April's Fool

We'd managed to suppress the sexual tension between us, but we hadn't eliminated it. I continued to enjoy watching her take her seat in my classrooms, and she knew it. But (to my regret) she stopped teasing me with short skirts and returned to wearing jeans to class. I still looked forward to our semiweekly sessions in my office—and not just for academic reasons.

We had been open about our lusts for each other, and each of us now knew, not only our own desire, but the other's as well. She still rubbed her knee—sometimes her whole thigh—against me "accidentally" during each session. I knew, now, that she fully intended that touch. And she knew how much I enjoyed it. But we both pretended it wasn't happening. We both (Both? I believe so.) had accepted the impossibility of the sharing we wanted, but that didn't stop sneaky little smiles from passing between us—in both directions.

By the end March, our relationship had returned to one that was at least superficially an academic one. We didn't speak about what we had shared, or were still sharing. But each of us reveled in the secret of our own desire—and in the secret of the other's.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The telephone at my bedside rang insistently, dragging me from a deep sleep. As I reached for it, I looked at the luminous face of the clock next to it. It was one in the morning; I'd gone to bed only a couple of hours earlier. I picked up the phone and, through the fog of broken sleep, I mumbled something.

"Professor! Thank God, you answered!" the phone replied. The voice was April's. It was distorted by panic and I could hear her hyperventilating.

Her panic furthered what the telephone had begun, and I was now almost fully awake. "What's the trouble, April?" I asked, almost normally, almost caringly.

"It's my sister! It's Kay! The police! She's… I don't have… I'm… I can't… Oh, God! I don't know what to do—"

"April, I'm here!" I said, interrupting. Panic was running away with her; I had to slow her down, help her control herself. "I'll help you get through this, but you have to slow down and tell me about it."

I could almost feel it as she returned to something like herself. As she spoke again, her breathing slowed and the panic receded from her voice—though now it was heavy with pain. "Kay overdosed on heroin this evening. They have her at the hospital. They think she's going to be okay. I don't know what to do. I'm at home. I called our mother, but she didn't answer. She's probably too drunk to stand up—let alone accomplish anything. And God knows where our dad is!" She paused and took a deep breath before she went on. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have bothered you. I couldn't think of anyone else to call, but that's no excuse. I'll let you get back to sleep." She seemed to have gotten a grip on herself, but she was about to break our connection.

"Wait! April! Don't hang up!" I didn't know if I should, or even could, do anything for a student in a situation like this. But she was a friend, at the very least, as well as a student, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try. Moreover, I'd just told her that I would help her.

She said nothing, but she didn't hang up. I realized that I had stopped her, so I went on. "Are you alright? Do you need help getting to the hospital? Is there anything else I can do?"

"I'm fine, but I do have to get to General Hospital. I don't have a car, and the buses aren't running at this hour," she said. "I don't have any cash for a cab. I don't know what to do."

"Where you are? I'll come get you," I said. "I'll take you there."

She protested, saying that she didn't want to put me out. But eventually I prevailed, and she gave me an address only a few miles from my own house. I told her I'd be there in twenty minutes at most, I gave her a few more reassurances, and we hung up. I was naked, because I sleep that way, but it took me only a minute or two to throw some clothes on and run to the car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn't long at all before we were at the hospital. On the way there, April told me what little she knew. Kay's boyfriend shared an apartment with a guy who had come home a bit before midnight. He had found Kay and boyfriend, both unconscious, unresponsive, barely breathing. Fortunately, but—according to April—not predictably, he'd had the sense to call 911. A policeman had arrived quickly, paramedics shortly thereafter.

Once we arrived at the hospital, we found that, as always in a medical setting, there was an interminable wait for anything to happen. We spent the wait on a couch in an otherwise deserted waiting room; April clung forlornly to me. I put my arm around her and she put her head on my shoulder. When I recalled how we had, just recently, clung to each other for another reason, I had some doubts about the wisdom of being so close to her. But when I thought about what she was going through, my heart went out to her; and I put those doubts aside.

There weren't any confidentiality issues, because April identified herself as Kay's sister. Even though the medical people thought that Kay was out of danger, they were going to hold her for twenty-four hours for observation. But the police would then be holding her for longer than that. They said that there had been heroin in her possession when they'd arrived, so, even though she was hospitalized, she was now in police custody, locked up in a secure ward. They had their own plans for what would become of her after the hospital released her.

The boyfriend, the wannabe drug dealer, hadn't been lucky enough to be taken into custody. He was in the morgue; he wouldn't be dealing anything to anyone, ever again. I hadn't known the guy, so I could be a little more charitable toward him than April could. She didn't seem to think him a big loss to anyone—certainly not to Kay. But, even to me, his removal from the gene pool seemed to have been a pretty good example of evolution in action.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We drove out of the hospital parking structure at about three-thirty in the morning. (It was a Saturday morning—the first day of the new month. I had no classes, and April didn't have to work that day or the next. That seemed then the only silver lining to this black cloud.)

