The College

Chapter 2: The College

1: The Morning - 2:00am to 1:00pm

~~ 2: The College - 1:00pm to 3:00pm

3: The Mall - 3:00pm to 6:00pm

4: The Fantasy Club - 6:00pm to 9:00pm

5: The Nightclub - 9:00pm to 12:00am

6: The Apartment -12:00am to 2:00am

Characters in Chapter 2:

Ali, grad student / performer. (24 years old)

Brittany, junior / cheerleader. (19 years old)

Jenny, freshman / birthday girl. (18 years old)

Sasha, senior / goth. (21 years old)

Rob, professor. (32 years old)

Francis, associate professor. (26 years old)

Louis, associate professor. (29 years old)

Stacie, grad student. (22 years old)

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Chapter 2.1 - 1:00 PM - Rob

Coming back from his lunch break. Rob pulled into the faculty parking lot a little after 1 PM.

He parked in Lot D, for faculty & staff, which along with the adjacent Lot E parking lot for seniors only, was quite a bit closer to the main academic buildings than were the vast underclassmen & visitor parking lots across campus by the sports fields.

The only thing that sucked about Lot D was that it was down a pretty steep hill, with a long set of stairs built onto the grass slope.

With briefcase in hand, he began to climb the steps to campus.

About halfway up there was a break in the staircase where it crossed the access road to the Physical Plant building, a low-slung brick pillbox with fenced in electrical transformers out back.

Rob was a flight or two below the road when the door to Phys Plant opened and a tall gorgeous redhead came out. She was wearing a little cheerleader skirt with white pleats and a tight sleeveless top. Her full crown of tight cherry-red curls flowed down her back and bounced with each step in time.

Rob had seen her before, but didn't know her name. What was she doing at the Physical Plant of all places? The guys who worked there were mostly older than he was; they must have been floored when she came in in her uniform.

Maybe she came up from parking lot and stopped there to ... but Rob couldn't think of a reason for a young goddess like that to visit a den of horny old maintenance men.

The cheerleader started climbing the upper staircase just as Rob rounded the lower one and crossed the road. This is when he noticed that instead of the usual white sneakers with red laces, she had on a pair of high heels, still uniform white, but thin and strappy with a small platform. Wow, he must have been distracted to have missed those initially - few things got his heart beating faster than shapely feet in high high heels - especially shoes like these, mostly open so he could see the arch of her feet against the curved foot bed.

She was about twenty or so steps higher up, and Rob could see every inch of her tanned smooth legs siding past each other as she climbed. The heels made each stride taller, and the toned muscles in her calves flexed below the smooth, tan curves of her skin.

As he looked up, she reached down and casually flipped up the back of her skirt. Rob's breath caught in his throat at the glimpse of her thong cut baby-pink panties - were those white polka dots?!

As he stared, she slipped two fingers on her right hand under the band of her panties, and ran them down along the curve of her ass, pulling out the fabric from where it had been were wedged between her butt cheeks.

The sun was high overhead, and as it bathed down on her perfect body she glowed like an angel, her red curly hair waving in the wind like a fiery halo.

Rob felt a familiar tightness in his pants. His cock was a decent size, and so he usually wore briefs that were on the snug side for this very reason - as a college teacher it just wouldn't do to walk around campus with a tentpole, and since he was burdened with a fascination for young hot girls in teasing revealing outfits, this predicament happened all too often.

At the top of the steps the angel paused and turned, looking out over the staircase and parking lots below. Rob was still climbing towards her, but other than that, there was no one nearby.

All of a sudden she sat down on the top step and put her bag down beside her, pulling out a pair of white sneakers. She reached down and slipped off her platform shoes, and then flexed feet before pulling on a pair of socks.

She had changed completely into her sneakers as Rob approached the top step where she sat. He slowed instinctually as he approached, and stopped altogether when she popped her head up and looked right at him.

"Hi!" she bubbled, "I'm Brittany - what's your name?"

"Rob" he gestured towards himself.

"Will you help me up, Rob?" she held her hand out to him, palm down, and his gaze was caught by her shiny painted nails, bright red with black French tips, and with the colors reversed on her ring finger accent.

