I stood outside, cigarette in hand, breathing in the summer air and the smoke and the traffic fumes. I'd finally found the pub, hidden among the narrow back streets of central Sheffield, buried under suffocating ivy. I was shaking, and sweating. It was unusually warm, even for July, and my jacket and nerves weren't doing me any favours.
Removing the jacket and slinging it over my shoulder in what I hoped was a casual manner, I checked my watch. I was late. So was he. I took out my phone and absent mindedly looked at Facebook, trying not to get lipstick on my fingers as I smoked my cigarette.
"Oh, hello there," came a voice from behind me.
Fuck. He wasn't late. "Hey, Gareth!" I exclaimed, probably too enthusiastically given the situation.
I'd usually greet friends with a hug or even a kiss on the cheek, but that seemed inappropriate. Gareth wasn't my friend, he was my professor. He'd got his first teaching job at the University of Sheffield, where I recently finished my Archaeology degree. Bones and stuff. I love it, somewhat ironically, given the size of me. I'd never been a slim girl, but four years at University had really seen me pile on the pounds. People talk about the 'Freshers' Fifteen'. More like the Fresher's hundred. At 5 foot 7, I tipped the scales at 250lbs. I hated my body, but the student lifestyle dictated that I drank beers, stayed up late and survived on a diet of junk food and energy drinks. I'll get rid of it, once I'm a postgraduate, I kept telling myself.
Anyway, Gareth. Postgraduate. That's why we were meeting, we'd arranged to meet to discuss my options for a PhD at the University. Most students did a Master's Degree first, but Gareth seemed adamant that I'd apply to doctoral training straight away. I was pretty nervous about the meeting, especially since I'd had absolutely no idea what to base my thesis proposal on.
"So, had any thoughts about the proposal?" he asked, plonking a pint of cider down in front of me and splashing it on his hand.
"Umm..." I panicked, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Gareth licked the splash of cider off his hand. God, he had lovely hands. Gareth had lovely everything. He was easily six feet tall with a chiselled, handsome face and a real hard body. I wondered if people thought we were on a date. This Greek God, a chubby chaser. I laughed to myself at the idea.
"Funny, huh?" he asked.
"Sorry, I just... no, I've no idea where my proposal is going to be honest"
"Not to worry. That's why I'm here. So you're going to continue with your research on the skeletal, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so". The way he said the word 'skeletal' made me uncomfortable. As I sipped the sugary cider, I became increasingly aware of the sheer size of my body. Especially next to him.
"Well, that's a start. Let's take a look at some of these course guides."
The next hour or so passed in a blur. Gareth showed me the prospectus for the University's PhD programme for archaeologists, along with other similar coursers in the area. He bought me another drink, and another. We smoked, and drank, and made nerdy archaeology jokes.
I could feel myself getting drunk. Not seriously hammered, but certainly not sober. As my head became fuzzier, I moved closer to him. Or maybe he moved toward me? I couldn't tell. But in the couple of hours we spent talking, we went from sitting at least a foot apart on the bench to sitting side by side, thighs touching. He went to pull a cigarette filter from his pocket and his hand brushed against my leg.
"Sorry", he mumbled as he rolled his cigarette. I watched his deft hands as he twisted the paper, popped it into his mouth and lit up.
"No worries", I laughed. I was laughing at myself, really. How ridiculous I was. He had accidentally touched my thigh and I was practically swimming in my own wetness. I was lucky I had a padded bra on, as my nipples had stiffened to attention. God, he turned me on so much.
"So, fancy another drink?" he asked me as he drained his glass.
