by Mona Cox
I pause at the doorway. Hospital or the nurse’s station? I impulsively choose the nurse’s station. It’s a hell of a lot closer and they ought to be able to at least decide whether she needs further medical attention, right?
God, she could have a concussion.
I hurriedly backtrack to my classroom and bark at a student who’s about to enter, “Tell everyone that class is canceled today,” and then pivot and head towards the elevator. The nurses’ station is on the second floor, but after a quick glance down the hallway towards the elevator, I see people waiting and decide to go for the stairs instead. She hasn’t stirred yet, and god, what if she really hurt herself on that filing cabinet?
I take the stairs two a time, her body so light, I feel like I’m carrying nothing more than a backpack full of books. I look down at her gorgeous body, her silky button-up shirt gaping open in the front, showing me her lacy red bra.
I gulp and stare ahead again, taking the stairs three at a time now. I cannot leer at her while she’s passed out, or that makes me no better than the asshole in the video.
But Jesus Christ.
Did you see that bra?
No. Stop it. My cock is not twitching.
Is she wiggling around? Because I swear, her top parts a bit farther.
It’s like somehow the universe is tempting me to stare at one of my female student’s red lace bra covered tits as she lays unconscious in my arms.
Yeah, perfect scenario to be caught up in, right?
Would not be good for the family name. Although thankfully I’m not like the rest of the family – all caught up in preserving that whole New England façade.
Oh right, forgot to introduce myself – have to do it now.
My name is Anders Trask.
Yes, that’s me sighing. Anders Trask of the Boston Trask family.
The ones who fought in the Revolution and all that, yeah. Made their money before the War of Independence and then again during the Civil War, and then again during Prohibition and then once more after World War II.
Son of the Senator. Nephew of the Governor. The Trask Library – yeah, that’s after my Dad’s gift.
Can we talk about his later though? Right now, I need to make sure Christine is okay.
I push through the door and out into the hallway of the second floor, heading right, searching for the door to the nurses’ station as I go. She starts to move just a little, almost…snuggling against the front of me as I carry her. I cradle her closer, feeling protective as I do. Yeah, she shouldn’t have snuck into my office to check Facebook and we’re going to have to have a chat about that, but damn, what she saw wasn’t what she deserved. What any woman deserves.
I backed my way into the nurses station, Christine cradled in my arms. She’s nuzzling my chest now, her eyes still not open, and I have to wonder what she’s dreaming about to have that kind of reaction to it.
I bark at the student nurse who comes out of the examination room, “Look at her, now! I think she has a concussion!”
With a gulp and a nod, the student opens the door wide and I carry Christine into the room. Hopefully, now, we can get her some help.
153
Christine
All right, fine. I’ve been awake for ten minutes now. I’ll admit it.
Well, only to you. I’m not about to admit it to Sex-on-a-Stick Professor here.
I mean, what would you do if you awoke to the man of your dreams carrying you in his arms? Snuggle in further and start sniffing his cologne while imagining yourself licking your way up his body?
That’s what I thought.
And what if you saw Professor Sex eyeing your chest?
I mean how can I not as a red-blooded American woman not give him a better view?
Being carried in his arms, his eyes on me, makes me want to let my arm fall so I can accidentally squeeze his cock.
Maybe he then let me give him an accidental blowjob. And we can have some accidental sex.
Right. I’m supposed to be completely shocked about George, right?
I should be. But I’m sorta just relieved.
In fact the biggest thing I wish I could do right now is go on Facebook and change my relationship settings. Only, I’m supposed to be comatose.
Except, I’ll admit, my acting skills are, like, nonexistent. He’s busy telling the student nurse that he thinks I have a concussion and yeah, my head hurts a little – I must’ve hit it on something when I blacked out – but I’m pretty sure it’s just a scratch. Certainly not concussion worthy.
I just want to go back to the point where he was carrying me around in his arms. His arms that are so damn muscular and sexy, I’m sure there are girls who spontaneously started ovulating just by glancing at them. I know I felt…well, fuck, amazeballs to have them wrapped around me.
Except now he’s laid me down on some hard table and he’s stepped away. I can still smell him so I know he’s still in the room, but his warmth isn’t wrapped around me anymore. Dammit. I shiver, the cold of the table seeping through my bones.
The junior nurse, lackey, whatever his title is, suddenly starts prying my eyelid open and shooting a bright light into it.
“Oww!” I holler, swatting the offending light away and then freeze. Goddammit.
Did I mention that I suck ass at acting? Apparently, that includes playing dead when someone shines a flashlight in my eye. They should warn people about that sort of thing beforehand.
I slowly open up my eyes, blinking slowly against the bright fluorescent lights.
“She’s perfectly fine, Professor Trask,” the student nurse says with a chuckle. “Let’s sit up now, Ms…” he consults his scribbled notes, “Christine.”
With a groan that isn’t entirely faked, I swing my legs over the side of the table and sit up. I don’t want to look at Professor Trask, I really, really don’t, he’s going to be rolling his eyes in disgust with me faking it, except I can’t help it, I have to look, I have to know…
I risk a quick sidelong glance and am surprised to see him smiling at me – a look of genuine worry and concern on his face. He isn’t pissed.
