Alice

I'm a 45 year old divorced college professor. I'm tenured, and have been teaching for nearly forever. I teach history. It's a subject that most of my students take because they must. They consider it the lesser of evils. We once had a history major, but it got canceled when the president realized that we were only graduating two or three people each year. That's also when they got rid of the other full time history professor.

I actually enjoy my job. It's boring at times, but I can more or less do what I want. I don't have to spend a lot of energy preparing for class. History doesn't change very much and neither do the interpretations that we bring to the lower level courses. I try to stay well read and interested, but it's entirely for my own benefit. Mostly my days are quite routine and predictable.

My wife left me almost ten years ago. I foolishly had an affair with a woman I met at a conference. I deceived myself into believing we would live happily ever after. Alas, it turned out that she was married too. It was really rather pathetic.

When I'm not teaching or reading in the library, I enjoy concerts, gardening, photography, and hiking. I try to keep myself in good shape with regular work outs. I use the college's gym, much to the amusement of my students. They kid me about my gut or my legs but the truth is that I'm in better shape than many of them.

This particular semester started more or less like any other. I greeted the students in my usual, routine way, and handed out all the usual, routine paperwork. Everything unfolded exactly as it has before. I've taught my classes so many times that I could probably do it in my sleep.

It was about four weeks into the semester when I got an email message from one of my freshman American History students named Alice. "I could use a little help with the reading assignment," she wrote. "I have some questions about it." I often get email from students so there was nothing particularly odd about Alice's message. I wondered what kind of questions she had. I replied with an invitation to stop by my office later that afternoon.

Alice arrived right on schedule. She was dressed very smartly, but conservatively. She had on a light blouse with dark pants and a dark jacket. The color of her jacket contrasted strikingly with her long, blond hair. I indicated a chair, and as she sat down she took out her glasses and her notes.

Alice's work was steady, but not exceptional. She wasn't sure about some of the questions at the end of the reading, but she seemed to understand my explanations well enough. "I'm glad you came by," I said and she seemed pleased. "It's good to try and get these issues cleared up before class. It will make the discussion in class easier to follow and you'll get more out of it."

She smiled. "I just wanted to come by and see your office anyway. I figured you'd have a very nice office."

I laughed. "Well," I said with a wave of my arm. "What do you think?"

"I like your pictures," she said getting up to take a closer look at them. "Did you take them?"

"Yes, I did," I replied, feeling a bit of pride coming into my voice.

We ended up spending a good fifteen minutes talking about photography. It turned out that she had done a little modeling and that she knew something about the technical side of that business too.

"You'd make a lovely model," I told her. She smiled warmly.

The next day, I received an email message from Alice thanking me for helping her and for spending time showing her my pictures. I replied saying that no thanks were necessary and that she should feel free to stop by my office any time.

A couple of days later, while I was in the gym working out, I saw Alice running on one of the treadmills. She waved when she saw me and I returned her gesture before heading over to the weight machines. I was a little surprised to see her there since I had never seen her working out before. Yet people are always coming and going in the gym. There was nothing particularly unusual about that.

As I worked out, I found myself stealing glances her way. She was extremely sexy in her skin tight leotard. She had a thin, lithe body with pert, teenage breasts. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail to expose well toned shoulders and arms. She had the treadmill up fairly high and was moving along at a rather good clip. I could see the sweat glistening on her brow. I could also see her erect nipples clearly outlined against the fabric of her leotard. I hadn't realized what a great body she had, and I found myself wondering what she looked like without that leotard.

Later in class, I lectured on the political situation in the American colonies. I tried to relate the historic events to the current activities around the world. The discussion was fairly lively and I felt pleased. I also felt distracted by Alice in the back row. She didn't say anything but for some reason the image of her tight leotard stretched over her hard nipples kept coming to my mind. That night, at home in my bed, I masturbated to that image.

The next day I found a message from Alice waiting for me in my electronic mailbox. "I noticed you watching me in the gym yesterday," was all it said.

