Victoria

Note to readers: This is a grown-up story with grown-up sex. If that sort of thing gives you the vapors, do not read this!

Victoria

“A fuck is just sex, but a head-fuck is art.”

 Peter A. Hempel

It was the third Friday in September. The late afternoon sun was fading, and dusk was coming on fast. Unlike those who talked about how much they loved fall, Winston found all this a depressing prelude to an even more depressing winter season.

He had just taken his recycling out to the curb when he noticed a smallish light approaching. In a moment or two, he saw it was someone on a bicycle, and then, as they got closer, he saw it was a woman.

“Professor Fletcher?” The bicycle stopped, and the woman got off. He couldn’t quite make out who she was, but even in the fading light, her bright red hair stood out.

Then he realized he recognized her from his class, even though the class had only gone two weeks so far. He remembered her wearing miniskirts that put her quite shapely legs on view and had totally gotten his attention, but thus far, she hadn’t said much during class discussion. Actually, he couldn’t remember her having said anything at all. He couldn’t tell if she was bored or if there was something else going on.

“I’m Victoria – you know, Vicki? – from your class?”

“Oh, sure, yes, I remember you. What’s up? What are you doing riding around at this hour? It’s getting pretty dark to be riding a bike.”

“Well,” she had gotten off the bike and had moved in closer so he could see her clearly, “you had told us your office hours, but I have another class then, so I thought if I rode by and happened to see you, maybe I could get a chance to talk to you.”

On a Friday evening? Alone at his house? Did Winston see red flags flying? Was he too naïve to notice? Or did the whole girls’ college thing of empowered and independent young women change the rules entirely? Would it be appropriate to be rude and refuse?

“I mean, if you’re busy, that’s fine, I don’t want to intrude…”

Winston had absolutely nothing going on. The truth was, in spite of teaching at a historically women’s college and being surrounded by co-eds, he was basically living in the outback. He might as well have been teaching in a convent. This Friday was the start of another weekend with not a damn thing to do. He was an awkward fit at dinner parties with married faculty members, and potentially even more awkward at gatherings of feminist-dominated female faculty members where he was typically the token male and always suspect. And although there were occasional lectures by outside visitors, they were usually scheduled during the week.

“No,” he said, with only a slight beat of hesitation, “It’s fine. I don’t have anything on for the evening. Why don’t you come in and we can talk?”

Vicki walked her bike up to the house and leaned it up against the wall near the garage. Then she came around and entered the house.

Winston remembered her outfits from class, an assortment of mini-skirts and tight-fitting, midriff-baring tops, which, with her ready smile, slim physique, and dazzling red hair and blue eyes, would have made her stand out in any class. Tonight, however, she was wearing a knee-length black skirt with lavender stockings and a slightly prim white shirt with a rounded Peter Pan collar buttoned all the way up to the top. She was also wearing high-heeled shoes, which seemed an odd choice for a bicycle ride (although, to be fair, he had to admit she looked good in them).

“This was just one of those spur-of-the-moment things,” she was saying. “I hadn’t realized how early it started getting dark these days. I guess I was just used to summer.”

The front door of his house opened directly into his living room. He motioned her to a seat on the sofa. He settled in on a chair facing the sofa. This seemed a suitably decorous arrangement for an out-of-office office discussion.

Victoria sat on the sofa, kicked off her high heels, tucked her legs up, and looked around the room. Lots of Americana-style cherry-wood furniture – no doubt it came with the house when he rented it – but also stacks of books everywhere, with not nearly enough bookshelves to hold them.

* * *

“Do you have anything to drink?” she asked. “If you have any wine, that would be great. I mean, I’m 22, so that’s not a problem. You wouldn’t be contributing to the delinquency of a minor or anything.”

Winston had a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in his kitchen that was still half full. He wondered momentarily about this, but hell, it was Friday night. And this time, for a change, he wouldn’t be drinking alone. He got two glasses and brought them and the bottle out. He filled the glasses halfway and put the bottle on the side table next to him.

“Cheers,” she said as she lifted her glass to him. “Cheers,” he replied, somewhat hesitantly. He wasn’t sure this was entirely by the book, but it was a lot more pleasant than another fucking weekend on his own with nothing to do.

She took a sip of wine and then turned to him. “By the way, while I’m here, do you mind if I call you Winston? You’re still pretty young, and I’d rather be a little less formal. And I know they call me Vicki in class and on campus, but Victoria is my real name, and so if you’d like to call me Victoria that would be cool.”

Winston wasn’t at all sure about this. What were the rules about first names and students? Having his students call him “Professor” in class was his standard practice, and he had no intention of changing that. But here? And did he really want to refuse what seemed like a friendly request from a student who had taken the trouble to seek him out?

“Don’t worry,” she said, looking at him with those riveting blue eyes, “I won’t call you Winston in class. That’s just for here, right now. And you can call me whatever you want.”

“So, what’s on your mind about the class, Victoria?” he asked. He would be delighted to have an interesting, big-picture conversation about the course, beyond the usual kinds of homework-related questions that students asked in the classroom.

“Well, Winston,” she said, “I don’t know if this is really appropriate for me to say, and I would never say it in class, but I guess the thing is, I kind of feel like the course is missing the boat? I mean, you titled the course ‘Eros and Literature,’ and that sounded really sexy, and it is supposed to be a Masters-level seminar so it can potentially be a lot more ‘adult,’ but so far, this is all the same stuff I could’ve gotten in any number of absolutely standard, mind-numbing courses I’ve been taking since high school.

“I mean, let’s face it, Oedipus? So yes, he is fucking his mother, and he gets punished for it, but there’s nothing erotic about it. He doesn’t know he’s fucking his mother, and she doesn’t know she’s fucking her son. It’s not like they’re getting off on that. It’s just the Gods screwing with him. And seriously, gouging his eyes out? The whole thing is ridiculous. It’s not erotic, it’s just fucking stupid.

“And then, Fanny Hill? Winston, it’s just another standard Tom Jones-style 18th-century “growth” novel, only with a female main character and lots of fucking. I mean, do you really think that’s erotic? With all that old-fashioned language, and not even any actual dirty words? Do you think there are people in the class getting off to that back in their dorm rooms? Come on.”

She looked at Winston, maybe to see if he was going to protest? But Winston just sat there.

“And the other books. Lady Chatterley’s Lover? I know it was a huge scandal at the time, but now they could teach that in any regular lit class – or at least any course on feminism. The reality is it’s all about the British class system. You know, the Lady banging the Groundskeeper. Oh my, what a scandal! And the sex? There is absolutely nothing hot about it. I wrote a paper about it in high school; I even remember this one quote:

“‘The passion licked around her, consuming, and when the sensual flame of it pressed through her bowels and breast, she really thought she was dying, yet a poignant, marvellous death.’

