Emily joined her friends in the booth at the back of the pub. She slid her book bag under the table, keeping it between her feet, and ordered a pint of the microbrew honeybrown. Mentally, she was exhausted, three hours and four full handwritten pages later, she was done. Emily enjoyed writing things down by hand. She felt it made remembering things easier and lent a bit of personality in a world increasingly sterilized by typed sheets and computer interfaces. She wasn't a technophobe by any stretch of the imagination. She just liked the process and preferred the results of using script.
Most of Emily's friends were well on their way to inebriation. Emily's tolerance was far from their level. She nursed her beer, laughing as much at her friends as with them. Her feeling of frustration from earlier had not disappeared; they had in fact lessened, but had been brought to the fore again when she arrived at the pub to find that none of her single friends were there. As the evening progressed and more drinks were imbibed and her mated friends became more withdrawn into each other, Emily's frustion boiled over. Fueled by the beer (and with loosened inhibition from the same source), she slapped her hand down on the table top.
"I need a night of unfetterd passion," she declared. Her friends looked at her, amused. "Dammit, I want someone to take me and rail me until I can't walk right the next day." Her friends laughed at the normally demure Emily's venting. "I know the mechanics and phsyiology of it better than anyone here. Christ, it seems like half my texbooks are dedicated to the reproductive arts."
"I'm sure it can't be that bad, Emily," her friend George said.
"Easy for you to say with a bombshell like Heather on your arm," Emily said with a tinge of bitterness. Heather blushed a bit at the complement but it only deepened as Emily continued. "You two probably fuck like rabbits. George, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a finger or two in her cootch right now. Where has your left hand been for the past fifteen minutes? Christ, I'm much carpet for her."
The table was suddenly silent. Emily, usually the most reserved one of the group, got very red in the absense of noise with her last statement hanging. "I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I didn't mean..." She trailed off.
Raucous laughter burst forth from everyone present. "Oh my god, do you ever need to get laid Emily," Denise said. "Wanna tend my tulips? I'm sure Daren won't mind if he can watch. Would you hon?" Daren shook his head emphatically. More laughter ensued, which Emily joined is on.
Emily apologized. "I'm sorry guys,iIt just that Dana's at home with Terry right now." A round of ‘ahhs’ occured. Dana was well known around campus, as was Terry, for more altogether nefarious reasons.
"Oh Emily," Heather said comfortingly, "I can see why you're pent up. Dana is..." She blew air through pursed lips. Everyone at the table nodded.
"I'd much her carpet." Denise remarked. There was more laughter.
"I don't think there's any carpet to munch," Emily laughed.
When the laughter died down George asked. "Emily, see that guy over there?" He indicated a direction with a nod. "The guy in the red button shirt and khakis?"