Girls on Campus

by Sandy Lowe

  “Does this mean I’m the teacher’s pet?” Bryn asked.

  “It certainly shoots you up the ladder, Miss Elliott.”

  *

  “You really don’t have to stay,” Bryn said as they waited for the nurse practitioner to check her out.

  “Hot date you need to get to, Miss Elliott?” Maison glanced up from her papers, almost done since Bryn had kept her eyes closed.

  “No, but I’m sure my roommate won’t mind relieving you.” Bryn smiled, and this time she didn’t seem like she was in pain.

  “How about you concentrate on clearing your head instead of trying to get rid of me, and this will go a lot smoother.” She packed away her work in the old leather messenger bag she’d had since she’d started school, and put it next to Bryn’s stuff. “It was my fault you fell, so I don’t mind.”

  The nurse came by and gave them the all clear. Thankfully Bryn’s flying act hadn’t ended in a concussion. Maison carried their stuff and got Bryn into the passenger side of her truck.

  “Hungry?”

  Bryn nodded before resting her head back and closing her eyes again. “Whatever you want, I’m not picky.”

  “Hopefully you outgrow that eventually. There are certain things you should be demanding about.”

  *

  Bryn walked around Maison’s office and studied the few pictures on the wall. The place was full of boxes, as if she’d unloaded the U-Haul and run out of steam. It was a shock to find herself there. They’d stopped so Maison could post the test scores before heading out to wherever they were going to eat.

  “Why do you still give written tests?” Bryn asked and thought she’d screwed up her chances of staying when Maison stopped typing and glanced over at her. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with questions either, so don’t hold back. It’s the only way to learn anything.” Maison swiveled her chair around and reached to pick up Bryn’s iPad. “Do you have a favorite poem, or are you taking my course because you figured it’d be easier than writing essays?”

  “I like poetry.” She smiled when Maison hiked her eyebrows up. “I also hate writing essays.”

  “I make you write your answers on paper to remind you that life isn’t all about having something like this in front of your face all day, every day. Poets like Brontë, Browning, Dickinson are better enjoyed by holding books than an e-reader. But I guess if that’s the only way I can get you to discover their works, then I should shut up.” Maison put the device down and tapped her finger on it. “Some of life’s pleasures are best enjoyed the old-fashioned way.”

  “I also took your class because you’re much better looking than Dr. Welsh,” Bryn said, totally shocking herself by saying something so out of character, but she wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.

  “That’s flattering, but the university frowns on me complimenting my students even if they deserve it.” Maison’s eyelids were half-closed, as if some inappropriate thoughts were going through her head. “And considering you’re the only one who didn’t totally bomb my quiz, I’d hate to lose you in my class.”

  The answer was interesting. It wasn’t a “no,” or a “you’re too young,” so she thought of her roommate’s proclamation of doing the good Professor Davis. The real reason she’d registered for Maison’s class was to indulge her fantasy of putting her hands on Maison’s ass and having her beg for more.

  “It’d be our little secret.”

  “Until it wasn’t,” Maison said, still with that great smile.

  “I’m sure you’ve gotten your share of coed crushes, but I’ve been waiting for you to get here since last year when they announced your appointment,” Bryn said as she opened two of the buttons on her blouse. “There was a story in the school paper about your transfer.” She undid two more buttons and smiled at the reaction.

  Maison didn’t move, but her fingers were white on the desktop, she was pressing her fingers down so hard. “So you’re different, is what you’re saying?” Bryn almost laughed; Maison’s voice sounded slightly higher.

  “I’d like to think so.” She finished the row of buttons and took a second to congratulate herself for taking time over the summer to update her underwear selection. Maison’s eyes betrayed her stance on fraternization. Her gaze wasn’t on Bryn’s face. “For one, I’m not crazy.” Bryn moved to the door and locked it. The sun was starting to set, and she doubted they’d be disturbed.

  Maison laughed. “Okay, that’s an interesting start.”

  “I meant I won’t go running to the dean if we agree this isn’t for us.” She dropped her shirt and stood still, wanting Maison to take a good slow look and thanking whatever higher power was giving her all this confidence.

