Camera Shy
The sun had been fighting to stay up for a good part of the day, but it laid itself out awhile ago like an egg on a red hot iron pan. The brim of its light dimmed behind the canopy of trees in the grayed out horizon until it was snuffed. Purple haze and pink strident colors blazed through the normally blue sky and instantly, like a flash, turning black as night. Buildings, both tall and narrow, flat and long, and even some odd oblong ones grew shadows that blanketed the brown needles scattered across concrete ground and invaded the forestry with the retreating shades of trees. Eventually, the whole picture was nothing but darkness. Then the sky shown no light, not even the twinkle of stars, but one baleful moon that shown its lucid reflection behind passing clouds of the sunken sun's slumber behind the earth.
Even if the cosmos was asleep, the people on this planet, on the island, and around a particular dorm had not fallen into that sleepy rhythm of night...
A little lady, who's not very ladylike, no taller than a mail post, ran up the steps of a nearby building and peered around the sides to be sure no one noticed her arrival. This "Sneak" is hooded, purposefully hunched and zipping behind the shrouded manors to keep those who may be keeping a look out for her to be challenged.
This is a common occurrence... for her, at least.
Well, we know it is a girl, but no one would think that by catching a glimpse of her. Ah, wait, it has nothing to do with her looking like a boy, even if she is rather androgynous in those concealing clothes. Let's explain. The island is regularly known for having an all girl's campus, but there is a boy's side to the island, being rather difficult to traverse between the two, naturally, and guarded securely against those hardy individuals who would make the attempt to have some naughty fun. On that very important note, both sides of the island are strictly made to be unaware of each other. At least between the student bodies. Convenient, no? So, right now, this small lady is someplace she should not be snooping about without prior knowledge. Maybe it would interest the reader for us to delve into how she managed to get from point A to point B?
...Some other time. It is a long story and we want to get into what kind of trouble this brat is up to.
So, another thing that should be considered a "no-no" is the little blonde opening up the boy's dorm. Casually trespassing by going into a hall, thankfully vacant, as a thought bubble pops up and displays her contemplating breaking into a room. A very specific room with a specific name written all over it. Well, not exactly all over, but she'd know which door to open once spotted.
Have to find it first! She raises her head, looking at the numbers on each dorm room door, and counts the first few.
"100, 102, 104, 106... Must be upstairs," Enya Beisser breathes whispered notes to herself before concluding the next destination. She runs quiet the rest of the way down the hall for that staircase at the end. And hurries up.
In a minute, the door is nudged open enough for her to poke her head past the door and its frame, taking a note that big red Exit placard's light is flickering out above her noggin, and then ventures into the long stairwell corridor.
Normally, there is an elevator for this sort of thing. The stairs being for emergency only, but for some reason the alarm isn't exactly working. There is a story behind that, but we are leaving that for later too. As for why she didn't take the elevator, because the probability of getting boxed in with somebody on their way to take a trip down or up the dorm complex.
Best to walk where nobody treads, right?
Wandering down, she commences to count down the numbers. At the number, 204, her fingers snaps excitedly together, a smile on her face beams mischievously at the doorway, and a hand digging into her hoody's poncho for some tools.
The girl kneels down and in front of the door, with a clenched fist, she brings to bare a locks worst nightmare; a paperclip, loose wire while being inserted into the keyhole, a flat plastic card being slipped aligned with the door frame's latch, and tape for the door to never shut right. The lock-bar, which gets twisted open by the paperclip twirling that wire around in a knot inside until the contraption causes the knob's lock to click. The card slides to block the bar from locking into the latch, leaving the door to be simply pushed open, carefully taping to keep things easy for her later escape, and then she quickly, quietly, and with determination crawls on all fours, with the nearby coffee table obscuring her, inside with the door being gently nudged shut with a foot.
While pulling her hoody back, she peeks around inside the room, focusing peripheral vision for movement, but joyously taking in the sights of this particular boy's dorm room being empty. Nice to notice he isn't about. She stands up with some relief, walking around a bit more carefree, looking at the many things in here and there, oh and eventually from a computer, which is covered in different newspaper and photo clippings. There are notes about the keyboard and a few sticky notes that are tacked onto various parts of the desk with scribbles of different hand-writings, possibly tips from other students or something, and with numbers on them. Looking elsewhere, she sees his bed, not exactly made tidy, with one side flapped open and a imprint centered on the pillow that has been fluffed upwards like an abused child abandoned in the corner, and a couple bundled up sheets thrown almost off the foot to spill in disarray.