For a second he lost himself in the primary purity of that rich cherry red, his heart beating pounding in his chest.

He blinked, and looked up to see Brittany watching him with a sight smile. She arched an eyebrow, and he hurriedly sipped his hand under hers. She let her hand lay in his for the barest moment, and then in one smooth motion pulled herself up and in to him.

All of a sudden Rob found himself face-to-face, almost nose-to-nose, with this stunning model of a cheerleader. She smelled fresh, like a flower garden.

"My hero," she breathed at Rob, and then planted a quick peck on his cheek. She spun around and bent at the waist to grab her bag. She brushed against him ever so slightly as she rose, and he shuddered from the contact.

Then with a sweet, "Thanks Rob!" she was gone, scampering across campus, skirt flapping in the wind.

Rob watched her cross the green for a minute, then adjusted his pants and walked the other direction, toward the Humanities building. He rounded the corner of the massive Science Center, the "Nexus" as the school was trying to call it, and entered the main quad.

A little ways down along the path, there was a group of girls clustered around a cute, cute blonde, in a blue sundress, who was seated on the concrete ledge opening presents. That explained all the giggling together - someone was having a birthday celebration.

As Rob walked closer, he saw a freshman boy on the other side of the path watching the gaggle of girls. He was holding a box wrapped in blue paper with a bow. He obviously wanted to go give his gift to the cute blonde, but seemed a bit intimidated by all of her friends.

Rob was just about even with the girls when one of them spotted the boy, and called out to her friends. They laughed and pointed, and made faces in his direction.

But then the blonde - Jenny, Rob thought he heard one of the others call her - quieted down her friends, and said something Rob could not quite understand. She pointed at the freshman, who had turned bright red from the teasing. Two of Jenny's clique left the group and strode over to the boy. They passed Rob on the path, and the smell of their perfume left a trail in their wake.

Rob was aware as he passed of the two gorgeous girls escorting the boy over toward the others. The taller of the two, dark and Hispanic with tiny curls and lush dark skin was behind the freshman, and Rob heard her give him a slap on the ass.

And then he was turning the corner, walking out of the quad towards the big academic buildings. He wondered idly what the poor boy had brought Jenny, and what he hoped to gain. Seemed to be working out alright for him.

For a flash, Rob envied the boy for being in the middle of all those hot, mean girls - one of his fantasies was to be in the center of a group like that, surrounded by vivacious, exciting girls, each one uniquely beautiful and compelling, all focused on him and his reaction to them.

Only a fantasy, through, sadly. Variations on that scenario showed up in his dreams on occasion - being a rock star surrounded by groupies, or a quarterback in a cluster of cheerleaders. Couldn't really see it happening with a history teacher, though.

Along the left side of the Humanities Building was a gravel alley separating it from the main wing of the much larger science center. As Rob passed between the buildings, he saw a girl in stretch pants leaning up against the side of the Nexus building.

She had pale skin and was wearing high-heeled platform pumps studded with silver spikes all around, and a denim jacket. Her shoulder length hair was dyed black, and she had a smoldering cigarette in between her purple-nailed fingers.

She arched her back with pleasure as she pulled in a mouthful of smoke, then tilted her head up and exhaled with obvious pleasure. The alley was lit from the far side, and every inch and curve of her tightly wrapped body was in sharp silhouette. Rob could even see the black fabric over her ass indenting slightly where she touched the brick wall.

Rob smiled to himself as he walked past the alley and reached the double doors - between this goth beauty, the birthday blonde and cute curly Brittany with her polka-dots, today was shaping up great.

And he still had an hour with Ali to look forward to!

**********

Chapter 2.2 - 1:45 PM - Ali

Ali had an errand to run before going to class. She knew there would be other students taking the test, and Stacie the Prude would be there, so she had contrived a plan to make sure she would get a few minutes alone with Rob at the end to make her pitch. To make him pitch a tent, she thought with amusement.

But she needed him all to herself. She had no problem at all with an audience, and she loved pushing Stacie's buttons, but it she knew it would make Rob uncomfortable. So, alone it would be.

