Yet another academic year. Yet another dean's speech. The main hall was crowded with all the staff stuffed in there to hear the good word. To be honest, everyone was there for the subsequent traditional free drink. So everyone was polite enough to pretend to listen to the speech, glancing left and right, waving hellos to colleagues but giving little attention to the sacred word.
And I was stuck in there. It was about the tenth time I was hearing that speech and I was bored like hell. I hate those moments when I have to mingle with the crowd of colleagues in the heat of autumn, everyone squeezed against each other, thirsting for a glass of cheap champagne. What I liked about my academic life was quite the opposite of this torture: having my own office at the end of a corridor, giving a few lectures and doing my research work quite freely, and since I'm quite successful in my area, no one gets in my way nor bothers me.
And the speech went on and on as it went every beginning of academic year. I was repressing a yawn, hiding it behind my hand, when I felt someone's back pressing accidentally against my crotch. I looked at whom it was and a young woman turned round and apologised
"Sorry... oh, sorry, prof Thom!" and she smiled widely at me.
It took me little time to remember where I'd seen that pretty face before. Mary. She'd been one of my students a couple of years ago. The kind of student you always appreciate. Particularly clever, witty, respectful, she was always smiling, apparently happy to attend my classes, and what made it even more pleasant, she was quite pretty: not very tall, with blond hair often knotted in a pony tail, deep dark eyes, full lips, perfect skin complexion, a lovely breast that was always discreetly enhanced by classy clothes and a nicely round bum that I always took a glance at when she left my class.
I had been told that after a brilliant graduation she had managed to become the dean's assistant. Her being in the audience of the dean's speech proved at least that she'd become of member of staff. I took a good look at her -- she was as pretty as ever, she'd even matured in a very nice way. I smiled at her and finally replied
"That's ok Mary, no worries. But now that you're a member of staff, don't call me prof! Simply Thom will do."
She grinned, apparently slightly uncomfortable then replied "ok, Simply Thom", then turned back to hear the rest of the speech.
However, she did not step away from me but stood where she was, her back pressed against me. Being slightly taller than she was, I was towering over her shoulder, which gave me a very pleasant plunging view on her white blouse. The sight was clearly giving a new interest to the dean's yearly speech. Her blond ponytail was wiggling against my chest and, although I could not definitely be sure if she was doing it on purpose, she was not so innocently rubbing her magnificent bum against my crotch. For a few seconds, I thought about stepping backwards, but sincerely, this was too enjoyable and even if my head wanted me to step back, my body did not react to any of its orders.
It was so enjoyable that I started to feel the first physical symptoms caused by Mary's behaviour. And the longer the dean's speech went, the deeper she seemed to push back on me, the harder I was getting in my pants. By the time the lengthy speech reached conclusions, there was no doubt Mary had noticed the effect she had on me. And when the crowd moved at last in the direction of the free drinks, she turned and threw me a lovely smile and said
"I shall definitely see you around, Thom!"
And to make sure I had the message, without her eyes leaving mine, she gave a discreet but firm and gentle squeeze on my crotch.