“Is that your idea of hot, Winston? Did that give you a boner? Any steamy romance novel at the campus bookstore is ten times hotter than that. Yes, I know he used the word ‘cunt,’ and that freaked everyone out, but today? Look, if you want to teach politically correct feminist literature – you know, woman taking control of her own sensuality, fine, but don’t pretend you’re teaching about what’s really erotic.”

Jesus, Winston thought. That quote was awful. What had he been thinking? How the hell was that ever a scandal? He was definitely going to take it off the reading list.

But Victoria was just warming up.

“Henry Miller? He was a sad misogynist. You’d be better off teaching Anaïs Nin. You do know her stuff, don’t you?

“And Lolita? Humbert Humbert is a disgusting pervert, but academics love him because they think he’s one of them. They think he’d fit right in at a faculty cocktail party. And he would. He could’ve brought along his 12-year-old ‘niece’ and they would’ve all thought it was charming. He is more sophisticated and witty than any of them, and he would have been the center of attention with everyone hanging on his every word.

“But suppose Humbert had been some grungy coal miner with no education and missing half his teeth, holding a 12-year-old, middle-class girl captive, and raping her, they’d all be out with pitchforks. You could never teach a book about something like that.”

She looked at him. “I mean, you can’t imagine how men were acting towards me at that age. I was definitely trying to look hot for the guys a few years older than me, but not for a bunch of pervy old men with wives at home and daughters twice my age.”

Winston could sense that something had hit a nerve there. Victoria paused, and after a moment, continued, “I guess I just think you’re missing the whole point, Winston. That stuff isn’t erotic. The paintings on the walls of Pompeii with those guys whose dicks are hanging to the floor aren’t erotic. They’re old. I get the feeling that you wanted the title of this class to look really risky and edgy, but instead, it’s just another boring academic lit class. I’ll bet you probably wrote a paper on at least one of these books in one of your graduate classes, right?”

Winston tried not to grimace. She was right, very embarrassingly right. In fact, he had written more than one. He had thought he was being very cool and daring. Now he was wondering.

“And you’re supposed to have the option where people can write fiction as their paper for this class? Where are they going to learn what it takes to let them write any kind of seriously hot fiction? Something people can really get off to? I mean, that’s what I was looking forward to. I want to read about and talk about kinky stuff, the freaky stuff that really gets people off. Where they’re embarrassed about even saying the words.”

What the fuck? Winston was totally not expecting this. Sitting here, all civilized, drinking wine, and now this? And besides, while Victoria had been saying all this, she had been moving a bit in her seat, and her skirt had been riding up above the top of her stockings. All of a sudden, somehow, the situation was beginning to take an unauthorized detour out of the control he thought he had established.

As far as what she was saying, wow. He felt like he had been gut-punched by everything she had said. And the problem was, she was right. Not only had he just run back to the safety of the academic “classics,” he wasn’t even sure what it would mean to really teach eroticism. Would it be porn? Is that what she was wanting?

Maybe he should be teaching 50 Shades of Grey? That ghastly fanfiction drivel? In his class? He knew women and girls loved it, but could he stand it? How about The Story of O? More classic, perhaps, but a disgusting idea. Same for anything by the Marquis de Sade. Definite ‘No.’ On the other hand, he clearly should’ve included Little Birds or one of Anaïs Nin’s other books. That would’ve been fine. Very feminist-approved. (Though he had no idea about how to teach stories like that. Or how to keep class discussion from galloping off the rails.)

He knew there were plenty of up-and-coming authors writing semi-erotica (or pretty much full-on porn), capitalizing on the 50 Shades phenomenon, but the whole idea was depressing. He might as well be teaching Jackie Collins beach-read “bonkbusters.” Ugh. How low did she want him to go?

He was trying to think, but he was also severely distracted by the sight of Victoria’s skirt riding still further above the top of her stockings and now revealing the garters holding them up. Earlier, he had been fixated on her red hair and blue eyes; now all he could look at was her legs.

They had finished that leftover bottle of wine pretty quickly, so he took the opportunity to retreat to the kitchen to get another bottle. He certainly didn’t need any more wine, he didn’t know about her on that score, and the whole notion that they would be having a genteel Oxford-precept-style discussion had left the station some time ago. He felt himself trying to hang on, though he wasn’t quite sure to what. Before returning, he stopped in at the half-bathroom to pee, since he was feeling the wine hitting his bladder.

* * *

When he got back with a new bottle of wine, he saw that Victoria had moved his glass to the side table at the other end of the sofa. It also looked as if her blouse was no longer buttoned up to the top but was somewhat generously open.

She patted the sofa cushion beside her. “Here, come sit on the sofa for a change, Winston. I promise I won’t bite. At least, I’ll try not to.”

Winston sat down facing her on the sofa. Her skirt was at least as high up as it had been before, and now the movement of her legs made him wonder about more than just her stockings.

She was talking again, but between the wine and her legs, he was having a very difficult time trying to keep up with her. At one particular moment, when she was passing her glass from one hand to the other, her legs shifted, and he thought he caught a glimpse of something. Something red? He looked back at her, looking at her hair, and trying to figure something out.

Victoria was watching him closely, and she saw perfectly well where his eyes kept looking. She had absolutely no intention of trying to stop his distraction, instead she seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly. Was she playing with him?

“Winnn…ston,” she said, rolling his name out a bit. Was it the wine, or to establish a more intimate…something? “Winston, when are you going to get into the real stuff of eroticism…kinks, fetishes, taboos, perversions, all the stuff that really turns people on?

“I mean, suppose you read a story about a good-looking professional couple, and they’re getting ready to go to some big charity dinner. And they know it’s going to run late and be boring, and they’re going to be really tired by the time they get home that night. They decide they have enough time for a quick romp before they leave, so they can have sex while they’re both feeling energetic and can enjoy it, and it’s not just some duty at the end of the night. And suppose the story describes them having sex. Would that story turn you on? Would it give you something to jerk off to? Probably not, not unless you’re in a lot worse shape than I think you are. Generic sex is pretty boring, at least to read about. Nothing new, probably nothing you haven’t gotten bored with yourself at some point.

“No, the sex you jerk off to is about violation, it’s about doing something naughty, or better still, doing something totally wrong. That’s what turns people on. Breaking rules, violating taboos, feeling guilty, having weird fetishes, being kinky in some way you never thought you would be. Right? Or is after-church sex a real turn-on for you? How about in-church sex? That would be kinky.”

Winston sat there. He wasn’t looking at her so much as he was looking at what she was doing with her legs, more specifically, leaving a more open space for him to glimpse once more that patch of red he had thought he had noticed.

What the hell was going on? How had he gotten here? He hadn’t asked for any of this…had he? And why couldn’t he pull his eyes away from where he was looking and get back to focusing on his discussion with Victoria?

“So, Winston, what’s your kink? What’s your turn-on that doesn’t make any sense? Maybe Catholic schoolgirl outfits? That’s a big one. In South Korea and Japan, they go nuts over that. Of course, in Japan, they have vending machines where men can buy used high-school girls’ panties – I suppose that’s another big turn-on too. Are you into any of that?”