  “What else?” Maison asked, clearing her throat, but keeping the desk between them, as if she didn’t trust herself.

  “You won’t have to work very hard to turn me on.” She fumbled a bit with the top button of her jeans.

  Maison seemed to finally take mercy on her and came around the desk to take a seat in a well-worn leather club chair. “Any woman as beautiful as you, Miss Elliott, deserves a lover’s full attention, so why say that?”

  “Watching you teach something you’re passionate about makes me wet.” The declaration had Maison spreading her legs slightly, and Bryn desperately needed her pants off. “I doubt you’ve noticed me before today, but Tuesdays and Wednesdays are my favorite days this semester.”

  “I’ve noticed you.”

  “I think about you when I touch myself every night.”

  Maison closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but kept her seat. “So was today planned?”

  “Today was me being a scatterbrain because we were talking about how we’d willingly give in if you gave us a chance.” She managed the rest of the buttons and kicked off her jeans.

  “We?”

  “My roommate and me.” She moved to the ottoman and very carefully, so as to not touch Maison, placed a foot on the chair arm and leaned back on one hand.

  The white lace bra and panties hid very little, so Bryn was sure that Maison had no problem seeing her fingers when she slid them between her legs. “See, I told you that watching you makes me wet.”

  Maison stared at her slick, wet fingers before looking her in the eye. “You’re not calling your roommate, are you?”

  “She can fall on her head on her own time. I’m not sharing you with anyone.” That Maison nodded was a relief; she really did want her total attention. “Right now, though,” Bryn leaned forward and ran her fingers along Maison’s lips, “I need you to kiss me.”

  “Bryn,” Maison said, her hands still on the chair, “let’s think about this.”

  “You’re brilliant, but thinking is the last thing I want you to do.” She grabbed the front of Maison’s shirt and tugged hard. “I want you to forget everything and concentrate on this.” Bryn moaned when their lips met. “Do you really want me to go?”

  “No.” Maison kissed her again before leaning back and resting her arms on the chair. “I might need more convincing, though.”

  Bryn leaned back, anchoring her feet under Maison’s legs. She’d never done this for anyone, but she spread her legs and started stroking her clit for Maison’s enjoyment. It felt so good, but she wanted to ratchet up her desire so Maison craved to touch her. If that happened, they wouldn’t stop until they were both so satisfied it’d leave an impression they couldn’t ignore going forward.

  She cupped one of her breasts and squeezed enough to make Maison exhale heavily. The material felt rough against her nipple, and she liked the way they were visible enough for Maison to be mesmerized.

  “So tell me how you know my name.” She moved her hand slowly down her body as Maison squirmed. “There’s got to be a hundred and fifty people in your class.”

  “Not too many of them sit in the front.” Maison placed her hands on Bryn’s ankles. “And the ones who do don’t look like you.” Maison spread h
er legs a little more, and since she had a hold of her, Bryn had no choice but to do the same. “Show me what you want.”

  Maison’s tone had changed and become authoritative. Bryn pushed her panties out of the way, spread her pussy, and kept stroking—only now Maison could see exactly how turned on she was. She slid her fingers over her now stone-hard clit and tried to keep her eyes open to see Maison’s reaction.

  “Is that all for me?” Maison asked, and the question made her wetter. “Is it?”

  “Yes.” She moved her hand faster and harder.

  “Bryn,” Maison said loud enough to get her attention. “Give me your hands.” She held her own hand out.

  “Please, I need to come.”

  “You will, but you need to learn a little patience. Think of it as the difference between writing an essay and typing a tweet.”

  Bryn laughed but did as Maison asked. “It usually takes me a week to write an essay. If you make me wait that long, I’ll damage something.” Maison’s laugh seemed to echo through her body, and she moved closer and went willingly when Maison lifted her to straddle her lap.

  “Tell me what you want.” Maison reached behind her and unhooked her bra with one hand.

  “Done this before, have you?” Bryn asked but didn’t want an answer when Maison circled her right nipple with the tip of her tongue. The touch went from her nipple straight to her clit as if they were connected.

