Copyright PennameWombat October 2018.
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
*****
It was spring. A week ago it had snowed. It warmed up the day after that and kept warming more each day. Some years spring differed little from winter. Other years we skipped straight to summer.
This was the latter. It was hot. Suddenly. Gloriously.
That meant some things had changed. The university buildings had rooms that were now ovens because there was as yet no air conditioning in those buildings. Or they were frigid because the building did have air conditioning someone had turned on but had not yet adjusted. None of that overly affected the choices of most of the students who had gone overnight from woolens and parkas to, not to put too fine a point on it, as little as possible.
The Fine Arts building was one of those sprawling century old stone and masonry buildings which had seen everything but the exterior rehabbed, remodelled or replaced several times, usually in sections and never with a coherent strategy for the whole building. This meant that when the temperature made a sudden change any single room offered a gambler's choice whether it was best to be left to penguins or offered a serious chance of heat stroke.
Transiting through the halls in my shorts and tee shirt the sweat under my backpack from the walk across campus was near to frozen solid as I nudged aside some penguins happily waddling in the hall. Then I made it to the auditorium and it was back to spring. Well, spring on Venus as the auditorium was on the other side of some boundary introduced by incompatible duct work.
The auditorium was not huge, but big enough to have a lower section of seats and an upper section separated by a walkway. Entrance doors on each side opened onto the walkway and a central access entrance left the first four upper rows only on the outer edges. Each row of seats was fronted by a shelf connected to the row in front of it to allow you to have your notepad, books, or whatever at hand and a front plate descended blocking any view below the shelf.
I took my usual seat in the second row of the upper section, the right side as I looked to the front, halfway in the set of five seats to discourage neighbours in the usually half-full hall. It seemed most students liked the lower section but I'd found the higher viewpoint allowed me to enjoy not only the subject being lectured on but also the artistry of my classmates. And to nap or work on other coursework. Arriving early allowed me to scope out the entrances while playing at putting out my notebook. It also allowed me to check out which of my classmates wore the least clothing. To further discourage neighbours I placed my backpack on the seat outside of me.
And said classmates were not disappointing me. Shorts or sundresses were plentiful. The climatic conditions in other parts of the building provided rather impressive indications of whether or not one or the other of my female classmates had decided to forgo a bra when she was getting dressed that morning. It all inspired my faith in our generation taking the reins of power in the near future.
We still had about 5 minutes before class started, the professor had arrived and he and a TA were setting up for today's discussion on the evolution of Italian Renaissance painting, when I saw Carole entering through the side door to my left.
Holy. Freaking. Shit.
*****
Carole and I had met in fall quarter, the putative beginning of the academic year, in a statistics class I needed as part of my major. As I discovered, it was also required of business majors and I think that's what she'd told me she was doing. Although I don't clearly recall her ever stating it flatly. I was thus trying to get my mind back into the swing of classwork and it being statistics was not pushing up my heart rate.
I was in a chair bent over digging through my backpack for my notepad and pen when I felt more than saw someone getting into the chair behind me. Shifting as slightly as I could out of the corner of my eye I watched one bare shin cross over the other, 3, or 4? inch open toe heels, blue polished toenails. Um, huh? I tried to shift again to see slightly higher and under the chair's built-in desk I could see cloth ending at somewhere just above mid-thigh and what thighs. And just my fortune as she sat and crossed her right leg over her left the fall of material meant I was able to, purposely I felt, determine her light blue underwear contrasted to the dark blue of her dress but would match her nail polish. Pretty sure it was a dress and not a skirt, maybe an odd thing to think but I always made sure to register "which" since a past girlfriend had decided I must know and keep in mind the difference.
Okay.
I deliberately turned to face forward as I rose with my materials and carefully placed them on the desk built into my chair, my fuzzy brain trying to come up with some excuse to turn around to be able to compare the upper half of what had to be a young lady to her frankly amazing lower half. I was saved in that with a light tap on my shoulder and a "Hi?"
I turned, hoping I wasn't panting or drooling, and was rewarded with what was the most dazzling smile I'd ever seen. Light brown, shoulder length wavy, no, more curly than wavy hair hanging loose, a cute, no, more than that, slightly round face. The smile. Eyes, well, I never remember eye colors. It's like flower names. I can't remember them. But I swear the eyes were laughing for me, not so much "at" me, even though no laugh was audible.
And in the initial glance, cleavage. Her breasts weren't enormous but on her petite frame they were very noticeable, the deep scoop neck cut of her dress dress just about followed the edge of her bra and gave me a good view of its blue clasp in the chasm between her tits. While I wasn't sure I had to guess that her aureoles couldn't be too far out of view and with the artful combination of dress and bra they conspired to provide a smooth front to the fabric.
I pulled my eyes from the view and did my best to say "Hi" and keep my eyes on her face. But I also registered that she
was
leaning forward, well, she'd had to to tap my shoulder but I further swear she wasn't leaning back. And that was the reason for the laugh in her eyes.