The only reason Fiona kept attending these history lectures was because of him. Well, not really – she truthfully enjoyed history, all the different and exotic cultures fascinated her, ever since she was a child – but the TA fascinated her more. He wasn’t the kind of guy she usually noticed at first glance, but her attraction to him had been growing throughout the semester. At first it was just a “hey, he’s cute”, then a slightly more animalistic pull, occasional glances at his crotch, doing her Kegels when he was in sight, but now, the last day of class, her passion was a raging torrent.
She had deduced throughout the course of the semester that his name was James. A good, solid name. The kind of name an aspiring historian would have. He piqued her interest when clarifying the values of early Islamic peoples, namely their treatment of women, which Fiona (an avid feminist) was always interested in. Mostly so she could have even more reasons to call men scum. James was taller than she was, but not too tall; maybe five ten. He had a chiseled face with an adorable cleft in his chin, ruddy complexion, and chocolate-brown hair that was cut in such a way that a few tendrils always fell in front of his dark, honest eyes. Being a History TA, he was in mid-to-late twenties, perhaps even thirty, but the eighteen-year-old, fresh-faced, just-finishing-first-semester-of-college Fiona didn’t give a damn. She loved the way he wore pants just loose enough to catch on the muscles of his butt, giving her an idea of its size and shape, but no more. His arms were surprisingly muscular for a guy who most likely didn’t hit the gym very often. They had that nonchalant quality to them, of a man who is strong but doesn’t force fitness upon himself. As for the rest of his body, well, Fiona could tell he was no bodybuilder, but she found the subtle outlines of his muscles behind his loose T-shirts intriguing. No hard flat abs, that’s for sure, but it was guaranteed to please her.
Last bubble blacked out on her Scan-Tron, Fiona took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. She wasn’t usually the forward type, or a seductress of any kind, but damn, watching him throughout that final had been torture! She kept on feeling her eyes drawn to the fly of his pants, or his firm biceps. If she didn’t do this now she would regret it the rest of her life. Clutching her finished exam in one hand, and the small piece of paper with her cell-phone number, the hour of eight-thirty PM, and her dorm’s name, in the other, Fiona walked slowly up to the front of the class. She plopped her test down in front of the other TA, who was busy (thank God!) reading the essay portion. When she approached James, the object of her desire, on her way out Fiona slipped the piece of paper under his fingers. She looked down at where he was seated. Their eyes met in a blaze of mutual recognition of desire.
“My roommate is gone tonight,” she murmured, so only he could hear, “Call me.”
And with that Fiona left, making sure her hips were swaying as seductively as possible as she walked. She could feel his eyes on her back all the way out the door.
*
James wasn’t sure at first if he should do it. He didn’t know anything about her, this girl who sat attentively in the front of the class, taking notes diligently. All he knew was that she loved Ancient Egypt, stayed after sometimes to discuss a lecture point with the professor, and had the greatest breasts he had ever seen. They were huge for a girl of her slight frame, and she often wore either tight shirts or low cut ones to show them off. Never skanky, though, not her. Despite how hot she looked in those sexy shirts, or how cute her tight little ass was in those hipster flared jeans, Fiona always managed to give the impression of ladylike aloofness – almost painful untouchability combined with smoldering sex appeal. It was funny, this nerdy little girl with glasses and freckled, clearly in love with history, to be such a freaking turn on! Her hair was reddish-brown, and brushed gently at her collarbone…how he longed to tangle his hands in that hair and gently nibble on those tiny rosebud lips of hers, lips she often chose to highlight with red lipstick of a sophisticated shade. But it was totally improper, accepting such a blatant invitation for sex, especially from one he suspected to be a freshman, and here he was a twenty-five-year-old Grad student….Oh, what the hell, James thought at last, stuffing the paper into his back jeans pocket, It’s a one night stand with a girl who is dying for a fuck. Why the hell not? Been awhile since I’ve had that kind of fun.
*
At eight forty-five p.m. Fiona received the call she had been waiting for. All James said was, “I’m out front.”
Trembling with excitement, she took the elevator down. James was waiting outside, hands in his pockets. Her heart pounding, Fiona held open the door to her dorm so he could slip into the warm building. His arm brushed against her breast as he passed, causing her nipple to jump out as it became suddenly aroused. They exchanged nothing but polite, shy smiles as they waited for the elevator to arrive, and didn’t look at each other on the ride up. In fact, not until they reached Fiona’s corner room, empty of roommate, and closed the door behind them did they slowly turn to face each other.
“So…” said James, feeling idiotic, “I’m guessing you didn’t want clarification on the ships used in the Ming dynasty, right? Although if you do, I have a couple more slides in my - ”
“No,” Fiona cut in, her voice huskier than she had intended. She swallowed, trying to drown the butterflies in her chest, “I…um…actually, I would rather learn about the lives of actresses in China at that time, but, um….the reason I gave you my number is…”
Her voice trailed off, humiliated, too embarrassed to speak. James decided to take a risk. He could feel the heat coming from her body, and loved the way her funny little paperboy cap covered her eyes when she lowered her head. So, he finished her sentence for her.
