Sylph in "Student Orientation"

Okay.  This is my first attempt at running a poll and (obviously) constructing a story around the results.  PLEASE VOTE!  If you don't, you end up stuck with whatever silly thing I decide to do.  Oh, and The Mole- thanks for so many great ideas.  Just for that, Sylph has promised that she and Kalida are going to try to arrange for a bikini car wash fund raising event to occur in a later story.

With all that said, the next chapter in Sylph's surprisingly (to me) long-lived saga:

Sylph in “Student Orientation”

<knock, knock, knock!>

“huh?”

<snrk>

“just a…<yawn!>…second!”

<THUD!>

“OW!  stoopid, frakkin’, ratzen, ratzlefratch!”

Finally, the door opened and Wade stood face-to-face with the young woman in the doorway.  The only thing was, it wasn’t the woman he had expected to see.  Leaning in the doorway was a darkly tanned woman with lustrous black hair and the second-most stunning figure Wade had ever seen.  His mouth dropped open and he just barely managed to keep his tongue from rolling out as he tried to find words to say.

“Hey, Wade,” she dimpled at him, obviously unoffended.  When he obviously didn’t recognize her, she continued.  “I’m Kalida.  Why don’t you come on in while I find the coffee?”  She pulled the door open and stepped back into the room.  Stepping in after her, Wade turned to close the door and was surprised at how difficult it was.  The door must have weighed a hundred pounds, but she had handled it easily with one hand.

“Um, I’m here to see Sylph…” Wade managed after he got the door closed.

“I figured that out, silly,” Kalida chirped at him.  “Sylph said she might run down to the grocery store this morning to get some breakfast stuff.  I’m guessing she’ll be back soon.”

Kalida evidently found the box with the coffee and the coffeemaker in it.  It was under another box, moderately large.  Grabbing it with both hands, Kalida the second box off of the first with a light oomph, then turned to Wade.  “Here,” she grunted, “hold this.”

Without thinking, Wade reached out his arms to grip the box from underneath.  She let go and Wade suddenly felt as if his arms were being pulled out of his sockets.  He overbalanced and crashed to the floor, startling Kalida and pinning his arms under the box.  Her eyes went very wide and she squatted down to lift the box off his poor, abused arms.  “Omigosh!  Are you okay?”  she asked.

“Nothing broken, I think,” Wade assayed cautiously as she set the box on the floor next to him.  Wade considered the enigma in front of him as she went back to setting up the coffeemaker and preparing the coffee.  It took him a few moments.  When he was in high school, she would have been a few years younger than him.  “Are you, by chance, Kalida Matsoukis?”

“I thought sure you didn’t recognize me!” she exclaimed, obviously delighted.

“Honestly?”  Wade chuckled, “I didn’t.  Last time I saw you, you were this grass-stained, skinny tomboy that always had scrapes on her knees and elbows.  You’ve really changed a lot.”

A rhythmic thudding announced the arrival of the room’s primary occupant.  Sylph filled the doorway the way only she could, her vast, mind-boggling size made accessible by the genuinely innocent and caring demeanor that wore it.  She was wearing what appeared to be an over-stuffed custom-made backpack, easily large enough to be intended as the duffel for a very long-distance camping excursion.  She was wearing a pair of workout shorts, Wade saw, already under more stress than they could possibly be expected to survive, a surprisingly loose fitted top that must have used as much fabric as a standard four-man tent, and matching bracelets and anklets.  Her entire body was covered in alight sheen of sweat, which Wade found mildly surprising given that he had a pretty good idea of how strong she really was-or, at least, he thought he did.

“Hi Wade, Hey Kalida,” Sylph panted, “let me put the groceries away and I’ll help with breakfast.”

“Sure thing,” Kalida agreed.  “Hey, do you think you could do something about your weights?  I tripped over them getting the door.”

“Oh, sure.  Are you okay?”

“Well, I banged my chin on one of your crates, but other than that, I’m fine.”

As they sat down to breakfast (Wade only drank coffee, as he had already eaten), they talked about the schedule for the day.  Wade promised to help them both with getting registered for classes and to show them around campus.  Kalida reminded Sylph that she had promised to help her in the gym, and Wade offered to tag along for emotional support.

Class registration proved to be fairly anti-climactic.  There were a number of core classes that they had to take- English literature, a humanities course- and then they had the option to fill up the rest of their schedule with a couple of electives.  Sylph chose a survey drawing course and an introductory dance course.  Kalida managed to get assigned to the same humanities course and the same dance course, although she ended up in a different lit class.  Her other class was a teaching methods class called Characteristics of Learners.  Looking over their schedules, Wade indicated judicious approval.  They weren’t going to have an easy time, but they had good professors.  “And I should tell you,” he mentioned, “you have an outstanding TA in your Fundamentals of Drawing class.”

They looked at him curiously.

“Me,” he said, buffing his fingernails on his shirt.

Wade led them around the campus, stopping in the student union for lunch.  As the three of them chatted over lunch, a number of young men sat nearby and whispered comments to each other.  Kalida was obviously upset by this, but Sylph appeared to be used to it.  “Just let it go, Kalida,” she muttered, “it’s kind of what I get for being me.”

Kalida scowled at this, and Wade raised one eyebrow.  “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it right,” Kalida whispered fiercely as Wade got to his feet and ambled over to the other table.

Looking up, Sylph blanched.  Wade was obviously in good shape, but the men at the next table were what she would have described as prime specimens.  Wade stood there talking with them for a few minutes, and Sylph waited nervously, afraid that violence might break out at any moment.  Sylph couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Wade gestured to her a couple of times and several of the scowling faces turned toward her before returning to their quiet huddle.  After another minute, the smallest-least large?-of the men at the other table got up from his seat and came around the table.  Wade smiled at him amiably and led him over to Sylph and Kalida.

“Ladies,” Wade began, “please allow me to introduce Mike Pendergast, quarterback of the NYU Violets.”

Mike stood a good six-foot-two and was clearly in very good shape.  He was quite lean, Sylph realized, his baggy shirt and jeans hiding a body that was undoubtedly corded with lean muscle and whippet-fast.

“How do you do, ma’am,” he nodded first at Kalida, then at Sylph.  His accent was honeyed molasses, deep and rich to match his skin.

“Um, okay,” Sylph replied, glancing at Wade for a cue.  He was as inscrutable as a Cheshire cat, and she silently vowed to get even with him later.

“We-” he indicated the men at the other table “-couldn’t help but notice you when you came in.  We represent the offensive line of the Violets.  Do you know much about us?”

Sylph had to admit that she really didn’t.

“Well, that’s not really surprising.  NYU hasn’t had a varsity football team since the sixties.  That’s something we’d like to change, though.  We’re not slouches, athletically, but, well, it’s kind of obvious to us that you’re way beyond us.”

Sylph blushed.

“We were hoping,” he rushed on, “that we could talk you into helping us train.  If you’ve got the time, of course.”

Sylph nodded, having trouble finding her voice.  Kalida looked dumbstruck.  “Hey, that’s awesome,” she began, then paused, trying to gauge Sylph’s reaction.

“Sure,” Sylph managed at last.  “We’re heading over to the gym after lunch.  Why don’t you guys join us?”