The Panty Raid Read Free

gazed around at the guys in the room—even when she finished the test, earlier than everyone else. She quietly turned her paper over and sat staring at the back of the page until time was called.
    Hank knew all this, because anytime Miss Wilbur was in the room, a large part of his attention was focused upon her.
    She was dressed as she had been that morning. The standard low-heeled pumps were what separated college women from teenage bobby-soxers. Her only concession to youth was the white anklet socks she wore with them. Her skirt was slim and straight, devoid of the usual yards of cancan petticoats favored by other girls. Her sweater would not have been described as tight, but fit closely enough that he had a general impression of the soft mounds of her bosom. She had, what Hank liked to think of, as a neat figure. Not busty and overblown or sexily big bottomed, she was long and lean with all the requisite curves. She was definitely female without the necessity of calling attention to the fact. And she was pretty, in a wholesome kind of way. She’d tied a small colorful neckerchief above her collar. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. And there was a smear of pale pink lipstick on her mouth. But what grabbed his attention now, as always, was her eyes. They were not doe-like and loving, or sparkly and full of humor. She had intelligent eyes. They seemed to look out into the future with hope and optimism.
    Hank noticed all these things in an instant. The instant before he realized that she was walking right past him to the office of the Dean of Women. Hurriedly, he rose to his feet.
    “Miss Wilbur,” he called out.
    She stopped, surprised and turned to look at him.
    “Ah...hi,” he said, foundering.
    Her brow furrowed as she eyed him curiously before pointing a finger. “You’re the guy outside my window,” she said.
    “Yes, I—”
    The door to the dean’s office opened.
    “Brantly,” the secretary called out.
    He gave a nod of his head in that direction.
    “I’m just going in to talk to the dean about that now,” he said. “I’m charged with Attempted Lingerie Larceny.”
    She nodded. He could almost see a hint of humor hesitating on the edge of her businesslike demeanor.
    “And you?” he asked. “What are you up for? Discharging a Wet Substance Down a Second-Floor Ladder?”
    She did smile then and it was better than he imagined. Her grin was wide and bright and her nose wrinkled slightly, making her seem suddenly less goddess, more woman. Something rich and warm and wonderful opened up inside Hank’s heart.
    “They don’t discipline you for that,” she assured him. “They award you a medal. Heroism in Defense of Underwear.”
    Hank nodded.
    “I guess that’s the university’s version of The Order of the Garter.”
    “Mr. Brantly,” the secretary called more sternly. “Got to go,” he said.
    “Hope they don’t throw the book at you.”
    He shrugged, unconcerned. “Aren’t books what college is all about?”
    Miss Wilbur laughed. It was a wonderful sound.
    At that moment, as Hank stepped into the dean’s office the echo of it still in his ear, he first managed to put his jumble of feelings into one single thought.
    I’m going to marry that woman.

Chapter Three
    D ot had found the hallway distraction to be surprisingly welcome. Her worries of the previous night had not dissipated with morning. In fact, they’d gotten worse. After finishing the exam, she’d waited to speak to Dr. Falk alone.
    Once all the other students had left the classroom, she’d approached him. He’d glanced up, but instead of giving her his attention, he began thumbing through the book on his desk.
    Dot had spoken up, nonetheless.
    “Dr. Falk, I understand that representatives from Dupont will be visiting campus next week,” she said.
    “Yes,” he answered. “Two gentlemen will be coming in on Thursday.”
    “I understand that they’ll be scouting for employment prospects.”
    He shrugged.