Thank you so much for your comments on the first installment, I hope this next one is an improvement and it leaves off where the first one ended. Please continue to make suggestions because this is my first time having a go at writing stories. Also, please do not contact me for any other purpose than to discuss the story or suggestions. Do not use the material without my consent. Thanks!
-H
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I needed the weekend to get over my embarrassment of having been caught re-living an intimate moment with my ex. Embarrassed? No, I was absolutely mortified. Sure, the class I teach requires people to be comfortable talking about their experiences and so on, but I have to remain the cool and collected professor. Always prepared to handle any question or concern that a student might have. As a teacher, you tend to lose the rest of your identity. You simply are just a teacher, nothing more. An asexual loner who spends most of his or her days with a nose buried in textbook after textbook. Social life? Friends? No way, not teachers. What would my students know about my sex life? Other than the fact that I was open with my sexuality from the beginning, they knew nothing.
I used to think like my students, too. I never thought about my teachers outside the classroom. What their hobbies were or if they had a favorite activity to do on a snow day. Did I ask any of my teachers? Absolutely not. Did I care to? Not even in the slightest. My teachers weren't human in my eyes, they were just soulless caches of information that only existed to grade me harshly and critique everything I did.
In thinking about my behavior as a student over the weekend, I began to feel a little depressed. I wondered if my students felt the same way about me. I was curious if they ever thought about what I was like outside of the classroom. Hell, if they even wondered what I looked like in clothes that weren't business suits or skirts. Have they thought about the class so far and gotten anything out of it yet? Have they applied any lessons I might have taught them to their personal lives? Did I teach them anything at all? Or are they simply spitting out what I've stuffed into their brains?
Wait a minute- why do I care? I'm an fully functioning, well-rounded adult. These minute details are irrelevant because I had a job to complete. What's more important is that I need to not let that embarrassing moment between Kenzie and I distract me. Kenzie had finally agreed to come see me after class once a week for a quick tutoring session. I have to be able to be around her and not feel my face flush again.
I'm sure she noticed how red I was, I bet she laughed at me all the way to her next class.
Obviously I was unable to comfort myself.
The weekend was amazing aside from the internal struggle I was experiencing. An old high school friend of mine came back into town and invited me out to my favorite gay nightclub about 20 minutes from my apartment. It's a great place, not too big, not too small, and the crowd always changes so you get to see a new face every time. I, however, am a very familiar face around those parts. I befriended the owner, Mike, who is a big, burly-looking man with a long and curly black beard. He always welcomed me with a smile and every time before I left he took a shot with me before sending me on my way.
So, Saturday night I met my friend for a quick bite before we made our way over to the club. From the outside you can always here the pulse of the bass of whatever song the DJ is playing at that time. That pulse is infectious. After one or two drinks, your body can't help itself but give in. Mine certainly always gives in. I love to dance, and I think I dance quite well if I do say so myself. Well, if you need proof I'll estimate I get asked to dance maybe 13 times a night, and those are the number of people who ask. Some tend to ask more than once, mind you.
I unintentionally swallowed my vodka martini down in two large gulps. I just needed to release some of that negative energy I was carrying around with me over Kenzie and my ex and class. My butt made it to the dance floor in .46 seconds, and nearly a minute later a very tall exotic woman started to close in on me. I froze in place, this woman had a good 4 inches on me even in my high heels! She had thin braids of hair that tumbled down to her shoulders. Very dark caramel colored skin and the darkest eyes I've ever seen on a person. Her full lips were slightly parted and I could see her light pink tongue doing push-ups inside her mouth. She was wearing a white tank-top that hung so low I could've sworn her breasts would fall out at any moment. Her jeans clung to her long legs like a second skin. She moved slowly and methodically through the crowd and never took her eyes off me for a second.
Oh dayum, Lord help me, please because I don't think I have the willpower to resist this one.
I was still frozen in place staring wide-eyed at this beautiful creature in front of me. Her tongue still moving inside her mouth and her lips still parted. She just stared at me for what felt like an eternity, a stare which completely dismantled my cool persona I try to maintain when I socialize at these places. I stood their like a mannequin waiting to be positioned and moved in whichever way she pleased. She moved in even closer to me, so close that her nose was resting on my forehead and I could feel her soothing calm breath on my face. She was completely in control and I was a fumbling idiot just standing there.
Is she gonna kiss me? Should I kiss her? Omg, what do I do?
We stood their facing each other for maybe 4 minutes, neither of us touched the other. We just stared. My senses were going wild because this girl smelled like a heavenly combination of lavender and cucumber, and her soothing breath eventually calmed my nervous staggered breathing as well. The bass was still flowing, and you know I can't resist that pulse for too long, so eventually I started to move again. Starting from my breasts I began to roll my body into her in a wave-like fashion, and her body melded with mine as we began dancing together.
My eyes never left hers, like there was some invisible magnet that made it painful to look away. Our bodies keep rolling and rubbing against each other, I spread my legs so her left leg fit in between them and my right thigh fit in between hers. Then, a sudden jolt of warmth rushed to my head and my heart skipped several beats. She put her hands on my hips and gained control of my movements that way. She slowed our dancing down, we matched to a rhythm that was not coming from the DJ booth, but from my very excited, and very needy slit.
I felt a strong force pulling me towards her and it took me a minute to realize that it was her hands pulling me closer. Our noses were nearly touching and when you're that close to someone, it's only natural to go in for the kiss. But my eyes could not pull away from her intense gaze, the magnetic energy was too strong so I held back and just let her run the show. We didn't speak, I didn't even ask her name, we just danced and grinded for what only felt like a few minutes, but was actually an hour or so. I could feel my slit was absolutely drenched probably through my clothes. I needed relief, I needed to come, and this must have reflected in my eyes and my exotic dance partner noticed.
"You come home wit me, yes?" Her English was broken, accent maybe from the Caribbean or West Indies. I've always found it so sexy how non-native English speakers can turn a question into a command because they don't know quite how to phrase proper questions.