To make that happen, she was on her way to visit the young Professor Francis Anderson, first year associate professor in the Humanities Department.

Francis was one of several men that a more hard-hearted woman, or someone more invested in the traditional BDSM theatrics and pageantry, might call her slaves.

But Ali didn't think of them that way at all - to her they were just nice, extremely co-operative and helpful gentlemen, who happened to very much enjoy her company when she was in full on alpha-whirlwind mode. She liked the attention, and they certainly did too.

She was sweetly dominant towards them, for sure, but they all loved it when she got up in their faces and smothered then with her forceful sexuality. The only guys she cultivated into her long-term tease partners had decided submissive tendencies - she wouldn't be able to get away with some of the shit she pulled if not.

Plus domming out was fun for her too - a stress release sure, but also as good rehearsal for work. She sometimes workshopped scenario ideas for her paying club clients by using her little stable of guys as guinea pigs.

One of the reasons Ali was up there with Stephanie among the most consistently requested providers at "Flights of Fantasy" is that she was known for her polished, creative and devastatingly erotic sessions.

Frances she had acquired two years ago, when she was a sophomore and he was a grad student. He had been T.A.ing a class of hers on Economics, and she had taken it a liking to him.

She had just started working for "Flights of Fantasy", and club's superstar Stephanie had taken her under wing, adopting her and molding her into a world-class "teasenatrix".

During her first two weeks she had done several training sessions with Stephanie and one of Steph's regulars, a wiry guy in his 40s named Donnie. Donnie had his own unique fetish, for dressing up mannequins of all random things, but Stephanie had approached him one Monday and offered him a complementary session the following day plus a four-hour marathon on the weekend if he would act as a demonstration subject for Ali. Donnie agreed immediately - Steph was not the kind of girl guys said no to.

He was the perfect subject too; hypnotized by their vamping, he watched with rapt attention as Stephanie demonstrated trick after wily feminine trick, and Ali tried to play along. Donnie was so glued to their every movement that Ali learned much by watching his unconscious reactions, what drew his gaze, or made him gasp in breath.

They did one hour during the long session where Steph made Donnie describe in minute detail everything he was feeling, a stream-of-consciousness narration of his arousal.

Stephanie taught her how to capture, captivate and control male attention and desire. Ali was naturally flirty but Steph was a practiced professional, and the sessions that week became a true master class.

After those initial trainings sessions, she felt confident enough to branch out, and began to explore and develop her style, finding a balance between of flirtatious and dominant, so that every interaction contained some measure of both. She took her own clients, and continued to double with Steph.

Sometimes they went out on what they called "Safari", driving down into the city with a stack of glossy business cards and doing bits of their act on susceptible looking guys. Single guys usually, but they had a long-running but good natured rivalry between themselves over who could ensnare guys who were out on dates, or out with wives but in such a way that their female companion was unaware.

Francis was her own project though. She had never even told him about the club. He had simply been in the right place at the right time, in that classroom with her while her sexuality and confidence were exploding outward, and she had enjoyed cultivating his lust, filling him with mad desire.

Over the course of the semester he had ridden the roller-coaster that came of being the focus her sensual spotlight, first blissed satisfaction bordering almost on shock due to the colossal levels of arousal, tension and release that she subjected him to, and then of course there was the inevitable falling hard in love with her.

There followed a brief funk when he realized that he would only be a moon in her orbit, never the sun, and then an futile attempt to quit her cold turkey, but she worked him past that into an easy sort of relationship on her terms, with one particular kind of "benefit" for him that made it all worthwhile: every month or two now she swooped in for a day, or even a particularly intense couple of hours and unleashed a seductive tease offensive, melting his mind and eventually body, and then flitted away, leaving him dazed and drained and happy, with enough material to fuel his dreams of her until she appeared again.

She was certain that his choice to become an associate professor at the same college he attended directly after getting his Masters degree was so that he could continue to see her.

