Christine Vs. Professor Page 3

  “Of course,” she hurries, sliding over in the seat. With a nervous smile she points at her two friends and introduces them, “Professor, Ashley and Kim. Girls, this is Professor Anders.”

  “Nice to meet you, girls,” I flash them my smile once more, and they smile back at me, standing up in a hurry.

  “Likewise, Professor,” Ashley says, and then Kim takes the lead.

  “Anyway, we have to go… We’re late for, uh, yoga!” Kim tells us, and then grabs her friend by the hand. In a matter of seconds, they cross the whole room and vanish.

  “Do your friends always do yoga after a tequila marathon?” I ask Christine, pointing at the pile of empty glasses sitting on her table.

  “They weren’t very subtle, were they?” Christine sighs, looking down at her hands. She’s still twiddling her thumbs, and her face hasn’t gotten any less flushed.

  “No, they weren’t,” I laugh, and then turn around to order a 21 year old Glenfiddich, no ice. The waiter nods at me after jotting down my request on his pad, and then disappears behind the counter.

  “Professor, I’m sorry… The girls and I we were just, uh, fooling around,” she stammers, making an herculean effort to look me in the eyes. I stare at her cherry lips, momentarily lost in how beautiful she is. I think back to when I carried her limp body to the nursery, her sweet scent crawling up my nostrils and numbing my brain.

  I slide into the booth, and turn back to Christine, taking in her evening outfit in one glance. A pencil skirt that reaches her knees, sure, but it has a slit up the front of her left thigh that shows a smooth expanse of lickable tanned skin. The slit stops tantalizingly close to her hip and I have to wonder if she bothered with panties when she came tonight. Is she that kind of bad girl?

  I know I want to find out.

  I know I shouldn’t, because she’s my student, but that reason seems further and further away. Less and less as something I should care about. I’ve never met anyone who captivates me like Christine Jalili does.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her in a soothing tone. “I’m used to that,” I continue, grinning as the waiter returns and hands me my whisky. I take a gulp out of it and then set the glass down on the table. “I just hope all that conversation didn’t have anything to do with the applications process.” As much as I hate to cool down the conversation, I need her to hear this.

  “No!” She cries out in a hurry. “Of course not.”

  “But,” I say, sipping at the top-shelf Scotch. It burned all the way down as only good Scotch can. “It sounds like my cock would make a nice piece of exercise equipment.”

  She turned seven shades of red, which is just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I’m used to women who throw themselves at me, who have no qualms about talking dirty to me. Apparently, Christine can talk a big talk but isn’t as good at walking that walk. At least, not with me.

  “Well,” she squeaks and then takes a big gulp of her margarita. “I just thought…I was just ruminating on…I was thinking that it’d be nice and bi—”

  She stops herself and takes another big drink of her margarita. At that rate, she’s going to finish it in just minutes, and will be tipsy as hell when she’s done.

  What’s a gentleman like me to do? Flag down another passing waitress, of course. “Another margarita for the lady,” I say, jerking my head towards Christine.

  Christine’s mouth turns into a rounded circle. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her cheeks a scarlet color. I imagine that mouth enclosing my dick, sucking it in, and feel my dick twitch, despite my recent spank-the-monkey marathon. Around Christine, I just can’t seem to help myself.

  Despite her half-hearted protests, she greedily sucks down the last of her margarita in front of her to make room for the drink on its way. I move a little closer, watching her every move – a grain of salt in the corner of her mouth that she catches with the tip of her pink tongue.

  Never have I been so jealous of salt in all my life.

  “We should talk about the UN Program,” she says, her voice unnaturally high.

  “Good.” I look into her eyes again, but then my gazes shifts to her slender neck and then further down. She’s wearing a low cut dress, and I can see the curve of her breasts starting. Inside my pants, my cock is twitching once more. Fuck, this girl is going to be my damnation.

  I make the effort to shift my gaze from her breasts to her face, and I notice that she’s staring at me with an entranced expression, her breathing growing irregular. After hearing what she just told her friends, there’s no doubt in my mind: Christine wants me as much as I want her.

  “So, uh, about the application…”

  “Yeah, the application,” I respond, changing gears. “As I told you, the main criteria is moral fiber. Why do you feel you’re qualified for this program?”

  “I…” She mutters, and then stops and takes a deep breath. I can tell that she’s trying to fish a rehearsed speech from the depths of her mind. “I believe that I’m qualified for this position at UN because I have always been a hard worker, and I pride myself on my strong ethical sense and --”

  I hate to admit it, but I’m no longer listening to whatever she’s saying. I’m looking at her, sure, but I’m more focused on the way her full cherry lips move than in what she’s saying. Before I can think it through, I place one hand on her knee, and she stops speaking.

  “Professor…” She whispers, that tomato red color returning to her cheeks. Her voice thickens and her chest starts to rise and fall at an hurried pace.

  “Christine…” I say, and then we are leaning into each other, our eyelids drooping as our lips succumb to that invisible pull between us. When our mouths touch, the sweet strawberry flavor of her lips hits me like a brick. My cock stops twitching and, in just a few seconds, goes from limp to hard as a flag pole.