This was getting way too personal. Winston knew it was time to shut this whole thing down, although he really wasn’t sure how to go about it. Still, he knew he himself was…kink-free?

“Look, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m really vanilla. I’m a 29-year-old white male who likes women. That’s pretty much it. No swinging, swapping, BDSM. Not even a three-way. Not that I was really sure how the mechanics of such a venture were supposed to go. Basically, I’m boring as hell.”

“And do you like being boring?” Victoria asked. “Do you go to parties and walk up and say to people, ‘Hi, I’m really boring’? I mean, I have to confess that looking at your situation, Winston, the word ‘boring’ does come to mind. Here you are, you’re up for early tenure at a decidedly second-tier, maybe third-tier, historically women’s college. How’s that for a security blanket they can wrap around you in your coffin? And where do you think you’re going to go from here? You think schools around the country are looking eagerly at Osiris College for fresh new talent?

“But let’s forget for a moment about how you are stuck and you are trapped, surrounded by girls you can’t touch, and who, each year, will become that much more too young for you. Let’s forget about that and talk about right now. Even before you sat on the sofa facing me, when you were watching my skirt ride up, and began seeing the tops of my stockings, something started happening. I mean, what’s the big deal with stockings, Winston? I can buy them at pretty much any department store, and they’re not very expensive. And yet there you were, looking like I was flashing a Playboy centerfold in front of you. You already know what my legs look like, you’ve seen the miniskirts I wear to class. Yes, I know right now you’re also wondering about those peeks you’re getting up my skirt, but I want to know about the stockings.”

Crap. Why the fuck was this happening? How had he walked into this? He’d made a big mistake, but he wasn’t quite sure when or where or how he could have headed it off. And now he was being asked to explain himself? About something ridiculous and embarrassing?

“Look, it’s no big deal. When I was an undergraduate, some girls would wear stockings with garter belts. Not many, mostly pantyhose had taken over. But if I was making out with some girl who was wearing stockings and I was running my hand up her leg under her skirt and I got to the top of her stocking and to the flesh above it, that was a big milestone. That was a very sexy moment. Pantyhose killed all that, they were like the ultimate anti-sexiness invention. Anyhow, I guess stockings are kind of a flashback to those days. It’s not like I get turned on by those women in corsets and black stockings and garter belts and stuff in movies, that’s just a boring cliché. This was about real life. Anyhow, as I say, no big deal. Doesn’t really matter.”

“Right, Winston,” she said. “No big deal. Kind of like those guys in Victorian England getting turned on by just the sight of a woman’s ankle? Not kinky at all. Definitely not perverted. All very normal. Come on. That’s kinky as hell. And you loved it. Admit it. Which one was sexier? The girl, or the stockings? Which do you remember now – do you remember the girl, do you remember her name, or do you just remember her stockings?”

Winston hated being brought into this whole discussion. But he also didn’t want to end it as long as she kept moving her legs around like that. How gullible was he? On a scale of 1 to 10, his number was moving up fast. He absolutely needed to steer this conversation in a new direction, away from him and his kinks.

“So how about you, Victoria? Do you have any kinks?” Even as he asked this question, he realized that this was 100% the wrong way to deal with the situation.

Victoria smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m exactly vanilla. I mean, I do enjoy wearing stockings and a garter belt sometimes. It can feel pretty erotic, especially when…well, anyway, I think I’m more about things other than kinky clothes or kinky toys. For me, it’s more about the interaction between men and women. That’s what’s really erotic. I mean, I would be okay with wearing peek-a-boo lingerie, or not wearing panties, or maybe finding out more about spanking or bondage or whatever, but really, it’s about people. Like maybe, learning more about you.

“Remember that whole thing they teach about drama equals conflict? Two people fucking isn’t drama. It can be fun, it can be exercise, sometimes it can even feel like love, but it’s not drama. But a guy fucking someone else’s wife and worrying that the husband is going to come home and catch him, that’s exciting. Or the woman who finds out her husband has been cheating and goes off and finds some random guy to fuck as a revenge cheat? That’s pretty interesting. Or simply anyone feeling guilty about any kind of sex they’re having or want to have. Watching them freak out and identifying with their freak-out is what makes it sexy. A fuck is just sex, but a head-fuck is art.”

She paused and looked at him again. “Professor, shouldn’t you be taking notes on all this?”

Winston sat there. Basically, all his attention was focused on the shifting and restless movement of Victoria’s legs. He knew it was way past time to call an end to her visit. Offer to drive her back to her dorm if it was too late for her to ride her bike safely. But that part of his brain had ceased to function.

He sat there, knowing she was waiting for him to make a move, but he couldn’t quite figure out what to do, especially since he knew none of this should even be happening. He was beginning to feel a little like Oedipus, a plaything of the gods who couldn’t get out of the situation he had had no part in creating.

Victoria stood up. “That’s a lot of wine. I need to hit the ladies’ room.” She walked back to the powder room beside the kitchen.

Winston felt a wave of relief. He straightened up in his seat. This was his opportunity, when she came back, to stand up and suggest he drive her home. A narrow escape from this strange trap that had been closing in around him.

* * *

After about 10 minutes, he heard the bathroom door open and heard footsteps approaching. Victoria walked in.

She was naked, except for a lavender garter belt and lavender stockings.

Winston had been feeling confused before, but now he was simply stunned. Victoria had an elegant, absolutely staggering body, full, beautiful breasts and nipples, a sensuous curve to her slim waist and another curve to her hips. And then, of course, that bright red patch of bush that he had been so desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of earlier.

Victoria was watching Winston’s face with considerable satisfaction. Now she walked over to where he was sitting on the sofa and sat down on his lap.

There she was, with her completely naked body, sitting right in his lap. Yes, things had been going in a weird and dangerous direction leading up to this, but this was a bridge – or a naked body – too far. Way, way too far. He needed to put a stop to this right now!

Maybe he should call the police and ask them to remove her? Of course, he could see the cops finding the situation absolutely hilarious and telling everyone at the station about this idiot professor calling them to get this totally hot, totally naked co-ed with the stockings and garter belt to get up off his lap and leave his house. It wouldn’t have to hit the local papers, the news would get out no matter what, and the whole campus would be laughing at him. Holy shit! What the fuck was he supposed to do? Even if they had had those sexual harassment classes, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have covered this situation. Was he trapped? It was insane, but it sure felt like it.

“Isn’t this better, Winston?” she asked as she turned her face to his. “You’ve been trying to get a peek at my bush all evening. Here it is. Along with my tits and everything else. So, what do you think, professor? Do I fulfill your erotic fantasies?”

Yes, Winston had dated a lot of girls in his time, had slept with a number of them, had had some serious relationships, and had had some one-night stands. So he was, by normal standards, reasonably experienced. But he couldn’t remember anything remotely as erotic as this. It was as if some tribe in the Amazon had hit him with a blow dart full of poison from some brightly-colored frog that left him totally paralyzed.