"Damn," I thought. I composed a careful reply. I didn't want to deny what was obviously true, but I also didn't want to get myself into trouble. I knew of faculty members who routinely preyed on their students for sexual favors, and that practice disgusted me. Besides, tenure or no, sexual harassment was taken very seriously by the college administration.

"You are a very striking woman," I wrote after much deliberation, "and I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't notice you. However, I don't want you to think that I was trying to act inappropriately. I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable, and I hope you will not feel uncomfortable with me in the future."

Around noon that day, I got a reply from her that said, "I wasn't uncomfortable at all. Actually, I liked it. I noticed you too. You're a sexy man."

Was she coming on to me there? After a a minute of reflection, I dragged her message to the trash can and forgot about it. But that night I thought again about her firm breasts bouncing suggestively as she jogged on the treadmill machine.

The next day Alice wasn't in class. That struck me as a bit unusual. Hadn't she always been there before? I couldn't remember. I wondered what she might have been doing. Late that afternoon I got an email message from her. "I'm sorry I wasn't in class," she said. "I don't like missing your classes, but something came up. Can I stop by your office and find out what I missed?" I felt my hands shaking slightly as I composed my reply. "Calm down," I told myself.

When she came to my office I gave her the reading assignment and a copy of my notes. I was very professional. "Thanks," she said as she packed the material into her notebook. Then, just as she was about to leave she added, "I want you to know, by the way, that I wasn't uncomfortable the other day in the gym."

"I'm glad," I muttered with a nod.

She looked at me for a long moment. "I like it when guys look at my body."

"You have a nice body," I said without thinking.

She smiled. "Maybe I'll see you in the gym again sometime!"

"Maybe." I said.

The next day I could hardly think straight. Part of me hoped that I would see her again in the gym. Part of me was just plain scared shitless by the idea. By the time I actually went for my workout, I felt as nervous as a teenager on his first date.

When I didn't see her right away, I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Then I saw her. She was on one of the bench press machines on the other side of the room. She was wearing a different leotard; a black leotard that contrasted in an intensely sexy way with her blond hair and fair skin. My palms broke into a sweat but I tried to be casual and pretend that I didn't really see her.

After she had done her sets on the bench press machine, she noticed me and waved. I smiled briefly in return, but my heart was pounding. Why was this woman having such a strong effect on me?

As I worked out I watched Alice now and then out of the corner of my eye. Her leotard seemed to hug her sleek body like a second skin. I could see every contour of her breasts, buttocks, and hips clearly outlined. Once Alice caught me looking at her. She winked and I smiled before I discretely turned my attention back to my work. Then I noticed that Alice seemed to be going out of her way to position herself in my view. Sometimes she worked on the machine next to mine and sometimes she worked on the machine across the room. In every case I could see her just by looking up in a very natural and inconspicuous way.

While I was working on the bicep machine, Alice decided to work on the bench press machine. She lay down on the bench and spread her legs slightly so that she could put her feet on the floor. From my vantage point, I got a clear view of her legs and crotch. I fancied that I could even see the slit between her legs outlined by her tight leotard. I decided to do an extra set on the bicep machine and when I got up I caught another wink from Alice.

The next morning I found an email message in my mailbox from her.

"Did you like looking at me?" she asked. "Are you going to come and look at me again?"

"You were teasing me," I typed my reply. "And you are an exhibitionist! But yes, I will probably come and look at you again. Especially since you seem to enjoy it so much. I just need to be discrete."

A couple of hours later, I got a reply.

"I am an exhibitionist. Being looked at gets me hot. Don't worry, it will just be our little game. I don't want to ruin it by getting you in trouble."

Shit. I wasn't sure where this was heading, but I was very sure that I shouldn't be playing this game with one of my students. Yet it was intensely exciting to think about Alice getting hot.

Later in the afternoon I got another message from her. "Did you like my black leotard?" she said. "I picked it out hoping that you were going to be there. I have a couple of other ones that I can wear. You'll have to tell me which is your favorite."