  Thank god for bench seats. We’re on the backside of the half-circle couch, with the table in front of us as we look out into the restaurant itself. No one will be able to see what we’re doing underneath the table…

  I place my hand just above her knee, on the exposed flesh courtesy of the slit in her skirt, and begin stroking my hand upwards. She takes another big gulp of her margarita and I can see her pulse at the base of her throat, beating frantically. I want to suck on that spot and feel the pulse beneath my mouth, feel it speed up even further.

  “My…moral fiber is just fine,” she says. “Although, I…uhhh…”

  I am inching ever closer to her pussy, my fingers lightly stroking her flesh as I go. I’m watching how this is just destroying her – how it’s just making her fall to pieces in front of me as she tries to figure out how to keep it together and she just fucking can’t…

  My dick could probably benchpress weights right now, it’s so fucking hard and throbbing.

  My fingers are at the apex of her thighs now, sliding underneath her skirt, and she swallows hard.

  “Idon’twantyoutopickmebecauseyouwantofuckme,” she says in a rush then breathes a sigh of relief.

  But that relief is cut short when I reach her pussy itself. Oh god yes, she has some lacy piece of fabric covering her mound and I am dying to know what color it is. Will it match the red of her bra that I saw the other day?

  She closes her eyes with a soft groan and begins to rotate her hips ever so lightly against my fingers. “Oh, yes,” she breathes. “Right there…”

  “So you want me to pick you because of your moral fiber, not because I want to rip those panties off and fuck you right here on this table?” I breathe into her ear, my fingers pushing harder against her pussy and she’s almost bucking against me now, desperate for release.

  “Yes, yes, please,” she groans and I don't know what she’s asking me for, and I don’t think she knows either. She’s lost in her own world of pleasure and alcohol and lust.

  I slide my right hand behind her head while pressing ever harder with my left hand, rotating, and even through the lace of her panties, I can feel her clit
, hard and needing what only I can give her.

  “Come for me, baby,” I whisper in her ear and her whole body arches and she’s gasping and there’s no doubt in my mind that if someone is watching us, they know exactly what we’re doing.

  And damn is that hot.

  She may blush when caught talking about my dick, but when I start rubbing her clit in public, she’ll let me do it. I wonder how far I can take this exhibitionist streak in her.

  She’s sinking back into the leather couch, a look of pure bliss on her face, and I pull my fingers out from underneath her skirt and lick them lightly.

  Ambrosia.

  * * *

  As we pull back, we stare into one another as the reality of what we’ve just done starts sinking in. “Well, this creates a problem,” I state the obvious, and she purses her lips in a worried expression. But then her faces open up into an easy smile.

  “It does,” she whispers, but then leans into me and brushes her lips against mine. She nibbles at my lower lip and, placing her hand on my knee, she starts sliding it up to my crotch. She’s out of control. And, fuck it, so am I.

  I slide my hand under her dress and run it until my fingertips are against her inner thighs.

  Good Lord, I can’t get enough.

  “We can’t,” she tells me, panting. By the look on her face, she went against all that her body wants just to stop me. But she’s right. We really shouldn’t be doing this.

  “I know. This might create a conflict of interest with your application,” I start, taking a deep breath and reaching for the whisky.

  “And you could lose your job…” Yeah, there’s that too. The board of directors doesn’t really like it when professors get involved with their students. I can’t really blame them, although that policy annoys me to no end right now.

  “Yeah, fuck,” I breathe out. “We didn’t think about that…you know, before?”

  “I know,” she whispers, leaning back against her seat. “This is frustrating, but I don’t think we should be doing anything else tonight.” Tonight? What does she mean tonight? Go on, Christine. “Let’s do something. I… I…” she starts to stammer but then takes a sip out of her margarita and takes a deep breath. “I want to be with you, and I trust that you won’t allow anything that happens between us to sway your decision. Because this, the kiss and what I feel, has nothing to do with the applications. I just…. Needed to do it.” She takes another sip out of her margarita and then continues. “So, if you trust me… If you can believe what I’m saying, that I can keep things separated… Wear black tomorrow, and I’ll know.”

  “You have a deal, Christine,” I tell her with a smile, nodding and mentally looking through my wardrobe for black clothes. “But I also want you to do something for me. I want you to come into this fully knowing what you’re getting into. If you are okay with the fact that I’m into you… And if you know that I don’t want you because you’re younger than me or because you’re my student… Then I also want you to wear black. That way we’ll both know.”

  “Deal,” she beams at me, and offers me her hand. I grab it, her small fingers against the palm of her hand, and shake it.

  Fuck, what am I getting into?

  9

  Cellular One Wireless

  Anders: This is Anders. After our discussion tonight, I just want to make it clear that I can choose based on qualifications alone. Whether or not I want to fuck you senseless, I can make the best choice for NYU and the UN for this program.

  * * *

  Christine: You want to fuck me senseless?

  * * *

  Anders: I want to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.