A slight wrinkle in her nose is made at that display. Looking behind her shoulder at the door, to be sure there is no sound or sight of him coming in anytime soon, she quickly makes his bed. Everything is torn off the bed to start from scratch. She throws up the sheets, flattens them down and tucks their corners in, folds back the head of the sheets so she may place the pillow properly inside, and then grabs the blanket to spread it over the whole furnish. When she finishes, taking a few steps back to appraise, there is a glint of light that catches her eyes, and a sight to behold when she focuses beneath the bed.
Camera. HIS Camera!
Oh! We haven't covered who this boy is, have we? Quite a chatty guy, hangs around a group of news freaks who believe the island has some big conspiracy, and dreams to one day be physically attached by the hip to this ex-fashion model turned business major and now teacher. The guy is even shorter than that bimbo! This bitch is like 5'11, if not a full whooping 6 foot giant, and he thinks his pecker is going to reach THAT!? Anyways...
Blinking and shaking her head, leaning in, and eyeing the would-be photo journalist's 'Precious,' "He would never leave it in his room... Unless... Oh," the girl realizes a sound she has been putting off as background noise, but it may actually be of importance.
There is a rushing noise. Like a muffled static, but the closer she walked to the bathroom, the louder, more distinct, and identifiable it became.
Shower. Somebody is in the shower!
HE'S HERE!! Been here the whole fucking time.
A bit of anxiety washes over her. Biting on her lower lip, looking down and around back up to the door, shaking her head a little bit, but then the resolve slowly settles in. He's in there, but that shower is a good way to time when he gets out. Quickly, there was an idea hatched in her mind. Trying to keep herself from giggling uncontrollably from the switch of anxiety to excitement, with a mouth cupped up in a single hand in fact, she rapidly steps back to the bed to swoop down to pick up that camera, and inspects it when she regains some self control. Turning it over, she figures out how to take some snap shots of it by blinding herself a few times from the -Click- and quick -Flash-.
Smiling, she figures exactly what she wants to do with this.
Glancing over her shoulder, to make sure he isn't coming out of the bathroom yet, the girl sets the first part of her plan into motion. The camera is set down on his bed for the moment. The hoody she wears is unzipped, opened, and slipped down enough to hang off of her shoulders before it slowly slides onto the floor. The now revealed shirt is rolled up her flat tummy while thinking about what he might do when this is over. It stops being rolled around to the curves of her cleavage before hooking both fingers beneath the bunched roll and sports bra, and yanked up as one to bare a pair of full firm breasts.
Bet this room, meant for the opposite gender, never thought it would get a glimpse of these, right?
With a revealing pull, she tears away the rest of the shirt and bra overhead, throws it on the floor, and grabs up her hoody once more to put on and cover her nubile figure. Yep, she zipped it up all the way. Grabbing the camera off the bed, she twirls around on the ball of her feet wistfully, sits on the side-edge of the bed with a bouncy flop, and lays her back on the second bounce with blonde blossoming over the made bed around her golden crown like a big sunflower.
Reaching a camera held hand up in the air above herself, the lens facing her, she takes a selfie snap shot of herself just laying there. Then she grabs a hold of the zipper, which is digging up the base of her throat to leave a little print. Slowly, she unzips, taking shot after shot after shot of herself as the zipper comes gradually down her exposing torso. Her tanned bosom, ribs, tummy, belly-button, and that narrow waist is revealed when the whole zipper pulls up and away from her hips. She smiles at the camera, front teeth nibbling on her lower lip like a naughty chipmunk, in the last few photos with her hand trailing down her bare abdominal to dive into those short shorts for him.
Then she gets up, grabs her shirt and bra, takes the hoody off for a moment to get dressed, and throws the coat back on before collecting the camera again. She heads for the bathroom, figuring he has taken long enough in there, probably jerking off with thoughts about that tall bitch, opens the door slowly, aims the camera at where the shower's general direction is, and yells, "FIRE! FIRE! GET OUT! THERE IS A FIRE!"
-Click-
-Flash-
-Click-
-Flash-
With the opening the shower door and frantic leaping out, a curse and smack is made from him a cartoonish slip, his wet glistening body is photographed a couple times by the hysterically laughing girl, and she gives him a guilt-tripped wave. The big boy, stunned, posing in hysterical shock for the photo shoot, slowly processes what is going on, and goes into an ashamed and frustrated rage, yelling at the retreating and giggling form.
Running out of the room, she hangs his camera smoothly up on the doorknob by the strap, and then flees down the hallway for a quick escape before he gets enough ample time to go after her, butt-nekkid or not...