The next time I went to the gym, Alice was already there and seemed very much engrossed in her workout. I began my workout in the usual, routine way and didn't pay too much attention to her at first. She didn't bother to greet me, which felt appropriate and comfortable. Yet as before she seemed to position herself to make it easier for me to watch her without it being obvious that I was doing so.

She was wearing a light blue leotard that seemed to be much higher on her hips than the black one. The fabric was slightly sparkly and that made her body seem to shimmer as she moved. I loved watching her breasts jostle beneath the fabric.

"So what did you think?" she asked in email the next day.

"Nice," I replied, "but then I think you would look nice in almost anything. You are very attractive. I admit that I still like the black one better. Did it get you hot knowing that I was watching you?" I asked.

She replied in only about thirty minutes. "Yes I did get hot. Just knowing that you were there looking at me made me wet. I'm glad you think I'm attractive. I think you are attractive too."

Class that day was uneventful. Alice was there, as usual, in the back. She was dressed in her usual, routine way. The discussion was lively and I managed to stay focused on my teaching very well. But that night I masturbated while thinking about Alice getting wet.

The next time at the gym she had on a green leotard that seemed to be in the same style as the black one. It was a dark, forest green and it looked very nice. I could easily see her erect nipples through the fabric. The thought that I was arousing her by looking at her turned me on as well. I had trouble focusing on my workout.

"I liked the green leotard better than the blue one I think," I wrote to her, "but I still like the black one the best." I paused and then typed, "I liked the green leotard because I could see your nipples through it."

I didn't get a reply from her for quite some time. I started to worry. I didn't want to ruin our game by making her feel like so much meat in a meat market. Yet she had said she was an exhibitionist. After a few hours I started to worry that she was in the dean's office lodging a complaint about me. Finally, at the very end of the day I got a message from her. I anxiously opened it.

"I have something special planned for tomorrow," was all she said.

The next day I had trouble focusing on my classes. It seemed to me that the time for my workout would never come. Finally, I headed over to the gym at my usual time. I got changed and almost rushed up to the room with the machines. Luckily hardly anyone was there. Yet Alice was there. She saw me and we made brief eye contact, but she didn't seem to acknowledge me. She was wearing dark blue riding shorts and a cut-off tank top that exposed her muscular midriff from her navel up to the bottom part of her rib cage. Her top was really just a cloth draped over her breasts; it was completely open from below.

When she moved toward one of the machines, her breasts jostled making it clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. When she got onto the pec machine, her top stretched back over her breasts and her very erect nipples poked through the thin fabric with astonishing clarity. I could even see her aureoles outlined against her top and I could follow every contour of her upturned, slightly pointed tits.

I could hardly keep my eyes off of her, and I wasn't alone. I think every man in the room followed Alice as she moved from machine to machine. When she raised her arms to work the overhead bar, we all wondered if her top would ride up to expose her breasts entirely. When she lay down on the bench press we all wondered if we could catch the curve of her breasts peeking out from under the bottom of her top. When she jogged on the treadmill, we all watched her breasts shake and sway freely. She often closed her eyes for extended periods of time, and I knew she was doing that just to make it easier for the rest of us to stare.

"You were very sexy today," I wrote to her before leaving that afternoon. "You have beautiful breasts and I loved watching them move under your clothes."

In the morning when I arrived at work, there was a message from her. "I'm glad you liked my show," she replied. "I wanted to display myself to you, but all those other people were there so I couldn't. I still want to show myself to you. How can I do that?"

I gulped. This game was starting to get intense and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I took a deep breath and wrote a simple, one line response. "Come to my office this afternoon at 5:00pm and we'll discuss it."

It was difficult to concentrate on history. Then, when she didn't reply, I worried again that I had overstepped my bounds. Alice was in class in her usual, routine way, and I managed to get through class without embarrassing myself. I looked at her a few times as I lectured, but I couldn't read her expression.

