Chapter 9: Professor

“I want you. I want you lying on me and in me. Don’t worry about why, and it certainly isn’t for a good degree. I’ll get a First anyway, you and I both know that.”

Alan mentally shrugged and stood over her as she lay on the sofa with her legs wide spread. Then he carefully lowered himself on to the proffered body and slid his prick into her vagina between welcoming wet labia.

As she lifted her legs and wrapped them round his thighs she started humping hard up onto him. Looking sideways to see the bodyguard watching them with a bored expression on his face, his prick shrivelled in an instant, causing her to wail in frustration.

“What’s the matter now?” asked Princess Sharifa angrily.

Alan remained silent. He simply stared at the bodyguard.

“I told you to ignore him,” said Sharifa trying to remain calm.

“I’m sorry Sharifa but your father would have my head,” he whimpered as he hurriedly dressed and rushed out of the room in panic.

The bodyguard was frozen. He could see the anger building in the Princess. He knew one word from her and he could be back to Kobekistan and certain disgrace.

~Get out! Get out! Do you hear me? Get out!~ yelled Sharifa. The bodyguard fled the room as the small ceramic pot she hurled hit the door and smashed into several pieces.

Two days later Sharifa was back in her sitting room and still trying to make sense of what had happened with Professor Jones.

The door was suddenly opened without a discreet knock. “Her Highness Princess Zubeydeh,” announced the bodyguard who then made obeisance to her.

A startled Sharifa was about to speak when the visitor raised her hand. She swung around to the bodyguard and her stern look was enough for him to know she wished to be alone with her granddaughter.

“Grandmother, I mean, Zub. What are you doing here?” asked Sharifa, trying to adjust to the sight of her grandmother in a yellow summer dress.

“Your father, my son, his Magnificence, the Emir, may he live forever, was disturbed by a phone call from Bahir. Something about you throwing tantrums. He wanted to fly over for himself but I persuaded him that maybe you need a woman’s ear. Now, tell me what happened,” said Princess Zubeydeh kindly.

“Oh Zub, I feel so cramped. Having a big muscular bodyguard watching over me all the time is terrible, even when I’m, you know...”

“Having sex?” finished Zubeydeh who sat on the bed beside her granddaughter.

Sharifa blushed. “Yes,” she responded guiltily.

“What happened?” asked Zubeydeh.

Sharifa told her grandmother the whole story of the fiasco, but didn’t mention who she was having sex with.

“What did the boy do?” asked Zubeydeh, assuming it was one of Sharifa’s fellow students.

“He took one look at the bodyguard, lost his ... enthusiasm and fled.”

Zubeydeh chuckled. “I suppose I can’t blame him for that,” she replied.

“Oh Grandmother this is serious,” said Sharifa, sounding annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Sharifa. I know it is, dear,” responded her grandmother as she patted the young woman’s hand.

“The thing is, what can I do?” asked Sharifa, looking intently at Zubeydeh as if the older woman could provide a magic solution.

“Well, what do you want to do?” answered Zubeydeh.

“I want to make love to him again only this time without anyone present,” responded Sharifa confidently, “The only thing is...” Sharifa’s voice trailed off.

“Yes?” prompted Zubeydeh.

“Well, he’s not a boy,” finished Sharifa uneasily.

“Who is it?” asked Zubeydeh.

Sharifa cleared her throat. “Professor Jones,” she said in an almost inaudible whisper.

Zubeydeh was shocked. “Alan Jones?” she asked as she stood up.

“Oh please, Zub, don’t be angry. Don’t tell my father. You know when I get married it’ll probably to someone old and decrepit. I should start getting used to it now,” said Sharifa as she stood up and hugged her grandmother pleadingly.

“I think your father will have your best interests at heart. The point is you are a royal Princess and you must be careful and not get pregnant. At least not by an unsuitable man,” said Zubeydeh.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” responded Sharifa, and she showed her grandmother her pills.

Once again Zubeydeh was shocked. “Where did you get those?” she asked.

“You’d be surprised what boys will get for you, especially medical students,” said Sharifa with a grin.

“Not really,” retorted Zubeydeh, thinking back to her own university days with Abby.

“Will you help me?” asked Sharifa.

“It seems you’re determined to do it with or without my help. Very well then, I’ll help you,” replied Zubeydeh.

“Oh thank you, Zub. I knew I could rely on you,” said Sharifa as she hugged her grandmother joyously.

Zubeydeh thought for a moment. “What sort of clothes have you here?” she asked.

Sharifa showed her the wardrobes.

“I think it’s time we went shopping,” said Zubeydeh, after she had looked through the elegant clothes available.

Sharifa gave her grandmother a puzzled look.

Zubeydeh opened the apartment door and spoke to the guard, “Her Highness is going shopping,” she ordered.

“As your Highness pleases,” responded the guard as he made deep obeisance.

A few minutes later Zubeydeh and Sharifa were in the Rolls-Royce that halted at one of the more expensive department stores. As the women alighted and went to the main entrance Zubeydeh turned to the guards. “You will remain here. The Princess and I will be quite safe,” she declared.

Reluctantly the guards obeyed but strained to keep an eye on their charges as best as they could.

Zubeydeh and her granddaughter went through all the various clothing on sale and Princess Zubeydeh made a series of selections.

“Change into this,” she instructed her granddaughter.

Sharifa obeyed and returned from the changing room wearing the white blouse and black jeans.

Zubeydeh and Sharifa made their way to the counter with an assistant carrying an armful of garments. “Have them charged to the Kobekistani Embassy and delivered to this address,” demanded Zubeydeh, as she wrote Sharifa’s address on a piece of paper and handed it to the manager.

“Of course, your Royal Highness,” responded the man, who was all too aware of the exalted company, having served Princess Sharifa before, and who knew the charging routine and the address.

Zubeydeh looked behind and could see the bodyguards just outside the main door. She turned to the manager, “Is there another way out of here? Somewhere we can give our companions the slip?” she asked.

The manager looked over his glasses and smiled as he saw the bodyguards. “I think your Highnesses would be very interested in our newest arrivals. If you will just follow me,” he said slyly. Zubeydeh and Sharifa followed the man to a lift that took them to the basement car park.

“Thank you,” said Zubeydeh as she and Sharifa walked to the entrance and boarded the taxi the manager had called for them.

“Where are we going?” enquired Sharifa.

“Do you know where Professor Jones lives?” replied Zubeydeh.

“Yes,” was Sharifa’s puzzled reply.

“Then instruct the driver,” said Zubeydeh.

Sharifa did as instructed and barked the address to the driver as if he were one of her personal entourage, much to Zubeydeh’s amusement.