“Actually,” she continued, “I think this just might be one of my erotic fantasies, maybe one of my best ones ever.” She was wiggling her ass slightly against the uncertainly rising bulge in his crotch. “Relax. Enjoy. Just think about burying your face in my bright red bush and eating my pussy. You want that, don’t you? That’s way too obvious. Think about sucking on my tits. You like my tits, don’t you? Think about my sexy mouth sucking on your hard cock and playing with it with my tongue. Think about how your cock would feel wrapped all the way inside my hot co-ed pussy. I’m getting wet already, just imagining it.”

The images were all flashing around in Winston’s mind, crashing wildly into each other. With her sitting warm and naked on his lap, her breasts and hard nipples inches from his face, he wanted everything she was mentioning and probably more.

All that, and he couldn’t move. Not a hand, not a finger, nothing. Catatonic. In every direction lay total disaster. And yet, to not do everything she had mentioned, everything he could think of…could he really live with that? He would hate and despise himself for the rest of his life. No medieval monk’s cat-o’-nine tails could inflict enough punishment for such a sin of omission. Of total wimpitude.

Victoria was waiting for him to move, to do something. But he just sat there with this totally glazed look on his face. She leaned forward and began kissing him.

Winston sat there, feeling her lips against his, then feeling her soft tongue in his mouth, exploring and playing with him. He had made out with a lot of girls in his time, but this was a whole new level, a whole new dimension. And that was on top of her being insanely hot, and now sitting utterly naked on his lap. Was this how you sold your soul? He would have signed any document she handed him, in blood if necessary, to have this not stop.

Suddenly, Victoria sat back up. She looked at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to compromise your position. This was a bad idea. I probably drank too much wine. Maybe it would be best if I just got dressed and went back to my dorm.”

At last. Finally. This was what he had been waiting for. Wasn’t it? Why wasn’t he happy about having her leave? What the hell did he want?

Somehow, as she was sitting up telling him this, her left breast and nipple moved right in front of his face, specifically right in front of his mouth. He leaned forward and began sucking wildly. She put her arms loosely around him and moved her body slightly to let him switch to her other breast. A newly adopted puppy could not have been more eager.

Victoria sat there while Winston continued to shift his attention from one breast to the other. Her nipples had already been hard and sticking out simply from how turned on she had been by getting naked and walking out to surprise him. That part was totally hot for her. It was her stage entrance, and she had felt the same kind of nervous apprehension she had felt right before stepping out and facing a new audience during her undergraduate acting days.

By this point, however, she felt herself simply observing the event, watching Winston following exactly the script she expected of him. She wasn’t getting more turned on, or turned off for that matter, but she didn’t want to stay stuck here.

Without interfering with what he was doing, she began unbuttoning his shirt. She wasn’t quite sure if he noticed, but in any case, he was making no attempt to stop her. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again.

“I think it’s time for us to move to the bedroom, don’t you, professor? Only, if you want to follow me, I want you to be as naked as I am. It’s only fair.”

She stood up from his lap, and he quickly stood up. He pulled off his already unbuttoned shirt, kicked off his shoes, and then unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled them off. Then, with only a slight moment of hesitation, he pulled off his boxers as well, revealing his cock half erect, and stood there in his paisley socks.

“I guess you can leave the socks on if you really want, professor, but they do look kind of silly,” she said. “I can assure you they don’t have the same effect on me that my stockings seem to have on you.”

He yanked his socks off. She turned and started climbing the green-carpeted stairs. He followed her, watching every movement of her hips, staring intently at her ass, and still looking at the lavender garter belt and stockings that had started all this. He wondered if he could just lean forward and kiss her ass while they were still going up the stairs, but it was all happening too fast and the opportunity was gone.

His bedroom door was open, and she took his hand and led him in.

* * *

The bed was one of those slightly-too-frilly-looking jobs, with a big cherrywood headboard. At least it wasn’t one of those dreadful four-poster numbers. Victoria felt like she was walking in to do a porno on the set of “Leave It to Beaver.” She was almost ready to turn and run, but, as she reminded herself, the show must go on.

She turned and looked at Winston, assessing what she saw. She already knew he was good-looking from class, but now she saw his body was in better shape than she might have expected. Maybe he ran a lot to get over the frustration of not being able to fuck all those co-eds. Anyhow, there was plenty to work with here.

Winston was no closer to having a clue as to what to do next than he had been down in the living room. He was in a state of almost blithering want, unlike anything he had ever experienced. But he still felt utterly unable to figure out what to do. He knew he was supposed to take charge. There she was, standing totally naked right in front of him – he should just grab her and start banging the hell out of her. Be a man. A man’s man. But right now, he was feeling timid about even laying a finger on her. He was waiting for her. Somehow, she was in charge of everything. Including him.

Victoria reached down and grabbed Winston’s cock in her hand. “How does that feel, professor? Do you like that? What else do you want me to do to you?”

Winston stood there. She was giving him permission to tell her what he wanted, to come up with any perverted fantasies he could think of, and she would probably do it. Maybe even more.

This was a situation beyond anything he could’ve ever imagined. All he had to do was say the word. Any word at all. Instead, he found himself locked in place, transfixed, unable to move, unable to speak. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wondered for a moment if he should just go back downstairs to the kitchen, grab a knife, and cut his goddamn dick off. He obviously wasn’t interested in doing anything with it. If he was going to act like a monk, he might as well just be one.

Victoria let go of his cock and climbed up on the bed and lay there in the middle of it with her legs spread slightly. “Okay,” she said, “here’s your chance, Herr Professor. Show me what you can do. Bury your face in my sexy red bush. Eat me. Turn me on. See if you can make me come.”

At last, Winston had something he could understand – an assignment. He climbed up on the bed and positioned himself between her legs. He moved his head forward and buried his face in her soft red bush. He had been waiting for this ever since he sat there trying to peek up her skirt on the sofa. He rubbed his face against the hair, kissed it, licked it, and sucked on it. He couldn’t believe he was getting to do this. He couldn’t really believe any of this was happening.

Should any of this be happening? Answering that question would take thinking, and he had done too much thinking and overthinking already.

Eventually, he began to make his way down and began kissing her mound. He had gone down on women before, and had enjoyed it, but it had never felt like this. He had never devoted himself to it. He found himself feeling a sense of almost worshipful awe, of reverence. He sucked her lips between his, ran his tongue up and down between her lips, feeling and tasting all of her. His face was growing wet with her juice, making him feel like he was being baptized. He was losing all sense of time, losing all sense of everything except what he was doing. Maybe this was what heaven felt like, eternal bliss, forever and ever?

When he got to the bottom, he stuck his tongue inside her as far as he could reach and licked her and played with her. Victoria’s hips were moving and pressing up against his face. He began licking his way up again, running his tongue all over and tasting her and feeling her hips twitching against him. When he got back up to her mound, he found her clit sticking out and waiting for him. He began sucking on her clit and running his tongue all around it.

