The Ice Queen might be dead, but I’m freezing, Carrie thought, looking at the five completely mismatched cards in her hand. She glanced over at Maureen, who was still wearing everything but her damned socks, while Carrie shivered next to her in just a bra and panties.

“Okay, pony up. Whatcha got?” Mark—the red-headed guy from the breakfast line that morning—grinned at her from across the table. Steve Baumgartner—“Call me Doc, everybody does”—was next to him, a lazy half-smile on his face. He had played almost as poorly as she had and was down to a pair of boxers and his socks.

“Two pair,” Maureen declared, slapping her hand down. Mark raised his eyebrows and his beer, taking a long swig. “Funny, I only see one pair.”

“Oh, I see two,” Steve countered, glancing across at Carrie, her cleavage prominent even in a plain white cotton bra. She felt very exposed, just between the four of them at the table, but there were people all around them, talking, drinking, dancing, making out in corners or draped over couches, and she knew some of them were watching too.

“Ha!” Mark splayed his hand dramatically. “Three-of-a-kind! Read ‘em and weep!”

“What about you?” Steve looked at Carrie and she sighed, putting down her cards.

“Nothing.” That’s what she’d been dealt all night—a whole lot of nothing—and it was getting her further and further into trouble. Strip Truth or Dare was proving to be a dangerous game.

Steve put his cards on the table slowly and Mark groaned when he looked over at them. “Flush—in spades.”

Damnit. Carrie squirmed in her seat, taking a full swig of beer. She hated the taste of the stuff, but she needed the liquid courage, because she knew what happened next.

“Okay, everybody strip something.” Mark came up with a sock. Maureen reached up and pulled out her ponytail.

“No fair!” Carrie protested as she reached awkwardly behind her own back to unclasp her bra. “Mo, will you help?”

“Yeah, Mo, give the girl a hand,” Steve encouraged, beaming as he watched the dark-haired girl undo her friend’s bra.

“I can’t do this,” Carrie murmured so only Maureen could hear.

Her friend leaned in and whispered two galvanizing words: “Ice Queen.”

That brought Carrie up to her feet like a shot and she slid her bra straps down her arms, letting her breasts fall free, a heavy shift. Mark hooted but Steve just smiled. When his gaze moved up from her chest to meet her eyes, she flushed with heat, but she thought she might burst into flame when the whole crowd began hooting and catcalling at her newly undressed state.

She quickly sat, crossing her arms to cover herself.

Steve leveled his gaze at her, his eyes moving down to her cleavage, even more pronounced now that she was pressing her breasts together. “Truth or Dare?”

“Who?” Maureen asked, smirking. It was a stupid question. Every question he’d asked that night had been leveled at Carrie.

“Carrie?” Steve’s eyes were bright with excitement.

She sighed. “Truth, I guess.”

“What were you doing in the men’s bathroom last night?”

She gasped, her eyes widening, and then yelped, “Dare! I mean Dare!’

“All right.” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, looking contemplative. “Kiss Maureen.”

Carrie visibly relaxed, turning to her friend. Maureen smiled, leaning in to whisper, “Make it a show. I think he really likes it.”

That thought, for some reason, made Carrie squirm in her chair.

Maureen’s fingers played in her hair and she moved in slow, her lips barely brushing at first, then her tongue moved in, lightly licking, seeking entrance. Carrie moaned softly, forgetting herself, her arms slipping around Maureen’s neck, leaving her breasts fully exposed. The women pressed against each other, their tongues and limbs entangled, and Carrie gasped when Maureen’s hands moved to cup her breasts.

“Jesus.” Mark whispered the word but Carrie barely registered it as Maureen’s thumbs moved achingly slowly against her nipples, sending bright flashes of pleasure down to her pussy.

“There,” Maureen murmured, breaking the kiss and turning back to the table suddenly. Carrie gulped, her eyes still half-closed, her breath coming too fast.

“Deal, man,” Steve said breathlessly as Carrie remembered where she was, crossing her arms over her chest again. “Just deal.”

Somehow they’d drawn even more of a crowd. There was a ring of spectators surrounding them now, mostly guys, and Carrie noticed at least one of them absently rubbing at his crotch, as if he had an itch there.

Please, let me get a good hand, she thought, holding her cards in close, still trying to cover herself at the same time. It didn’t do any good, though—she had everyone’s gaze glued to her mostly-naked flesh.

She had a pair—it was a good start, the best she’d had all night. She gave back three cards, and turned over the new three with high hopes.

“Oh man, that’s it, that’s all she wrote!” Mark hooted as Steve laid down a royal flush, pulling off his other sock and slapping it on the table, too. “Take them off, sweetheart! Let’s see that bush!”

