Carole at the Art Lecture

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.

Her choice in clothing surprised me not because of the weather, summer's temperatures were still with us, but that even outside of my usual haunts in the computer and engineering buildings her choice of just-above-mid-thigh dress, the apparent push-up bra contributing to considerable cleavage and heels was unusual for our campus. The women tended toward flip-flops, shorts and loose tee shirts in warm weather and hiking boots, jeans and bulky sweatshirts when it got cold. In fact, if she walked through the computer lab or the engineering building dressed as she was my male engineering classmates would probably faint. I'm not sure how I had managed to not do so.

"Is this Probability & Statistics? 2310?" she asked, leaning back to sit up, her smile making clear the implied laughter at my attempts to remain functioning was intentional.

"The probability approaches 100%, but then again, I'm hallucinating you so who knows what it really is," I surprised myself with the ability to not only think of a come-on but actually vocalise it at that moment.

"You think I'm not here? Do you always have such a good imagination?"

"Um, no, that decides it. My imagination is pretty good but nowhere near good enough for ...!"

"What? That I'm not good enough to be imagined by you?" she changed to a pout, jutting out her lower lip just a smidgen.

"..." I did a momentary fish impersonation, my mouth open nothing emerging. "Okay. Starting over." I managed a smile. "You're real, and this is definitely Probably & Statistics."

"So that's the class settled. I'm Carole." she put her hand out to shake. I took it, hoping my bemusement wasn't showing on my face. I managed to introduce myself but for some reason my brain seemed to think it wasn't necessary to have done so.

About then it was time for the learning to begin so I managed to face forward. A couple or three times coincident with the professor writing on the whiteboard or otherwise pausing in his lecture I felt a tap. I turned each time to face Carole, who was leaning over her desk to whisper a question or comment somewhat germane to the lecture but mostly just to force me to look down at her awesome tits. I had to shift my ass a couple of times to keep my erection comfortable in my denim shorts.

My mind kept wandering from the lecture, most of which was an overview of the quarter's upcoming subject matter. For reasons best left unexplored my brain was hijacked by my Dungeons & Dragons hobby and I fixated on the idea Carole was a succubus and I wasn't sure I wanted to hit on a saving roll. Which was of course the power of the succubus. And also why she could've known my name before we met.

Shelving but not dismissing the succubus idea as the lecture ended I faced the need to get across campus in a barely adequate 15 minutes for my next class. I rose up out of the chair, hoisting my backpack and turning, to face Carole who was also now standing. Not much over five feet but the heels obviously adding a fair bit. Her bust was even more amazing when I saw it in full, her dress fitted at the waist highlighting her slender build but made clear she had hips that had me wanting her to turn around just so I could ogle her arse.

"Um, ok, I only have 15 minutes to get across campus," pointing vaguely in a direction more or less to my left, "so I'm just out with it. What's your phone number?"

"No, give me yours. Besides, we'll all be back here in two days, right?" Her bag over her shoulder as headed out the door with the rush of escapees already gone, she had what I swear was a little black book, but I gave her my number and said "See you Thursday!" As I turned left, she cocked her head and mouthed "Bye!"

I decided to turn my head back once but she'd dissolved into the hallway crowd and I didn't see her. I couldn't shake the germ of a thought that this wasn't just a random first-time encounter but could summon no memory of meeting her in the past. While I didn't know all of the names, there were faces in the course that I recalled intermittently seeing in prerequisite courses, hers was not among them.

*****

We did indeed meet again in class two days later. We did indeed go out that weekend.

And the weekend after.

And there the issues began.

I got the sense that she knew she had an incredible figure and liked others to know it too, possibly to the point of being an actual exhibitionist. But over the next few weeks I got the definite sense "exhibit" was the correct term because she seemed to enjoy nothing more than to ensuring I got to see her charms but as to ever getting to actually

touch

anything I became certain that was a fool's errand. As the weather started to cool the short skirts, bare legs and deep necklines evolved into skirts over tights, skin tight jeans, and fitted shirts that did nothing to deny her curves but provided a bit of warmth as needed.

The thing that didn't change was my not getting into, under or around any of those clothes.

My breaking point was when we went out a few weeks later to dinner on a chilly evening, she wore a tight sweater over a collared shirt, and was her usual coquette when it came to being next to me and willing to have my arm around her shoulder. We found ourselves in a bit of an out of the way booth in a restaurant. We'd just ordered and I was sipping my coke.

"I'm hot," she said, "I need to take this off." She grabbed the hem of the sweater and lifted, I was only half paying attention when I finally looked as she exposed two perfectly formed, braless, gravity-defying C-cup tits underneath an essentially transparent tight white blouse with the top three buttons undone. She lifted the sweater over her head and set it on the seat outside of her as she scooted over.

Other than the occasional obscured down blouse view, intentionally arranged I was certain, this was the first clear view I'd had of her nipples, deep red on her light skin and slightly erect against the blouse. As it often did my cock pressed against its confinement. She spent the rest of our dinner like that, seeming to turn slightly to ensure the waitress had a good view whenever she stopped by. I wasn't sure, but we received excellent service that meal and our water glasses were topped up regularly. She didn't put the sweater back on when we were leaving, rather she draped it across her shoulders and let the arms drape to offer imperfect concealment of her charms. Attentive observers no doubt were treated to transitory but impressive views.

But long story short, after dinner it became clear that whatever further entertainments might be offered, her naked sweaty body was not going to be one of those offers.

