New Years Resolution 6

"New Year's Resolution"

"I really enjoyed having sex with you last night, Daniel Traynor," smiled the leggy brunette, her chestnut curls cascading over her shoulders.

Dan looked up from his book. A vision of loveliness beamed suggestively at him, one eyebrow arched in blatant sexual challenge. Her slim frame quivered slightly, causing her short skirt to sashay side-to-side with a hint of eroticism.

Dan peered over his glasses. No need to correct his near-sightedness from this cozy distance. He tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her perfect pert cleavage.

She leaned in toward him. Ruby lip gloss adorned her full lips, a stark contrast to the pale ivory of her perfect teeth. A random but exquisite beauty mark dotted the left corner of her mouth.

"Do you think we could do it again soon, big boy?" she whispered huskily. "And I do mean BIG."

Dan's groin began to stir. His heart skipped a beat. He made brief eye contact with her, but his eyes couldn't remain on her face. That lean-in was too tempting. He peeked down her shirt, the dainty wisps of a lacy bra denying his gaze its full measure of satisfaction.

Her breasts heaved with apparent arousal, her nipples straining through the lace and against the clingy cotton top that gleefully grasped her lovely melons. None of her succulent curves escaped Dan's now-unabashed gaze.

The fresh aroma of her shampoo danced into his nostrils. He reached toward her, ready to bury his face in her cleavage, ready to squeeze her perfectly rounded ass cheeks in a wanton lower body embrace, ready to slide his fingers lazily under her tiny skirt and up her inner thigh toward her steaming core.

"Ashley..." he murmured, as his erect penis saluted her luscious body, its glistening head peeking above the constriction of his sweat pants.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"

Dan shook his head, his mind a blurred tangle of confusion.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"

Dan struggled to recall where he was, what was going on.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"

He reached out with his left arm and slapped the "Snooze" button on his alarm clock. With one final shake of the cobwebs from his addled brain, Dan looked at the LED display. It was 7:15 AM and time to get ready for class. But first, it was time to wipe the drool off his pillow and the warm, sticky ejaculate from his sheets.

******

"The extra help session for first semester finals will be held this Saturday at 10AM, room 201. Bring your questions and wear your thinking caps," joked Professor Randall. "Be there or be square." His sense of humor was firmly entrenched in the 1960's heyday of his own days as a law school student.

As most members of the class meandered toward the exits, several keeners hung around to ask questions. It was their desperate attempt to impress their instructor. After two and a half years in law school, they still failed to grasp the fact that blind scoring of exams meant that no amount of brown-nosing would affect their grades, especially since the final exam counted for 100% of their marks. But perhaps some strand of relational affinity would help when it came time to provide references to prospective employers.

Dan eased his way toward the gaggle of students lined up by Professor Randall, trying to envisage a robust question to ask. He actually had no desire to impress the prof. But he needed an excuse to stand in line behind Ashley Martin, admiring her Pavlovian ass. It was "Pavlovian" as in Pavlov's experiment – inducing salivation in those attuned to its effect.

Two classes a week for an entire semester, Dan had been following Ashley up to the front after class, watching her hips sway while her long, dark hair would pendulum across her back. If Dan's covert activity constituted stalking, at least it was limited to the classroom.

As he'd watch and try not to gawk, his mind was always battling between lust and law – enjoying the view of Ashley's lovely derriere while trying to conceive some fine point of jurisprudence from the lecture on which to debate Professor Randall. The old jurist had long ago abandoned the Socratic method during class time, but he still enjoyed jousting with the keeners after class.

In the event that Ashley might hear his question, Dan wanted to impress her with his fertile mind, not just add an air of legitimacy to his voyeurism. And speaking of fertility and his mind, Ashley's jean-clad furrow seemed to just be screaming to be plowed this fine December morning. No matter that the season was wrong; Dan just would sow his seeds whenever she gave him the chance.

As the stream of questioners dissipated, only Ashley and Dan remained. Ashley positioned herself to speak privately with the old legal eagle. Dan strained to hear.

"Doctor Randall, you've made a pretty big deal about the meaning of the word 'verbal' in the legal sense," Ashley chirped, her words dripping with syrup.

"You're mistaken – I'm not a 'Doctor,' Ms. Martin," he answered, "'Professor' will do just fine."

"Sorry, sir," she stammered, "it's just that I have so much admiration for you..."

