When a friend of mine recommended an eighteen-year-old girl for one of the two rooms I was subletting, I was skeptical but he assured me she was mature. He told me she had worked with him as an intern during her last semester in high school. I needed the cash so I trusted his judgement sight unseen. How much trouble could a girl who was going to double major in philosophy and political science be.
When she moved in I remember seeing her big head of curly blonde hair and her cute made up face and thinking that she wasn’t the nerdy girl I’d expected. She acted like a prissy little princess, but lacked confidence, so she came off immature and awkward.
The first night I had some friends over, and she came downstairs all dolled up and looking much better than she had earlier. This was mostly because she wore a low cut top that put her substantial cleavage on display. Of course my friends hung on every word as she claimed to be a brown belt in Taekwondo, a good tennis player, and a sexual dynamo who preferred older guys. She even bragged about the way she’d handled her ex-boyfriends big dick.