Victoria lay there, moaning gently with pleasure. She had had plenty of boyfriends before, but none of them had paid attention to her like this. They had treated going down on her like a chore on the way to the real deal. Now, this was the real deal. She was in no rush to have it end.

“That’s it, oh my God, Winston, yes, that’s it! Keep doing that! Put your finger in too!”

He inserted his finger and watched it going in and out, shiny with her juice, while he continued to suck on her clit.

As he kept going, Victoria’s hips began moving faster, pushing up harder and harder against his face. “Oh God! Yes, yes! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

By now, her hips were thrashing energetically, making it hard for him to hold on. “Oh God, this is amazing! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Oh, Winston!”

He kept on sucking as hard as he could. He felt as turned on as she was. He loved all of it. This was beyond what he could’ve hoped for or even thought of when he was trying to peek between her legs back down on the living room sofa.

When it was over, Victoria collapsed limply on the bed. She lay there a while, then pulled him up beside her and wrapped her arms around him. They were both exhausted by what had just happened.

 * * *

Eventually, Victoria sat up. “Okay, Herr Professor, now it’s my turn,” she told him.

She had him lie on the bed where she had been. She bent over and started kissing her way slowly down from the head of his cock to his balls. When she got to his balls, he felt her lips kissing them gently, then felt her licking them all over. He couldn’t remember ever having felt anything as sensuous and erotic as what she was doing to him now. Then she slowly kissed her way back up to the head of his cock and slowly brought it into her mouth. Her mouth felt warm and wet and velvety and incredibly sexy.

In the past, the girls he had dated who had gone down on him had mostly done it as a kind of duty, something expected, not something that actually turned them on. Some of them were pretty much grossed out about the whole thing – especially the idea of having the man actually shoot his come in their mouth. With Victoria, it was different. She clearly enjoyed sex and was unapologetic about being good at it.

She was loving this and taking him deeper and deeper into her mouth until she was almost all the way to his balls. He was watching her red hair, watching his glistening wet cock going in and out of her mouth, looking at her tits and looking at her body and her bush. This was amazing. He wished it could go on forever. But he was also starting to feel himself beginning to lose control.

Just then, Victoria sat up. Did she want to pace things out? It was too late for that now. He felt himself starting to shoot. The first spurt went sideways and landed on the floral print bedspread. The rest, with no continuing stimulation, just dribbled out.

What had looked to be the most perfect blowjob of his life had ended as a sad anti-climax. Come was just dribbling down the front of his dick, which was now shriveling in sympathy.

Victoria watched all this. Then she said, “I’m sorry, professor, I guess I miscalculated. I had meant to hit a plateau and stop and then start it up again and then turn it down and turn it up again. You know, ‘edging’? Taking it to the edge, and stopping? I mean, by the third time, you would’ve been hitting the ceiling. Except I still would’ve been there, and I would’ve been swallowing it all. I didn’t realize you couldn’t hold on any longer.”

Winston had no idea whether anything she had just said was true at all. Certainly, the idea of her sucking him all the way and then watching her swallow everything was exactly what he had been hoping for. His fantasy. And now he had blown his chance. Not with a bang but a whimper?

“We’ll make up for it in the morning,” Victoria said, in a somewhat reassuring tone. “In the meantime, with all that wine, I think it’s time for us to rinse off in the shower and go to sleep.” Victoria took off her stockings and garter belt, and they hopped into the shower and rinsed off quickly. Then they pulled the bedspread down and got in under the sheets.

Winston was feeling confused about everything that had just happened, but at least he was able to snuggle in with Victoria and reach over and feel her breasts until he started giving way to sleep.

 * * *

When Winston woke up, Victoria was not beside him. He didn’t hear any noise coming from the bathroom, so he decided to go downstairs. He wasn’t quite sure whether he should just march downstairs completely naked, so he grabbed his robe from a hook in the bathroom and put it on.

When he got downstairs, he smelled something cooking. He went into the kitchen, and there was Victoria, wearing a professional chef-style blue denim apron he had bought in grad school, mixing up batter for the waffle maker. The apron left her backside on full display – it acted like a perfect picture frame for her ass. He could already smell the freshly-brewed coffee dripping into the carafe of the coffee maker.

Winston walked up behind Victoria and kissed the nape of her neck. Then he reached in front, underneath the apron, and began to fondle her breasts.

“Professor, I’m cooking,” she said playfully. “You can feel my tits and suck on my nipples as much as you want when we get back upstairs, but I don’t want to mess this up.”

Winston poured himself a cup of coffee and added some milk from the fridge. Then he sat down at the kitchen table, watching Victoria’s ass. He really wanted to go over and feel her ass and feel her tits and…well, just get back to business, but he also knew not to interrupt this moment of domesticity. It wasn’t exactly a love offering, but at least it was something nice and, so far as he could tell, not complicated by motives he couldn’t understand.

When the waffles were ready, Victoria put them on plates and brought them to the table. She had already set out silverware and napkins. She had found the maple syrup in the fridge and had put out the butter as well.

The waffles were excellent. “I was really happy when I spotted the waffle iron,” she told him. “Waffles look fancier than pancakes, but they’re actually easier to make.”

Winston probably would’ve had more waffles, but she had just made two for each of them. Once they were finished, he sat there drinking his coffee while Victoria took the dishes and washed them in the sink and then dried them with a dish towel and put them back in the cabinet.

“I have a dishwasher,” he said.

“If there’s a party’s worth of dishes, that’s fine,” she said. “But if there are only a few dishes, it’s easier this way. The clutter doesn’t build up. I guess I like to keep things neat.”

When they were both finished with their coffee, Victoria washed the cups and dried them, and put them back in the cupboard as well. Then, facing him, she pulled the apron off and put it back on the hook.

“Ready, professor?” she asked, watching the look on his face as he finally got to see her completely naked body again. Winston wished she would stop calling him “professor,” but what was he going to say? He sure as hell didn’t want her to stop what was going on.

He was ready, although he wished he knew a little bit more about what he was ready for.

 * * *

Victoria led the way up the stairs, with Winston utterly transfixed by every movement of her ass.

When they got into the bedroom, Victoria lay down in the middle of the bed with her legs open. “So, Herr Professor, are you ready to finally stick your dick in your hottest co-ed? Ready to feel your cock inside some freaking hot student pussy?” she asked.

Winston found himself cringing at hearing her put their situation that way, not that he had any real idea about how it should be described. Was he expecting a relationship of some sort? He couldn’t figure out anything about what was going on. On the other hand, he wasn’t about to argue right now. Not with her and her flaming bush lying naked on the bed before him. He let his robe drop on the floor and got up on the bed between her legs. Her red bush, along with her red hair, still blew him away.

He wasn’t completely hard yet, but as he held himself above her, she reached down and grabbed his cock in her hand and then started rubbing it around in her bush and then up and down between the lips of her wet pussy.

