School Of The Gifted

I step through the small gate, which surprisingly leads not to an open area but into a small, enclosed room. The transition from the vastness outside to this confined space is jarring. The room is simple, with plain walls and a couple of chairs - one occupied by an old man who seems to be dozing off, his head nodding gently with each breath. Across from him, there's a young woman, her appearance striking against the mundane backdrop of the room.

The woman with the short black hair has a face that captures attention. Her eyes are large and expressive, perhaps a deep brown or hazel, conveying emotion effortlessly. Her cheekbones are high and pronounced, giving her face a sculpted, almost aristocratic look. Her lips are full and well-defined, often hinting at a smile that could light up a room. Her skin might have a smooth, clear complexion with a subtle warmth, enhancing her overall allure. Her jawline is strong yet softened by the curvature of her face, balancing femininity with a hint of strength. This combination of features, framed by her modern hairstyle, makes her appearance both striking and memorable.

Her voluptuous breasts are barely contained by the bra she's wearing, the only piece of clothing covering her upper body, which catches the light in a way that makes the room feel a bit warmer. Her expression is one of boredom, as she idly twirls a pencil between her fingers, her eyes unfocused until they catch sight of me.

As I fully enter the room, her face brightens up, a spark of interest replacing the ennui.

She elbows the man eagerly, her voice full of excitement, "Oi, oi, Old Man Neal!"

The man, startled from his doze, tumbles off his chair with a thud, cursing under his breath as he picks himself up. "Watch it, lass," he grumbles, brushing off his clothes and giving her a stern look.

She pouts in response, her previous enthusiasm now tinged with a playful defiance.

The old man finally looks at me, his eyes widening in realization, "Ohh."

The woman, still full of energy, says, "That's what I was trying to tell you, and you snapped at me!"

The man snaps again, more out of habit than anger, "Wake me gently next time, will you?" She deflates, her enthusiasm waning under his admonishment. He clicks his tongue, muttering, "Young women these days..."

Now fully focusing on me, his eyes observe and appraise, taking in my presence. "Welcome, you're the first one through here," he says with a tone that suggests both greeting and scrutiny.

The overly enthusiastic woman interrupts, eager to share her knowledge, "This is the ninth gate, there are—" But the old man cuts her off with a look so sharp it makes her visibly cower.

He then turns his attention back to me, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Do not mind my colleague here; she's new and young."

The old man, regaining his composure, asks, "Before I speak, do you have any questions?"

I hesitate, then point towards the woman, curiosity getting the better of me. "Why is she only wearing a bra?"

Before the old man can intervene, she grins mischievously, "We just finished fucking, of course. You might have caught us in the act, but," she eyes the old man with a look of mock disappointment, "Old Man Neal here came early. But believe it or not, it's a rare occurrence. He might be old, but he has the stamina of a horse."

I look at the man, who's now red in the face, his embarrassment palpable. He coughs nervously, trying to break the awkward air that's settled around us.

This two are crazy, I think to myself, the scene unfolding like something out of a bizarre comedy.

The man regains his composure, his face still flushed but now with a business-like demeanor. "Don't waste your time here. Make sure you and the next student don't meet up," he advises, his voice stern. "Come by 8pm on Fridays if you want to leave for your island. You'll be granted the rights starting in three weeks. Don't be late; there's no rule against meeting another potential, but it's for your own safety."

He points to a door on the other side of the room. "Go through that door; it will lead you to a ladder you can climb. You'll come out in a corner inside the school walls, from where you can blend in. But be careful," he warns, his eyes serious, "some people know to look for that spot. We change potentials arrival points all the time, but the options are limited."

I begin to leave, eager to escape the madness of this room, but the woman jumps onto the table, looking at me with a dirty, seductive look. "Do you wanna fuck?" she asks, her voice dripping with lust.

I flush, immediately looking away, not knowing how to respond. The old man looks pale too, his expression one of shock or perhaps second-hand embarrassment. The woman, noticing our reactions, looks between us, confused. "What? The old man is fine and all, but I want to fuck someone my own age."

The man looks flabbergasted, "Someone your own age? You're 26!"

She scowls, correcting him with a huff, "I'm 25, I won't be 26 for another three months."

The old man sighs, turning to me with an apologetic look. "I'll work on her," he says, trying to smooth over the awkward situation.

I respond with sarcasm, unable to keep it in, "Yeah, I'm sure you are."

The man pales further at my words, and the woman laughs, a sound that seems to echo as I start to leave. "Think on my offer," she calls out, winking at me.

I shake my head in disgust, but internally, I'm intrigued by her offer. There's no denying she's a sexy woman, and the thought of it stirs something in me.

As I enter the room with the ladder, I spot it immediately and begin to climb. I open the hatch lid, pausing for a moment before stepping out, and I hear the woman's loud voice again, "Why are you shaking your head old man?"

The old man's voice is lower, making me strain to hear, but I catch his words, "Poor kid, this school will eat him alive."

Then the woman speaks, her voice always loud and clear, "I dunno, I hope not. I'm kinda rooting for him."

The last thing I hear before stepping out of the hatch is her giggling.