Chapter 8.
The Lebanese Lesbian
The focus of Ludlow’s investigations soon centred on the University’s Professor of Mathematics. Her name was Layla, on loan from the University of Beirut, a part of the much-lauded foreign-exchange program. The Board of Regents of the University would not have been quite so excited to learn that she was using her position to cover her activities as the ringleader of an underground network of extremist Middle Eastern terrorist operatives.
Layla was the quintessential hot little Lebanese shish kabob; dark, flashing almond-shaped eyes and a wide smile of pearly white teeth. Her skin was olive-toned, the natural blonde highlights in her full head of chestnut brown hair bespoke of the sunnier climes of the Levantine. Even the way she spoke elicited visions of the mysterious kabala of the Near East; her accent was an exotic mix of Arabic with quasi-French overtones.
Layla always dressed as if she were just about to attend some spectacular social event, with matching handbags and heels of all things. She was never without a silk scarf; she owned a vast collection, all in the most vivid blue and purple paisleys set tastefully on ochre and maroon backgrounds.
Her scarves were her trademark, either pinned about her neck and shoulders with a gaudy brooch or quite often worn about her head to hold her hair in place during sunny or blustery weather. An apparent acknowledgment to the proper amount of modesty expected of an Arab woman, her scarves nonetheless never seemed able to completely conceal tantalizing glimpses of lace-trimmed undergarment at the bountiful curve of her full bosom.
With her round hips and magnificent ass Layla always caught the eye of faculty and students alike as she sashayed about campus, a flurry of silk skirts and clicking heels. Everything about her seemed to transmit an enthusiastic signal of vivacious sexual appetite.
There was something in her scent; a certain muskiness beneath her exotic Oriental perfumes that triggered a man’s primitive urge to rut. Her dusky hue, the sun-toned highlights of her thick, silky brown tress evoked images of hotter, sunnier climes. One longed to stroke her naked, brown body. All the men on the faculty wanted to fuck her; the poor male students who sat across from her desk during the course of events quite often drooled outright; the poor fools simply weren’t prepared for such a barrage of outright sex appeal. The red-painted lips of her wide smile seemed to beg out loud for a hard, hot dick to suck upon.
The many bouquets of flowers with which she was presented were acknowledged by the briefest of hugs, during which would-be suitors were held at the correct distance by a slight hand to the chest. She laughingly exchanged “air-kisses” when men attempted to greet her in the French fashion. Invitations to dinings-out and other excursions were fopped off on the flimsiest of alibis. She became known as something of a cock-tease.
Alas, the pent-up desires of the men on campus were for naught; it was not common knowledge that in indulging her body’s natural hunger and cravings Layla preferred the company of women to that of men. Indeed, as an accomplished
masturbatrix
, Layla preferred the gratification available at her own fingertips to either of the above.
For the time being Layla was happy the way things were. She had no wish to become entangled in a messy relationship with one of these penniless academics. Her dream was to successfully return to Beirut with enough funds saved up to buy an entire harem of Phillippina sex-slaves to would wait upon her hand and foot. Nightly she fingered her pussy to the fantasy of having three ‘
little brown fucking machines
’ pleasure her at once; one on each nipple, one down below sucking and licking her clit.
Ludlow made his approach to Layla tepidly, using his cover as a graduate student to feel her out during a series of one-on-one meetings. It was a delicate and tenuous process, but also a surprisingly successful operation. Layla was a social gadfly and was genuinely charmed by the quiet, unassuming older graduate student who dressed nicely and was able to converse intelligently with her in three or four languages. Layla became quite friendly with Ludlow as he carefully spun his subtle web to ensnare her.
At the same time Ludlow had Barbara acquaint herself with Layla in an attempt to exploit what he suspected was the sexual predilection of the dusky demoness. Eventually, this ploy would succeed beyond his wildest expectations, though not in the precise manner that he suspected.
Employing the crudest of techniques, Ludlow arranged the circumstances for Barbara to encounter Layla. He encouraged the young woman to doll herself up in a tasteful manner that was subtly seductive yet at the same time overwhelmingly signalled sexual availability. Unbeknownst to her, Barbara was now playing a passive role in the game of clandestine operations. Although Ludlow felt some tepid feelings of guilt, his conscience was assuaged by the notion that he was merely using Barbara as bait, a lure to ensnare Layla.
Barbara selected a long gypsy skirt of crushed black chiffon and a white cotton peasant girl blouse cut low enough to display her cleavage to it’s best advantage, yet not in an overt way. A silk scarf tied about her hips was held in place with a decorative belt of Navajo silver that advertised the roundness of her hips, a pair of spiked-heeled boots of soft calfskin poked out where the calf-length black skirt ended. Barbara had explored the hippy marketplaces to find just the right broad bracelet cuff-pieces of ethnic silver to wear about her wrists. She wore nothing about her neck save for her customary choker of black velvet ribbon. The whole dashing ensemble was completed with gold hoop earrings and a scarf about her hair that made her look like an MGM pirate.
Only Barbara could pull off wearing an outfit like this; the sweet and innocent look of Barbara’s natural visage served to tone down what might otherwise be an outrageous costume. The message she transmitted was loud and clear: here was a woman confident in herself and her own sexuality, willing to take the high road in pursuit of carnal adventure. Layla practically drooled when she first laid eyes on the sexy swashbuckler.
It was at one of the many wine and cheese affairs that the faculty hosted on a frequent basis. Ludlow wore his customary tweeds, complete with leather elbow patches and pipe, but chose a black turtleneck over his usual collar and tie to present the image of a modern sporting gentleman upon whose arm the dazzling and vivacious Barbara would not look out of place. Indeed, amongst weirdo’s and beatniks who occupied the academic world the couple blended in quite naturally.
They had just entered the hall and received refreshment; Barbara held a glass of Chardonnay while Ludlow nursed his trademark Scotch. Layla appeared before them almost immediately. She wore a deep purple mini-dress with matching handbag and heels. The flowing scarf of gold-coloured silk was held about her shoulders with an enormous topaz brooch. Her hair was done in a windswept coiffure; she looked magnificent.
