Jenna
Six months earlier …
“Seriously Tina, you must be kidding,” I said nonchalantly, flipping my blonde hair back. “I’ve never heard of this requirement.”
My sister gazed at me owl-like. Her heavy-framed glasses were ridiculous, they only served to emphasize the roundness of her cheeks, obscuring her rather pretty caramel eyes.
“No, it’s true Jenna,” she said wearily. “In addition to the bar exam, there’s an additional requirement to get your license. It’s called the moral character application, I guess the State wants to make sure you’re an upstanding citizen, that kind of thing.”
What? I’d been slaving away for almost three years at this law degree and it wasn’t enough? There was more to becoming an attorney?
“Not only that, but the application costs something like four hundred dollars,” added Tina resignedly.
“Four hundred dollars!” I screeched. “No way I can afford that! For a piece of paper that says I’m a good person? No way.”
Tina looked away and didn’t reply. I knew from her silence that we didn’t have a choice – she didn’t make the rules any more than I did and likely wasn’t looking forward to the four hundred dollar spend either.
But at least Tina could afford it, as she was engaged to Jake Sterling now. I grew livid thinking about it because Jake had been my fiancé first. The CEO of Sterling Pharmaceuticals and I had met at a party and I’d succeeded in snaring the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco with my flirtatious ways, hot body, and unstoppable charm.
But instead of marching into a happily ever after, my twin had snuck in, getting pregnant with Jake’s baby and basically stealing him from right under my nose. Now they were engaged to be married and instead of me as the next first lady of San Francisco, it was going to be Tina instead, my fraternal twin, a dumpy brunette who was actually serious about her career.
Because my twin and I are law students at the same school in the Bay Area. My sister’s a good student and deserved getting in, I’m sure. But don’t tell anyone … because I didn’t earn my admission at all. Instead, I used my feminine wiles to seduce a professor who revised my transcript in the university’s database.
It’d begun somewhat normally. I was a senior in Professor Lang’s economics class, almost dizzy with boredom as he wrote equations on the blackboard. It was amazing that I was in class at all – usually I just skip lectures, showing up to exams on the appointed date.
But this professor had caught my eye. He was cute and not too old, maybe 35 or so, fresh from a post-doc and furiously trying to publish before his tenure evaluation came up. Prematurely grey, he was dressed like an academic in corduroy jeans with a v-neck cashmere sweater – trendy but not too much so, with a nice body, trim and toned, probably from biking all over campus. He was clearly smart too, holding a PhD from some Ivy League school back east.
His voice droned on and on but it was a nice hum, something that I could plausibly feign interest in, even as my mind wandered thinking about this guy or that at school. When you look like me there are men galore only too happy to do your homework for you, they’ll even do your take-home exams if you’re savvy. But I needed an overhaul of my entire transcript and Professor Lang was just the answer. I knew instructors could access the University database and I wasn’t above trying my hand.
After class, I trailed the handsome male into the hallway after the other students had disbursed.
“Hi Professor Lang,” I said sweetly, throwing my blonde hair over my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said glancing my way. “Hey,” he said more forcefully, doing a double take. That happens to me a lot. As a nubile undergrad, I was bursting with health and beauty and guys often look at me with renewed interest once they get a glimpse of my curves.
“I was wondering if I could stop by later today for some review?” I asked with a flirtatious smile. “The stuff you explained today … the concepts were tough,” I added.
“Well,” the good professor hemmed and hawed, “office hours are usually Thursday and it’s only Tuesday today ….”
“Please?” I asked plaintively. “If I wait until Thursday there will be more material and I’ll just be more confused. Plus, the TA doesn’t have office hours until Friday, so I really have no way to clear this stuff up before moving forwards.”
I could see him relenting, his mind doing a furious calculation of Hot Co-ed + Intermediate Economics + Doing my Job + Potential for Exploration (naughty!).
