Speech 235 was the last required class in my humanities sequence in my Bachelor's degree program. I wasn't the best at public speaking, so I figured taking it might help me in the business world, if not socially. As a sophomore, I was still trying to figure out what I should major in anyway, so something people-oriented seemed workable.
Class met in one of the newer buildings on campus -- a steel and glass creation of about three stories with floor-to-ceiling windows, charcoal-colored carpeting, and ample wall space. The faint smell of construction materials was still present, that's how new it was.
"Public Speaking A" was held in the middle of the afternoon, at around 1:30 -- not right after lunch, but close enough that my eyelids could get a bit heavy at times, especially if a speaker wasn't riveting. There were about a dozen of us. The instructor was what you might expect for a 200-level course -- middle-aged, laid-back, and thankfully not fusty.
In the third week, another student joined the class. I normally notice hot guys on campus, and this guy was my type. He was about 5-10, just shy of 6 feet, with a thin but not scrawny build. A short-sleeve, pattern print tee, colored jet black, hung off his upper body with the logo of a local punk band on the front. Completing his outfit were faded jeans with holes dotting the leg at random points. He had dirty blond, wavy, kind of frizzy hair, hazel eyes, and a lean build.
Something else I noticed as he was walking to the vacant seat to my right -- his shirt was just a wee bit on the short side. The lower hem was just high enough to expose the slightest sliver of his lower belly, which called to me as he made his way past me. I wanted to stare but resisted.
"Sorry, didn't get the name?" the instructor said to this new guy.
"Oh, Jory. It's Jory. Just signed up late last week."
The instructor surveyed his class list, slightly furrowing his brow. "I must not have an updated list," he said.
"It might be on the last page," Jory responded.
The instructor flipped to the last page of the list. "Oh, yes -- there you are," he said. "Welcome."
I gave Jory a sideways glance and nodded hello. He nodded back, with a slight smile.
It's a funny thing about me and Scorpios. I swear, my body could be a full-size detector for them. Scorpio energy is all about sexuality, but it's not always the kind of sexuality that's out of control like a wildfire. Sometimes it can just be subtle, pinpointing my shaft even as I feel my skin crawl with anticipation. This was the energy I was getting from Jory and he'd been in the room for just three minutes.
Presently, the instructor started the class, talking about the value of public speaking, and its history -- how it started, how it's changed with media, the entertainment world, everything.
Perhaps 15 minutes into this discourse, Jory decided this instructor's discourse wasn't sufficiently fascinating. As the instructor was strolling the room, writing on the chalk board, Jory rared back in his chair, arching his back and stretching...stretching until his slightly too-short tee rode up, revealing his stomach and a lovely, oval innie bellybutton. His navel was an inch wide vertically, and was just wide enough to be able to hold a full liquor shot of brandy.
He held the crest of his stretch for a good half-minute, long enough for me to give a side-eye glance at his navel. I wanted to give a full-on look, but I didn't want to be obvious.
For the rest of that class, I wasn't really tuned in to the instructor. I was quietly watching Jory, hoping he might stretch a second time. It didn't happen.
The end of that hour came, with the room rising in a sort of scattered unison, and all of us leaving the room. In the hallway, Jory approached me.
"Hey, what do you think of this class?" he asked me.
"Oh, it's okay so far," I replied. "I need this for my humanities credit, but I also want to get better at public speaking."
"Cool," Jory said, simply, nodding.
With us facing each other now, rather than sitting side by side, I found myself stirring even more in Jory's presence. He had the kind of build that just...invited hugging. He wasn't an ogre, he wasn't a bone crusher. He was very guy-next-door. And, while he didn't exactly strike me as someone studious, he wasn't a jerk, either.
I found out that he was a senior, which surprised me. He took the class to fill out his electives and to get his full 15 hours for the term. This was probably a "blow-off" course for him, which explained his very casual demeanor. But, of course, he might have been that way with everything in his life anyway.
Speech 235 met three days a week -- Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. People being creatures of habit, I usually sat in the same seat, as did all the other students. We didn't have assigned seats -- this was college, not high school or grade school. Thankfully, Jory chose to sit in the same seat next to me, on my right, each time class convened.
We got our first speech presentation assignment about two weeks in. We would each need to select a topic from the list the instructor provided, and prepare a 3- to 5-minute presentation on it. The topic of modern technology caught my eye, so that was what I chose.
I'm usually pretty good at putting structured presentations together. I always have been. But this go-round, I found my mind straying a bit, thinking about Jory -- about how cute he was, how hot he was, and how I wanted to be intimate with him, and that lovely, flat, navel-adorned stomach of his.
The week for our first speech presentations arrived. I was slated to speak on Wednesday, and my speech would come just after Jory's. Jory, interestingly, chose cars -- as in racing cars -- as his twist on the transportation topic.
Jory stepped up to the front of the class. Today, he was in a dark blue tee, V-necked, with no pattern, and coffee-colored khaki slacks. The light wrinkling of both gave him a very relaxed look, maybe too relaxed for giving serious discourse on anything. But he spoke anyway.
And, again, his just slightly-too-short tee gently swayed as he spoke and gesticulated, slim flashes of belly animating his speech, showing, then not showing, then showing again, then hiding again. I'm pretty sure I was the only one watching Jory's subtly gyrating waist, and I felt my crotch area stir.
We were allowed to bring one or two index cards with us, to speak from, and to serve as reminders for our topics. My turn came, and I got up and began speaking...about computers. About how they started out as mechanical adding machines, and how they advanced to electric circuitry, and then large-scale integrated circuits, and so on.
The other students were generally polite, and politely watching. Jory was listening also, but at one point, he couldn't help himself, and quietly leaned back in his chair, pulling his arms up and behind his head, and stretching so his shirt rode up and his oval navel showed.
For a split second, I hesitated, but not enough to be embarrassing. It was, however, long enough to register Jory's lovely navel in the video camera of my mind. I was able to continue, but I found my eye gaze darting furtively back to him. He had a faint smile now.
I managed to finish. The written critique I got from the instructor said my general presentation was good, but to be sure to spread my eye contact around the audience. I knew that, but I also knew what -- who -- took me off course.
Jory caught up with me a week later after class.
"Can we study together?" he asked me. "I feel just a tiny bit lost."
"Oh, of course," I answered. "But from your first speech, I'd say you're doing just fine."
"Aw, thanks, I appreciate that," he said back. "I'm actually a little bit uptight in front of people."
"I never would have guessed. I like how...animated you are."