That was all Winston needed. He was totally, almost frantically, hard. He began slowly pushing his cock inside her, moving slowly in and out as he went. She began spreading her legs wider until she was completely wide open and he could watch his cock go in and out of her. “Oh, professor, that feels so good. I love your cock inside of me. I want you all the way inside me, right up to your balls. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can.”

Winston began fucking harder and faster. He was at least as turned on as she was. He had never been with anyone this hot or this beautiful in his life.

After a little while, Victoria motioned for them to turn over. Now Winston got to look at her while she was riding back and forth, facing him. From time to time, she would lean forward to let her breasts fall on his face and let him suck on her nipples. Between how hypnotically beautiful she was and how amazingly good she was in bed, this was the most perfect sex of Winston’s entire life.

Finally, she motioned for them to roll over again. When Winston was back on top, she started saying, “Pound me, professor! Fuck me like crazy! I want to feel you shooting everything inside me, right now!”

Winston had been trying to hold back, but now he couldn’t help but let loose, and the two of them came together in a frenzy of pumping hips and cries of, “Oh my God, oh fuck, oh my God!”

They were both exhausted. Winston just fell forward on top of her. Then he rolled over beside her and they just lay there together holding hands.

 * * *

After a while, Victoria sat up. “Well, professor, maybe it’s time to get a snack or something, don’t you think?”

Winston could have happily continued to just lie there, maybe even fall back to sleep, but if she wanted to head back to the kitchen, that’s where they were going.

He wasn’t sure whether he should pick up his robe from the floor, but since she wasn’t wearing anything, he decided to let it go and they both went down to the kitchen together naked.

Victoria looked around in the fridge and found a quart container of plain yogurt. She got it out and got two bowls for them. Then she took a banana from the counter and sliced it up and got spoons for both of them and set them at the kitchen table. “I wasn’t in the mood for anything heavy, so this seemed just right,” she said to him.

Winston began eating his yogurt. This seemed like it should be a relaxing moment for him, but he couldn’t help feeling anxious as well. He felt as if he had run through pretty much everything in his personal repertoire. Hadn’t he? In that case, well, was she about to just pack up and leave? In spite of everything, he knew he didn’t want that. And if not, what the hell else did she have in mind? He had realized back when he first sat down on the sofa across from her that things were happening that were way beyond his depth. And now?

He ate his yogurt as slowly as he could. Frightened was too strong a word for what he was feeling, but he was certainly feeling nervous and off-balance. So many things seemed to have turned upside down for him in that short time since he started taking out the recycling yesterday afternoon.

Despite his best efforts at procrastination, it wasn’t long before the yogurt was gone. When he was finished, she washed the bowls and spoons, dried them with the dish towel, and put them back in the cupboard. Then she led the way back to the stairs. On the way, she stopped and got something out of her bag on the sofa and then started up the stairs with Winston following and watching every movement of her ass.

 * * *

When they got back to the bedroom, Victoria turned to him. “Okay, professor, how would you feel about trying something a little more kinky?”

“Kinky?” Winston felt wary. This might be really good, but right now he had no idea what she might possibly have in mind.

“How would you like to fuck me in the ass, Herr Professor? Isn’t that one of your fantasies?”

Was it? At this point, Winston had no idea. But he also knew he had no choice. And now that he thought of it, yes, it probably was one of his fantasies. More likely, beyond his fantasies.

“Come on, professor. Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass before?”

Winston hesitated. “Uh…no, not really.”

“Not really? What the hell does that mean, professor? Did you just put the tip in?”

“No… uh… I haven’t done it at all.” Why was he feeling embarrassed about admitting this? It’s not like it was something everyone was doing…was it? Or something he really should have done by now?

“Well, do you want to try? I mean, it would be kind of ridiculous for you to teach a class on eroticism without ever having done anal, right? And it would be kind of a kick for me to take your ass-fucking cherry. I think that would be pretty hot for both of us. How taboo and kinky would that be? Just think, you, almost-tenured Herr Professor Fletcher, fucking your hot redhead co-ed student in the ass. Watching your hard dick going all the way inside your sweet, innocent student’s asshole. That would make a story everyone in the class could totally get off to.”

Winston wondered if this was just one more step into this abyss he had somehow found himself falling into. On the other hand, was he really going to not do this? With the hottest woman he had ever been with? Guys used to brag about doing anal. Wasn’t it time for him to be a big boy for a change?

“Listen, professor, do you need me to go downstairs and get my stockings and garter belt and put them back on? Do you need something like that to get you in the mood? Can you get it up for fucking me in the ass if I’m not wearing some kinky outfit?”

“No, I’m fine,” Winston said, suddenly feeling defensive. The problem was, his cock was still at half-mast, with no immediate signs of perking up.

“Well, professor, sir,” said Victoria, “it does look as if you could use a little help.” She kneeled down, took his cock in her mouth, and began sucking.

Winston would’ve been happy to have her just keep doing that, but he knew this was not about a re-do of last night. Sure enough, his cock was delighted, and in no time was standing tall and ready to go.

Victoria reached over to the bedside table where she had left the item from her bag. It was a tube of something. She squeezed some of the contents into her hand. Then she began rubbing it around on his cock. “I happened to have some lube in my purse. Believe me, it will make a big difference for both of us.”

Suddenly, the whole thing began to become real for Winston. He saw her get up on the bed, squeeze some more lube into her hand, and put the tube back on her bedside table. Then she began rubbing the lube all around her ass and her asshole. She wiped her hand off with a Kleenex and got on her knees and forearms in doggy-style position with her ass angled up towards him. “Okay, professor, it’s time.”

Winston got up behind her, with his legs between hers.

“Okay,” she told him. “Now rub the tip of your cock all around my ass and then start rubbing it right over my asshole.”

Winston started rubbing the tip of his cock around her asshole. With all the lube, it felt pretty good, especially when he started rubbing it right over her tight little rosebud. He felt her twitch slightly. He started focusing on that spot, and gingerly seeing if he could start moving the tip in. He could feel her gently pushing against him as he did so.

“That’s good, professor. Just like that. Just keep pushing slowly. Try to ease the head in. Don’t worry, it’s feeling good.”

Winston kept pushing, and pretty soon he felt the tip of his cock slip inside her ass. He looked down and saw that the head had disappeared. Her ass felt really tight, and now he was starting to get into it. This was erotic, he had to admit – although at the same time he couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about being in this situation. Still, as he kept pushing, Victoria kept pushing back on him and his cock kept going further and further in.

“God, professor, your cock feels so huge in my ass. Does this turn you on? Having my hot professor fucking me in the ass is turning me on like crazy. I want your professor dick all the way in my ass, right up to your balls.”

Winston kept pushing, watching as more and more of his cock disappeared into her ass. It felt amazing. Why hadn’t he ever tried this before? This was absolutely the hottest thing he had ever done. Nothing he’d ever even thought of doing was remotely as kinky as this. Was that why he was so turned on? Oh shit, what kind of person was he really?