It had been seven weeks since she slipped out of the auditorium's dressing room, leaving him shirtless, clutching the torn strips of blue fabric that had been a classy but daring sheath-tight gown - after the January Term closing ceremony on stage, she had pulled him backstage into the dressing room and, moving and wriggling the whole time, backed him into a corner, had given him what amounted to a standing lapdance while talking a mile-a-minute about how much she loved her new dress, which she had just bought. She rubbed up against him, moving constantly while she made him describe all the ways that her dress accentuated her beauty and made him feel the fabric with his hands, on her shoulders and stomach and the small of her back, and the sides of her chest.

Then, came the flip - claiming that his jeans had somehow damaged the fabric, she threw a faux pout-tantrum & forced him to cut the dress off of her body into shreds with a pair scissors, leaving her dressed only in an electric hot-pink bra and panty set.

She piled the perfumed fabric shreds all over him, talking explicitly in the same singsong flirty cadence about how everyone would stare at her body in her eye-catching bright tiny underwear when she had to leave. He offered her his button down shirt, and she squealed in thanks and French kissed him energetically as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Draping his shirt loosely over her shoulders, unbuttoned, she waltzed out as he stood down dumbfounded, hard as a result of rock. As the door closed, she heard him begin to frantically stroke his cock with the fabric.

It was all a little light-hearted ruse of course - she had a bag of sweats stashed in a room down the hall, and the swanky looking dress was from the "Just Visiting" rack at the club, free and disposable. But she had learned from Stephanie that it always heightened the erotic energy to raise the stakes a bit.

Sometimes she let him cum while she was there, but usually she either left him to finish himself, or every so often arranged for someone else to tag in.

Anyway, back in the present, his office was in a side hallway on bottom floor of the Humanities Building, one of three that shared a communal reception area. Ali stepped into the common area, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

She took a moment to compose herself, and then opened the door and walked in like she owned the place. Which in a way, she did.

Francis was reading papers in a folder on his desk. She strode to the desk and leaned over it, placing both hands on the folder he was looking through. She squeezed her arms in to push her breasts up and together.

"Hi my dear!" Ali greeted him enthusiastically.

"H-h-hi again," he stammered, "it's been ..."

He couldn't quite manage to lift his head past the presentation of cleavage.

"Francis, darling, up here." Ali commanded.

As she spoke it she shook her chest back and forth slightly, causing her breasts to move and shift, and leaned closer.

He tried to wrench his gaze up, but the smell of the perfume she had spritzed between her breasts distracted him, kept his focus on the smooth even skin of her chest, and the shadow where they plunged down into her shirt, and the rich, hot pink ornamented stitching on her bra.

Ali leaned in until his face was just inches away from her heaving chest. Then she grasped his chin, firmly, and pulled his head up until they were eye to eye. She lessened her swaying, but kept some motion, knowing he could see it out of his peripheral vision.

"Francis, my darling, my dear. My pet. Francis, I need you do something for me," Ali commanded.

"Yes." He hurriedly answered. "Of course, Ali, anything. What do you wan- "

He broke off when there came suddenly a knock at the door.

"Francis," came a man's voice from the outer office.

Ali kept her grip firm on his head and her eyes stared intently into his.

"Who's that?" she demanded, softly but intently.

"It's Louis - he's an associate in the math department. We play Settlers of Cataan togeth -"

Abruptly Ali pulled Francis's head toward her, cutting him off, and with one hand covered his mouth while she put her entire wet mouth around his ear, swirling her tongue into his sensitive ear canal and making his stiffen his spine with tension.

She released his ear with a pop, and nuzzled her nose in it briefly before murmuring "Under the desk, my darling, and quiet," as she pressured his shoulder down.

Francis pushed his chair out of the way and scuttled down to crouch under his desk. He had an eyeful of Ali's shapely feet inside her open platform heels. Impishly, he leaned forward and began to lick her left ankle, teasing his tongue around and under the strap. Ali usually kept pretty tight control over the activities when they were together, but she allowed his initiative from time to time.

Ali, for her part, felt his tongue running around her feet and smiled at the gesture of affection. He would stay quiet out of sight until she got him.

A knock came again, and from the other side Ali heard the voice say, "Francis?" again. Then "Are you in there? I've got your book."

Ali hurriedly adjusted her bra again, centering and accentuating the skin she was showing, and then called out brightly, "Come in!"