Chapter 9

Thursday, Aug 23, 7:24 am

As the hot water cascaded over his body, Bill gave a small moan. Thursdays allowed him to sleep in a little more as his first class wasn't until 11:00 am. If he had slept well, he would still be in bed. As it was, with the pain and the fact that he couldn't get his mind off of what had happened ... well, might as well get up and get started on the day.

He grabbed the bar of soap, running it under his arms. Each time he had started to drift off in a pain filled doze, the image of Sarah beneath him returned with a force that was spooky. And 'beneath him' was more than just under his body; he could feel a ... submission, of sorts from her in his dream. Scrubbing his chest, he wondered just what the hell was going on with his mind, anyway. He had never been into that kind of scene. Not that he had even thought about it before except...

The soap, and his sudsy hands, moved down his stomach ... and he grasped his cock: washing, stroking, as Sarah's image formed again in his mind. She was kneeling before him, a contented smile on her face which was slowly turning up to him; watching him stroke faster near her face, her lips slightly parted; as soap suds flew, striking her face, her chest; his fist moving faster on his cock, pumping; as she licks her lips in anticipation, he cums, his hot sperm shooting onto her face, her throat, her chest; with a groan, Bill cums in the shower, his fist pumping hard and fast, white wet bursts of semen splattering tub and tiled wall. Legs shaking, calves twitching from the tightening he had unconsciously done as he neared orgasm, he staggered and grasped the wash cloth bar. Okay, this wasn't helping him get past this ... infatuation.

Sighing ... Bill finishes washing up, feeling worse than when he had woken up. Get a grip, Bill, he chastised himself, not appreciating the humor of his words.

Thursday, Aug 23, 6:52 pm

Sarah walked up to the computer lab, paused for just a moment, and entered the open doorway.

Bill was at the printer, looking at something the old machine was chugging away at. She only caught some of his profile, and much of the swelling, she could tell, had gone down on his lip. He still wore his shades, ever so gently on his bandaged nose and didn't look as she passed by.

Sarah frowned as she walked to her seat. How come he wouldn't ... open up? Yes, she was a student, they all were, but he had to know that some of them were concerned. She pulled back her chair, set her book bag down, and sat down.

Bill had sensed someone enter the class, but as he had been avoiding people all day, he kept up the habit by studying the print out.

Other students filed in, the part timers barely looking at his sunglasses once (they hadn't heard the latest yet). At seven Bill turned and sat at his computer, hitting the wall projector to his Mac while turning off the lights. An image of Bill's Mac's desk top appeared on the wall, grabbing the students' attention (which Bill was thankful for).

Sarah had to turn her back to Bill to see the screen, and she wasn't pleased. She sighed and watched as he demonstrated how to launch a document in InDesign.

Bill took his time demonstrating, giving the students plenty of time to think about what they were doing on their own screens. Some of what he said was as if he where reading from a text book, plain and unassuming.

Towards the end of the class, however, he grew more animated as some smart and not so smart questions were asked (he reassured them later that there were no stupid questions, just stupid people that asked them, much to the humor of the class). He made jokes, and fully explained points that seemed obvious to some there, but not to many others.

Finally Bill flicked the lights back on. "No class project assigned as of yet, people, however I do want you to read through to chapter 2. Take general notes, save your questions 'til the end of the next class. Have a good weekend, everyone."

The students started filing out. Sarah was near the last; the young man two students ahead of her paused as he was passing Bill. "Yo, professor, like, what happened to your face?"

Bill sighed. "Student didnt have a hall pass, and took umption when I questioned him. Have a good weekend, Pat."

The kid, a short husky chinese, laughed and headed out.

Sarah let the student behind her leave, standing near Bill, who was intently studying his system folder at the moment. She waited a second or two, then cleared her throat. "Excuse me ... Bill?"

Not turning, he answered, "Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to get a cup of coffee ... and talk with someone about what happened to you," Sarah said, with a remarkably steady voice.

Then she wondered at his blushing.

Bill still didn't turn, but found his voice somehow. "Sarah, I'm pretty busy tonight. And as far as what happened to me, that is my ... business." Punctuating his sentence with a sigh.

Nodding, Sarah said, "You're right. It is your business. But I'm here if you need ... or want someone to talk to. Have a good night, Bill."

She passed by him and strode out into the hall.

Bill waited until she passed. He sat down and continued his work for another hour, before finally shutting down his computer for the night.

Standing, he stretched, grimacing as parts of the scratches on his back broke open again. Muttering, he gathered his things and headed out to the car. It started ... eventually, and he headed downtown. He needed a drink or three, and maybe a joint from Tom.