“Alright, come by at three,” he said, his eyes glinting. “Have your questions ready, I only have half an hour before a faculty meeting.”
“Oh of course, Professor,” I said. “I already know what I need,” I added with a saucy smile before skating away, my mini-skirt swaying as I wiggled my hips.
And that, reader, is how I got straight A’s. Professor Lang and I engaged in a torrid affair which ended after graduation, the minute after he hacked into the University database and modified my transcript. It was fun, really, having a man wrapped around my finger, willing to do anything.
“Joseph,” I admonished while the professor knelt between my legs, supplicating and worshipful. “Make sure to suck hard on my clit, I want to feel some real tension there.”
And he’d merely moaned in response, breathing in my female scent, his cock a bulge in his pants as I spread my legs wider, hooking my panties over my engorged nether lips, baring my steaming cunny. He was almost drooling with need, eager to dive into my snatch to sample my honey.
“Yes Mistress,” he whispered, staring at my puss avidly while touching himself, pulling that fuckpole out, its length twitching at its proximity to nubile womanflesh. And sure enough, the Professor did an amazing job with the oral, suckling my nub with vigorous ardor, making sure I came multiple times on his tongue before burying that hard shaft in my soft folds, my puss clenching with ecstasy as he pounded me again and again.
“More Professor, more more more!” I squealed, throwing my head back in ecstasy, screaming with pleasure as he drilled me. “X plus 2Y equals R! Sum of S to the tenth degree is N!”
It was so laughable, spewing nonsensical theorems, but hey, different strokes for different folks right? And for the sexy professor, that’s what got him off, girls, math, and equations. With a mighty groan, he emptied into me, pumping white into my burning insides, coating me with viscous, virile sperm, his trim body shaking with lust and release as he emptied into my body.
So people were shocked when I was admitted to top-tier law schools. I’ve always come off as a blonde bimbo, and even my so-called friends were surprised. “What?” gasped Kim Marsh. “How did you get into Stanford Law? You never study. In fact, didn’t you get a D in Econometrics last year?”
Of course I had, but I wasn’t about to tell her that my entire transcript had been faked.
“Yeah, I guess I just had a really good reference letters,” I purred. In fact, I’d read Professor Lang’s letter which raved about my “stellar intellect” and “inestimable abilities.” It was laughable. More like my dripping pussy and big, bouncy boobs had paved the way.
“Hope you do just as well in the admissions game,” I’d tossed off to Kim insincerely, spinning about and leaving her gawking.
But of course, my sister suspected something was off. When I called, Tina was wary and unforthcoming.
“Alright Jenna, where are you planning on matriculating?” she asked slowly.
“I dunno, where are you?” I responded. Her answer meant more to me than she knew.
“Well, I just mailed my deposit into Stanford Law School,” she said slowly. “They have a great tax program and you know how I’ve always been interested in corporate shield and all that.”
I sighed. Tina was so boring. Law school was an opportunity to meet men, all these glorious, hard-bodied young graduate students who’d likely move onto lucrative careers. And I was secretly elated. Didn’t a ton of entrepreneurs come out of Stanford? I mean, all the billionaire tech moguls were Stanford drop-outs right?
“What a coincidence!” I said gleefully. “That’s where I’m headed this fall too.”
Tina was silent in reply, giving out a soft sigh.
“I guess I’ll see you there, Jen,” before hanging up with a soft click.
But my twin’s presence was more important to me than just sisterly support. Come fall, I pressed my advantage, relying on Tina for everything … driving me to class, taking notes, even cribbing off of her papers once in a while, without her knowledge of course. She was the perfect fallback, I didn’t even need to charm nerdy boys into doing my work for me.
But it all blew up when it came to Jake Sterling. CEO of Sterling Pharma, my sister and I had attended a party in the City and I thought I’d snagged him. I’d made a beeline as soon as he appeared, the newest billionaire in Silicon Valley, and we’d done some dirty dancing with a vague promise to “meet up again” after the party ended.
