The Pendants: The Dean and the Bimbo, part One

And here we go!

***** 

Patricia stared at the computer display, the numbers stubbornly refusing to change. The numbers that said the college was doomed.

Stanman College of the Fine Arts had been established in 1899 as a place for ladies of proper breeding. In those days, it meant preparing them for marriage. Then things had changed. The college went coed and started offering better courses for the student body.

But nothing changed enough.

Because the very thing we sold our college on, being isolated from the wider world, is something that modern students hate. They’d prefer a community college twenty minutes from downtown than… this.

Patricia walked over to the big windows that showed off the quad and the buildings that surrounded it. Mostly old-fashioned, three and four-story buildings, built close to each other with covered walkways, mainly because in the winter, it was really hard to get anywhere if you didn’t have some cover.

Like now, she thought, glancing up at the threatening clouds that were starting to gather on the flanks of the mountains that rose over the college. The brochures talked about living among nature’s glory—the Internet mentioned that on average, the college and the town might be completely snowed in for weeks at a time. Even if you could get to Stanman, the little town only had a single, two-lane highway that was also blocked, so… Risk freezing to get to a town that had an arcade and a two-screen movie theater.

It wouldn’t be a problem except for…

“The fucking Internet,” Patricia said. She knew what was on her monitor. College Ratings. Where Stanman College was nicknamed “Snowed In Stanman.” The numbers had been going down for the last ten years, and now they had barely 1,000 students.

And next year, they would have only 900, and that was too few to actually pay for the college. So now, Patricia was looking at being the last dean of the school.

Not something a forty-year-old up and coming administrator wanted on her resume.

“I really should have looked into this better,” she muttered.

So now, she was looking for loans.

Most of which fell through at the simple question of “what can you do to get more students?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested weather control. She shook her head. But now she saw a taxi heading up the driveway, a few students who were wandering around the Quad looking at it curiously.

Her salvation.

So it was time to go meet it. Patricia turned and walked out of the office, taking just a moment to check her appearance. Blond hair in a bob, check. Attractive, feminine, but not unprofessional skirt and blouse, check. Just a dash of makeup, check.

If it was a man, Patricia wasn’t about to drop any possible tool to get that loan. Later, she could figure out how to turn a quick infusion of cash into a way to keep the school running, long-term, but right now, she needed the cash.

The school needed the cash.

So she hurried down to the front, walking out the doors like she was happy to see an old friend and not hoping to find someone with a check.

The taxi stopped, the door opened and…

What the hell?

*****

The woman who got out shouldn’t be a loan officer. She should be a porn star. She was wearing a tight, white dress, one that showed off her curves, and…

She had curves. The kind of curves that shouldn’t be possible, but somehow Patricia knew that no surgeon’s knife had touched her.

An emerald pendant dangled from a necklace that was almost a collar, calling attention to the deep valley between her tits.

“Hiyee!” she said. “Are you Patricia? I’m here for the loan!”

“Ah, um, yes, I’m Dean Williams. You’re…”

“Nanci, with an ‘i’,” she said. It’s better to spell the name like that because it sets you off from other people and isn’t, like stuffy and boring. So let’s go!”

Behind her, one of the male students was staring at the woman’s full ass, and Patricia fought the urge to throw something at him. The last thing they needed was for her to get insulted…

Although the way she was looking at one of the male students in front of her…

“Wow, he’s a hunk and a half. That’s the neat thing about college, everyone is like, legal.”

God, what is her IQ?

Patricia shook her head, and gestured at the central office building. “Well, I can show you out business plan.”

“Cool!” She said. “So, this is a really neat central building. How many people are here?”

“We have twenty-five professors and teaching assistants. It sounds small, but it’s actually suited for our student body.”

“So, like, not all the buildings are full?”

Oh, God, she had to be smart enough to notice that. “We are planning on expanding. Your loan will help us engage in extensive outreach.”

“I bet I can think of some outreach,” Nanci said, and then made a little jump that set her tits to jiggling.

Is she even wearing a bra? The last thing Patricia needed to worry about was a harassment claim because her boobs jumped out and waved hi to the wrong person.

They kept walking, Patricia pointing out the buildings, trying to avoid the places where skimping on the budget had led to peeling paint or hastily patched roofing tiles.

Nanci didn’t seem to notice. She’d paused at the larger lecture halls and then the main auditorium.

“It’d be fun to have some shows here,” she said. “Maybe with some Cameras…”

“For what?”

“Oh, stuff,” Nanci said. “How many guys and girls do you have here?”

“About 20 percent men to 80 percent women…”

Nanci giggled. “Cool. With that kind of ratio I wonder how many guys got themselves a little harem.” She lightly fingered the emerald gem at her throat.

“I hardly believe that’s prop—“

“Hey, people gotta fuck, and some times a woman’s gotta understand that it isn’t up to her to choose a guy, she’s gotta convince a guy to choose her.”

Patricia tried not to groan. Had they sent this bimbo here just to annoy her?

Or maybe they’ve already decided, so why bother sending anyone important?  She bit her lip at that thought.

Finally, the came to her office. And Nanci perched herself on the corner of Patricia’s desk, without bothering to ask her, dammit.

“Okay,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You got the loan, I mean, the boss told me you had it, but he wanted me to look around. Mr. Stone is really cool like that.”

“That’s wonderful. I can—“

“But he like wants something from you, first.”

“What?” Patricia asked. “Well first, he wants me to stick around, you know, look at atll the hot guys…”

“I… can arrange that… In town?”

“Nah, he wants me here.”

“But why?”

“So I can, like, have fun!” Nanci said, her tits jiggling. She paused. “Oh, and Mr. Stone wants a tiny little change to the dress code.”

“Excuse me, what?” Patricia asked.

Nanci’s smile let Patricia know that whatever was going to be said next, she’d agree to it.

Because the college didn’t have any other choice.