Epilogue

The following Fall found me back at Columbia, not on a full-time basis as I both didn’t need the money nor wanted a daily grind, but rather as an adjunct professor. This suited me just fine as I didn’t have to worry about in-school politics, research requirements, and the like. All I needed to do was show up and teach kids, which is what I enjoyed.

It was the end of October 31st when I got a knock on the door to my office. I looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly 10 pm. Ironically, I was just settling in for an hour’s worth of reading of Dostoevsky.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and in walked a girl dressed in black, obviously either coming from or going to a Halloween party, considering the black, overly done mascara and other make-up.

“You asked me to stop by, Professor?” the girl said quietly.

I started racking my brain. Did I set up an appointment and forget about it? I knew that time in prison had caused me to lose brain cells, but I was typically good about writing down appointments.

“Tricia ... Stone?”

Now I remembered.

“Yes, yes, of course, Tricia ... come in, sit down.” In the large auditorium, I hardly remembered her. She sat toward the back, didn’t participate in class, and was rapidly closing in on a failing grade.

“You’re a senior, so are you taking this class just to fulfill a core requirement?”

She nodded.

“Well, Tricia J. Stone,” I said, looking for her file on my laptop, a big, ugly, and heavy computer that some thought could be more easily carried back and forth than simply having a separate computer at home, “this is not a rubber stamp class. At the rate you’re going, with no class participation, you may well end up failing.”

She sat down, her short black skirt riding up high, showing lots of bare thighs. I felt a stirring in my pants.

“Is there any way I can earn some ... extra credit, Professor?”

The monster started to awaken, his one eye not having been exposed to beauty in quite a long time.

“What did you have in mind, Ms. Stone?”

She looked at me for a moment as if making a decision and then got up and went over and locked the office door. Moving back toward me, she sank down to her knees in front of me.

Her hands made quick work of my zipper. The monster awakened and very ready to play, was in her hands, now out in the open.

She smirked and then began licking the head. I gasped.

“Haven’t had head in a while?” she asked, hearing my intake of breath, then going back to licking down the shaft.

“No ... it wasn’t that. Just ... that look you gave before you ... began. It reminded me of someone.”

She continued licking, getting the entire shaft and head wet with her saliva. She then looked up at me and spoke, and as she spoke, I noticed that, like some of the kids here of late, she had bought those fake vampire fangs. As I started to tell her to remove them, it registered what she was saying.

“I got that look from my Mom. My half-brother and I got it from her. You know him, right? Michael? Michael Jarden?”

And with that, she sunk down on my cock, taking a large portion of it into her mouth, then clamping down with all of her might, the fangs easily piercing my penis as blood filled her mouth, my screams of agony echoing off the walls of my office.