Page 56 of A Cock and Bull Story

“Miss Harper!” he chirps. The unease I felt from before grows tenfold now that I’m in his presence. “What are you doing this fine morning?”

“Oh, I was just telling Mrs. Wanker here—I mean, Wonker—that I need to go back home because of a family emergency.”

The secretary sniffs.

“You didn't say anything about your family,” she complains.

“I said it was personal—which meant it wasn't any of your business—emergency.”

She glares.

“I still think you're up the duff,” she mutters under her breath.

I give the dean a pointed look.

“This is who you hired? Someone without manners and compassion?”

He gives her a censorious frown.

“I apologize, Miss Harper. We do not speak this way to our students!”

Mrs. Wonker pales at his words and sits back down meekly.

I grin smugly.

“No indeed. Quitecrassif you ask me,” I drawl evilly.

“Come with me, my dear. I will take care of you personally!”

I grimace—I'd rather stay with Lady Wanker.

“Come, we will get your friends, and we'll go talk. I will help you however I can.”

My eyes widen at his words—my friends?

What the hell is Dean Stiffdick insinuating?

I knew something was off about this guy.

Anyone over the age of puberty not interested in me sexually is truly suspect.

The creep is totally an animorph—and he knows about my best friends—my non sexaholics. I give Dean Fuckface a tight smile.

“Great,” I respond. “Thanks for your help, Mrs. Wanker.”

She doesn’t bother correcting me.

The dean leads me out of the office into another building where his is. I’m like a sweet innocent sheep following the wolf into his lair.

Well, I’m not that innocent—sexually speaking—but I might be the dumbest person on earth for not running. In truth, I’m terrified that this man has done something to my friends, and I might be the only one who can save them.

“Miss Harper, I've been looking into you,” the dean says genially as we walk.

“Really? You don't say,” I reply as blandly as possible.

“You have one of our most prestigious scholarships here at the university,” he continues. “It would be such a shame for you to have to cancel that. After you address your family emergency and return, the scholarship will still be waiting for you. But, having said that, we have a, ah, certain standard that we must keep up here at Oxford. Namely, one that you don't associate yourself with thoselesserthan you.”

“You mean like the prostitutes I sometimes hire?” I blurt out.