"I'm flattered," he replied, "But I think I've corrected you on this before. In any event, please proceed with your question."

"Well," she smiled, twirling a strand of chestnut hair around her middle finger, "you've stressed that 'verbal' in contract law can mean either 'oral' or 'written', right?"

Dan leaned in for better acoustics as Ashley's voice dropped. Fortunately, neither she nor their teacher noticed his blatant eavesdropping.

"Yes, that's right," responded the professor.

"So we have to be more specific, right?"

"If we want no ambiguity, yes."

Ashley giggled and feigned embarrassment. "So, as far as your Advanced Contracts class, it's appropriate to talk about ensuring fulfillment under an oral agreement, right?" She flashed him a lascivious grin.

Professor Randall wasn't born yesterday. And that's not a reference to his advancing age. He recognized a proposition when he heard one. And he wasn't biting. His tenure and accumulated pension and benefits were far too lucrative to risk on a fling with a baiting co-ed, no matter how seriously bodacious her bod.

"Sorry, Ms. Martin, but let's leave some ambiguity in this case. And there'll be no such agreements in relation to my Advanced Contracts class," countered the wise old geezer.

Ashley looked crestfallen. Her lower lip pooched out into a pout, its ruby gloss glistening in the fluorescent overhead lighting. She spun on her heel and left.

Dan stared at her ass as she flounced out. Turning to his prof, his carefully reasoned question completely abandoned his mind. After a moment of deer-in-the-headlights panic, he managed to sputter, "Good move, Professor Randall."

The old man smiled and winked, then broke into a low chortle as Dan made a beeline for the exit.

******

"What a bitch!" spat Alyssa, frowning above her Tina Fey look-alike glasses. She pushed her tray across the table. An empty glass toppled onto her spoon with a loud tinkle.

"I don't see the problem," Tom replied, his eyes fixed on the curvaceous feminine figure across the cafeteria, tits jiggling as she strode toward them. His gaze followed her as she stopped at a nearby table. Tom felt a sharp elbow jab him in the ribs.

"She's got YOU under her spell, too," accused Alyssa.

"You make her sound like a witch," Tom answered, leering lustily as Ashley Martin slowly bent over to gingerly place her tray on the tabletop.

"Replace the 'w' with a 'b' and you've got it!" responded Alyssa drily. She covered her mouth self-consciously, suddenly realizing that her rising voice might be overheard by the subject of her venom.

"You have to admit, she's a looker," Tom rejoined.

"She's a predator," countered Alyssa, "And she doesn't give a rat's ass about Dan."

Dan Traynor, Alyssa Beauchamp and Tom Stanley had been "The Three Amigos" throughout law school. They studied together, shared meals in the cafeteria together, kept one another sane. Dan and Tom had been roommates since the start of second year, and Alyssa had moved down the hallway in the same apartment building.

One other thing the three did together was share secrets. Alyssa and Tom had long been aware of Tom's infatuation with Ashley Martin.

But there was one secret that Dan shared only with Tom. It was definitely off-limits to Alyssa, no matter how much of a trusted little sister she seemed to be. But alas, we get ahead of ourselves.

"I think she's madly in love with him," Tom laughed, "Just look at her." And look he did.

Ashley was mingling with friends at her table, smiling and chatting amid occasional bites of leafy vegetables and sips of diet cola. Tom well understood his friend's fascination. He could go there himself if he weren't already romantically attached.

"I'm looking," interjected Alyssa, "and I don't see much of any substance. Bitch... "

"She's thinking about him," Tom teased, "It's written all over her face. She's pining for him. She's a thoughtful, caring, selfless individual who's in love with our dear Dan."

"Yeah, and I'm Blake Lively," retorted Alyssa.

Tom smiled and – despite their platonic relationship – sneaked a quick inventory of Alyssa's physical assets. Fairly flat-chested and sporting a somewhat unattractive Miley Cyrus short-cut dishwater blonde hairstyle, Alyssa nonetheless had the advantage of being razor-thin (a "waif" in modeling terms) with a mind and tongue that were razor-sharp. Her freckled face was attractive though not stunning. She chose her spectacles in what appeared to be an attempt to look like a taller, thinner, lighter-haired version of Tina Fey. She had that school marm hidden-charms sexuality going for her.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous," taunted Tom.

Alyssa's cheeks became mottled with crimson. After a momentary hesitation, she said stiffly, "I do not offer fellatio to my male professors in an attempt to secure higher grades."