  “Suck it,” she said and slid her fingers into Maison’s hair.

  “I could,” Maison said as she moved to the left nipple, “or you can take those pretty panties off before I have to rip them.”

  Bryn stood up so fast she came close to falling over, and Maison stood to hold her steady. “Aren’t you going to take anything off?” Bryn asked. “You’re extremely overdressed.”

  “If you want it, take it, but if you stop unbuttoning I’ll stop too.”

  “Stop what?” she asked and slumped against Maison when she put her hands on her ass and squeezed. Her begging Maison to fuck her wasn’t far off, but she rose to Maison’s challenge and started unbuttoning her shirt.

  When Bryn reached the last button, Maison had her hand between her legs, and she was having trouble staying upright.

  “Please,” she said and closed her eyes when Maison picked her up and carried her to the desk. The wooden surface was uncomfortable until Maison laid her back, sat in her office chair, and put her mouth on her. “Please, baby,” she said as she put her feet on the edge and spread her legs.

  Maison started with a flat tongue but went only to the bottom of her clit. She lifted her head to complain when Maison sucked her clit so hard Bryn’s ass came off the desk. When she brought it down, Maison’s fingers slid deep into her pussy, and the sensation almost made her come.

  “Fuck me,” she said and grabbed two fistfuls of Maison’s hair, not wanting her to move her head.

  Maison was incredible as she went from sucking her to licking her until Bryn could sense the beginning of her orgasm. She squeezed Maison’s fingers and grunted when she came so hard she landed on the desk like a wet piece of paper.

  “I can see English isn’t the only thing you majored in and are passionate about.” She enjoyed the feel of Maison’s fingers still buried inside her.

  “There’s more to life than poetry.” Maison kissed her clit before lifting her head.

  “You’re right, but I think you spend a lot of time sitting and reading in that chair where we started, don’t you?” Bryn sat up, wrapped her legs around Maison’s waist, and kissed her, thrilled to suck on Maison’s tongue and taste herself on her lips.

  “I do,” Maison said slowly, as if she wasn’t sure where she was going with the conversation. Bryn gasped when Maison stood and pulled her closer so her wet pussy was pressed to her jeans. It was rough, but it brought her pussy back to life, and she wanted to feel Maison’s skin pressed to her.

  “Then I think you should have a seat.”

  Bryn unbuttoned Maison’s pants and followed them and her underwear down when they were back at the chair. “Sit for me,” she said as she pushed the ottoman out of the way.

  Bryn sat back on her heels and stared at her fantasy come to life. Maison looked so good with her shirt open, sitting and waiting for Bryn to lick her dry.

  “I’m going to suck you until you come.” She put her hands on Maison’s knees and ran them down to her inner thighs, liking that Maison spread her legs as far as the chair would allow. She lowered her head and put her tongue very briefly on Maison’s clit before leaning back again. “Would you like that, baby?”

  “I would, but would you?” Maison said, a bit too smugly for Bryn.

  The professor was about to get a lesson in balancing the positions of power. Unlike Maison, who preached about patience, Bryn put her mouth on her clit and sucked hard to press it to her tongue. It must’ve felt good since Maison reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair. Right now all she wanted in life was to make Maison come hard, fast, and in her mouth.

  “Fuck.” Maison held Bryn’s head in place, unnecessarily, since she had no intention of moving or stopping. She sucked harder, trying to give the same pleasure Maison had given her. “Fuck, right there,” Maison said, and Bryn’s clit came to life again when Maison’s hips moved in time with her mouth. She pressed her thighs together to get some relief but it wasn’t enough, so she reached down and started touching herself.

  She didn’t want to come by her own hand, and Maison must’ve noticed because she pulled on her hair hard enough to make her head come up.

  “Wait, I want—” she said but didn’t get a chance to finish when Maison stood and bent her over the front of the desk.

  She let out a keening sound when Maison pressed her pussy to her ass and reached forward to put her hand between her legs. “Baby, if anyone is going to make you come, it’s going to be me.” Maison stroked Bryn’s clit.