And I’d worked it to the max, spinning one date into two, two into three, until we were a couple. But unbeknownst to me, Tina had actually slept with him at that damned party! I mean, gimme a break. The twenty minutes when I wasn’t watching my man like a hawk, and my twin snuck in and got pregnant by the billionaire on her first try. It was unbelievable, like the worst nightmare from hell.
So my sister and I are estranged now, after Jake broke off our engagement to be with his baby mama.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I spat to my mom. “This is so fucked up, what kind of sister does this to you?”
My mom looked at me reprovingly. I guess since she’s known me since birth, she knows how vengeful and spiteful I can be on occasion. But this was an instance where it was deserved. I swear, my twin ran off with my man, how messed up is that?
“Jenna,” she said gently. “You’re beautiful but surely you can see how much Jake and Tina love each other. Maybe you were there first, but the heart wants what it wants, and Jake wants Tina.”
This wasn’t helpful at all.
“Whose side are you on, Mom?” I screeched. “I did nothing wrong! It was all her! Tina makes herself out to be such a goody two-shoes but inside, she’s dirty and corrupt, she’d do anything to get her way.”
My mom only sighed.
“Jenna, maybe you should take a closer look at yourself,” she advised. “Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean that life is going to be easy.”
“Is that a warning?” I’d sneered. “Shit happens Mom, I know, but this was really beyond the pale.”
“Take another look at yourself,” my mom urged. “Work on yourself first, really look inside and figure out what you want, what will make you happy. And don’t throw stones if you live in a house of glass.”
Whatever. These platitudes and old sayings were too much to bear, they just made people feel worse without actually being helpful.
“Fine Mom, I will,” I said shortly, ending the conversation. But my mind had already turned to other things because right now, I just needed money. I’d been living on Jake’s largesse for the past couple months, reveling in a luxurious lifestyle and clearly that was over. But I couldn’t bear going back to being a penniless grad student either, so I began calling around.
I’d seen an ad in the student paper for a modeling gig a few days back, and I knew I was photogenic. Maybe I’d check that out, it’d beat being a teaching assistant or some waitress job for sure.
“Hi, I’m inquiring about the modeling job I saw in Craigslist,” I dialed the number. “The one where the girls promote a premium craft beer?”
“Oh right,” said the disembodied voice on the other end. “Are you five two and Latina?”
“Not exactly,” I said slowly. “I’m blonde and five nine.”
“Then no can-do,” said the voice. “Premia Modela is geared to the Latino market, we’re only looking for girls with spice.”
Um, okay, they could have said that in the ad. But if the WASP look wasn’t what you were looking for, then fine, I’d move on. After a couple more calls, I finally got a bite.
“Hi, I’m calling about the modeling ad in the paper,” I said in a clipped voice, my temper short. “The one that pays two hundred per hour,” I said emphatically.
This whole process had been far more annoying than I thought. You’d think that being blonde and hot would open plenty of doors, but that hadn’t been the case with these gigs so far.
“Oh right,” said the silky voice in response. “And may I ask your cup size please?”
Cup size? They asked this stuff straight off the bat? But I had nothing to hide.
“Double Ds,” I said shortly. “Not natural.” I really wasn’t holding back on the nastiness.
“And height and weight?” she positively purred.
“Five nine and one twenty,” I snapped. “Listen, should I come in or what? You’re not going to get anywhere with stats, I could be a wretched hag for all you know.”
The voice wasn’t perturbed by my rude behavior. “Of course, honey,” the woman said sweetly. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow at 11 a.m.? It’s 243 Divisadero Street. Bring two bikinis,” she added. “One in black and one in red.”
“Wait, I didn’t know I had to provide the clothes,” I shot back, but it was too late. The woman had hung up and I was stuck going to the mall later today. WTF? I thought models sold outfits, not supplied them. But it was too late now, and two hundred dollars per hour was cash that I desperately needed.