The only reason Fiona kept attending these history lectures was because of him. Well, not really ā she truthfully enjoyed history, all the different and exotic cultures fascinated her, ever since she was a child ā but the TA fascinated her more. He wasnāt 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 āhey, heās cuteā, 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 didnāt 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 didnāt hit the gym very often. They had that nonchalant quality to them, of a man who is strong but doesnāt 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, thatās 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 wasnāt 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 didnāt 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 dormās 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.
āMy roommate is gone tonight,ā she murmured, so only he could hear, āCall me.ā
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 wasnāt sure at first if he should do it. He didnāt 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 ā 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 collarboneā¦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 studentā¦.Oh, what the hell, James thought at last, stuffing the paper into his back jeans pocket, Itās a one night stand with a girl who is dying for a fuck. Why the hell not? Been awhile since Iāve had that kind of fun.
*
At eight forty-five p.m. Fiona received the call she had been waiting for. All James said was, āIām out front.ā
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 didnāt look at each other on the ride up. In fact, not until they reached Fionaās corner room, empty of roommate, and closed the door behind them did they slowly turn to face each other.
āSoā¦ā said James, feeling idiotic, āIām guessing you didnāt want clarification on the ships used in the Ming dynasty, right? Although if you do, I have a couple more slides in my - ā
āNo,ā Fiona cut in, her voice huskier than she had intended. She swallowed, trying to drown the butterflies in her chest, āIā¦umā¦actually, I would rather learn about the lives of actresses in China at that time, but, umā¦.the reason I gave you my number isā¦ā
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.
āā¦Youāve been lusting after me all year?ā
Fiona lifted her face abruptly. Her eyes met with Jamesā, and his were bursting with an animal-like hunger she could tell he had been saving up al year. Her own ocean-blue eyes must have held a similar emotion, for just as she was about to answer yes his mouth engulfed hers in a fiery kiss. He didnāt waste time being sweet or trying to seduce her; he could tell she needed little encouragement. Fiona felt his tongue occupy her mouth, swooping around hers, along her teeth; their lips ground together like whetstones, craving more of each others bodies.
James felt his hands grasp hungrily at her waist, fingers wiggling at the hem of her self-altered shirt, inching it up. He could feel warm skin meet with his palms, and the smoothness and firmness of her body excited him to no end. He could feel his erection building hard and hot between them, jutting into her hip. Fiona moaned against his mouth as he kissed her fervently. They soon had to pause in their kiss as the shirt had made it up to Fionaās head, so she lifted her arms to allow him to peel it off like the skin of an orange. James moaned when he saw her breasts. They were even fuller than he had imagined, billowing out of her plain red bra, pale as moonlight against the vibrant crimson. He couldnāt help it. Before the discarded shirt even hit the ground his face was buried in her cleavage, his lips caressing the sensitive skin. Fiona gasped in delight as his fondling sent tingles of sensation all through her, and she buried her hands in his hair. It was satiny soft, with those longer strands in the front slipping easily through her fingers ā just like she had imagined.
āOh, God, take me now,ā she breathed, nearly incoherently. Jamesā hands were already fumbling with the clasp of her bra, snapping it open. He lifted his face momentarily so he could watch as he slid the straps off Fionaās thin shoulders, releasing the weighty orbs that had been supported therein. Her breasts fell heavily to her chest, round and firm, but large ā with small nipples nearly the same pale shade as the rest of her skin, but with a slightly rosy tint. He couldnāt take it. He had to have her; all thoughts of history and classroom decorum were forced from his brain as his teeth closed over one of those hard little bumps. Fiona let out a faint scream as surges of pleasure overtook her. She pressed Jamesā head to her chest, panting with the force of her desire.
James firmly but gently edged her over to the bed, easing her onto it as his lips and tongue flicked over and around her nipples, eliciting little moans and sighs that excited him more than he had ever expected. As her head fell back onto the blankets her darling orange paper-boy cap flipped off her head, revealing a pair of pigtails that had been suffering from hat hair for some time. Fiona grinned as he paused with a bemused look at her hairdo, and managed to sit up enough to pull out the hair ties, remove her glasses, and set both carefully on the bedside table. She sat up, arching her back so her breasts jutted out in front of her, beckoning to Jamesā greedy hands. He cupped them as she thrust her fingers into her hair, tousling it vigorously. She looked so sexy, with her hands tangled in her short hair, gasping every now and then when his thumb skimmed over her nipples. Fiona finally gave her head a good shake, flinging her hair over one half of her face, and gave James her best ācome and get meā smirk.
With her glasses off and the makeup she had carefully applied that morning, Fionaās usually hidden eyes were surprisingly dramatic. James had to spend a moment just gazing into the, suddenly shy about what he was doing. Fiona just grinned and slid her hands deliberately up the front of his shirt, letting her fingers explore the torso she had fantasized about all semester.
āTake this off,ā she said at last. James was happy to oblige, and tore off his plain gray T-shirt in one motion. Fiona sighed and slid her hands up his chest again, reveling in the heat of his skin against her fingers. His body was as she had imagined it ā firm, but not prone to frequent exercise. His arms were just as wonderful as Fiona had observed; the muscles in them clenched as he pulled himself up on top of her, resting his pelvis on hers. She could feel the hard shaft there, pressing insistently against the crotch of her blue jeans, and could only moan softly as he slowly began to grind it against her, in little figure eights, moving steadily between her legs, then pulling back just enough to make her body leap up into his, begging for more.