“Hey, man.” Steve shook his head, nudging Mark. “You don’t have to.” He met Carrie’s desperate gaze. “Really.”

“Come on!” a voice called from the back. “The Ice Queen thaws! I gotta see this!”

“You really want to see, boys?” Carrie stood, hooking her thumbs in the elastic edge of her panties to a growing crowd of hoots and howls. But that wasn’t good enough—if she was going to do it, she might as well go all the way. Shoving her chair forward, she used it to step up onto the table.

She heard the sounds of the crowd and was aware they were mostly guys, but her gaze fell onto Steve—Doc—as he stared up at her, almost hypnotized. She was topless, nearly nude except for the last wisp of white cotton material between her legs. She turned around, her backside to Steve, slowly letting her panties roll down her ass. They stuck slightly between her thighs and she tugged gently, bent almost in half, knowing he could see her pussy now from behind as she stepped out of them.

She stood up quickly, flipping her hair over her shoulder and swinging her panties around a finger. The crowd had moved in, making a close circle, the yowls and whoops growing even more excited now that she was completely exposed.

“Is that what you wanted?” Carrie turned and dropped her panties in Steve’s lap, seeing the unmistakable look of lust in his eyes—it was the same look they were all giving her, surrounding her.

“Come on down,” Maureen pleaded, standing to help her, and Carrie stepped onto her chair, then to the floor.

“Who’s the ice queen now?” Carrie turned to her friend and kissed her without provocation, bodies pressed together, tongues entwined. The crowd literally cheered as she was acting now like girls from

“Okay, enough.”

Carrie barely heard the words, but she felt big, strong hands on her shoulders, and then Steve was separating the two women, pulling his t-shirt over her head.

“What are you doing?” Carrie tried to twist away from him but he caught her up against him tightly.

“This is going to get out of control,” he growled into her ear. “You’re drunk and have no idea what you’re doing.”

“What in the hell is going on here?” The voice that truly broke things up was James’—Maureen’s boyfriend. “You said you were going to be at the library!”

Uh-oh. Carrie saw Maureen’s look of sheer panic.

“James, I—” Maureen moved to cover herself, as if she were the one who was nude, while in reality she was almost fully dressed, except for her divested socks.

“Come with me. Now.” James grabbed Maureen’s arm and pulled her through the crowd—they were hissing and booing at the interruption in the show. Carrie called after her friend, but Steve pulled her in the opposite direction, leaving Mark, their last Strip Truth or Dare player, sitting alone at the card table surrounded by a drunk and pissed off crowd.

“Where are we going?” Carrie tried again to yank out of his grip, but he was too strong, dragging her down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. She thought she heard voices following them, but the noise of the party was too loud for her to be sure.

“In here.” He unlocked a dorm room with a key he dug from his jeans pockets—he was still just wearing his boxers, but he’d grabbed his jeans, and it looked like he’d managed to snag most of their other clothes as well.

“Hey, baby, where did you go?” Carrie heard voices in the stairwell now for sure. “Come back and dance for us!”

Steve pushed her into the room and shut the door behind them, locking it and flipping a light switch.

“Where’d she go, man?” They were in the hallway now, pounding on doors.

“Fuck if I know, but I want some of that!” More pounding.

“What—?” Carrie started, but Steve’s hand over her mouth stopped her as the crowd passed, thumping loudly on the door and then moving to the next. It was only when the voices had moved to the end of the hallway that he let her go.

She gasped and glared at him. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Probably saving you from a gangbang.” He tossed their clothes onto one of the twin beds and sat on the other one. “That got totally out of hand.”

Carrie felt her face flush, and wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or the effect of the alcohol she’d consumed all night. He was right—she was more than a little drunk, and remembering the show she’d just put on made her wince.

“I can handle myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the other twin bed. The voices had faded, but she could hear them, downstairs now, calling. She was still wearing just his t-shirt and she pulled that down over her bare knees. He looked at her, amused.

“I guess we’re even now,” she said, peering around his dorm room. It was redolent with masculinity, the smell of aftershave and sweat. Her eyes met his questioning gaze for just a moment before skipping away. “Now you’ve seen me naked.”

“Not exactly even.” He grinned, leaning back on the bed and lacing his hands behind his head. “I haven’t seen you masturbating.”

Her spine straightened, eyes flashing. “Do you want to? I’m not frigid, you know.”

“I never said you were.” A smile still played over his lips. “If you were a prude, you never would have stayed to watch me.”

She blinked at him and then flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” His gaze held hers, bold.

“Where’s your roommate?” The more she looked around the room, the more she took in—the medical books lining a bookshelf in one corner; huge, oversize art books lining another. There was an easel on this side of the room, and a desk with drawing pads and pencils. The other desk was messy, full of papers and open texts.

