Getting Her Out Of My Head

I sat in my office and tried not to think about the last class I had just taught. I enjoy teaching, and this summer's group of bright, eager young faces was especially fun, a break from my regular routine of working in my field. One face was just too bright though. Rebecca. Tall and willowy, with long auburn hair and a graceful figure, she was just too attentive, too nice, and too eager.

But eager for what, I wondered. Was she really looking at me with such hunger in her eyes? The boys swarmed around her, but she seemed uninterested in them. She never asked a question in class, but always found something relevant to ask afterwards. Sometimes I would stay ten of fifteen minutes after each session talking with her. She was bright and intelligent and oh so charming. I thought she was charming. Maybe she was just being naturally herself. Maybe she had no hidden desires to make love to another woman. No, not just any other woman. Me.

"Lori," I thought, "get that girl out of your head."

Sitting back in my office chair, I closed my eyes, but Rebecca would not get out of my head. I imagined her out of class, wearing something summery and light, walking in a field, the breeze wafting around her, catching her dress between those long legs and molding it to her body.

"Lori," I said to myself again, "do not be thinking of that girl naked." Yes, think of her as that girl, not a woman with a name, but as a silly school girl with an infatuation. A silly school girl of 22 with luscious full lips and bright eyes that looked at me so intently when I spoke in class but never seemed to catch mine for long in our talks afterwards. A silly school girl standing in a field with the high grass wafting in the breeze as she slipped the thin straps of her dress down to bare her breasts. Oh, such loveliness as I saw her nipples revealed to me.

My eyes shot open and I sat upright in my chair.

This was not good. I could not be imagining my student like this. No, no, no, no. Bad Lori. Bad.

But then as class ended and the students broke out to do their field research projects, I found myself missing her. I liked Rebecca. I liked her quick mind and the questions she asked and the talks we shared. I liked being her mentor, sharing my knowledge, expertise and experience with her. And then came time for our update meeting. The whole class reassembled and there she was looking so fresh and clean and pure. Surely she was not pure. A girl of 22 was bound to have had lots of opportunities to do anything she ever wanted to be, anything but pure. Still, she looked so sweet and demure.

Oh, fresh and clean and pure Rebecca. I gave up telling myself not to think about her and let my fantasies run away with themselves. I was with her in the field, helping her out of that ridiculously sexy dress that was really nothing more than a simple sundress until Rebecca wore it. I was leaning to kiss her, feeling the warmth of her bosom on mine as our arms found one another. Pulling her too me, my own breasts hot with passion and desire.

My fingers would find their way into my panties, down down down until they touched my clit. Softly rolling it, I let my mind see Rebecca easing her dress all the way off, then reaching to unbutton my blouse, pushing it off my shoulders, arms around me to unclasp my bra.

Coffee, I decided. Coffee was nice and safe and there was nothing wrong with asking a student to have a cup of coffee. Besides, I was mature and confident. My career demanded it. I had to hold my own in a competitive world. At coffee, I could use all my skills and experience to see just what this girl was up to with her questions and attention. I had been with a woman or two. Sexual experimentation. Fun. Touching the forbidden. Well, maybe pure Rebecca had too. Maybe it was not such a big deal to seduce her at all.

Oh, but it was. I sighed as my fingers slipped inside of me, pleasing myself as I imagined Rebecca touching me with her slender fingers. Would she be shy and demure as a lover, or raw and adventurous, ready for anything? Oh, the wicked wicked thoughts I enjoyed until our next seminar meeting.

Asking her to coffee was so easy. She practically jumped at the chance. I began to feel more confident. I could make any overture to her seem most innocent. If she was not interested, what would a subtle comment be taken as but light, airy conversation? We arrived separately. I made sure to dress conservatively, professionally. My blonde hair was pulled back, and I wore my glasses instead of contacts. The linen suit I wore was light, but proper, even if the skirt was a bit short. Under my white blouse, I wore my laciest sheer bra, thinking, if the moment was right, I might just brush the jacket aside and arch my back just the right way.

