*Author's note: all characters portrayed in this story are eighteen or older. Feedback is welcomed, desired and appreciated. Just don't hurt my feelings!*
*****
The classroom was a mess, people separated in loud companies, guys throwing paper airplanes, gals talking loudly about their nails or hair and others sitting quietly, waiting patiently by the seats they had chosen for the rest of the school year. It was raining heavily outside, so what little time the class had before the lessons started, they needed to spend inside. My girlfriends were over there by my desk, the desk in the front row and the closest one to the whiteboard; Marie and Suzie were grinning at me foolishly, giggling from time to time at what I was up to, chatting so privately with our new math professor. I was sitting on a chair next to the professor's desk, casually talking to him... maybe not so casually, as a matter of fact.
"I honestly hope you find the new environment... intriguing, sir," I said to him with my subtle, fox-like smile and that innocent voice. He'd just been transferred to the suburbs, and I thought I should be the first to make an impression. Before I'd approached him, I'd made sure my cleavage was open, showcasing all the goods that men loved about my top. If those weren't enough to win him over, my smile would do the trick.
"Oh, I find the new environment most welcoming, you can be sure of that," my professor was saying, almost defensively, refraining from looking directly at me as if, had he dared to, he would slip and take me right there. He pretended to be busy pulling out papers from his suitcase and readying himself for the lecture. I knew how to read men, and this one was all lust, though a carefully reserved one. His wife wouldn't have been satisfying him properly, I thought. I pulled my eyebrows together, slightly annoyed that he resisted me - he cleverly countered me, using
welcoming
instead of
intriguing,
which suggested other things
.
I decided to shift gears.
"I'll admit, math was never my strong suit," I cooed, sounding somewhat let-down on purpose. In fact, that was a lie. I was a star in school. "Last semester was a disaster. I'd like it if you'd show me some personal guidance." I leaned towards him, teasing the view of my tits that any guy in this school drooled thinking of. Mr. Phillips stopped sorting his papers and looked at me rather sternly. He was kind of cute, with his closely cropped beard, brown eyes, round face and straight nose; but he was too old, like fifty or something. Waaay too old. I could not even begin to imagine him ravishing a young flower like myself.
I released my long, blonde hair, letting it fly above the desk, something I knew added to my sex appeal. But he would have none of it.
"I will make sure you have no questions by the end of this class, Ms..." he looked through the list of students, "... Rousseau."
I couldn't believe he just said that!
Ms. Rousseau.
How dare he talk to me like that! I wasn't used to being called miss. I'd already told that bastard my name was Christina. I huffed and got up from the chair, straightening my chest; he'd already returned to his papers, missing the haughty look I threw at him before I hurried back to my girlfriends. They were covering her mouths with their hands, their shoulders rocking with laughter.
"Seduction don't work like in the movies sister, you know that," Marie screamed so she could be heard through the fuss. I sat sulking on my chair next to the black girl, ignoring her; I stared at our new professor with hostility. My girlfriends had challenged me to flirt with him earlier and I wasn't one to back out - if I lured freshmen to my net with guile, why not professors too?
Marie and Suzie didn't dare mention that I failed to woo our new professor. Risking a queen's wrath is something you should avoid altogether. "Damn, girl," Marie went on awkwardly, "he's a tough nut to crack, ain't he?"
"Maybe he doesn't like girls," fat Suzie suggested, giggling stupidly; I paid her little attention.
"Oh, you think he's gay?" Marie retorted.
"No, he isn't," I said with my usual confidence. "All men are the same. All they want is sex, you can see it in their eyes. He'll flip, I know it. They can't resist for long."
"Hey, umm, girls?" Marie said suddenly, and she and Suzie leaned close to me so we could talk privately. "Tray asked me for anal," she said without preamble. She had a wild look about her, as if she was excited and scared at the proposition at the same time. I'd heard guys saying Marie had a butt made for anal, but I honestly couldn't see it. It was too big, how could any guy like that kind of butt?
I laughed loudly at the thought of anal and Marie and Suzie joined me too. "Eww. Ugh, anal? That's so slutty, you aren't a whore, Marie." We were definitely a classy bunch, me and my girlfriends. At least I was. The thought of putting something near there was ridiculous. Only trashy girls did anal. Marie was about to say something, when the bell rang.
The new professor hurried everyone to their seats and introduced himself.
His name was Gregory Phillips, math professor, and he was here to teach us a thing or two, blah blah.
I leaned on my elbow on my desk, thinking that if he was fifteen years younger, he would be a hottie. As he spoke, his gaze did run past me a couple of times and I imagined his short beard brushing against my face as we kissed, but his face changed into a younger person in my fantasy that wasn't quite Mr. Phillips
.
I was desperately horny, having spent a summer with my uptight and old fashioned grandma who was on the lookout for cheeky boys I might bring home. Not that I'd do anything but make out with them or let them go down on me. I was still a virgin, truly, but no one would've guessed.
Mr. Phillips went on reading the list of the students in the class, to get acquainted with them. I'd forgotten that new people would be joining the class. I glanced at each of them as they stood up to introduce themselves with a semi-bored look on my face. There were a couple of cute new guys who I wouldn't mind teasing, few girls that didn't look pretty enough to be any dangerous to my game. When all of those were introduced, I began turning away, disinterested in the rest, but there one student in the far back of the class had yet to be introduced. He didn't stand up when his name was called.
"Alex Hunter," the professor said.
When my eyes first caught sight of him, my breath caught in my throat. He was tan and his muscles were showing through his shirt, wet and sticky from the rain. He was wearing glasses with tough-black skeleton, had a short beard and thick, dark and spiky hair that rose up just the way I loved it. His desk was right beside the window, so now that the rain was over, he was shrouded in a generous light. The sight of his dark-haired angel sent a bolt through my pussy. My panties were wetter than any other time in my life and my heart pounded in my chest.
"Hey," he said deeply to the class, waving one hand, then crossing his arms and staring back at the professor; I tried reading through his blank but powerful expression. I guess he was a serious person; he looked rather intense, as if he was the king of this new Kingdom he was brought in, or so I liked to imagine, which made me all the wetter. The glasses didn't do anything to make him look nerdy. They instead added to this sense of authority he projected. I bit my bottom lip, shifting my legs at the tingling between them. I hadn't seen a guy like him, ever.
Mr. Phillips turned to me. "Christine Rousseau," he said. The class was staring at me.
