Chapter 31: Sophie

[Undated Entry]
Oxford, Oxfordshire

THE SMALL GIRL had appeared at the door of the professor’s study one spring morning. Barely four feet tall, her clear blue eyes as sharp and focused as anyone’s, the little person had demanded to know what the professor was working on. At first he was not amused.

“I am busy, young lady, and do not wish to be disturbed.” He turned to the document he was studying. She would take the hint and leave him, and he would speak to his housekeeper about letting strangers into his home. To his annoyance and surprise she did not move.

“What are you working on?”

He was astounded. It was a theoretical paper on a subject that interested him to the core, the famous multi-worlds hypothesis. One never yet proved nor even established with certainty.

“You would not understand. Go away.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t understand?”

He started to reply and, from somewhere, he knew not where, came the idea. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“First, tell me your name.”

“Sophie. What’s yours?”

“Jonathan Perrine. Professor Jonathan Perrine. You may address me as ‘Professor,’ yes?”

She nodded. “What are you working on, Professor?”

He sighed. If he could carry this off it would set up his presentation at the next conference. If someone under four feet tall and six or so years old could follow at least the basic outlines of the theory, it could be set out in a fashion that even the most dunderheaded fools on the faculty could not deny they understood.

The mentorship begun in that moment continued to the present day when Sophie was effectively his private student, in addition to her own studies. He had succeeded in persuading two of his colleagues at another college to act informally as her tutors in the years before she was ready for university. Her innate exceptional intelligence was enough to convince his colleagues to assist.

When she returned to the bed he felt the mattress dip but only slightly, she was a slender young woman now. Without opening his eyes he felt the very early morning warmth through the window. It would be a classic summer day—fine and hot—later on. The sun had barely risen but the birds were fully into their morning chorus. Idly, he wondered if the neighbor cat was on the prowl. She probably was.

She made an unintelligible comfort murmur to herself as she settled into bed. He doubted she was really awake yet. He’d used the bathroom a few minutes earlier and had taken an extra moment to clean himself when he’d finished. A memory flashed of her smile one afternoon not long ago.

“It doesn’t taste bad, not really.”

He’d stared at her.

“It’s got a little tang. I like it.”

“What does, Sophie?”

“Your pee, silly. Sometimes there’s a drop or two left.”

Her comment wasn’t a total surprise. He’d more than once tasted her. She was fastidious about her personal hygiene but from time to time when the urge had overtaken them they had not bothered to visit the bathroom before they’d pleasured each other. The combination of sleep and musk and aroused female, graced with the sharp taste of urine, was a surefire road to climax for him. From what she’d told him it worked the same magic on her when she’d been in the mood with one of her friends.

It would be again this morning, he was certain.

He heard another little murmur from her and decided it might be an invitation. His feelings for her were tender ones. He’d known her since she was barely in school, what seemed like only yesterday but was really years in the past. He admired her sharp mind, laughed often at her barbed tongue, and relished her tender kisses, her heartfelt hugs. He respected her courage, her willingness to try something knew.

That she was intellectually gifted—the silly academic ed-biz term the Americans had adopted—had been evident from the very first. In a physics Honors program at her College she received and gave the intellectual attention she had merited from the very first.

Right now, right in this bed, he was less concerned with her intellectual abilities than with how his cock would feel as he slid it between her luscious lips. Action. She loved morning sex as did he. There was something essential about starting the day locked in each other’s arms, straining for release, followed by the long tender moments, sometimes hours, together, feeling each other’s heartbeat slow, their affection and love permeating the room.

He pushed the light covers back. In the coming weeks they’d need only a sheet over them on those nights they slept together. She lay relaxed, her thighs slightly parted, her panties rounded over her mons. Her t-shirt had rucked up once more, it never seemed to stay down, and even in the few minutes since she’d returned from the bathroom it had managed to reveal the smooth slightly rounded belly with its indentation. She’d had a little gem there for a short period but discarded it.

“Not worth the candle or the trouble, Jonathan,” she’d said. “It hurts when you get pricked, not bad but sharp enough to make you think.”