He kept moving his cock in and out of her ass and, with a final push, was finally all the way in her, feeling his balls bumping up against her. He paused for a second to take in the reality of it. He looked down carefully at the sight of his hard cock surrounded by her tight asshole.

Victoria had no patience for whatever distractions he was feeling. “Come on, professor! Go ahead and fuck me! Fuck my tight, innocent, co-ed ass! Faster, harder, fuck me as hard as you can! Pretend you’re fucking me on the floor in front of all the students in the class! They’re all watching us! Faster! I want to feel you shooting everything in my ass! Just keep fucking me!”

Winston sped up and was fucking harder and faster. The sensation was amazing, and the sight of his cock going in and out of her ass both freaked him out and turned him on.

Between the sensation and Victoria urging him on, it didn’t take long for him to hit the point of no return. He began shooting wildly inside her ass, while she was crying out, “Oh yes… Yes, yes, yes! Fill me up! The whole class is right here, watching everything! Watching every inch of your cock going into your student’s asshole! I want all that hot come from my hot professor dripping out of my hot ass when we’re finished. I want the whole class to be able to see it!”

They were both coming together with a fierce energy. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he couldn’t believe how hard he was coming. And she was loving all of it.

When they were finally finished, Victoria collapsed forward onto the bed, and Winston fell down on top of her, with his cock still in her ass. They lay there, not saying anything, just feeling the feeling of what had just happened.

Eventually, Winston rolled off her, and she rolled over and lay beside him.

Winston found himself wondering. What was that she had said about pretending he was fucking her in front of the whole class? That all his students were watching? Had she really been saying that? He tried to blot it out of his mind. The whole thing had been so hot, he wasn’t going to let anything ruin it for him. Um, did she really think that would make it hotter for him? Oh shit, did it? No, of course not. Absolutely not. Definitely time to stop overthinking, probably time to stop thinking at all.

 * * *

After a while, Victoria cautiously began to sit up. She grimaced as she finally balanced the full weight of her body on her ass. “Boy, am I sore. Time for a shower.”

They both got up and headed to the shower. In light of what they had just done, Victoria first turned the water as cold as it could get to numb her rear. Then she turned the water temperature to medium hot and they both lathered up like crazy, rinsed and then lathered up again. After rinsing off the first time, Winston hopped out and peed in the toilet. When he got back in, Victoria said to him, “You didn’t need to hop out, professor. I mean, the shower drain goes to the same place, and that way I could have practiced aiming for you. Maybe a golden shower or something. Too bad I finished peeing while you were out of the shower.”

Jesus. Winston had no idea what to make of that. Had he just missed out on something? What the hell was going on here?

When they were done with the second round of lathering and rinsing, they dried off and headed downstairs.

 * * *

Winston wasn’t really feeling hungry, and she wasn’t heading to the fridge to check out what was there. Instead, he went to the cupboard and got out two glasses, got some ice cubes out of the freezer, and poured each of them a Scotch. Actually, he poured them each a double, a generous one.

He didn’t really feel like sitting there at the kitchen table with her, both naked, drinking Scotch, and sitting naked on the sofa didn’t feel quite right either.

“Maybe we should just take these upstairs,” he suggested.

Victoria turned and led the way upstairs again. Once again, Winston was watching her ass the whole way up, only this time with a whole new set of questions and thoughts running through his mind.

They got back up on the bed, propped themselves up against the headboard, and sat there with their drinks. Winston had already made something of a dent in his drink on his way up the stairs.

As they tried to settle in, it was obvious that Victoria was still sore; she kept shifting her ass around slightly, looking for some position that was less uncomfortable. They sat there, looking at the drinks in their hands, neither quite sure what to say at this odd moment.

In the end, it was Victoria who spoke first. “Well, professor, I’m looking forward to being in the class for the rest of the semester. I really enjoy your teaching.

“I haven’t decided whether to go with the academic paper for the course or write some fiction. What do you think, professor? I mean, I guess I’ve got a few stories I could ‘fictionalize.’ Maybe I could do an anthology of stories and make it into my Master’s thesis. Either way, I think I should end up doing pretty well, don’t you?

“And I’m looking forward to student-teacher conferences with you to talk about ideas for my story.”

Winston had no idea what to say to this. Or really, what to say about anything right now.

 * * *

Finally, Winston got up the courage to ask about what was on his mind. “You know, do you think that tomorrow, well, remember Friday night when…well…you know, you said you’d make it up to me, about what happened?” This was embarrassing as hell. Why had he even brought it up? Whatever happened was going to be strictly up to her.

“You mean you want me to suck your dick again, professor? The very same dick you just finished fucking your hot student – me – in the ass with, and which is why my ass is still in pain? Seriously? Well…let’s see what happens in the morning.”

 * * *

After another uncomfortable silence, Victoria started up the conversation again. “You know, you asked me about my fetishes. Well, some girls like jocks, some like rich guys, some like go-getters, some just like to be abused. For me, I like intellectual guys, I like brainpower. That’s my real turn-on.

“You know, you’re not the first professor I’ve slept with. I’ve slept with three other professors before this.”

Damn. Was she really going to tell him this stuff after they had just had the most intense sex of his life? Something about how good it had been, or maybe about how good he had been, might’ve been nice.

“The first one was this really famous professor who came and gave a lecture on campus. I managed to catch his eye after the lecture, and he took me over to the hotel where he was staying near the campus. Well, it was a one-night stand, which didn’t exactly surprise me, but the thing was that for him it was just some standard thing, just one more groupie. It was like he thought he was some rock-star or something. Told me it was time to get out right after we finished having sex. All in all, he was kind of a bastard.

“The next one was a professor from my English department, although I wasn’t taking any of his classes. He was giving a lecture at another school, and I was visiting a girl I knew there. Anyhow, there was a party after his lecture, and I ended up going back to his hotel with him. He wasn’t that interesting in bed, actually pretty boring. But when he got back home, the girls at school somehow found out about what had happened, and then word spread from there. Nobody could prove anything, of course, but it was definitely juicy gossip and made things pretty awkward for him.”

Winston wondered about her telling him this story. Was he in even more trouble than he had been thinking? What did his not just having had sex with his student, but having done anal with her, say about him? He was a professor, dammit – or at least an almost-tenured professor. Or was he just one more creep, out to bang his students in the most disgusting ways? A doctor of kink? And what about…oh shit…blackmail? What the hell had he done to himself?

Victoria continued, seemingly oblivious to Winston’s growing unease. “The third one was a lot older. He was in his late 50s, maybe 57 or 58, but he had the look of someone near retirement. He was fat and he was always wearing these stupid bowties and stuff with his tweed jackets. He was not good-looking at all, and probably never had been, even in his younger days. He was married. I had seen the wife with him once at a department party. She had white hair, you know, with the blue tint and everything, and looked even older than him. Maybe she was. It wouldn’t be too surprising if he had ended up marrying a woman older than himself (maybe with some money?) who had become desperate for a marriage partner.