Rebecca was charming as usual. She was dressed properly for a meeting with her instructor, crisp shorts and a sleeveless blouse. She wore her long hair pulled back, exposing the slim line of her throat so adorably. We sat across from each other at an outdoor café and talked of her field work and my career and things that someone about to enter it might expect to encounter. At one point, she laid her hand on the table, and I found a reason to lean forward and lay mine on hers as I made a point. I let it linger for a moment. I looked at her. She looked back, but did not move her hand. She didn't draw it away. She didn't do anything.

I was so frustrated. Was she interested or not? One moment I was sure she was. The next, I was sure she wasn't. I decided not to pull back my jacket and arch my back for her and show off. It no longer felt like such a free and easy thing to do casually. This was not just some casual pick-up. I could not come on to her as I might if we had met in a social situation. No, I was her teacher and she was my student and even thought we were both adults, if I made sexual overtures to her that she was not eager for, it could end my teaching career. I only taught these summer seminars, but word of impropriety might get back. Just what I needed, Lori the Lezzie rumors circulating among all the men I worked with. Or worse, the women. And I am not a lesbian. I just wanted to make love to this one incredibly beautiful and smart and desirable woman. That hardly even makes me bi.

Taking my hand away, we finished our coffee and ran out of things to say. As we stood, she posed herself so disarmingly that I found there was no proper way to say goodbye other than to hug her. So I did. Nothing wrong with a hug.

Oh, to have Rebecca in my arms. Mmmmmmmmm. I didn't want to let go. My arms slipped around her and she came into them. I could feel her breasts moving on mine as we came together. I felt the softness of her under her clothes. Her cheek was warm on my own as we held onto one another. I never wanted to let go. But I knew I should. I broke it off a little sooner than I needed to. It had gone on longer than a goodbye hug should, but not long enough to be the parting of lovers. I wanted to give her something to think about.

After the next seminar meeting, at which we both acted reserved and aloof, she paused for a moment to ask one of her regular series of questions. She seemed shy. Why shy? I pretended I didn't have time to chat and suggested we meet again for coffee. She agreed with a vigorous nod of her head. "Tuesday afternoon?"

"Tuesday," she agreed, her pretty green eyes rising to meet mine as she smiled.

Collecting my things, I hurried out to my car. What was I going to do with myself until Tuesday? Why hadn't I said Sunday, or Saturday or even right now? I gripped the wheel to stop myself from pulling up my skirt and touching myself right there in the parking lot. Slowing my breathing, I relaxed and finally started the car, driving away for an appointment with nothing and no one and leaving a lovely young woman standing alone in an empty classroom.

On Tuesday, I found myself busy with last minute meetings and appointments. I was planning to go home and change at lunch, slipping in to something less businesslike for our date. Oh, my, I was calling it a date. Bad Lori. Someone should spank you. Maybe a tall, slender auburn haired someone. Oooo la la.

But no. As it was, I was almost late for our afternoon coffee date. I pride myself on punctuality. And I was so glad that I was already at our table when she arrived. She took my breath away.

It wasn't the same sundress I had pictured in my fantasies, but it was awfully much like it. I was watching the door as she came out of the café proper and made her way across the outdoor garden. It was like watching her in slow motion. She reached up to sweep her hair back as she came out the door, and the long, free tresses floated for a moment before falling over her shoulder. Her dress was burgundy, patterned and trimmed with white lace across the bodice, shoulders straps and hem. It came to a vee above her breasts, and there began a line of buttons that ran all the way down. While not tight, it did follow the curves of her figure, hugging the fullness of her breasts and narrowing at her waist before flaring at her hips. She walked lightly, in heeled sandals, long legs striding sensuously, long hair streaming, her long dress flowing around those legs. The dress moved as her body moved, sweeping over her as her skin moved under it.

Oh my, Lori. Whatever are you going to do now?

Suddenly, she was slipping into a chair next to me. Not across the table, as she had last time, but next to me. I could smell her. She was clean and fresh and oh so desirable. Her greeting was breathy and breezy, light. She smiled as she said hello.

"I am so glad we have this chance to talk more," she said. Somehow, she managed to lean over as she did, shoulders raised so that her breasts were pushed together. When she let her shoulders drop, I saw them move back under the patterned burgundy of her dress, conforming on to their own shape and the light confines of that dress. It was not cold, but her nipples were standing up.

