by Dangermouse ©
The semester had been going well up till now. You knew from the beginning it would be so hard getting back into the swing of things after such a long absence from school. But you are determined to see it through. "I must be mad" you chuckle to yourself as your car pulls into the last space in the lot "again". When will you learn to leave the house earlier and be able to park closer. You grab your books and start your brisk jog to the campus, admonishing yourself for being late as usual and vowing for the hundredth time to never do so again in the future.
In all fairness night classes haven't been so bad actually. You have been able to further your education and the cost hasn't been too bad. You know if you only stick with it that you will get that raise at work and be able to start really climbing the "ol corporate ladder".
The Business classes haven't been too bad and you have mastered Physics, but History has been tough. It figures, out of all the classes you would need to get the degree it would be history that slows you down. "Who needs history anyways?" you think. "Not like Caesar or Hitler will ever be a client of ours? The whole thing makes no sense!" Inside though you are really scared. It's that one class that is holding you back and causing you the greatest grief.
You arrive at the kiosk, mildly out of breath from your brisk walk and join the milling throng of students all clambering for the coffee machines. You grab a cup of strong brew and sit down at one of the many tables to muse upon the day. Why does it seem so easy for the others? They don't seem too much older than yourself? You have taken great pains to make sure you had not lost your zest for life, and the cynicism that comes with age has not affected you yet. You are aware it is lurking in the background somewhere, waiting to pounce upon you at any given moment, turning you into one of those "old folks' you used to laugh about. You smile at the thought and put it out of your head "Not for me!" you say under your breath. You have kept yourself well. You even have a few boyfriends vying for your attentions. Yes you are beautiful. So why do you feel so down? It must be that damn class you have had trouble with. You push to the back of your mind the fact that you have never met your true love or known the passion that can come from a romance that was meant to be.
You turn your cup up to get the last drop of the bittersweet coffee, and wonder why it seems impossible for them to make a campus brew that doesn't taste like crap. Out of the corner of your eye you glance at the clock and a chill runs through you. You are late for class! This cannot be? You have been so careful! You grab your books and hurry off.
You enter the History building and notice the halls are empty. Not a good sign. "Shit" class has begun. It would be like that grizzled son of a bitch to make a big deal outta me being late again. "Hey I have a real job and a real life, not like some old fossil in some minor college teaching a night course" you say to yourself as you hurry up the stairs.
You silently open the classroom door and peek in timidly. Your classmates stop talking look back at you and smile in unison. You are well known for habitual lateness. They all chatter amongst themselves as you take your seat. You notice that the teacher isn't even there yet. You take your usual seat in the back of the class. "This has got to be your lucky night" your friend leans over and says to you. "Professor Thompson is never late, but he hasn't shown yet. We're going to give him another ten minutes than all go out for a class party to celebrate our luck. Why don't you come along? It'll be good not to hear him drone on and on about some stupid thing for one evening huh?" She smiles at you and you know in your heart you feel the same way. Besides you didn't finish the report due today anyways and another day or two extra would be a Godsend. "Sure Nancy I would like that".
You start to watch the clock with your fellow students and join them in a joke or two about the Professor. You think about how much fun it will be to not have class for one night. To go out and relax. To maybe sip a glass of wine and dance a bit. It's been so long for you that you wonder if you have forgotten how. The noise of footsteps out in the hall makes you aware that those dreams are not meant to be tonight.
The door opens and he steps in. You stare wide-eyed. It is not Professor Thompson.
The class goes silent all but for you as you give a slight gasp. He is the most handsome man you have ever seen. You instantly realize that you feel a passion inside you that for too long has been a stranger. You feel like you are under a spell as he approaches the podium. His voice is deep and reassuring. You look to your friend but she seems just as enthralled as you do. You are aware that all the other girls in the class are smiling and noticeably attracted to this new teacher. "This is all I need now!" you think to yourself. "I'm having trouble in this class and they put this hunk in as a substitute! Thank God it will only be for one night and we can get back to Thompson. He may have been a bastard but at least I didn't have to sit through the class with wet panties!" You watch the new instructor with passionate fascination as he explains to the class that Professor Thompson had become ill and would not be completing the semester. "I am your new instructor Professor Miller. I hold a masters in History from UCLA and a Doctorate in History and World Politics from Penn State." He speaks on about his qualifications but you do not hear them, You are too busy cursing your bad luck and wondering how you will keep your mind on your studies for the rest of the semester. You know in your heart that to fantasize about this man would be futile, he has so many girls in here that would jump at the chance for a single caress from this man. What are your chances that he would notice another gal in the back of the room? You sigh in despair, and try to force your mind to other thoughts.
The rest of the lecture is uneventful as your instructor continues talking about the Legacy that World War One has had on modern Europe. Normally you would have dozed off long ago but you cannot bring yourself to look away from this man. His every word holds you in a grip of fascination. You are so in tuned to this man that you are aware of his every breath as he starts a new sentence. You watch him as he gazes about the room, he looks at all the students and you know its you imagination but he seems to be staring most often at you. His eyes are so blue and his every glance sends a shiver down to your wetness. You know you would be his forever if he would say the word but the realist inside you tells you that it is only your imagination. You are certain that your feelings are the result of being without the attentions you deserve and have denied yourself for so long.
