Cassandra Grace, newly hired lecturer at the University of Colorado, poked absently at the chicken on her plate. Dr. Algernon, her new boss, sat across from her with his politely smiling wife. He had just begun his third story about his days at the research clinic, though Cassandra was honestly losing track.
As he spoke, she idly imagined stripping the man naked and fucking him. It wasn't over any
particular
attraction to the man. It was just a means to make these occasional luncheons more bearable. Not that Dr. Algernon was unattractive--he had a trim form, strong features, and a distinguished salt-and-pepper beard--but it was the man's reserved nature and clean reputation that made him so fun to fantasize over.
"--I think it was in 2002 that I started my first fellowship, and it was only then that I
really
learned how much it was I
didn't
know," he said in his professorial tone, all the while Cassandra played out the scene of him fucking her in the ass, maybe with his wife joining in, just for the hell of it.
She laced her fingers in front of her mouth as she pretended to listen to him as she fantasized about him and his prim and proper spouse pleasuring her holes with a mindless, deviant intensity that she knew wasn't even remotely in them.
This fantasy shifted as the waitress came by, a slender red-head with freckles and a short skirt. With a wide smile, she refilled their drinks. As she walked away, Cassandra's eyes drifted down to the girl's gently swaying ass. She imagined sliding the girl's skirt up and finding a thong between her cute little cheeks.
assandra bit her lip at the thought, crossing her legs as she felt herself grow wetter. She smiled slightly, picturing herself pushing aside the soft fabric until she found bare flesh beneath. She could almost hear the girl's moans as she slipped her slender fingers inside...
"--and that's when I knew I'd really found something special in the field of psychology," Dr. Algernon's said with a nod, his rising voice popping her fantasy like a needle on a soap bubble.
The wife, patting her husband's hand lightly, "That's enough of your life journey, dear," she said with a light, teasing tone, then nodded at Cassandra. "What about you, though, Ms. Grace? What led you to become an academic?"
Cassandra cleared her throat, taking a sip of water as she quickly worked to pull her thoughts from the gutter. "Well, I always wanted the chance to connect with people. To understand them. I began studying psychology to help with that, and it just followed along from there."
That and it was a good excuse for getting close to horny guys,
she added inwardly.
"Well, you've done an excellent job so far," Algernon said, leaning forward with raised eyebrows. "The reviews the students gave you for your first semester were superb."
With the tents some of those freshmen were sporting, they had fucking better.
"I was grateful to have such an excellent class. A real... eager group of students." She gave her most innocent smile.
The Dean of Psychology returned her warm expression with more meaning than she did. "Well, I think your future here in Boulder is bright indeed, Ms. Grace. Just keep doing what you're doing."
As the waitress came by, bringing the check, the young redhead met Cassandra's eyes. Cassandra smiled, and the girl blushed, looking away with her fingers twining her ginger locks. She saw that the name 'Ellen' was on her name tag.
"Oh, I most certainly plan to," she said, turning to the dean and wishing he were anywhere else on the planet right there at that moment. It was always so hard being degenerate when your boss was watching.
***
Cassandra sat in her car, feeling her car hum softly as it idled. She watched her boss and his wife pull out of the parking lot and drive off, undoubtedly to find someone else to bore to tears.
She thought of the blushing waitress, thought of the what might have been going through her crimson-haired head. Cassandra knew her own beauty. Knew she could draw out the desires of others quite effectively. It was the
real
reason she had taken to studying psychology, to understand how to best put that beauty to use. To stoke people's baser desires. To make others want her despite themselves.
Without realizing it, Cassandra's hand had slid down between her thighs, pulling up her pencil skirt to find her slick, bare sex, pleasantly aching from the dirty thoughts she'd been feeding it. She moaned softly as she traced her fingers along her wet slit, savoring the feel of her fingers them.
With a sigh, she removed her teasing hand and stared at her glistening fingers. No one knew how she truly was. Not fully. She knew what her field had to say about the subject, though.
Nymphomaniac. A very fancy word for an unabashed, unashamed, depraved slut.
She looked in the vanity mirror of her sedan. She admired her raven curls, curls that framed a pale face with high cheekbones and full, red lips. Cassandra watched the pupils of her emerald green eyes dilate as she looked on herself. Autosexual. That was another fun term she'd learned.
The labels ultimately mattered little to her. She did what she wanted, concerning herself only the potential consequences should the true extent of her habits be discovered. But she had spent years learning to avoid that.
Cassandra licked her fingers clean, savoring the tangy taste of her own juices. It was then that she felt the urge rise in her again, an urge inexplicably tied to her rising arousal. She tapped her chin lightly as she examined the feeling, a feeling almost uncanny in its pedestrian nature.
There were several places Cassandra had found herself visiting over her twenty-five years of life. Swingers' parties and sex dungeons. Leather bars and fetish clubs. High-class parties hosted by deviants like her with more money than they knew what to do with. She'd gone to these places on whim and desire, never questioning her inner yearnings.
Cassandra started her car and pulled out of the parking lot. She drove down the streets of Boulder, finding herself increasingly excited about her destination. She wasn't sure
why
she felt the rising need--a need veering well into sexual desire--to go where she was going, but she recognized it since the first time she walked into the place. Felt it more and more with each subsequent visit.
The Boulder Public Library.
***
There was something strange in the air as she arrived at the library. Cassandra felt it even before she walked through the sleek glass doors. It wasn't a scent, nor even something physical that she could tell. It was almost as if she were pressing into something, like a gentle pressure she found herself submerged in as she stood in the main foyer.
She vaguely remembered the sensation from previous visits, but it was stronger now. Strong enough that she could almost feel it pressing on her. On her mind. Cassandra felt an involuntary grin pull at her lips. Whatever it was, it felt
good
.