Parking was a breeze; someone was pulling out just as he arrived and he got a spot right in front of the bar. Locking up, he headed into the bar.

Bill looked about for a table, spotted one and headed to it. He set his case down to his left, near the wall and spotted Karen making her way to him.

Smiling, Karen said, "Hi Bill, what'll you have tonight?" Then her smile died a bit. "What the hell happened to you?!"

Bill smiled back, not looking up. "Tripped on my stairs, can you believe it? Going up, too. Get me a pitcher of Sam's, ok?"

Nodding, Karen said, "Sure. Anything to eat?"

"Nope, but if you could let Tom know I'm out here... ?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Don't know what a smart guy like you sees in a pot head like him." She walked away.

Lighting up a smoke, Bill leaned back in his chair, beginning to relax.

When Sarah said from his shoulder, "Pretty busy night scheduled, eh?"

Looking up quickly (the twisting reopening any of the scratches that had yet to be opened), Bill looked at her in shock. "Sarah! What, you following me?"

Chuckling, Sarah said, "No, silly, I work here."

Karen said, approaching the table, "Then maybe you should get back to work."

"Karen, I'm on break," Sarah answered, turning to her.

Karen grunted, setting the pitcher of beer down along with a frosted mug. "Tom will be out when he has his next break, Bill. Let me know if you need anything else." With a smile to Bill, she left.

Sarah watched her leave, shaking her head. She had no idea what that woman's problem was, but she was tiring of it fast. Turning back to Bill as he stretched to for the pitcher, her breath caught as she saw a small stain spreading thru the back of his shirt.

"Bill? Are you bleeding?!"

Bill sloshed some of his beer onto the table, partially wetting his cigarettes. He set the beer down, and turned to Sarah. "No," he lied, "and I take it you work here?"

Grabbing his shoulder, having enough of his elusiveness, Sarah shoved him hard so she could see his back. "Like hell you aren't. Bill, you need to see about stitches if you're..."

"I am not going to a hospital," Bill said, pulling his shoulder free and wincing as he did.

Nodding, Sarah said, "Alright. Be that way. But you're coming home with me. No arguements. I get out in an hour and a half." Wagging her finger at him, she said sternly, "You had better be here or on your way to the hospital."

With that she turned to return to work, leaving Bill sitting with his mouth hanging open.

When Tom finally made his way out, Bill had closed his mouth and rescued as many of his smokes as he could. He shook Tom's hand.

"So what's up, teach? Two Thursdays in a row, this is a rec ... wholly shit, dude, what happened to you?"

Bill shook his head, looking towards Sarah behind the bar. She was smiling at a customer, making some comment that had the man chuckling. Her smile must be infectious, he thought, as he felt a smile grow on his own face.

Turning back to Tom, he said, "One hellova night last night."

Chuckling, Bill said, "I'll tell you the whole story if you'll step outside and burn one with me."

"Deal. Let's go."

Bill stood, pushing back his chair and followed Tom to the side entrance. He was only a few feet from the bar when something struck him in the back of the head. Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to see a bottle cap spinning to a stop on the floor. He looked back at the bar and saw Sarah looking sternly at him, as several patrons applauded her shot.

Bill raised his hand, extending all five digits.

She actually nodded.

Shaking his head, he followed Tom out into the night.

The street was busy, as the small district was popular with the Up and Coming crowd. Bill followed Tom into a near by alley, where Tom drew a fat joint. He handed it to Bill to light, and waited, interested.

Bill lit the joint, took one deep lungful of the smoke and held it. Good stuff, for the area. He looked at Tom with eyes of thankfulness, passed the joint back. And began his tale.

When he had finished (the details he gave weren't explicit, but enough), Tom looked at Bill with new respect.

"Fuck! Ya gotta get your nose broke, that's the fuckin' way to do it, man! Goddam, Bill!"

Bill smirked. "Keep it to yourself, okay?"

Tom nodded, and Bill knew he would for at least 6 months and then the date and circumstances and names would all be changed. It was too good a story for Tom to keep for long, but he wouldn't betray Bill.

"Bet she's wantin' more, eh? Jesus, she screamed?? Well fuck!!"

Bill smiled a little, a tiny bit pleased at his friend's envy and delight. "Actually, she said she didn't think she could do that on a regular basis." Touching his nose ever so gently, Bill said, "Don't think I can, either."

Tom laughed. "I dunno, man. I'd invest heavy in health insurance and go til I dropped."