We talked for about an hour this time. I had another meeting to attend before the end of the day, so I had to break it off far sooner than I would have liked. When, toward the end, I once more laid my hand lightly over her wrist as she laid it on the table, she turned her hand up, taking my own wrist in her fingers. We sat there, pretending we were not holding hands in public for about five minutes, somehow managing to talk about the most inane things. And of course, we weren't really holding hands. I had my fingers around her wrist. She had hers around mine. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

"Lori," she said finally, as I had made my excuses to leave and finally removed my hand from her arm, "would you like to come over for dinner on Friday?"

I didn't know what to say. Dinner? With Rebecca? At her apartment? Just the two of us? Why wait until Friday?

"I'd love to," I heard myself saying. Rebecca asked the waitress for a pen and was scrawling her address and phone number on a napkin. I noticed her tongue stuck out a little as she fought the pen across the rough surface. We stood, and she handed me the napkin. Trying not to be too obvious, Rebecca had to reach back behind her to adjust her dress where it had stuck to her bottom. I smiled. Then she was in my arms again, her fresh body pressing to mine. It was amazing to feel her moving under her dress. I was sure she was not wearing anything else at all and I wished that I was as free to dress that way as she. Once more, the hug lasted longer than it needed to, but not long enough.

"See you about seven then," she said as we each began to let go. Her lips almost touched my cheek, but I was not sure. I let her precede me out. That dress swished and swayed as did her hips. It bounced as she did.

It seemed like Friday would never come. I was busy all week until Friday afternoon. Then suddenly, it seemed I had nothing to do at all. The hours dragged until it was time for me to go home and get ready for our dinner.

I took a long, steamy bath, luxuriating in the water until it was lukewarm. I shaved my legs, trimmed a bit higher up and then washed my hair in the shower to wash the week's worries away. I dried my hair, leaving it down, and put on just a hint of make-up, then padded around and poked through my closet. What would be just the right thing to wear? I could show up in nothing at all and remove any of the suspense, but it might make getting from my car to her door awkward. I laughed at the very thought. I settled on a little black skirt and white blouse, something a little sheer to wear over a lacy bra. My panties matched. As if anyone was going to see them.

On the way to her apartment, I stopped and got a bottle of wine. Then I decided two might be better. Rebecca had told me she would be making something light, so I chose a good white. The clerk at the store seemed impressed with how I looked, it seemed. He was very anxious to help with my selection.

And then I was parking in front of her apartment building. I found it hard to get out. I sat behind the wheel again, thinking this was just a nice dinner between professional colleagues. That was all it was. Two friends with common interests in their careers and futures. Finally, I got out, carefully holding the bottles of wine and suddenly thinking that two bottles was far too much. Her apartment was on the second story, away from the road and overlooking a field in the back. It took me moment or two to find it.

I rang the bell and waited, trying to find a way to carry two bottles of wine and look nonchalant and airy. It took her a minute to answer the door as she had been in the kitchen. Her auburn hair was pulled back and her pretty face was a little flushed from her cooking, but she looked so adorable. Once again, she wore a sleeveless blouse, but this one was lower cut and the top button was undone. Below it she wore a skirt, very short to show off her long legs. She was barefoot. In a moment, she was ushering me in and hugging me again, molding her body to mine in a friendly greeting that lasted a bit longer than friendship. I could not hug her back as I had a wine bottle in each hand. It was all her, pulling me to her, pressing her softness to mine.

Rebecca laughed and welcomed me in, taking the wine and scurrying away to the kitchen to put it in the fridge. I followed, asking her if I could help in any way, so she handed me one of the wine bottles and began to dig around for an opener in one of her drawers. She reached up to hold her hair back as she did, leaning over, and her blouse gaped from below. Without meaning to, I saw up under it to her breasts hanging down as she bent to find the wine opener. I tore my eyes away just in time as she came up with the corkscrew and handed it to me too. Our fingers brushed together for an instant, then she turned away to get down two glasses from the cabinet. Her little skirt stretched over her bottom as she reached up for them. Was there nothing this girl could do that didn't flaunt her body to me?

"Dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes," she purred. "Let's take our wine out on the balcony." Setting a timer, she turned and led the way.