After that, I only coolly responded to her in class and demurred any further actual dates. She seemed not to press too much, although her manner of dress didn't alter.

But it meant once the class ended a bit before Christmas, and it had been clear we had no common classes in the winter, that unless happenstance put us together I had no plans to see her.

*****

Holy. Freaking. Shit.

Weeks of memories had flown through my brain seeing Carole standing just inside the side entrance to the auditorium, in her four-inch heels. I think she was the only woman on campus who could comfortably spend the day, walking all over campus, in such shoes as I'd seen her do it often in the past, whether pumps, sling-backs or boots. She'd been prepared for today's wildly varying climates as she was just now shrugging off a sweater, one I remembered.

She had on a high-neckline halter-top cut mini-dress that I did not recall, emphasis on "mini", as from here it seemed more like it had to be shorts. It was an attractive green colour with what looked like flowers in red and pink. The sweater may have kept her now-bare shoulders warm but had not done so for her nipples, prominent against the fabric of the dress. With the fit on the side facing me I could see just the fold of her breast displayed.

Wow. This was a show beyond any I remembered from before. Then she saw me and broke into a smile, mouthed a "hi!" and headed across to the stairs leading to my lair. She came up the stairs, her tits jiggling just a tiny bit, her skirt allowing full view of her taut thighs. I could see now her nails were painted red that matched the flower highlights in her dress. No lipstick, which I thought was odd, she didn't go for extreme colours but usually coordinated that along with her polish and clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with her natural lips.

"Mind if I join?" she said, slightly inclining her head. But already beginning to hand me her bag. "I'll sit there," she nodded at the seat past me.

"Sure, come on in," I said, really curious what was to happen. She handed me her bag and I reached to set it on the furthest seat, leaving the one past me clear.

As I turned back she was facing the front of the room, her back to me, sidling along the tabletop on which my notebook was sitting. When she was directly in front of me she stopped.

"Maybe I'll just sit here?" She slowly lowered herself onto my lap. I had my hands to my sides and didn't immediately move them, but my cock had no such hesitation. She placed her ass over my crotch and leaned back, if she knew what a cock was there was no way she didn't know what was pressing against her.

It was also the case that the blood going my prick caused me to forget to ask her what she was doing here, she wasn't even taking this course. Or if so this was the first session she'd attended.

Not having any better idea I placed my hands on her thighs, just above her knees, and started to move them ever so slowly upwards. "You're skin is cool. Bit chilled?"

"I was, getting warmer now." She leaned back against me, her hands brushing mine but taking no obvious action to forestall the movement. I recognised the light aroma of a touch of perfume from past dates but had never known the name of it.

I kept moving up, my thumbs getting to the hem of her dress, then working their way under. She just shifted her ass a bit to, if anything, allow slightly easier access. I got to her bikini cut underwear and decided to see how serious this was. "It's warm in here," I whispered into her ear, "you don't need these." I hooked the panties with my thumbs. "Lets take them off." She lifted off of me a couple of inches and nuzzled my neck. Seemed like a yes.

I slid her panties slowly down her thighs, below the hem of her dress, as I scanned around the room to see if our activity had attracted any attention. Fortunately the professor and the TA were still fussing with the projector and people were either watching them or doing whatever last minute tasks they had before the lecture started. I had the panties to her knees when she sat back down, pressing into my still erect dick, and lifted her legs and wiggled them a bit to let gravity finish the job of removing them. She caught them on her right foot and lifted it to where I could just reach them.

"I'll be keeping these," I whispered into her ear. "You won't need them again." I balled them up and put them into my backpack.

"Do I have to put my bare ass on these old seats? Really?" she pouted.

"Of course not," I assured her, "your ass is too cute to suffer this old fabric. I'm prepared." The thin cushion and fabric covers were likely older than both our ages put together. I pulled out a folded handkerchief from my backpack, switched it to my left hand, and made a show of fluffing it out and squaring it onto her seat cushion. I usually used it as a headband but had washed it and replaced it in my pack. I laid my left arm across the back of her seat as she rose off of me and slid sideways, levering herself with her left hand, letting her right brush across my exposed thighs just below my denim shorts, her fingers making intentional contact with my shaft. I was wondering if I was going to blow any moment now. She adjusted the back of her dress to indeed set her bare ass on the kerchief.

"Welcome, everyone," began the professor, "I hope that our discussion today of the use of eroticism in Renaissance painting won't make it any hotter in here than it already is." A murmur of forced laughter in the room. "Let's get started. Beth, please...," to his TA, who lowered the lights, leaving the upper reaches of the auditorium in darkness, the reflected glow off the screen having little impact. "Here we have..."

With that, Carole nudged into my side and nudged my left arm, I dutifully lowered it over her shoulder then worked my way until it was cupping her left tit, my fingers brushing her still erect nipple through the fabric. She brushed her nails against the back of my hand so I took that as permission to press a bit harder. She sighed, snuggled closer, twisted a bit to allow her to lever her right leg over my legs, leaving her spread crotch just covered by the tented fabric of her dress. Her right hand pressed onto my shaft extended down the left leg of my shorts.

"Someone likes the show," she whispered, her fingers exploring the shape as much as the stiff fabric would let her.

I moved from the front of her dress to slide my hand under the cloth to directly massage her already erect but still growing left nipple, she took a couple of deep breaths, "Sight, sound, touch," I whispered back. We kept up our mutual ministrations while the professor went through his images, naming artists and describing why this or that bit of nakedness was significant.