"Just cunnilingus to your female professors?" Tom quipped.

He should have anticipated the punch in the arm. Her fist was nearly as lethal as her elbow.

"You know I'm no lesbian – just choosy when it comes to guys," she answered. "They can be such jerks, present company not excepted."

"Touché. Alyssa one, Tom zero. But I don't remember you ever having a boyfriend since we started law school."

"Right now, I'm married to my studies," she countered.

"Fair enough. Anyway, Dan doesn't know for sure what Ashley's intentions were in that little episode with old Professor Randall. It's all innuendo and inferences. Dan should talk to her about it. And if she truly likes to suck cock, maybe she'll suck his. God knows he could use the stress relief."

He didn't see the kick to the shin coming. Tom howled in pain. God, Alyssa was one tightly wound and physically dangerous woman. He saw a wide-eyed Ashley Martin staring across the room at his predicament. He managed a smile and a wave.

* * * * * *

Saturday, 9:50AM, Room 201. Dan had positioned himself squarely behind Ashley Martin, awaiting the start of Professor Randall's help session for the Advance Contracts final. Unfortunately, the chair in which Ashley was sitting didn't allow Dan a view of her beautiful hind quarters.

Nonetheless, he was able to observe that she had dreamily tapered shoulders. Her dark locks added an aura of mystery as they cascaded across her shoulders. Dan longed to see that hair cascading across naked shoulders. He longed more so to see naked the other side of those shoulders. To squeeze those melons, to suckle those pert nipples, to...

Ashley suddenly rose – her back still turned toward him – and took a slow, casual feline stretch of those lovely shoulders and slender arms. Her ass was now at eye level with Dan, pushing back in his direction.

His cock stirred unbidden as he noted the word "PINK" emblazoned across the back side of her form fitting sweat pants. I know EXACTLY what's pink under there, Dan mumbled silently in his mind.

Ashley's slow stretch became a slow turn. She looked straight at Dan and flashed him a dazzling smile. Dan gulped and attempted to will his boner to slack back down to size before she noticed. Or maybe it would be better if he sported a monster rod and let her soak it in.

Soak it in. That word "soak" brought to mind her wet, glistening pussy. Let her soak it in. As in: let her bring his stiff rod to her wet slit and impale herself on it, writhing as he buried himself to the hilt in her.

Dan broke their eye contact, embarrassed at what was on his mind. He looked down from her eyes, only to notice that Ashley's vagina clearly was not shaven. The coarse outline of pubic hair against the front of her clinging sweat pants was unmistakable. She sported an unabashed but bearded camel toe. And Dan had noticed from the lineless "PINK" backside of the snug material that there was no way she was wearing panties.

"Um, Dave?" Ashley's question stirred Dan from his libidinous reverie. It took renewed eye contact for him to realize she had directed her question at him.

"Me?" he asked.

"Yes, silly." She grinned and tilted her head.

"Oh. It's, um, Dan, not Dave – but you can call me anything you want."

"Anything I want?" she cooed dreamily, "Very nice line. 'Anything I want.' Priceless! It carries all sorts of connotations. And we both know that the key to the law – as well as more pleasant topics – is interpretation. From this time forward, I dub thee 'Anything I want'..."

It wasn't yet 10:00 in the morning, but Dan's libido was working overtime. He stood up in order to relieve the pressure his cock was putting on his jeans. But Ashley's keen eye grasped the situation and fixed itself squarely on Dan's crotch.

"My, my," she smiled, "Somebody woke up fresh this morning."

Dan didn't know whether to ratchet up the sexual innuendo or feign ignorance. He decided to straddle – uh-oh, not a good choice of word – the middle. "Yeah," he replied with a casual smile, "I did. So shoot me. But you had a question for me? Or at least for 'Dave'?"

Ashley's sapphire eyes twinkled in appreciation of his humor. Or maybe she was appreciating something else. "That's right," she said. "I've noticed that you usually stay after class to quiz Professor Randall..."

Uh-oh, Dan thought. He braced himself, expecting her to reproach him for his semester-long stalking. Or perhaps she'd give him an earful for eavesdropping during her questionable conversation with Professor Randall about fulfillment under oral agreements.

"Um... uh... uh-huh," Dan babbled, suppressing a gulp.

"Well, I take it that you're a pretty serious student – and I was wondering if you might, um, share your CANs with me..."

