the quarterback. Her red dress has ridden up completely, revealing the thin black thong barely covering her most intimate parts as she grinds against Jackson's obvious arousal.

"Everyone's watching us," Jackson mumbles against her neck.

"Good," Gia moans loudly. "Let them see what a real woman looks like when she's getting what she wants."

Gia's head is thrown back in ecstasy, her glossy black hair cascading down her back as Jackson's hands knead her exposed ass. Her full breasts threaten to spill from the plunging neckline with each movement, nipples visibly hard beneath the thin fabric.

"Oh my god, is that Giorgia Valentini?" a female student whispers nearby, shock evident in her voice. "She's captain of the volleyball team! I've never seen her act like this."

"Fuck yeah, baby," Jackson groans loudly, gripping Gia's hips tighter. "Show everyone what you can do."

Gia responds by leaning forward, her lips capturing his in a hungry kiss, her tongue visibly exploring his mouth as the crowd hoots and hollers. The scent of her perfume mingles with the sweat of exertion and arousal. When she breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connects their lips momentarily before she licks it away with deliberate sensuality.

"You like that, big boy?" she purrs, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Just wait till you see what else I can do with this mouth."

The fraternity brothers erupt in cheers and whistles. Jackson, emboldened by the attention and Gia's brazen sexuality, suddenly stands, lifting her in one fluid motion. Her legs wrap around his waist instinctively, her arms looping around his neck as she continues to kiss and nip at his jaw.

"Taking this somewhere private," Jackson announces to raucous approval. Fraternity brothers reach out to high-five him as he carries Gia toward the hallway leading to the private rooms.

"Make her scream, Jackson!" one calls out.

"Fuck her brains out!" another adds.

Gia, far from being embarrassed by these crude comments, blows kisses to the crowd over Jackson's shoulder. "Don't wait up, losers! I'm gonna be busy all night!" Her voice is pitched higher than Giorgia's usual tone, infused with a valley girl accent that sounds completely foreign coming from her lips.

As Jackson carries her away, Gia's eyes meet yours briefly across the room. For just a split second, something flickers there—confusion, perhaps recognition—before it's swallowed by the vacant, lustful gaze of the bimbo persona once more.