The police, it turned out, hadn't allowed April to see Kay. Their attitude seemed to be, "She has a right to see an attorney—but not to see a sister!" (We later learned, from Kay's public defender, that April's status as Kay's legal guardian would have trumped that attitude—but we didn't know that when we needed to.) So in spite of her relief at the news that Kay would recover fully, April was in tears.

She was exhausted. I didn't think I should her take back to the house she shared with Kay, where she would have to spend the rest of the night alone. And she certainly didn't belong with her drunk mother. So I did the only thing that came to mind: I offered to take her to my house. "You can get some sleep in my guest room," I told her. I looked briefly across the car at her before going on, "And I'm an old man. You can trust me not to put the moves on you."

She looked at me incredulously. "You'd do that for me? Let me sleep at your house?" she asked. "After I ruined your own night's sleep? That's… so… so kind of you. But you can't! It's too much! I shouldn't have bothered you in the first place. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Don't be stubborn, April," I said. "You're not just a student anymore; you're a friend, too. This is the kind of thing that anyone would do for a friend. I'm glad that you thought to call me—even if it did cost me a night's sleep. A night's sleep is replaceable. A sister isn't. I'm even happier that I was able to help you a bit."

"You've helped me more than bit, Professor Harrison," she answered through the tears that still tracked down her cheeks.

She was about to go on, probably to refuse my offer, when I broke in. "I won't take 'No' for an answer! We're in my car, and I'm driving. So we're going to my place. I can't stop you from deciding that I'm kidnapping you, but you'll have to wait until we get there to call the police about it!"

She smiled at me—smiled for the first time that awful morning—and wiped away her tears. "Thank you. I won't fight," she said, gratefully. "And I won't call the police. I've had more than enough to do with them in the last few hours! I know you won't put any moves on me. You aren't that old, but I trust you about that. Still! You shouldn't put yourself out so!"

So it was that, a little before four that morning, I stripped and lay down again in bed, April having almost literally fallen, fully clothed, into my guest bed before I could even close the door behind her. I had meant what I had said about friendship, as well as what I had said about 'moves.' I was tired, and I had no motive beyond seeing that she—and I—got some rest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fragments of consciousness percolated, as if rising through viscous liquid, from black depths toward light. Slowly they coalesced into a large bubble that broke into awareness as it reached the surface. In the disorientation that accompanies waking, I realized that I lay naked in my bed on my back. Something—someone—warm, soft, curved, rested against the left side of my naked body. It was someone warm, soft, curved, and wonderfully, nakedly feminine! And I had a hard-on. Whether morning wood or a response to the hand that was wrapped around it, stroking gently, I couldn't tell. Nor did it matter.

I could easily blame April for what happened then. For it is almost certainly true that what followed would not have happened, or, at least, would not have happened that morning, if she hadn't come, naked and needing, to me in my bed as I slept.

I could blame instinct even more easily. There is no question but that instinct—instinct blind and animal—made itself felt that morning.

But I chose, knowingly and willfully, to respond to her as I did. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and I drew her more tightly against me as I reached toward her head where it rested on my shoulder—reached with my lips for the soft moist lips whose sweetness I remembered from just a few weeks earlier.

She moaned as her lips parted and my tongue entered her mouth. The taste of her sleep was still in her mouth—and the taste of her need filled mine. She tightened her grip on my cock a bit; my hips rocked gently in response. I pulled my upper arm from where I had wrapped it about her waist, brought my hand to her side, and stroked from her waist down over the curve of her hip to the middle of her thigh. Cool though her skin was, it was like flame against my palm.

She moaned again and pressed her lips against mine more hungrily; she chased my tongue back into my mouth, where it danced joyfully with hers. I returned her moan and moved my hand, caressing as I went, up the front of her leg, moving my fingers toward the mound at the base of her torso.

I found her heat and her slick wetness, and I explored her pussy's folds with inquiring fingers. She answered with stronger strokes from the hand on my cock. We moaned yet again at the sensations those touches brought us both. I drew away from her mouth so that I could look into her eyes. Hazel pools returned my gaze.

Each of us read the need in the other's eyes. Together, without breaking our locked gazes, we rolled her onto her back as I came to my knees and elbows over her. Her thighs separated around me as her knees moved upward. Her hand didn't leave my shaft, but directed it toward her entrance.

My crest engaged the heat and the moisture of her opening; she let go; and I slid my rigid cock slowly, slowly, slowly into the welcoming clasp of her slippery, seething flesh.

We lay there, bodies united, for a while. My gaze into her eyes, and hers into mine, remained unbroken. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she uttered. "I need you so much!" It was the first time either of us had spoken since she'd come to my bed. I answered her with a shudder as she wrapped her legs about my thighs, her arms about my waist.

I was beyond words, then, but not—certainly not—beyond action. I lowered my head, closing my eyes again as I did so, and I reached again for her with my lips. Her lips opened at my touch, inviting my tongue into her mouth as our bodies adjusted to the intimate connection at our groins.

Our kiss lengthened, and then I felt her tighten the embrace of her legs, pulling me deeper into her. She paused briefly, before loosening her legs' grasp. My body rebounded, and my flesh slid partly out of her body. She paused again, and then pulled me back into herself.