  It was almost too much as she felt Maison pump into her ass and touch her at the same time, but she held out, wanting Maison to come first.

  “Shit,” Maison said as if all her intellect had deserted her. When her hips sped up, Bryn could tell she was close. The jerky motion of Maison coming made her smile, but she didn’t get a chance to gloat. Maison turned her around and laid her out on the desk again.

  “Oh God, oh God.” She bucked into her mouth and covered Maison’s hand with hers when she reached up to pinch her nipple. It took only Maison’s mouth and her fingers inside to make her come again, harder than the first time, with her feet on Maison’s back.

  They didn’t move for a long while, and she sighed when Maison pulled out, picked her up, and moved to the chair again, where she settled on Maison’s lap. “Are you going to kick me out now?” she asked when Maison put her arms around her.

  “You’re more intelligent than that. Think of a better question, Miss Elliott.” Maison kissed her temple. “The semester just started, but I think there are some hard, wet lessons we can teach each other. Don’t you?”

  “It could be a homework assignment that would take years to finish.”

  “You’re a fast learner, baby.”

  “Are you kidding? This is one course I’m going to ace.”

  Guise and Dolls

  Allison Wonderland

  I’m not a big fan of coffee, but I could really go for a cup of Jo.

  Just look at her. She’s…Oh, you can’t. Well, that’s okay. I’ll look, and you look forward to my risqué yet respectful descriptions.

  If she were a dyke, Jo would be the ultimate lipstick lesbian. She certainly has the face for it: more striking than a set and applied with more technique than Meisner. And she definitely has the figure for it: Jo’s got enough curves to compete with a crazy straw. She even wriggles when she walks, except she doesn’t walk—she struts, hips swiveling like a hula dancer, legs flexing like a ballet dancer. When she struts across campus, the guys say, “Looking good today, Joelle,” as if she didn’t look good yesterday and migh
t not look good tomorrow. Everywhere she goes, she is besieged by winks and whistles and overtures of fornication.

  That’s because everywhere she goes, everyone thinks she’s straight. And she is. Just look at her. I know—you can’t. You’ll have to trust me on this one. Everything about her is straight: her teeth, her posture, her hair, her orientation.

  Speaking of orientation, that’s when I first laid thighs on her. We’re both… What? I said eyes. All right, I meant to say eyes. Anyway, we’re both students in the Conservatory of Theatre Arts. I thrive on dyke drama, which is why I’m in the Dramatic Writing program. Joelle is a drama queen of a different sort—she’s majoring in Performance. During freshman orientation last semester, the Wellness Center put on a bunch of hokey health skits about stress and sex and other collegiate concerns. Joelle was one of the actors in a play called “You Booze, You Lose…Your Virginity.” She turned on a pretty good performance. Heck, even my thighs got a little damp. And…I did it again, didn’t I? Well, my eyes were damp too, I swear.

  “For crying out loud, this is so ridiculous,” Joelle remarks, as we make our way toward the dorms. She’s not strutting now; she’s stomping—across the brick tiles that pave the campus. This place is such an eyesore. All the buildings are brown, like an old-timey radio. It seems like the only campus beautification project the school has undertaken is admitting Joelle. She could beautify… Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

  “I’m supposed to tear up at the end of ‘Adelaide’s Lament,’” Joelle laments. “Adelaide’s all groom and doom because the guy she’s in love with doesn’t want to take the plunge, so she develops this miserable cold, yadda yadda. I have to go from sick sniffles to sob sniffles. The problem is I can’t fake it; I have to feel it. Well, I would if I could but I can’t, so…I can’t. It’s such a far cry from what I—” Loose tiles rattle like dishes and I snatch Jo’s arm when she wobbles. “If my acting career fails, the only thing I have to fall back on is my ass.”

  I study the snug hug of Jo’s jean shorts—a little too longingly, because I’m starting to feel that customary quiver. I push my spiral notebook up against my chest so that if my body decides to broadcast my craving for Jo to the entire student body, it won’t look like I’m smuggling gumdrops under my shirt.