A Muse for Modern Times
Copyright© 2022 by Brookell
Chapter 1 - The Teacher
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The Teacher - 1. A teacher meets her destiny in a form she never expected. 2. Mother Nature gets involved.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian Fiction High Fantasy Workplace Masturbation
My Tuesday morning programming class filed in, like soldiers, or maybe army ants. No, that wasn’t fair! They were a good group of people, most of them just kids, with a sprinkling of adults to make things interesting, but they were a pretty lackluster group. Usually, in each class, someone is acting like a class clown to break things up, or a brilliant student who challenges me beyond what I thought I was capable of doing. Not this group, they were a solid non-entity for the most part. Staying below the radar screen while they worked through college at a steady pace.
I spent the first three weeks of the semester trying to light a fire, but my efforts were pretty much unsuccessful. They didn’t rise to the occasion, but they did perform adequately enough to pass my class. A couple of A’s, but mostly B’s, with some C’s for the few that are on the lazy side. No one will flunk, which always made my department chair happy. They filed in and filled the stadium-style room from the bottom up. It took several class meetings to get them to understand that the back rows were off-limits. I hated being alone in the front of the room, screaming to reach the folks sitting in the back rows. A flash of color caught me off guard as someone walked in.
She wasn’t a member of this class; there was no way could you describe her as a non-entity! She was dressed like no one I’d ever seen on campus. Pink caught my eye, which was a bold statement for this group of people who tended towards browns, grays, dark blues, and blacks. The pink miniskirt was tight around her thighs; with an off-white, or a real light pink blouse; hot pink stilettos heels; and white hose on her legs. She held my attention as she walked up the aisle all the way to the back. She settled against the wall in a seat that was in the direct center of the row and in front of the aisle so I had a perfect view right up to her. I swallowed nervously.
No one watched her walk up the stairs, how could even this group not see her? She was stunning from behind. Her rear end moved in a tight figure eight as she climbed the steps. Her short skirt made her legs look six feet long all by themselves. When she turned around, my breath caught in my throat. Dark hair framed a gorgeous face that held very intelligent eyes and a wicked grin. Her chest was pushing at the confines of the blouse, but even that didn’t cause you to look away from her eyes.
I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Who was she and what was she doing here? She sat down, her knees primly together, hands folded in her lap as she waited attentively. She glanced at the clock, which made me remember it was time to start. I swear she smiled a little wider as she knew that her glance prompted me to start class, if she hadn’t — I might still be standing there astounded.
The lesson plan called for a short lecture, which was fine with me. I could give this talk with my eyes closed and maybe I should because every time I looked up, my eyes automatically centered on her — the only sign of color and life in the entire room. Normally this class was a featureless group; today they faded even further into the background. I was speaking to her alone, droning on with my lecture, pausing at the appropriate times as I made the necessary points.
She even laughed a silvery laugh at my one witticism deeply buried in the wording that few students ever caught. She laughed outright at the humorous ending of the one story I always use to illustrate my main point. No one in the room seemed to notice the laugh that struck my spine like lightning.
Class ended with a short discussion and I addressed several questions about the assigned lab work. She never asked a question or seemed confused about any point. This group always had questions, trying to get me to give them more help than I think they needed, thus making their lab work simple instead of challenging. As the class filed out, she was the last to leave, she walked past me with a subtle perfume that made my mouth water. A final glance back at me to see if I watched her, she left the room and it darkened like someone had turned off the lights. I sat there like I had been run over by a truck!
Back in the safety of my small office, I caught my breath and my less-than-normal grip on reality. I checked my computer system, but there were no notes about new students. I did a quick mental count and realized the class was one over the correct number of students. She wasn’t supposed to be there! I wondered if she’d be there when the same group met for Thursday lab work.
To my shockingly intense disappointment, she wasn’t there in the lab. I spent the three hours working through the room, examined code and corrected some errors, asked the students to look at what they were trying to accomplish differently and make things more efficient. Every few moments, I would look at the door and glance around the lab to see if she snuck in, but no luck. I think I was much shorter than I usually was with some of the stupidity that I normally handled with more humor. Even this group could tell I was a little distracted but did they know about what, or whom?