Wow. That’s cool.
The nurse quickly washes and cleans the scratch on my temple and says, “It’s not big enough to need a bandage,” and I can hear the derision in his voice when he says it. Dammit. I shrink in a little. I shouldn’t have pretended. I actually try really hard to always make the right choice in every situation, but his arms…his smell…
I’m telling you, you would’ve pretended too.
“I’m going to head back to work,” Professor Trask says, and looks back at me. “Ms. Christine – I hope you feel better soon,” and walks out of the examination room. My eyes follow him wistfully. Fuck, he’s got a hot ass.
“Looked your fill?” the student nurse sneers.
I ignore him and push myself off the exam table. It was time go bathe in wine and chocolate and pretend today didn’t happen. First George and his stripper lap dance, and then being humiliated in front of the sexiest professor of all time.
Yup, definitely a dark chocolate and red wine kind of day. 9:30 isn’t too early to start drinking, right?
I didn’t think so.
154
Anders
With a sigh, I open up another folder as I sit at my desk. I have to choose which student I’m going to recommend for the UN Consultancy Program from NYU, and needless to say, there’s grad students who’d give their right arm to get into that program. This isn’t going to be an easy process to choose.
This is why I seemed a bit distracted earlier when I first walked in here.
This year, I’ve been tapped to sit on the nominating and evaluation committee. The whole UN Consultancy Program is the ticket to any political science grad student’s future. You get this gig, the world is yours, literally.
You get placed in high profile United Nations programs and get facetime with world leaders. Another way to put it is this – you cannot get into this pr
ogram and not become a world leader. Even if you leave public service after this, you get snapped up by corporations who will ask you to provide feedback and advice and pay you a few million a year to keep you on retainer.
Not a bad way to retire, if you ask me.
I never did it. But then again, my family has more money than God. We’re just Boston Brahmins, so we don’t show it in between doing all our Yankee things like eating lobster rolls and summering in the Cape.
In fact, it’s probably my connections and my family that made the Dean select me to be on this nominating committee. The fact that I worked at the UN might have helped too.
Each year, NYU sends one person into this United Nations program and the nominating committee then judges all applicants.
Anyone can nominate. However, students have to ask first.
And damn, with Christine Jalili’s volunteer work at the local refugee program, she’d be an amazing fit. I had mentioned the program in class the other day and told all interested students to submit a pre-application – just some info on their background and interests. Based on those pre-apps, Christine is pretty much a perfect fit for what the UN is looking for.
She’s a perfect fit for my arms too. I feel my cock stir at the thought. Yesterday, when she was in my arms, she felt…amazing. The curve of her best above her lacy red bra, her skirt hitching its way up her thighs, her softness…
I felt myself grow harder. I know I’m not supposed to be dreaming about kissing my way up my student’s thighs, but fuck. More than anything in the world, I want to know if her panties matched her bra. Were they red and lacy? Were they a thong, sliding up between her perfect ass cheeks?
I reach under my desk to stroke my dick through my pants. I can’t stand it anymore. It’s either jerk off or explode. I can look at student files later. For now, I have to take care of busin—
A knock on the door stopped my hand in mid-stroke. I hurriedly shove my dick to the side and scoot further underneath the desk. If I’m careful not to stand up, my visitor will have no idea I was about to spank the monkey.
I clear my throat, suddenly having a hard time talking. “Co…come in!” I get out, around the desire thrumming through me. Whoever it is can talk and then get the fuck out. It’s seven at night, I’m not on the clock according to my contract with the university, and I have a certain…need that damn well be taken care of soon or I’m gonna go cross-eyed.
The door slowly swings open and in walks…
Christine Jalili.
I scoot closer to the desk, almost cutting off my airway, just as my dick, which had been softening at the thought of no fun in the immediate future, springs back to life. I am sporting one hell of a tent pole, my 12-inch dick practically ripping a hole through my slacks, and I am now stuck hiding it beneath this desk instead of standing to greet the cause of it as good manners would dictate.
I give her a warm smile, hoping she’ll ignore my bad manners if I turn on the charm high enough. There’s always a chance…
155
Christine
“Co…come in!” I hear his deep voice bark through the closed door. I push the door open hesitantly. I swear I can feel my damn knees knocking together. After our little…interlude yesterday, I made sure to sit at the back of the lecture hall today, trying to hide behind the overly tall dude sitting in front of me, and slipping out the door at the end of class without making eye contact. After my wine-fueled pity party last night, I only barely gathered up enough courage to even go to class today.
And what’s that smell? It smells a bit musky.
Like pre-cum?
What is wrong with me? This can’t be about George. But it’s like there are some pheromones in the air and my body has just started reacting to them whether I like it or not.
