2.12 – Peek

2.12 – Peek

Camille blushed furiously as she scurried from the bathroom. When she’d seen Natalie—the red-headed girl from class—scrambling through the halls of the training facility, she hadn’t known what to think. Red faced and visibly flustered, in a clear rush to get somewhere, the sight had caught Camille’s attention. She’d followed almost by instinct.

Which was weird, she knew. Especially because she had hidden her pursuit, slinking around corners to not be seen. But she hadn’t been able to help herself. Natalie had been in such a state, and so Camille had been equally curious why.

And then following her into the bathroom? Even stalking her had been weird enough, but in? That’d crossed the line, even if the first part hadn’t.

But, again, her curiosity had been piqued. She’d never stood a chance when it came to resisting her curiosity. Sticking her nose where it didn’t belong was, essentially, Camille’s most fundamental flaw. Or virtue. That same inquisitiveness was why Cara Gylver had taken notice of her. Camille had discovered that at Tenet, her country drawl and “unrefined speech patterns” suggested to many that she was a woman of slow wits, or at best, a lackadaisical mind, but the opposite was true. As her adoption into House Gylver loudly proclaimed. The infamous ‘House of Ingenuity’ cared for little besides keenness of mind.

So, seeing her classmate flee down the hall, flushed and excited looking ... she had followed. Against better judgment. And propriety.

And then not just to her destination, but in. If she lied to herself, she had needed to use the restroom, anyway. She hadn’t entered with intent to intrude. It was just a coincidence she had gone into the same bathroom her fleeing target had.

Well, no. Even she couldn’t lie to herself that blatantly. She guessed she was just a nosy person.

Inside, Camille had discovered a reason to the girl’s flustered state. An answer she had distinctly not expected. Unexpected answers, she had found, tended to be the best. Her favorites.

This one, though. She hadn’t made her mind up on what she thought about it. Whether it adhered to that trend. Her head was still spinning, sorting through what she’d discovered.

Because Natalie—her classmate, who had trounced her and Ellis in spars this morning—had been masturbating, loudly, in a public restroom.

Sure, she’d probably fled to this secluded part of the facility explicitly seeking privacy, and Camille had slipped in as quietly as possible, not letting the door squeak as she inched it open, but still. It was in public. Did she have that little discretion?

And she had a cock.

It seemed, over the next week, Camille had a classmate she’d be trying to make friends with. She had some things to learn. Some ... questions she wanted answered. Hopefully first hand.

Very first hand.

***

Natalie slunk from the bathroom, so mortified she thought she might genuinely curl up and die. It would be a nice, tidy solution to her problems. Unfortunately, she had to face the reality of the situation. She’d been caught.

Or, probably. She didn’t have any guarantees of anything, which was almost worse. The bathroom door had swung closed ... and she hadn’t been that quiet. If there’d been someone inside, they’d known what was going on.

But surely they hadn’t peeked? Maybe they’d come in and left immediately. There had been a trash can directly next to the door. Maybe they’d come in to use that, then left quickly? Without noticing?

There did exist a universe where Natalie hadn’t been caught. She didn’t believe she was fortunate enough for it to be this one, but Natalie could cling to the hope like a overboard woman did a raft.

It wasn’t fair. She’d had an overwhelmingly enticing idea—one relevant to her class—and she’d wanted to test it. There weren’t any private facilities for her to do so, so she’d had to make do. It wasn’t her fault. And maybe she’d gotten carried away, but she was only human.

Ugh. Excuses.

Either way, the event was over. Probably, nothing would come of it. That was what she told herself. She had other things to worry about, ones more important than whether a voyeur had spied on her in the bathroom. There wasn’t anything she could do to confront the problem, so she’d just ignore it.

Or try to.

So embarrassing.