She continued, establishing a rhythm which I took up. Before long I was actively withdrawing myself—almost all the way—as she released me, and then driving myself deep, deep into her as she tightened her embrace. Blind animal instinct did reign now, and I had no choice but to drive toward culmination.

As I thrust repeatedly into her, I broke from her mouth and looked back into her eyes. She looked at me intently, and her hips rocked under me in response to the action of my own hips. Her channel caressed my cock with heat, moisture, and divine friction that pumped the pressure within me toward detonation.

Compulsion doubled and redoubled itself within me until it reached an unbearable peak, and the storm broke within me. My muscles locked, forcing me deep, deep into her. Cataclysm overwhelmed me as she tightened her arms and her legs about me. Intense spasms brought nonsense from my mouth, while they expelled fiery semen, which flowed again and again, again and again and again, through the length of my cock and into the depths of her body.

Overcome by the power of my orgasm, I lost awareness of everything outside myself except for the grasp of her body around me. I emptied my need into her, and nothing existed for me but my body's triumph and the body that had brought it about. Unknowing, then, I collapsed onto her.

When I came back to myself, I found that I lay on top of her. My cock was still hard, still buried in her pussy. She stroked my back and my sides as I regained myself. I raised myself, and we looked again into each other's eyes. She smiled at me and reached for a kiss.

When the kiss ended, she looked again into my eyes. "I'm close," she whispered. "Can you…"

I smiled at her and at the hunger in her gaze; I started to move in her again.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on something within herself—something that I couldn't know—as we began our motion anew. My motion was steady now, and for her—not driven, as before, or concentrated upon my own release. Her sheath, lubricated by my own emissions as well as hers, continued to caress the stiffness we'd embedded in it. Her actions maintained my stiffness so that I could return those caresses as we sought for her a release like the one we'd found for me. She rocked her hips under me, and she continued to draw me in and release me.

Happily, I stroked into her, enjoying not just the sensations her body brought me but also her body's responses to mine and the expressions of desire and concentration that fluttered across her face. Her expressions deepened and grew more intense, as we brought her nearer and nearer, and her hips answered my thrusts more and more insistently. It wasn't long before she shuddered and clutched at me. She pulled me tightly against herself, moaning—almost shrieking—as her channel contracted around me, again and again, in the convulsion of her own climax.

As she subsided, I continued thrusting, gently, into her. Soon, she responded, thrusting back, gently also, in rhythm with my thrusts. When she was again aware of things outside herself, she looked back into my eyes. She smiled at me and, against the counterpoint of our mutual thrusting, she asked softly, "Do you need more?"

"It's good!" I said. "It's really good! You were really good! But I don't need to keep going. Do you?"

"I'm okay," she said, still smiling. "You were really good, too!" Her hips stopped rocking, and she drew me down into another kiss. Unlike the demanding kisses of only a few minutes earlier, this one was a tender, appreciative touch of lips to lips. My hips, too, stopped moving as our kiss progressed, but my cock still pulsed inside her, responding as her pussy contracted periodically around it.

Slowly, her contractions subsided and so did my pulsing—although we continued to enjoy our bodies' union as we exchanged kiss after tender kiss. At last, looking into her eyes once more, I slowly levered myself out of her body and rolled onto my back beside her.

As I withdrew, she took my hand and pulled it so that it rested, palm down, on her nearer thigh, where it joined her hip. She placed her own hand over mine. I squeezed her thigh gently, and she tightened her hand in response. The first light of dawn filtered through my window shade, and we lay together in it, naked, each enjoying the other's close presence.

At length, I spoke: "I really will be an old man when I get out."

"What?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"Kidnapping," I said, "and rape. That's got to mean twenty years—at least!. But it was worth it!"

The hand that had squeezed mine left its position so that the elbow more directly attached to it could deliver a dig to my ribs. Then the hand returned and squeezed again. In response, I momentarily tightened my grip on her hip again.

"I think it's ten years each," she murmured. "You're just a kidnapper. I'm the rapist!"

I turned my head to look at her; she turned to look at me. "Maybe," I said, "we should just call it even."

"That would work," she agreed.

"Do you think we'll do this again?" I asked.

She squeezed my hand. "We have to do this again, Bub! I don't do one-night stands!"

It took me a moment to respond, while the cat considered the attractive seat it had just found on the stove. If it didn't sit there, it would never know whether the stove was hot or cold. It made up its mind.

"Do you do lifetime stands?" I asked.

She thought for a few seconds. "I like that idea! A lifetime stand! With you!" she answered. "We should work on it."

"I like it, too," I answered. "Even though I just figured out that you've made a fool of me. But this is a good day to find that out."

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, "It is the first day of the month, isn't it! But you're nobody's fool."

"I'm your fool!" I pointed out. "Turning you away has to be the most foolish thing anyone's ever done."

"Maybe," she agreed as she rolled toward me. I rolled toward her, and I put my arms around her again. She put her arms around me and she looked into my eyes again. She smiled and continued, "I sure am glad that I didn't promise not to put any moves on you!"

"So am I!" I managed to reply before we fell asleep again, relaxed in each other's arms.