“He’s out with his boyfriend.”

“Boy…friend?” She nodded then, understanding.

“He’s uh… well, I think he’s kind of got a crush on me.” Steve looked a little embarrassed at the admission.

“Which is why you were down in the showers that night instead of here in your room?”

“Something like that.” He shrugged, looking at the ceiling. “So tell me something… what were you doing in the men’s room that night?”

“It’s closer,” she confessed. “I hate going all the way down the hall…”

He laughed. “Naughty girl.”

“Sometimes.” She hoped the dim lamp light hid some of the heat rising in her cheeks.

“And you found me jerking off and decided to watch?”

The heat was spreading from her cheeks down her chest. “Something like that.”

“Did it turn you on?” That look in his eyes was familiar. It was the same look he had on his face when he was watching her take off her panties.

“Yes,” she confessed.

“Did it make you wet?”

She didn’t have breath to speak now. She just nodded.

“Did it make you want to touch yourself?”

“I did.” The confessions just kept on coming. She couldn’t seem to help herself.

“You did?” He raised his eyebrows, looking even more interested.

She nodded, finding it hard to catch her breath, as if the air in the room had grown suddenly thin.

“Show me.”

She was remembering, the sound of him, the way he moaned and bucked and fisted himself into a frenzy. The way she’d rubbed her little clit raw while she watched. Naughty girl. Yes, she was.

“Just like this.” Carrie stood, her breathing shallow already, and lifted the end of his t-shirt up over her thighs, revealing the soft mound beneath. Her fingers slipped between her oh-so-very swollen pussy lips, looking at his face as she made circles against her clit, just as she had that night.

At first he just watched, his eyes glazed, mouth slightly open. Then his hand moved slowly down to touch himself through his boxers, rubbing there. She could see the outline of his cock and it made her touch herself even faster.

When he slipped his hand under the elastic band of his boxers to grab himself, she moaned, biting her lower lip. “Please…” she whispered. “Can I see?”

He smiled and nodded. “Come closer.”

She did as she was told, moving so her thighs touched the edge of the bed, her gaze falling between his legs as he slid his boxers down.

“Oh god.” His cock was just as incredible as she’d remembered. “It’s so beautiful.”

He chuckled and that made her blush, but she was too far gone now to care.

“Can I touch you?” She was already reaching her hand out and he let her, groaning softly as she wrapped her small hand around the hot, swollen shaft.

“Can I?” He nudged her wet fingers aside, replacing them with his own. She gasped at the sensation, his hand probing between her legs. She sighed softly when his thumb strummed against her clit, his fingers pressing deep inside of her.

Her hand moved on him, squeezing at first, then tugging, rubbing his pre-cum onto the tip of his cock with her thumb. Her breathing matched his, her hips rocking, eyes half-closed.

“I want to see you.” His fingers curled inside of her, as if drawing her closer. “All of you.”

She pulled his t-shirt off her head with one hand, letting him have what he wanted. His cock swelled in her fist as he looked at her, chest heaving, breasts swaying as she stroked him faster, faster, hips rolling against the plunge of his hand between her legs.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned and she bit her lip, squeezing him in response. The sound and feel of him, his breath coming so fast as she moved her hand over his cock, the shift and plunge of his hand between her thighs, was all too much.

“Oh god, girl,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back, his hips driving up hard. “Wait… wait…”

She couldn’t. Not even if she tried. His fingers buried inside of her were bringing her closer, faster, than she’d ever been. Her pussy clamped down on his hand, her clit throbbing under his thumb, and her orgasm rolled through her like a seismic event, shaking them both.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he groaned as her eyes closed and her cunt spasmed. “I’m gonna come for you, Carrie!”

Her name in his mouth! She pressed her hand between her legs, forcing his thumb hard against her clit, rubbing herself furiously.

“Gonna come!” he announced again, grunting, groaning. “Ohhhh fuck!” His hips thundered up to meet her strokes, spilling heat and wetness over the friction of her fist. She felt her knees wanting to buckle because she was coming, too, again, again, but she held on, her breath coming too fast, her hand squeezing the length of his cock as she aimed him and he splattered his bare belly with even more cum. Carrie shuddered with her climax, cupping his hand against her mound, both of their fingers buried in her sopping wetness.

When his eyes opened, he half-smiled and gasped out, “You are definitely no Ice Queen.”

Carrie stood fully then, ears still ringing and body flushed from orgasm, grabbing blindly for her clothes.

“Hey,” he protested, half-sitting as she pulled on her shorts, her shirt, grabbing her bra—her panties were nowhere to be found. “Where are you going? What—”

But she didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, pulling open the door and fleeing down the hallway.

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