Several restless days later she appeared again, this time walking ahead of me in the halls. I caught sight of the pink at first and then realized it was her. The halls and sidewalks were so crowded that she quickly lost me in the maze of people. When I gave up the search I found I was outside the Nursing Building, far removed from my usual haunts of the Information Technology Engineering Center. Since the Nursing Building was in the center of the campus she could have been heading almost anywhere.
Tuesday came again, only much more slowly than ever before. The usual rank and file came in, but no sign of pink, or any other bright colors. Just as I resigned myself to starting my lecture, a swirl of pink and white hurried into the room and headed up the steps almost faster than I could follow. Again I was struck with awe.
Normally, I would have some crack about rushing students, but I couldn’t find the words. She settled quickly and smoothed her blouse down in a move that made me wish she would repeat in that while nude. She started from her neck and went to her waist, making no detour, she went straight over the hills rather than go around them. Again she had to look at the clock to remind me to get started. I felt a little like a marionette on strings, and she was the one who ran the show.
The lecture today was my favorite, full of stories about real-world examples of what could go wrong and frequently did. Her laughter was a little louder today, or maybe I was just anticipating it so much it sounded louder and sweeter than last week. I couldn’t help but look up every time she got the jokes that most of the rest of the class missed. She had a rare sense of humor and a sense of the idiocy that made Dilbert all too real in the Information Technology world.
At one point I paused, the rest of the class was scribbling notes and I looked up at her. She wasn’t wearing a mini today, more of a pleated shirt and it was folded down a little in the front. I could tell this because she had relaxed and opened her legs a bit. The skirt hid anything I might see, but the long expanse of the silk-covered legs was like a beacon in the back of the room. Her hands were lightly rubbing, more caressing, her inside thigh as my heart jumped several beats.
She smiled as I struggled to find my place in the lecture notes I never had to use. When I started again, the puppet-mistress had closed those magnificent legs. I wasn’t sure I was disappointed or thankful. At the end of the lecture and question period, the class left. This time I watched her come down the stairs, slowly like she owned the whole place. She was certainly voluptuous, with athleticism in her steps that I found fascinating.
She paused at the door again and looked right at me, making sure I was watching her, just like it was something I was supposed to be doing. This time she smiled widely and then walked out. Any thoughts of asking who she was and why she was in my class left the forebrain as I sat on my stool trying to regain my equilibrium enough to walk through the halls and then back to my own refuge.
In my office I replayed her entire visit, it felt like I was watching her even though I know I was looking at other parts of the room at some point during the ninety-minute class. I opened the collar of my blouse. My usually chilly office was feeling quite warm.
The next day I was in the faculty cafeteria, just sitting there absent-mindedly eating lunch when I heard some of my fellow professors talking about students. Some of the teachers were pretty graphic sometimes, but no one mentioned a vision in pink. I know Harry over in Medical wouldn’t hesitate to regale us with stories if he had seen her.
We would suffer through another list of the things he would do to her, enough of a list to turn my stomach. I can’t believe he was as crude in his personal life as he was to his cronies, or that anyone would let him touch them at all. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t! I couldn’t even imagine her with someone like him! What could I imagine? I was too nervous to head down that particular road.
I refused to just be another typical professor, insulting students or treating them like hell. I didn’t get along with many of my `peers’ because they didn’t consider me a peer. I wasn’t a lifelong card-carrying member of the academic profession. I came into it as a third career after military service and time spent working in the real world. The department chair hired me to add some level of real-world experience and that set me apart from my brethren, which was fine with me.
I sat there lost in my thoughts when I saw a movement of bright pink out the window. The windows were tinted so I shouldn’t have been able to see many colors at all, but her outfit, a pink gossamer-like dress, was clear as a bell through the windows. She was walking across the quad toward the main library.
I was almost late to my next class, making that detour through the Library, but there was no sign of the Pink Goddess, as my lame brain thought of her. I’m not sure what I would say if I caught up with her, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. The rest of the week passed in a blur, I didn’t even look for her on Thursday, and I did do my best to do a better and more patient job with my students.
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