Chapter 1

It was the most stressful part of the academic year; final exams were approaching and semester projects were due. The timing helped me accept all of it with some equanimity.

The University required students to have a faculty advisor after choosing a major. Having enjoyed his class, I asked Professor Jeremy Ryan to be my mentor. He was one of the few creative writing professors that did not act like being a writer licensed one for freakhood. He also did not treat a student's work as if it were beneath him. Creative writing classes sometimes devolved into feel good sessions for bad writing but his criticisms were constructive and fair.

To be honest, he taught a short fiction seminar that was my first choice to satisfy the requirement but registering for it required his permission. There was no problem getting into other writing seminars, but I was not keen on wasting a semester listening to people kiss each other's asses because their last breakup was inspiring such 'great' work. No one dared hand-in that type of crap in Professor Ryan's classes. I thought as my advisor he would feel obligated to assign me a coveted permission slip.

We had a five p.m. meeting to discuss an internship with a literary agent friend of his. We discussed my interests in previous meetings where I talked about being a literary agent while working towards a doctorate. I did not have a writing talent beyond niche markets like sci-fi, fantasy, or male adventure but I knew when a piece of work or a writer showed talent. Better yet, I was a fine editor especially of other people's work.

The English faculty's offices were located in the basement of the department building. The basement was modeled on catacombs with every branch ending in two or three offices. Professor Ryan's office was one of the better hidden with three turns to get to. I wondered why he chose one so out of the way. A tenured professor with that much published work should have better.

I walked to the door and knocked.

No one answered so I knocked again.

I tried to decide between going for a cup of coffee or settling in to wait when I heard something from inside.

I knocked again but still no response.

I heard the noise from the other side of the door again and got annoyed. I tried the doorknob turning it easily. I opened the door slowly figuring someone was inside, but why take the chance of being caught in a professor's office without his company.

His desk was opposite the entrance and faced the wall so he usually sat with his back to the door. This time he was sitting parallel to the desk. I figured it was because the woman kneeling between his legs would not have been as comfortable under the desk.

I stood frozen in envy.

Even in that position or maybe because of her position; on her knees, red hair washing into his lap, her back slightly curved, her hands gripping his thighs; it was obvious she had a fantastic body. She wore a powder-blue skirt, slightly longer than a cheerleader's. It was short enough for me to see the thickness and definition of her thighs. Her burnished red hair hid her face as she carried out her task. Her thick sweatshirt valiantly tried to hide the rest of her attributes but only tantalized.

She stopped caressing his thigh with her right hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. A ring on her finger caught the light and my attention. It was a very simple design; the band, too thick for a woman's ring covered the entire space between knuckles. The ring opened into a flat square face with a shiny white stone set in it. I had seen rings like it before on men with an onyx face stone.

Moving the hair revealed her identity.

Doris Alex.

Doris Alexandra Smith!

Doris Alex was a campus Goddess, and there were at least a thousand men who would have vigorously defended her status as such. Of every woman on campus, there was only one that would have surprised me more to see in that position; the "Bryar" patch, Melisa.

Doris Alex's presence set off my internal alarms.

After a few conversations with Doris Alex, I learned the only way to not seem an idiot was to keep my mouth shut around her. Professor Ryan did not teach anything that Doris should be wasting her time on. That was not an opinion expressed by her, but my own deeply held belief that Doris Alex could offer the world better things than a poem or a book.

My thought process halted as her actions registered on a physical level.

Doris Alex had Professor Ryan's dick sheathed between her lips.

The moment of stillness ended and my heart beat painfully hard. The exquisite care she took in performing the act dropped my guard. Her hands moved gently caressing his thighs, exposed abdomen, his sack and the base of his penis. She tried to keep his skin guessing where the pleasure would come from next. Her fingertips settled on different spots only long enough to set off nerves and moved to stimulate elsewhere.

All her motions orbited the action of her lips moving up and down his penis. Occasionally when her hands touched his dick, she removed him completely from her mouth, and stroked some nearby part of him with her tongue.

Chapter 2 »