A Chemistry Experiment

“Right everyone, please read through pages 187 to 215 for next Tuesday, and I’d like you to have some ideas for a hypothesis we can develop and test based on that material,” I called out as my students hastily cleaned up their lab areas and returned goggles to the sterilization cabinet. “Oh, and have a nice weekend!”

I supplement my (pathetic) public school pay by teaching an elemental chemistry lab course at the local community college two nights per week. I love the fact that it gives me a chance to play around in the lab, which I almost never get to do myself with the younger kids because I’m so busy supervising them. Here I get to jump in and be more involved. Most of my students are either sent over from the culinary school division to learn the basics (cooking being, after all, merely a chain of chemical reactions), or are youngish adults who did not go on to college straight after high school and have realized that if they don’t get a degree in something, they will be stuck in the soul-deadening McJobs they currently have for the rest of their natural lives. On the whole a good natured bunch though, and most of them smiled and waved goodbye as they hurried off to relieve the babysitter, sign on for the late shift at the local manufacturing plant, or spend some quality time with the TV and a cold beer – which was my plan, actually.

As I sat down at the desk to make some notes about the evening’s class I noticed one student had not yet left. Richard was slowly and deliberately clearing his work area, meticulously organizing his papers. He looked up and caught me watching him. He held my gaze steadily for a moment as a crooked smile played briefly across his face, then went back to packing up his things.

What to make of Richard, I thought as I went back to my notebook. He was not like any of my other students. He was older, first of all; even though the others aren’t kids, they are generally in their twenties. My guess is that he was just a handful of years older than my 35. He wasn’t here from the culinary school or to pick up a degree to help his career. The first day of class, when we’d all taken turns to introduce ourselves, he’d simply shrugged, smiled that oddly compelling crooked smile and said “I signed up for this course because, well, I’ve got most of my evenings free and so I thought, what the heck, might be fun and interesting” with a weathered, husky tone that made me think of late nights, cigars and brandy in large snifters. Occasionally, as I’d write on the chalkboard, I would turn my head and see every head bent down over a notebook scribbling furiously – except for Richard, who would just stare back at me with a cool, penetrating gaze that seemed to see right inside me. He wasn’t the best looking man I’d ever seen, but something about that steely blue stare and that smile made him impossible to ignore. As the past month of classes had gone by occasionally I would find that image of his eyes seemingly boring into mine as I lay in my bed, my hand traveling down across my belly to slip under the elastic band of my underpants.

He was, however, a student of mine, and therefore not available to me except in the privacy of my mind. And anyway I didn’t flatter myself that he was interested in me anyway, just because he looked at me. ‘Maybe that’s just the way he is, maybe he looks at everyone like that,’ I thought. Plus although I supposed I was a reasonably attractive woman, I am certainly not looking my best when I’m dressed for the lab – no make up, hair tied back tightly, glasses on, safety goggles perched on top of my head, big shapeless lab coat. Hardly an outfit that screams “sexbomb”. Not that any of my outfits do.

He walked to the front of the room and paused at the door. I could feel his eyes on me again. “Is there something I can help you with, Richard,” I asked, wondering if I had failed to clearly explain some part of tonight’s lecture. And noticing that his ass looked mighty fine in those Levi’s.

“Well Ms Farrell as a matter of fact there is,” he replied, and crossed the room to stand in front of my desk.

I capped my pen and folded my hands on the desk. “What can I do for you?” I offered, looking up into those intense eyes, suddenly intensely aware of my own heartbeat.

“Well you see Ms Farrell,” he began, his slow, wide manner of speech making each word hang in the air like a sweet drop of syrup, “ I have this hypothesis I’ve been kinda working on for a couple weeks now…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, well it’s sort of a two part hypothesis.”

“Okay, so…” I concentrated on breathing evenly, “why don’t you write it up and bring it to class on Tuesday and we’ll put it up for discussion?”

His eyes literally seemed to spark. “Ms Farrell if you have a moment and wouldn’t mind, I would prefer to discuss it with you now.”

