Jim Morris was married. He had been married more than a month. Vixen knew that. She had even seen his new wife a time or two, a wispy girl with long legs and light hair, who, she was told, was in law school at Camden. To Vixen that meant that her art teacher might be available now and then during the week, so she hopped up on the edge of his desk and smiled. "How about we take another little trip down to Cape May? Weather looks pretty good."
Jim stared at her and swallowed. He could not think of anything he would rather do that have this luscious girl in his little tent for a few days and nights. His prick trembled. "Hey Vixen," he said with a laugh. "Didn't you hear I got hitched?"
She licked her lips and pulled down her shirt so that her hard nipples punched out against the stretchy cloth. "So," she said. "Got any suggestions? I mean for the weekend." She wondered if he would notice that her breasts were significantly smaller, much more proportionate. Her nipples, of course, were just as lickable and suckable.
He shook his head. "My little brother might be interested. He's more your age anyhow, first year at the community college back home. And, let me think, how about Jorge, the cinematographer. You've met him I assume"
"Oh yes," she said with a laugh. "We call him 'hands' when his back is turned. He can't talk to a girl without pawing her."
"But he doesn't know anybody up here, poor fellow." He could not take his eyes off Vixen's smooth legs which were crossed right in front of him.
"My grad assistant's a nice guy, Phil. Why don't you ask him? He's got a good eye. You going to take your acrylics down with you?"
Vixen nodded. "Last chance, Mr. Morris, a long weekend with me in your sleeping bag. How about it?"
"You are really antsy," he said with a laugh. "Hey Phil," he yelled toward the open office door, "come in here."
The big young man came in and stood by Vixen's knees, aware of the warmth of her body. "Want you to meet one of my favorite students. Vixen, Phil. She's thinking about a quick trip down the beach to do some painting. Interested?"
"Sure, when?" he said, forcing himself not to look at her jutting breasts, probably the best pair he had ever seen in his life.
"Washington's birthday weekend," Vixen said. "Might be a little chilly."
"No kidding," said Phil, "sure. There's another grad student interning here in film-making. Jorge, have you met him?"
"Yep," Vixen said. "He teaches one of my classes, so maybe that wouldn't be so good."
"Maybe you could find another girl."
"Right, OK. I'll ask around, and I'll see you tomorrow at lunch."
Her search among art students drew a blank, but she was sure she could handle two guys.
Vixen smiled thinking about being double-teamed in a sleeping bag when her cell phone jingled. She flipped it open, and Jim Morris said, "Got room for one more? My brother's up here and he'd love to meet you."
"Send him over. I'm thinking about supper, and I'm still looking for a volunteer. We might need another tent you know." She stuck her phone back in her pocket and smiled, licking her lips. OK, three guys; they'd have to take turns, probably. She had read about getting "air tight" but didn't think she wanted to try it.
Vixen sat on the edge of the steps, reading, when she heard someone coming into the backyard. She looked up into the calm face of a blue-eyed young man in faded jeans and a gray sweatshirt with Morristown High School printed on it. "You Vixen?" he asked, smiling.
She closed her book and stood up and stuck out her hand. "Guilty. Have a seat. Want a beer?"
"I'm Jim's brother, Bob Morris. Hi, Coke would be fine." The lanky youngster sat down beside her. "What'cha reading?'
"History, course I dropped when I was a freshman. Got a test Wednesday, first five chapters." She remembered the problems with her history teacher and shivered.
"Ain't school fun?"