CANs – law school lingo for Condensed Annotated Notes. The summary each student put together for a semester's worth of notes. Given that the final exam typically counted for 100% of the grade in a course, a good set of CANs was worth its weight in gold.

"Only if you share your can with me," Dan was tempted to say – but he didn't.

Ashley sensed Dan's hesitation. "If you do, I might have a little something for you," she prodded.

Dan's mind leaped into hyper-drive. It was if she was reading his mind! A "little something"? What ELSE could that mean? Dan decided to test the waters. "Perhaps a pleasant solution to my morning freshness problem?" he queried.

Ashley seemed momentarily stunned, but quickly recovered. "Absolutely," she purred, "Let me give you my email address and you can email me your CANs. Then we can settle up right after the exam."

******

It was the day of the final exam. Dan walked toward the Thompson Building with Tom and Alyssa striding beside him. The three of them had studied together until the wee hours of the morning. As they laboriously reviewed their shared CANs, Dan kept looking forward to having Ashley's can shared with him.

"You KNOW she's bluffing you, right?" Alyssa inquired in Dan's direction. Alyssa, the nerdy girl, always the perceptive one.

Dan remained silent, unaware of Alyssa's question, lost in lewd thoughts of Ashley.

Tom seized the moment. "You just need to score your best on the exam, buddy – before you worry about scoring with Ashley."

Alyssa harrumphed as Dan's mind continued to wander, oblivious to the prompting of his two colleagues.

The threesome made their way up the stairs. A half-circle of smokers was huddled together in the cold beside the front entrance, enjoying their last puffs before the dreaded exam. Dan, Tom and Alyssa each subconsciously held their breath as they passed through the blue tobacco fog and entered the building.

Dan found the seat marked "Traynor, D" in the exam room. Alyssa and Tom each moved to their assigned seats. The exam, as usual, was to be open book / open note. Each of them hurriedly set up their books, notes and CANs on their desks. As Dan unpacked his backpack, a feminine hand stroked his forearm.

"I have something hot and wet for you," Ashley whispered in his ear, "I can't wait to give it to you after the exam."

If Dan had any prayer of passing his exam, it seemed to have fled at that moment. He was not the first man who could be accused of thinking with his penis. And he would not be the last. But his erection was not capable of passing his Advanced Contracts exam. And for the next three hours, the synapses of his brain were firing solely between his legs.

After time was called and the exam papers had been collected, Dan's erotic haze began to turn to panic. "Oh, my God!" he thought, "I've flunked the exam!"

But his fears were held in abeyance as Ashley sauntered over to his desk. A neon smile was plastered on her lips, hips swaying lazily from side to side. Dan had more important business than tests at hand. To be exact, the business of testes superseded.

"I've come to settle up!" declared Ashley.

"I've been thinking of nothing else," Dan confessed, the thought of an F on his Advanced Contracts exam sneaking briefly back into his psyche.

"Ready for a little something from me?" she purred, "A little something hot and wet? A scalding solution to your morning freshness problem?"

"Um, you wanna go back to my place? I, um, I let my roommate know we might need, um, some, uh, privacy..." stammered Dan.

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary." Ashley's cobalt eyes flashed laser beams in Dan's direction. "Here – I have these for you." She waved her hand in front of Dan's nose. A couple of plastic cards were clasped between her finger and thumb.

"Wha... what's that?" Dan asked.

"Your payback," Ashley smiled, "Starbucks gift cards. For at least a couple of weeks' supply of java. Hot and wet, something to get your motor revving in the morning."

"Starbucks cards? What the fuck?" Dan hissed.

"No need to get testy," Ashley snorted, "I thought you'd like them. I've been looking forward to giving them to you."

"I've been looking forward to you giving me – something else," Dan jeered, "something like you wanted to give old man Randall."

"Why – why, I have no idea what you mean," countered Ashley, a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

"Oh, fuck," Dan spluttered, "Jeez, Ashley – don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

She whirled away, tears now streaming down her face. Grabbing her backpack, she managed to croak, "Well, anyway, thanks for the CANs."

Tom and Alyssa had been watching from the back of the room. As Ashley passed by them and headed out the door, Alyssa was sure she detected a devious smile on the bitch's lips.

******

New Year's Eve arrived with a blast of winter. Snow blanketed the campus. It would still be a week or so until first semester marks were posted – about the same time as second semester started. Dan was fretful about his Advanced Contracts results.