I poured two glasses and carried them both as I followed her out. Barefoot, she moved with a steady easy grace. Often, I have noticed, tall girls develop a kind of hunched posture as if they were trying to make themselves seem shorter, but Rebecca walked with her shoulders back and a light step.

She leaned over the rail and inhaled deeply of the evening air. Turning to me again, she took her glass of wine and sat in one of the two cushioned chairs on the balcony. I took the other and relaxed back. This was nice. Just two friends having wine in the fine evening air. She asked about my week and it gave us something to talk about as dinner cooked. She got up once to refill our wine glasses. When the timer rang, she sprang up again and rolled with that hip-swaying easy gait of hers back to the kitchen, telling me to stay where I was. In a moment she was back with two little tables that she set next to our chairs. She set them quickly, and then moved off to bring our meal.

When she returned, another of the buttons of her blouse seemed to have come undone. So had her hair. It lay beautifully over her shoulders and over her breasts. She smiled, her back arched as she carried our plates. She set one down on my table, then slipped back into her own chair and set down her plate.

Dinner was delicious, a mélange of rice and chicken with vegetables and light seasonings. She had to rise again to get the bottle of wine and I was startled to realize we were finishing it before dinner was even over. We talked of her week during dinner, just the little things she had done, with me asking questions here and there. She was enjoying her field work and thought she was learning a lot.

When we finished eating, she quickly cleaned up the dishes and asked me if I thought we should open the other bottle of wine. I was feeling a little giddy already, but I took it when she offered it to me and poured us each another glass. We took them out to the balcony again. Once more she stood leaning against the rail, her wine in her left hand and her right, the one closest to me, clutching the rail. I moved to stand next to her, letting my fingers brush lightly over hers. She turned her hand immediately, taking mine in hers as we both looked out at the sunset. Neither of us spoke for a time as we watched the sun go down and held hands and sipped our wine. I waited for her, she waited for me.

Finally, I raised her hand to my lips and kissed her fingers softly. We both had to turn so I could, and our bodies moved within inches of each other. Rebecca seemed intent on watching my lips touch her fingers, but she was breathing deeply. I kissed up her arm, light, dry kisses on her inner arm. She held it up for me. I kissed higher, along the lines of her upper arm, to the edge of her blouse. Rebecca is taller than I, but I was still wearing my heels and that made us close to the same height. I kissed over her shoulder, still holding her arm as she held it up for me to adore. Then my lips were on that delicate, slender neck, my nose brushing her hair away, my lips nipping at her skin, my tongue moving over her.

Rebecca was murmuring softly, little sounds of happiness as she arched her neck, the movement bringing her body into mine, her soft breasts falling to mine. Her arm then went around me and she paused to set down her wine. Then I was in her arms and we were kissing. Sweet, soft kisses, exploring one another's lips, mouths, tongues. I set my wine down too and put my arms around her. I held her too me and just enjoyed being in her arms.

Neither of us wanted to be the first to let go, so we stayed like that for a very long time. Finally, I reached back to take her hand and moved away, breathing deeply.

"Rebecca," I started, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell her that I wanted her desperately. She kissed me again, as if she didn't know what to say either. This time, she kissed my face, my neck and shoulders.

"Lori," she whispered, "I want you so much." I moved to her, in her arms, letting her kiss me, caress me. It felt so wonderful to be touched by her. With a deep breath, she moved away, taking my hand in hers and leading me to her bedroom. Our bodies were in close contact the entire way, we paused to kiss, Rebecca turning to press to me again, then away to lead me on. Her bed was suddenly before us, and she let go of me long enough to draw back the covers, then we sank to it, lying gently on the cool surface, still holding one another and kissing once again.

I had to be bold. We had come down with me on top of her, resting over her body. I drew back, resting on one arm, lolling to one side, still pressed to her. I reached for her, moving to unbutton her blouse. Rebecca arched her back, offering herself, making it easier. My fingers pushed away the material and I lowered my lips to kiss the tops of her breasts over her thin bra. I could see the outline of her nipples through it. It was sexy and sheer and I knew she had worn it for me. Reaching around her back, I unclasped it and drew it from her body, finally exposing her to me. Finally. After all those sweet fantasies, the very woman herself was in my arms. I lowered my lips to her stiff nipples, kissing one, then the other, worshipping her.