  * * *

  Christine: Ohhhhh…

  * * *

  Anders: Have you ever been tied up and spanked like a bad girl like you deserves? After all, any woman who is willing to have me make her cum in the middle of a busy restaurant obviously deserves to be spanked until her ass matches her cherry red lips.

  * * *

  Christine: No, I’ve never been spanked.

  * * *

  Anders: You will be, soon.

  * * *

  Christine: Ohhhhhh…

  * * *

  Anders: Tomorrow, I will wear all black to class to show you my commitment to keeping our sex relationship and our school relationship separate. Tomorrow night, I will show you my commitment to fucking you until your eyes cross. Tonight, you think. If you think you too can keep our school relationship on a professional level, wear all black. I’ll know when I see you walk into class.

  * * *

  Christine: Okay. I’ll think about it.

  * * *

  Anders: Goodnight, my little fucktoy.

  * * *

  Christine: Goodnight, my sexy professor.

  10

  Christine

  With trembling hands, I push the door to the lecture hall open. Anders, who was chatting with another student up at the front of the room, catches my gaze. His eyes flick up and down me as I come walking in, trying hard as I can to act casual. His mouth tightens a little but he’s quick to turn back to the student in front of me as if nothing is wrong.

  I picked my outfit out carefully this morning – not a spec of black in it.

  That’s right.

  You can’t see a single shred of black.

  Yes, I know what we agreed to.

  I have a filmy silver shirt that somehow shows more than it covers up, setting off my tiny waist to perfection. Then a white skirt with silver polka dots covering it, finished off with silver fuck-me high heels.

  I sit down in the front row, right in front of Anders’ favorite place to stand as he’s talking. He won’t be able to ignore me here.

  Class begins and I’ll admit it – I have no fucking clue what he talked about. Probably political science – that’s a safe bet considering he’s a political science professor – but beyond that, no idea. Every time his gaze drifted back towards me, I shifted in my seat, making sure to hike my skirt up just a little farther as I did so. The next time he looked at me, I bent over and pulled a lollipop out of my bag. I unwrapped it slowly, staring at him as I did so, and then slowly put it into my mouth, moving it slowly in and out of my mouth as I sucked on it, never breaking eye contact the whole time.

  Anders stopped, mid-sentence, cleared his throat, jerked his eyes away from mine and walked back to the podium to look over his notes.

  Score!

  Any day that I cause Anders to lose his train of thought is a win in my book.

  He dismisses class a little early and almost beats the rush of students out the door. I slowly pack my shit up, giving everyone a chance to clear out before leaving myself. I head a few doors down to his office, and knock. My knees are shaking almost worse than they were walking into the lecture hall an hour earlier.

  “Come in,” I hear through the door. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.

  Anders comes to his feet as soon as he sees me, his eyes a stormy gray, questioning, flicking up and down my body and back to my face.

  “Ms. Jalili,” he says formally.

  I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment for support and courage, wishing I had a margarita in my hand.

  Fingers trembling, I pull at the silver fabric wrapped across my tits. In one swift move, it drops to the floor at my feet, revealing my black bra, all lace and sequins, then reach behind me and unzip my skirt, dropping it to the floor around my feet, revealing my black lace panties.

  “I wanted to hedge my bets,” I whisper. His mouth curls into a wolfish smile.

  11

  Christine

  I can see the surprise in his eyes as I saunter over to him in my black lace lingerie, swaying my hips as I go. Hunger and lust are all over his face, his smile brimming with mischievousness. Never taking his eyes out of mine, he comes up to me and meets me halfway, placing both his hands on my waist.

  “You’re full of surprises
, aren’t you?” He asks me, my heart racing as I feel the warmness in his hands spreading to my body. There’s no going back from this and, screw it, I don’t want no going back. I want to move forward, to surrender to him. Sure, this is wrong - but the wrong things always end up being the most delicious ones as well...

  “You have no idea,” I tell him, grinning as I hook my fingers on his belt and pull him into me. He comes willingly but then, moving fast, he grins back at me and grabs me by the wrists. He pushes me back and, lifting my arms in the air, pins me against the wall. I’m breathing hard, my lungs working overtime as I feel his body pressed against mine.

  “You have no idea, sir” He corrects me, that wicked grin of his melting me away. I feel my thong dampening as he looks into my eyes, willing me into submission, and then he leans into me, parting his full lips and placing them over my mouth. I close my eyes, savoring him, smelling him… Could a kiss ever be more perfect? I doubt it, I really do.

  He lets go of my arms, resting one hand behind my neck and the other on my hip. I pull back from his kiss and lay my forehead against his, breathing deeply as I savor the moment. I look into his eyes, my heart racing and pumping desire through my veins. To think that I’ve lusted after him for so long, and now here I am… Half naked in his office, ready to submit to him. Let Ashley keep her sex god… Now I have one of my own.

  I kiss him eagerly, my tongue darting inside his mouth and dancing around his as he presses me once more against the wall, both hands on my hips. I grab his shirt by the hemline and, yanking with both hands, force him to lift his arms up as I undress him.