Your dreams are interrupted as the lecture ends and the students mill about and conclude final business before walking out. Immediately the instructor is surrounded by many of the female students asking pointless questions about the lecture in an attempt to catch his eye. You sigh as you notice you didn't take a single note and pick up your books. You make your way to the door feeling quite drained, and trying again to convince yourself that you are just overtired. You stop at the door allowing yourself one more look at your new instructor. Almost to reassure yourself that it's only a dream. Knowing inside that to see him chatting with the other girls will prove to you that it is not meant to be. As you turn you see him staring directly at you from over the shoulder of another girl who is talking to him. He smiles and you feel a wave of romantic energy waft over your body. You instinctively smile back trying to hide your feelings which you know now are naked and exposed to his eyes. It is as if he can see inside your very soul. You turn and hurry out the door. This cannot be you keep thinking to yourself.
At home you step into the warm shower to wash away the day's anxieties, and are tickled by the cascading waters as they tease your body. You stand in the hot spray and muse upon thoughts of your instructor. You try to deny your feelings but notice that as you think of him you are absentmindedly touching yourself erotically. Your hands play deftly across your nipples, which rise in delight to your thoughts of this new man in your life. The pulsations of the showerhead awaken your wetness and bring the relief of a small but satisfying orgasm. You sigh to no one as you allow yourself the pleasure of your own touch. The pleasures of knowing what you need and knowing your secret zones of comfort and erotic joy. You crawl into bed and allow yourself another fantasy about him, your touches are his in your mind, and your soul is cleansed once more in the throws of ecstasy as you blissfully fall asleep to dream of a man who you know in your heart can never be yours.
The sun shines through your window as the new day dawns and you awaken to the chatter of the radio. Now you know you are well rested and you can think realistically once again. Yes you think it was only a passion brought on from too much worry and work. Surely it was not real. Yet you cannot drive this man from your mind. Its as though your brain is teasing you for cruel pleasure as you see him in every thought you have. You know that if you can only see him in class once again you can prove to yourself that it was not real. You know it will be a very long workday until class tonight. But you resign yourself to other thoughts and will take the day as it comes.
The workday is uneventful as you deal with the day's happenings and muse about life over lunch with your co-workers. You wonder if they can tell that you are thinking of something other than work? "Oh will five o'clock never come?" you cry out to no one in particular. Your friends look at you and laugh.
It has never happened to you before but you actually find a good parking space at the college. Could be from the fact that you have arrived early for a change. "Chock up another one for good luck" you smile and think. But inside you cannot deny any longer that it is the infatuation of the instructor that has you in its tight grip. The Campus at night now holds a special beauty all its own as you get your coffee and watch the other students as they come and go. You think tonight maybe you will get to class early and sit up in front, but you are too nervous. You wish you could slap yourself from the thoughts you are having and once again you resign yourself to be late, if only so you will be forced to take your usual seat far in the back, thus forcing yourself to the reality that you must deny yourself to pipe-dreams in the future!
You get to the room and as per planned take your seat in the back corner of the class. You notice that the other girls are dressed much more seductively than they ever had before. You laugh to yourself because it is obvious that they are as smitten by the instructor as you are. You also take solace in the fact that they will help you get back to thinking properly, when he chooses one of them to give his attentions to.
He walks in the class and there is an audible but soft sigh from the girls as he walks to the podium. You feel as though you have been hit by lightning as the feelings of passion come to you as before. You know now it will be a long night.
He lectures again, covering unfinished business from the lecture before. Your eyes never leave him, and you cannot be sure but you notice that he looks at you more and more. You drift into an erotic fantasy, about your instructor taking you on his desk, your thoughts are so vivid that you can almost feel his hands touching your most sensitive areas. Driving you to heights of passion you have only read about in the many romantic stories that fill your nights. You hang your head enjoying the thoughts and noticing that your nipples are hard and erect under your blouse, letting yourself become lost in the touch of the fabric against them, sending tiny jolts of passion to your wetness. Each jolt is a touch from him in your mind. Oh if it were only real, oh please God if just for a moment you sigh.
"Ahem!" The instructor coughs as he looks directly at you. Bringing you out of your thoughts and fantasies. You notice that the rest of the class is looking at you too. "I will ask you again! What effects do you think that the treaty of Versailles had on bringing about the economic collapse in Europe in the post world war years?" You notice the other girls are jealous of him asking you, and you are noticeably surprised that he would chose someone in the back to ask his first lecture question to. He smiles warmly and waits for your answer. "Oh why didn't I do my reading last night?" you say to yourself. You stammer out an answer but it is apparent that you did not do very well, and he winks at you and calls on a young man to answer correctly. You feel drained as red faced you sit a little lower in your chair.
He does not call on you any more during the remaining lecture, and as the class ends for the night you wait for awhile before walking out. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You almost make it to the door when you hear him. "May I have a word with you please?"
You turn to face him expecting to see a frown of disapproval but you are met by his bright eyes and a warm smile. "I was going over Professor Thompson's records and noticed you seem to be having some trouble in this class. Would you be interested in some outside tutoring perhaps? If you would maybe we can go have a cup of tea and discuss it?"
His smile is infectious and you smile back and nod. It is as if he knows your feelings as he takes your hand and you walk down the hall.
|Another Fine Story by Dangermouse|
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