Taking a last drag at the roach, Bill said, "Listen... fffsssttttt ... whheeeehhhh ... ahhhhhhh ... can you hook me up with a bag by the weekend?"

Tom nodded. "No problem. Whacha lookin' for?"

"Whatever $100 gets now adays."

"Cool. I'll stop by your place tomorrow after work."

Bill nodded, handing the roach back to Tom after he pinched out the embers with his fingers. Tom tucked it into his cigarette pack and stashed the pack in his shirt pocket.

Tom said, "Gotta get back in. Mr. P is out for the night, and Karen the Hut is thinkin' she's god."

Bill nodded. "Thanks, Tom."

Clapping Bill on the back, then apologizing as Bill winced and skipped ahead away from him, they headed back in.

Bill worked his way through the pitcher slowly, with Karen replacing his frosty mug every so often. He made all efforts not to stare at Sarah and succeeded well. In casual glances about the room, he would settle his eyes on her for a few brief moments, looking away before she caught him.

Sarah was busy, but not too busy. She would look over at Bill sereptiously every now and then so that he didn't catch her looking.

Beautiful. The body, long slim, with nimble hands. Her clothes seemed casually dressy, and seemed to fit her with a natural grace. Her face, my god ... perfectly shaped oval for a pair of wonderous blue eyes. Her eyes, tho' ... they looked ... older than her age. He could almost see the hidden pain in there, although they smiled when she did. Doubt if they're contact lenses;she doesn't seem the type.

There was something ... comfortable about Bill. His body was solid, hands determinedly careful with their movements as he moved them while high. His eyes always seemed to laugh, with crazy eyebrows above, smoke from his cigarette curling past. As he smoked, he would grimace, as if he knew how terrible those cancer sticks were, and was cursing them as he puffed away.

She moved with a natural grace behind that bar, as if it had been a part of her. A customer waited no more than 30 seconds before she was there to serve him or her. She always had a brief exchange with each one, as if, for that moment, they were the only other in exhistance. And the customers could tell it wasn't faked, and responded in kind.

He did not look like a professor. His blonde hair swept back, longish, swept back; if the bangs fell forward he'b be blinded. And that beard! Looked as if he trimmed with his hedge clippers - while drunk. But ... it looked ... right, nevertheless.

"Well? Ready?" Sarah asked, a small smile on her face.

Bill looked up at her, keeping the images of last night and what he had been picturing as he had fucked Trish out of his mind. Smiling, he said, "If we gotta..."

"Just got to drop Tom off at home, so follow me, okay?"

Tom was walking up to them, his apron gone now, grinning as he saw the two of them together.

Sarah asked, "You ready, Tom?"

"Yep," he answered, still grinning a broad cat grin.

Bill gave him a brief scowl before Sarah turned back.

"Then let's go," she said.

Leaving the parking lot, Tom said, still grinning that damn silly grin, "Soooo..."

Sarah, looking in the rearview, seeing that Bill was behind them, said, "Soooo..."

"You and the perfessor doing some ... late night ... tutoring?"

She gave him a glare, then turned back to the road. "No, Tom. It's nothing like that, get your mind out of your pants."

"Un huh." He sighed. "Definately shoulda been a teacher."

Growling, Sarah said, in a strained voice, "Maybe I should drop you off in Mattydale. The walk might do you some good."

Chuckling, Tom said, "No, no, no. I'll behave." He was quiet for maybe 30 seconds.

"He's a nice guy, Bill. Has had some bad breaks, but ... keeps on going."

Sarah softened a little, nodding. "You can see it in his eyes."

Following that sweet Mustang, Bill felt his mind scatter to a host of subjects. This is wrong. Going to a student's home is most definately wrong. Having fantasies of fucking her hard enough to hear her scream ... that was wrong.

He swallowed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Should ... should just, turn and head home. Dammit, he was her professor. This ... this is so wrong.

Sarah waved to Tom as he headed for his door, then looked in her rearview. He was still there. She waved at him, then shifted into drive.

With a resigned sigh Bill shifted into drive, and followed her.

They pulled up in front of a two story brownstone type building. Bill parked behind her, and shut off the car.

He opened the door and climbed out slowly. Even stoned, his stomach was doing flip flops.

Sarah locked her doors and closed the door, smiling at him and giving a small swing of her head to indicate he should follow.

He did, up the short flight of stone steps to her front door. She opened the outer door with her key, her backpack over one shoulder and stepped in, holding the door until he took it. He held it as she opened the inner door and they entered the hall.

He followed her to the staircase and up the stairs. He really did try to keep his eyes from her legs and ass, and she really did try to keep the swaying to a minimum.