What the hell, I thought, so I miss part of ER, I’m in no rush. Besides, it had been ages since I’d had a conversation with a man that felt so…charged. I could feel a flush creeping up across my chest. The room suddenly seemed very warm. “Sure, why not?” I smiled, hoping to appear casual. “Let’s hear this hypothesis of yours.”

He placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned forward until his face was inches from mine. I drew in a sharp audible breath. His eyes glittered. “The first part is that I would like to prove that somewhere way underneath that lab coat is a really hot, wet, tight pussy that is just begging for some male attention.” He paused, inching even closer. “The second part is that I would like to prove that I can make you scream so loud when you cum that you’ll wake up every neighbor within a mile.”

Well.

Whatever I had expected, it sure wasn’t that!

My mouth opened, then closed, then hung open again. I knew I was supposed to say something like, “How dare you! Get out of my class and never come back!” or something equally indignant at any rate, but instead what came out was a short strangled whimper. His eyes had kept their lock on mine and now the corners creased as that grin, which was now in fact a smirk, crept into his face. He had me, and he knew he had me.

Because in that moment he said it, I knew that the first part of his statement had been entirely too true. Barring one drunken fumble with a co-worker after a faculty party months previous, I had been leading a fairly solitary existence for some time, only going out for drinks with friends from time to time and relying on my battery operated portable boyfriend for occasional moderate physical release.

And my god, how I wanted that second part to be true too.

I cleared my throat. “Well.” I struggled to maintain my composure, my professionalism, and finally look away from him. “Well you see,” I began, trying desperately to keep the quiver out of my voice. I pushed back from the desk and somehow managed to find the strength to stand up and step over to the chalkboard. I began furiously erasing the evening’s lesson. “See, as much as I appreciate…the thing is, even if…” I stopped erasing and I sighed, turning to face him. “I am an instructor here, and you are a student.”

“Ms Farrell,” he said sharply, fixing me with that stare again, “I am a grown man, not some hormone-addled college boy who needs to be protected from his own stupidity.” He had moved to stand directly in front of me as he said this, and placed his hands on the board on either side of my head as he continued, in a low throaty growl, “ I believe I have made it clear what I want and I do not intend to be dissuaded from it by someone else’s irrelevant ‘rules’.”

As I stood there feeling the pull of gravity between us I wondered if this is something like how a small prey animal feels near that last adrenaline filled second, staring into the jaws of the wolf, capture inevitable, escape impossible. He pressed his mouth to mine and I realized, ‘Stupid woman, why am I even thinking about escape? I

need

this. Oh God,

I need this

.’ In that moment of surrender, as he gently sucked my lower lip between his own, my knees buckled and I grabbed onto the chalk ledge to keep from falling. He helped steady me by grasping my hips and pulling them to meet his own, which in actual fact was not all that helpful as even through the layers of clothes I could feel the hardness of his cock against my lower abdomen and everything below my waist continued to liquefy. I put my hands up to his chest and reluctantly broke away from the kiss. “Okay,” I breathed, trying to regain control of my shaky legs, “okay. Please.”

He chuckled. “Please? Please what, Ms Farrell?”

I took a few deep breaths, conscious of a powerful molten heat between my legs. “Please immediately commence a series of experiments designed to test your hypotheses, and remember you will be being graded on your research, so I would like it to be as detailed as possible,” I replied, trying to sound cool and collected. Which of course I was not.

He laughed, a deep, hearty, warm sound. “I surely do intend to be thorough, Ms Farrell.”

“Richard, given our level of impending familiarity, I do suppose you could call me Carrie.”

“Oh no Ms Farrell,” he shook his head, eyes twinkling, “I do not believe I will be doing that.”

I took a second to think about that response, and decided I found his insistence on addressing me formally all the more enticing, considering the bluntness of his proposition. I nodded. “Okay, Richard. We are going to have to leave here though, I can’t be … we can’t…”

“I’d like to take you to my place. I’ll go pull my car up around front. You can leave your car here for now, can’t you?” Funny, now it almost sounded like he was the one pleading. But I didn’t want to go to my apartment anyway, or get in my shitty little beat-up rolling box and listen to the transmission wheeze, so I agreed.