Finally the appointed time arrived. I seriously considered leaving at 5:00 like I usually do, but I waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes passed and nobody came to my office door. The hallway was quiet and deserted.

Then suddenly I heard a soft knock at the door, but the pounding of my heart seemed to almost drown it out. "Come in." I said. It was, of course, Alice. "Hello!" I said trying to muster as casual a tone as I could. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that I had to treat this meeting as normally as I could.

Alice did not reply. She quickly sat down on the chair opposite my desk. She looked at me. I looked at her. Our eyes meet and there was a tense silence. Then, she swiftly began unbuttoning her blouse. I swallowed and watched, hardly daring to move.

She undid first one button, then another, then a third. With each button her blouse hung progressively more and more loosely on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and then with a sudden, forceful gesture, she tore open her blouse exposing her delightful breasts to my eyes. There was nearly absolute silence in the room. Only the sound of her ragged breathing distracted me from the view.

Her young breasts were small yet surprising full. Her nipples were bright pink and stood out fully erect. I was amazed at the size of her nipples; they were as large as pencil erasers and contrasted greatly with the daintiness of her breasts.

She arched her back to thrust her breasts toward me, but she kept her eyes closed. I wanted so much to reach out and touch her or lick her, but I didn't move. How much time passed like that I couldn't tell. It seemed timeless. Finally---it might have been only a few seconds or maybe a few minutes---she closed her shirt and started buttoning it up again. She looked at me, holding my gaze, and making deep eye contact.

"Thank you," she said softly. I nodded. And with that she left as suddenly as she had come. The stillness of the late afternoon enfolded me.

The next day I had a message from Alice waiting for me in my mailbox. "Did you like that as much as I did?" she asked. I considered my response carefully. "You have an exquisite body, Alice, and I love looking at you as much as you seem to love showing off. I'm glad you want to show me your body. Will you show me more?"

I didn't get any more messages from her that day. Instead I had to attend several faculty committee meetings of one sort of another. They were boring, of course. By the time I packed up my things to go home, I had almost forgotten about my dialog with Alice.

However, the next day, I had a message waiting from her that got my attention. "What part would you like to see next?" she asked. It was a challenge, and I didn't want to let her down. Yet I was still worried about going too far. This game was getting very intense and I didn't want to make a mistake now. I paced around in my office for a few minutes before composing my reply. Then finally I sat down at my computer. "Show me your pussy," I wrote back.

I got my reply by noon. "Do you want to see my pussy because you want to see how wet I become when you look at me and how hard my clit gets?"

This was getting good. "You know I do," I wrote back. "Show me your wet pussy, Alice, and your hard clit. I want to see. Come to my office this afternoon at 5:00 and show me."

It was a challenge to teach that afternoon with Alice in the back of the room. Her expression was bland, but whenever I looked at her, I found myself thinking---even if for just a fleeting instant---of her wet pussy. It was too much. Shortly after class, I got a message from Alice. I opened it with trembling hands. "I'll be there." was all it said.

I worked out that afternoon to distract myself and to pass the time. I knew that I really needed to be grading some papers, but that wasn't going to be possible. I could hardly wait for the end of the day to come. As before, Alice was a bit late. But this time I knew she would come. "Yes?" I called out innocently when I heard her knock at my door. She came in wearing a nice blouse and a short skirt.

"Hello." I said, but as before she was silent. Immediately she sat down in the other chair. She looked at me, making eye contact. I looked at her. There was no sound except our breathing.

"Show me." I said softly.

Suddenly she lifted up her legs slightly and spread open her knees. Then she pulled up her skirt to display herself to me. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and my eyes were greeted with a beautiful view of her exposed genitals. As I looked, she spread her knees even higher and wider to open herself to my gaze.

A forest of light, blond hair sprouted in a thick triangle on her mound and spread down over her labia in a generous tangle. Her inner lips were unusually large and looked like the wild petals of a rare flower in full bloom---complete with an inviting fragrance. They glistened with her excitement, and it was obvious she was aroused.