AUTHOR'S NOTE: This black comedy of manners is dedicated to UtherVierDragon, Lit author and fellow colleague. His superlative use of fantasy genre names inspired me to write The Jim Morrison Heist, a 40,000-word novella, in one frantic month. The Heist is to be a 4-part serial with new chapters once a week. I still enjoy giving serious characters funny names like in the Vampire Korps & STALK stories. The character Anyys Rowling pronounces her name: a niece rolling.
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Zoey never dreamt bumming a ride would include her giving the driver a blowjob in the front seat and him rear ending her in the back.
In her last class that afternoon a gigantic thunderclap startled her so much she came close to peeing her panties. The classroom jerked in their seats then ran to the three big windows, their professor right behind. A storm ramped up outside, a force of nature special effects lightshow that blew away the one at the Herbie Kirby Hyperbole concert last weekend. Rain fell next, merely driving at first, increasing to falling in sheets. Water rapidly pooled in the fields across the street. At the end of the lesson rain still drummed outside, likely to continue into the evening.
Then and there Zoey decided the time had come to make her move.
For a month she'd seen a herd of female students congregate after class around professor Jallen Delete's desk. Not a particularly bad-looking man, but he was old as any senior male instructor at the college. Zoey never understood the attraction. Jallen's fashion sense sucked out loud: tweed jackets with faux leather elbow patches (extra cheese please), knitted ties with denim shirts, corduroy slacks and Argyle socks. Worse, he cultivated unruly hair worn grotesquely long and gray pork chop sideboards. What possessed him had possessed Isaac Asimov too. Not surprisingly Jallen Delete spoke in a soft Scottish burr just like Sean Connery.
But it took a lot more than a sexy accent to cream Zoey's panties.
So that stormy afternoon she lingered at her desk until the last of the professor's groupies (shamelessly giggling in his ear) had packed their tents and decamped. Zoey wanted to make a clever interest-creating remark to get his attention but couldn't think of a word; and she the most passionate and accomplished poet in his class. The arrogant old fart studiously ignored her lingering, head down, scribbling madly with a fountain pen on a stack of papers on his desk. He didn't even raise his eyes when she flagrantly spread her knees wide apart to afford him a choice glimpse up her mini skirt at the tiniest panties she owned. They were a gauzy white nylon invisible enough to see the lips of her who-ha. She'd modeled them in front of her bedroom mirror enough times to know the good professor either needed glasses, was dim-witted, a fucking berk, or all of the above. And she refused to concede this contest of wills to this dreadfully obdurate person. No male in the human population of the planet scorned her. Zoey scraped the legs of her desk across the linoleum floor while reaching under her skirt to wriggle out of her panties. She dangled them on the tip of her left forefinger.
Now she had Jallen's full attention.
"What in the world, Miss Quark?" he ejaculated.
Zoey deigned not to answer, not yet anyway. She stood up, walked around in front of her desk and bent forward to return school books to a purple back pack. She bent far enough for him to have an unobstructed view of her bottom, baby maker and bunghole. Then she marched up to his desk and stood beside him, skirt hiked up enough to highlight the mouth of her kootch all pooched out.
Jallen stared and stammered, "I repeat, Miss Quark, what in the world are you ever doing?"
"Whatever in the world does it look like I'm doing?"
He answered her question with a question. "Why did you take off your panties just now?"
Zoey licked her lips coyly and smiled, tossed the white thong on top of the papers he'd been grading. He looked from the tangle of lingerie on his desk over to her pussy and finally into her eyes while she tugged her skirt down. She giggled as innocently as any slut in Jallen's class, but dialed back her defiant tone.
"I took my panties off because they got too damp to wear."
"And you couldn't wait to remove them in the ladies room?"
Zoey batted her eyelashes. "But, professor, they'd got so wet and it's such a bore making that trek to the ladies' I simply could not bear to wait. You seemed so preoccupied I didn't think you'd notice."
His eyes stole down to the thong. "You didn't think I'd notice you were still sitting in my classroom after everyone else had long gone? First, you lag behind then you start stripping off right in front of me. What did you think I would think?"
She faked a gasp and put a hand to her mouth as if just realizing the implications of what she'd done. "Oh my, I hope you didn't get the wrong impression."
"You wouldn't be the first girl student to try to seduce a teacher for a passing grade."
"And that's what you thought I was doing? You've never given one of my papers less than top marks. Why would I try to kiss up to you if I wasn't failing your class?"
"My point precisely, Miss Quark. So again I pose the question: why did you drop your knickers right in front of me?"
Zoey acted shocked. "You're not thinking straight, professor. For one thing you're older than my dad. I never thought you'd get the wrong idea even if you happened to see what I was doing."
"Happened to see you? You made enough noise moving your desk around to wake a nursery."
"All I can say is I stayed behind because it's raining so hard. I can't very well ride my Vespa home in this kind of weather. I don't like being soaked to the skin, and my underwear is uncomfortably wet already." She reached across his desk, picked up her discarded thong and pressed it into his hand. "See how wet they are for yourself."
Jallen carefully examined Zoey's panties, going as far as sniffing the crotch. "These are only a little damp, young lady. They smell nice but they're not that wet."
She gaped at him in disbelief. "I'll be the judge of that, not you."
"Fine," Jallen said. "I'm willing to forget the whole incident, you can go now. Off with you, I've work to do."
He began to tuck the cast off thong into his shirt pocket. Zoey tried to snap it out his hand but Jallen held the panties out of her reach.
She fumed, "Hey, those belong to me, they're my property."
"Yes, however you forfeited your property when you slung it onto my desk. I was merely getting intimate feminine apparel out of plain sight. You can't leave a soiled pair of panties here, not even if you throw them in the dust bin. One of the other teachers or a cleaner might get all manner of preposterous notions if they find such an item in my classroom."
"My panties aren't your souvenir!"
"But you put them in my hand."
"That didn't imply ownership."