“Let me just finish closing up the room and I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I said as I began to unbutton my lab coat. He nodded but stood rooted, watching me removing the coat. I laughed, “Sorry, all I’ve got on under here is jeans and a T-shirt; if I’d known I was going to get a nasty proposal from a naughty student I’d have worn something more appropriate…although I have to say, I’m not entirely sure what is appropriate attire for such an occasion, it’s never really come up before.”

He studied my body as though appraising a sculpture. “Your breasts are bigger than I pictured they would be under there.”

“Yeah, well, so’s my ass I imagine.”

Laughing, he shook his head, “No, your ass is great. Your tits are great. It’s all good.” He stopped laughing and transfixed me with those eyes again. “Please let your hair down for me.”

I reached behind and removed the clips that kept every strand locked in place, then shook my head so it fell around my shoulders. “How’s that?” I practically purred, suddenly feeling incredibly flirty and feminine, feelings I hadn’t felt in such a while I barely recognized them.

He reached out to tuck a few loose ones behind my ear. “Why Ms Farrell, you are a fine looking woman, do you know that?” he said with so much genuine sweetness, it brought tears to my eyes. Because even though I knew I was not an unattractive woman, I spend most of my time with kids, or kids’ parents, or teachers of other kids, and it had been a hell of a while since a man had made me feel like a beautiful woman. Not like I’d been out there trying, I know, but when he said that, it really hit me how long it had been.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He smiled and kissed my cheek softly. “I’ll get the car.”

After he left the room I sat down for a minute to gather my thoughts. What the hell had just happened here? A man I barely know makes me some random obscene offer and I just leap in his car and go back to his place? Am I out of my mind? What if he was some spooky psycho killer freak, who goes around enrolling in college science classes, then seduces the instructors and feeds their body parts into a wood chipper? Is there a back door I can use to slip out of this?

Oh, but how I wanted to go! I craved feeling his hands cupping my breasts as his tongue teased my nipples; my fingers longed to wrap around the hard length of his cock; my mouth ached with the thought of tasting the salt of sweat and cum. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind. The dull throb between my legs continued unabated and I could detect a faint whiff of my own flowing juices. I said a small prayer of thanks to whatever goddess had had the foresight to insist I shave my legs that morning as I fished in my bag for my mobile to dial my friend and fellow teacher Tanya.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Listen. I need a big favor, tonight.”

“Do I have to leave my house? I’m already in my jammies.”

“I don’t think so,” I giggled. “Listen, I met a guy, and I’m going to his place.”

“Carrie! You? Met a guy and you’re going to go home with him?!” You’d have thought I was telling her I’d won a thirty million dollar lottery.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

“No, no,” she backpedaled, “but it is most unusual, you must admit…”

“I know.”

“About damn time though!”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Where’d you meet him?”

“He’s in my chem lab class at the college.”

“You’re going to go fuck a STUDENT?”

“It’s not like that…okay, well it’s kind of like that…look I don’t have time to debate the ethical merits of the situation, but just for safety’s sake, would you please call me at 11:00 just to check up?”

“You go for it, honey. I will call 11 and if you do not answer I am calling the cops, what is his name?’

The early spring night was slightly chilly and I shivered from a combination of cold and excitement as I exited the building and saw him standing next to an impressive automobile, one which surely cost well more than half the equivalent of my annual teacher’s salary. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘if I’m off to be defiled and slaughtered, at least I’m doing it stylishly.’

“I was afraid you might have changed your mind,” he said, opening the door for me.

“It occurred to me to do so,” I admitted, “but as a registered organ donor I suppose I am willing to allow the loan of my body to science for research purposes, if it is for the betterment of humanity.”

He laughed. “It will certainly better at least two humans.” He shut the door behind me and crossed around to the driver’s side and started the car. “It’s not a long drive.”

We said nothing more for a few moments as we pulled out of the lot and started making our way through the quiet crowded neighborhoods of working class people with pride and modest means. I was still not entirely convinced this was really happening. I replayed the scene again in my mind. I tried to think if there cold have been a different possible outcome and a thought occurred to me in a rush. “How did you know?”