The thing is, though, this UN Consultancy Program? It’s, like, my dream come true. If I could be accepted into that, I could be fast tracked to a career in the United Nations. Anders – after nuzzling his nipple through his shirt while pretending to be knocked out, I just cannot bring myself to call him Professor Trask – has all these high profile family members and he even worked for the UN before becoming a professor here at NYU. A recommendation from him would literally change my life.
Now I just need to gather up the courage to ask for it.
I slip inside his office and close the door behind me. He’s sitting at his desk, covered in files with what looks like the pre-apps in them. I breathe in deep in ecstasy, carried away for a moment with that scent again. It’s a scent that’s got no real description. Just….him.
My eyes pop open and I give him a bright smile, trying to cover up my nosegasm. He gives a warm, charming smile in return and I feel like my heart is going to have a heartgasm any second now.
“Hey Christine,” he says warmly, “take a seat.” I sit down in the leather chair, sinking into its buttery softness, and then try to figure out what to say and how to say it.
“Sorry about yesterday,” I begin. “I’m not sure what—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he cut me off. “I imagine seeing that…video threw you for a loop. Are you okay?” His worried eyes search my face.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. He was jackass anyway. I just…didn’t expect that, you know?” Before he can respond, I rush on. I have to get this out. “The UN program…have you had a chance to look at the applications? I mean, I know you can’t tell me how others are doing in the process but…this, this is what I’ve wanted my whole life. This is why I’m here at NYU in the Poli-Sci program. I know you used to work for the UN and I want to also, it’s my dream come true and I just need to know if you’ll recommend me for it.”
I sputter to a stop and then shut the hell up because I really have nothing else to add. I know that whole speech made me sound desperate, but I’ll be honest – I feel desperate. This is like someone dangling an Olympic gold in front of a gymnast. This is what I want – more than anything, this is it.
I lick my lips nervously and then cross and recross my legs as I try to find a comfortable place to sit, but it’s like trying to find a comfortable place to sit in an electrical storm. Just being around Anders sets my whole body on fire. My eyes skim up his arms, encased in a silky, button up gray shirt, perfectly offsetting his gorgeous blue-gray eyes and his bulging muscles. What does he do – bench-press houses every morning for fun?
I cross my legs again, feeling my thong getting wetter by the moment. He needs to speak and like, now, or I’m gonna and I’m gonna make an idiot out of myself if I do, I just know it, so he needs to save me from myse—
“We should probably talk about this in-depth later. The criteria is moral fiber, of course, and I’d like to know why you feel you are the best qualified applicant based on that criteria. But, I’ve got some thing to do – what do you think about meeting later this evening?” He checks his watch. “It’s 7:15 now. What about 9:00, at the Dos Caminos?”
“That’d be good!” I say a little too enthusiastically and even as I say it and am cringing from the tone, I just keep going, ‘cause I can’t fucking stop myself. “I’m meeting with some friends right now but after that would be great. We can talk and discuss things then.” I shut my mouth with a snap, forcing myself to shut the fuck up. He is just so damn fuckable, it’s hard to breathe around him, let alone think smart people thoughts.
Uh-oh. Is he going to think we’re going on a date? I probably shouldn’t date my professor, right? I should make it clear that this isn’t a date. Just so we’re clear and professional and shit. I open up my mouth to say something – not sure how I’m going to word it, but something – when he says, “Sounds good. See you there,” and then turns back to his work. At his desk. I’m dismissed.
I stand up on wobbly heels and yank my skirt down, hoping that the wet from my panties hasn’t leaked through to my skirt. That would be so embarrassing. Even more embarrassing than everything else I’ve gone through in the last 24 hours, and that’s really saying something at thi
s point.
Just to be careful, I back towards the door, making sure not to turn around and show him my ass, but he’s not paying any attention to me. He’s bent over the desk, his dark hair falling down into his face as he works, shielding his expression from me.
I slip out of the office door and close it behind me, leaning against it with a sigh.
“Christine,” I mutter out loud, “he doesn’t look at you that way. Get over yourself already.”
Right. Time to go get ready for drinks with the group. A fun night, heading my way.
Starting now.
I push off the door and stride down the hallway out and out the front doors. Time to have some fun.
Enough fun to forget this beautiful man.
156
Anders
When the door closes behind Christine, I give up all pretense of working, pushing away from the desk and grabbing my throbbing cock through my slacks. Just being around her turned me on, but when she started crossing and uncrossing her legs, licking her fucking lips as she did it, I thought I was going to cum right then and there.
But I can’t just palm myself through my slacks. Fuck no. If I don’t get some relief right fucking now, I’m gonna go blind, I swear to god I will. I unzip my pants and pull my cock out, throbbing and hard as fuck. I don’t know how she didn’t see it underneath the desk, practically lifting my desk in the air. Twelve inches of red, angry, throbbing cock that wants Christine Jalili and wants her now.
My cock will have to make-do with my palm, for now anyway, but that doesn’t stop from closing my eyes and imagining her curves as I stroke my hand up and down my dick. Her cherry red lips wrapped around me as she looks up at me, begging me with her startling blue eyes to just fuck her already. Turn her around and fuck her hard, smacking her ass as I do it, showing her what a bad girl she really was…