“Anyhow, there was a symposium at a university in another state, and this professor was reading a paper there, and I had gone there to hear some of the other papers. In the evening, I saw him sitting alone at the bar and went up to him and began talking to him. I don’t know how much he had had to drink when I sat down with him, but he probably had had a good start. It didn’t take much for me to have him thinking that there was something about him that had attracted me. And once he had that idea in his head, he began practically drooling at the sight of this young woman who might be available, even though it made absolutely no sense, and such a thing had pretty certainly never happened to him before. After another drink or two, I went back to his room with him.

“I stripped down to my panties and bra, and he got most of his clothes off. I helped pull off his T-shirt and his boxers, although I left his socks on. I spotted his cell-phone and turned it to airplane mode so it wouldn’t disturb anything.

“I’m sure he would have been too drunk to perform, but in any case, he fell asleep way before anything could possibly happen. Then I left and went back to my room and pretty much forgot about it.

“Well, as it turned out, that was not the end of it. I found out later that he had been very much in the habit of calling his wife between 10 and 11 each night when he was away, but that night, somehow it slipped his mind and so he never called home at all. His wife had tried calling his cell-phone but he didn’t answer. Finally, she called him at his hotel room phone in the morning. He was suffering from a hangover, and also, although he couldn’t quite remember all the details, he was thinking he had cheated on his wife and, unlike some of his more worldly colleagues, he had had no practice whatsoever in lying his way out of his situation.

“It didn’t help that when he got home, his wife found a pair of lavender panties in his suitcase. That was stupid of him. Anyhow, I don’t know any of the details, but the professor and his wife ended up getting a divorce. She moved away, and he began drinking heavily. About six months later, there was a car accident where he skidded on a snowy road, crashed into a tree, and was killed. I don’t know if there was a toxicologist’s report on whether he had been drunk at the time.

“I heard they had to pry the old letch’s body out of the car with the jaws of life. Served him right, if you ask me. I mean, really, him thinking someone like me would actually be attracted to him? Men can be such total fucking idiots. Totally clueless.

“I don’t feel sorry for his wife, either. What a stupid old bitch. Just thinking everyone should like her and her husband even though they were just a couple of losers, both of them.”

By now, Winston had finished his drink and was totally confused about what to think about the stories Victoria had just told him. It wasn’t actually all that late, but it was dark outside and between the alcohol and trying to process everything from the day, he was exhausted. And he knew that after what they had just done, she would not be up for another round of anything. He vaguely wondered what surprises tomorrow would bring, but he wasn’t up to thinking about anything anymore.

He turned to Victoria to kiss her good night. He thought, given the activities of the day, that this might be a moment for one of her passionate kisses. Instead, she gave him a quick peck and then moved his head down to her breasts.

“Here you go, professor, why don’t you suck on my tits for a while?”

He did. He loved sucking on her tits. And before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

 * * *

Winston awoke in the morning with the sun shining through the blinds in his bedroom window. His head hurt like crazy, and he wondered what time it was. He had thought he would wake up earlier than this.

He looked over to Victoria’s side of the bed. It was empty, and the pillow was fluffed up as if it had never been slept on. He listened to see if he could hear water going in the shower, but no. Not even water running in the sink.

He sat up gingerly. His head was a wreck. He rarely drank Scotch, and the double he had last night was way beyond his limit. He looked over to see what was left in his glass. There was nothing there, no glass at all. And when he looked to the other side, there was no glass on Victoria’s side either. Maybe she had taken them downstairs when she went down to make breakfast?

He slowly stood up and looked on the floor for his bathrobe. It wasn’t there, but he found it on the hook in the bathroom. He put it on and headed downstairs to see what Victoria was making for breakfast.

When he got downstairs, there was no smell of cooking coming from the kitchen, and when he got to the kitchen, there was no one there. When he looked in the cabinet, there were the two Scotch glasses upside down in their place. Everything looked immaculate.

He did smell the coffee in the coffee maker. He had always had the habit of refilling the water in the coffee maker and putting in a filter with fresh coffee when he finished a pot. That way, it was easy to just flip a switch when he came down in the morning and it was ready to go. There was even a timer he could set so it would be ready when he came downstairs, although he had hardly ever used it. Did he set it last night? He didn’t remember doing so.

He went back out to the living room to check the sofa. Everything looked plumped up and ready for visitors. And no sign of clothing – no lavender stockings, no garter belt, no black skirt, no white shirt, no high-heeled shoes. Nothing.

He looked over at the half-bathroom, just in case. But its door was open and the light was out.

What the hell? This was disturbing. What was going on? He opened the front door, still in his bathrobe, and hurried round to the side where Victoria had parked her bicycle. Nothing. Not even footprints or tracks of high heels in the grass. No tracks of bicycle tires. Had she put her stockings and high heels back on for the bicycle ride home, or had she gone barefoot in her own version of the “ride of shame”?

What the fuck? He had been wondering what they would do today. It didn’t have to be a do-over of Friday night. Maybe she wanted to try some BDSM. That would probably be okay, wouldn’t it?

* * *

The fact was, she was gone. As if she had never been there at all. She had been there, hadn’t she? Was this all just some kind of crazy fantasy in his memory?

He thought back to the stories she had told him about those sleazeball professors, especially the old guy whose life she had pretty much destroyed. He had felt disturbed but also jealous listening to them. Were all those stories real? Were any of them real? At all? Or were they just one more example of her fucking with his head? That did appear to be her favorite sport.

He wished he wasn’t so damn hungover. What could he do? He couldn’t go looking for her, even if he knew which dorm she lived in. How wrong could that go? He couldn’t call her, not that he knew her number – what would he say? He was in no shape to go for a run to combat his hangover. He didn’t want to go to his office to work on his class materials – he might run into a colleague, and any conversation, however innocent, would feel weird and full of potential landmines.

Maybe he should just stay home and work on his seminar? But after everything she had said about the books he had chosen for his eroticism course, he was going to have to do a lot more thinking than he was remotely ready for right now.

And then, what was it going to be like having Victoria – Vicki – in his class after this? Was she going to flash him in class? With those miniskirts she wore, it would be easy, especially if she decided to take a seat in the front. And if so, what the hell would he do? He hadn’t done a very good job this time.

Suddenly he felt drained, utterly exhausted. Was he maybe just a little bit terrified? It seemed like everything had gone wrong. He had had a narrow escape. But for all that, if she had turned her bicycle around and suddenly reappeared, he would have brought her right back in again. He was every bit as helpless and stupid as that doddering old fool in the car wreck.

 * * *

Winston turned and walked back into his house. From the living room, he could smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. On the other hand, he remembered, there was still whatever Scotch was left over in the bottle from last night in his liquor cabinet.

© Peter A. Hempel – 2025

12,500 words (07/31/25)