He waited until we stopped at a light, then turned to face me. “Know what?”

“How did you know I would say yes, how did you know I wouldn’t freak out and call for security, how did you know I didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband, or a girlfriend even, how did know I…” I blurted, then choked, biting my lip. My voice cracked a bit and I felt waves of heat radiating through my body from between my thighs. “How did you know I needed you to do this?”

Richard smiled and started rolling again, taking his time to answer. “First of all I didn’t know you’d say yes, and I didn’t know that you wouldn’t freak out and call security. It was a risk, and I don’t mind telling you Ms. Farrell I was mighty nervous about taking it, but something in the way you were always looking at me just started me burning inside.”

The way I was always looking at him?

“Secondly, I admit to having done a little snooping around to find out whether or not you might be available and was pleased to be unable to find any evidence of a partner, male or female.”

“Snooping? What sort of snooping?” ‘And what do you mean, me looking at you?’ I added mentally.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he smiled. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t stalking you or hiding out in the bushes in front of your house or anything.”

Another brief silence. I looked out the window. We were in a much leafier, more lawn-care-intensive part of town now. Larger homes with an understated grace; the houses of people who had not just a bit of money but also the good taste not to scream about it. I was pleased to find that we were turning into the driveway of one such residence.

“As to the last part of your question” he said quietly, turning off the engine and turning those eyes on me again, “it was part of the risk. When you would look at me, it was like you were pulling me into you, like you had this hungry, consuming power. I’d leave class every Tuesday and Thursday and lie in bed with my hand around my cock thinking about what it would be like to have you looking at me like that while I really was sliding into you, and see your hair moving loose around your face while I give you everything I have and hear you cry out for more. And this feeling of wanting you and wanting to please you just kept getting stronger and stronger and I just had to do something about it.” He dropped his eyes from mine for a moment, then locked them again. “So you see Ms Farrell, it isn’t only about what you need.”

Well as if my pussy wasn’t wet before, it was now a thundering waterfall.

I tried to speak and nothing came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I always thought you were staring at me,” I managed. “I never realized you thought I was looking at you. And I always felt as though you were looking right inside me too.”

He smiled, that sly off center smile I was rapidly becoming so fond of. “We should go inside.”

Just inside the front door he asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking my shoes off. “New rug in the living room,” he explained. “Why don’t you go on through and make yourself comfortable while I fix us some drinks.”

I tried to sit as casually as possible on the sofa and had a look around. Good quality furnishings, a high-tech European brand music system, a few shelves of hardback books, framed photos that looked to be snapshots of various travel spots. I wriggled my bare toes in the new rug, which was thick and deep and incredibly soft, and I contemplated the fact that I might soon be wriggling all of my bare self in it. An entirely pleasant thought.

“Nice, isn’t it.” Richard reappeared, offering me a glass of white wine. “Just got it in yesterday.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt a carpet this soft, it’s really amazing,” I replied, still digging my feet into it. I sipped my wine and looked up at him. “Your home is lovely.”

He smiled but it was tinged with sadness. “It’s a bit big for just one person.”

“You’re lonely.” I know this feeling.

“Yes.” He took a long sip. “But not tonight.”

“No.” I reached out and hooked my finger through one of his belt loops, pulling him closer. “Not tonight.”

Richard studied my face thoughtfully, that sly smile creeping back into his. “Ms Farrell, would you please stand up?” I did as requested. He help out his hand to take the glass back, “Ms Farrell, would you kindly remove your shirt and your jeans?”

Again I silently obliged. I could feel the damp crotch of my jeans and smell my own scent powerfully as slipped them down my legs, standing before him in my bra and wet panties. My heavy breasts strained against the confines of my bra, aching to be set free, as my chest rose and fell with my quickened breath. I could feel his eyes moving hungrily over me. He set our glasses down on an end table, grasped my hips firmly and pulled my roughly against him, sucking my tongue into his mouth, and moving his hands up to my breasts where he thumbed my hardened nipples through the lacy fabric. I reached behind myself as he kissed me, unfastening the clasp and then slipping the straps off my shoulders so the bra came away in his hands.