It was early morning in the Faculty lounge; in fact, it was way too early for some. Dr. Maxwell Jones, otherwise known as Mac to his friends and colleagues, sat enjoying his coffee in relative silence. It was his first day as a Professor at the Institute for Science and Technology and already he was bored to tears. He stared idly into the newspaper, propping his feet on the coffee table, while lounging his tall frame on the hard couch. As the lounge area started to get more and more crowded, he decided to head down to his office before his first lecture. After a moment's hesitation, he dismissed the thought of introducing himself to the newcomers, instead he left with a casual, "Good Day" and a wink at the ladies. Peering over her mug Dianne asked, "You know him, Janine. What's the scoop?" "Who? Dr. Jones? Yes, we've met before," answered Janine. In fact, they had more than just met. The two of them had quickly become very intimate at Berkeley several years ago. It took her a couple of months to recover from their caustic break up, but she still had the urge to kiss him whenever she saw his ruggedly handsome features. He was the essence of danger, the definition of male chauvinism personified; yet, she had never stopped loving him. "He does not look like a scientist, much less the most highly qualified member of the scientific community," blurted out Dr. Ronald Peterson. Of course, anyone who didn't wear tweed, a pocket protector, and spend enormous amounts of time bragging about their success meant they probably were not, in Ron's book at least, a "Scientific Mind." It especially meant they didn't deserve the praise of all academia like Dr. Jones had won the year before with his brilliantly conceived breakthrough thesis on the relatively new frontier of Nanotechnology. "Actually, his work has brought new light to the field of Science," said Janine. "From what I hear, he is arrogant, self assured, acts like a teenager, and has no respect for authority," spat Ron in disgust. Tiny droplets of spittle flew from Ron's mouth as he lectured on about the necessity for authority and correct behavior being the most important characteristics >>for any Instructor to have because without them chaos would ensue. "You see, we are considered role models!" he said, as his hands flew up in agitation. "I like this Dr. Jones already," whispered Dianne, diverting her thoughts back and forth from Dr. Jones to her coffee mug. "I am certain he was watching me before he left," she thought as she started to fidget with the top button of her blouse. She had felt that particular "something" emanating from his open-eyed stare. Perhaps, it was her imagination, but she still felt his animal magnetism drawing her attention away from the group discussion. "Further more, if it were not for his supposed high intelligence and his somewhat ground breaking work, he would only be an associate professor at a small college in the middle of nowhere," droned Ron, as he finally sputtered out of steam. "Tell us more about him, Janine. This is getting interesting." "Well, he is a womanizer. He drinks too much...and, all in all, he is a bad influence." "Didn't he win that triathlon last year?" asked Lydia, whom up to this moment sat idly by listening to the gossip as if it was the latest rerun of "Seinfeld." "He is a hard drinker, yet he is a health nut! Make up your minds," demanded Dianne in mock anger. "Well, he is a hypocrite in a certain sense. He has been married four times. Each wife was high spirited, intelligent, and unforgiving. His first wife was a lawyer. She wanted to change him. His second wife was a doctor. She wanted to settle down and have a family. His third wife caught him cheating on her with her own sister." "His wife's sister? How tacky," blurted Ron "And his fourth wife?" asked Dianne. "Back on the prowl again, Di? Thought you were going with that beefcake soldier boy? What's his name, Biff?" stabbed Ron, with his searing, highbrow sarcasm. "No, his name was Bill," she replied, licking her lips suggestively, thus causing Ronald to head off to his office, after he announced: "Well, I must go prepare for my 10:00." She was sure old Ronny had a severe crush on her and she did everything she possibly could to frustrate the poor bugger. Once, out of sheer boredom she let the old man watch her through the partially open door to her office from the hallway as she changed into her jogging outfit. She found that changing in her office saved her some extra time before doing her daily exercise routine. Moreover, it drove Ronald mad with desire every time he watched her from his window as she bounced her way down the front steps. She still smirked every time she thought about how he reacted as she once burst through the door and bumped into him, making sure her hand clumsily boinked him in the groin. She had often wondered just how exactly well built he was in the sex department. However, she never planned on finding out by sleeping with him because she couldn't even stand being next to him, let alone stand the thought of being under him. "Is he still married?" Dianne asked, trying a different approach. "His fourth wife died of natural causes. I think it was Cancer." "Oh. That's sad. Do you know if he has a girlfriend yet?" "For crying out loud, Dianne. You haven't even met him yet." "What?" she asked indignantly. "What's wrong with wanting to get to know your colleagues?" Lydia rolled her eyes as she chuckled at her colleague's behavior. With her innocent coy eyes and lack of makeup, she portrayed a natural beauty. Her deep brown orbs reflected sympathy with their warm, enticing stare. She was an optimist and felt everybody needed a fair chance to prove themselves. She hadn't officially met Dr. Jones, but she followed his work very closely. In her heart and mind, she knew that Dr. Jones was probably more human and more real than the participants in this current childlike discussion. She sat listening to them like it was just another form of entertainment without any merit whatsoever, entertaining none the less. She, herself, had received her job because of her father, General Frank Trent. The government-funded research, that the University relied on, created a need to keep the relationship congenial between the two institutions. Her parents had planned her whole life. Her only time of freedom was in college, where she found her sexuality. Yet, due to her strict upbringing, she denied herself happiness with her only true love, Kate McCormick. They were buddies, who had met one fateful Saturday night in the TV lounge at their dormitory keeping each other company while the rest of the campus partied until dawn. "And why are you laughing, Lydia? You should know as well as I do that good men are hard to find," stated Dianne, who had always thought of Lydia as an old maid type. By the time she would get around to try to get a man, her quaint good looks would be gone and she would be left high and dry. "Or low and wet," Dianne thought to herself as she noticed her own growing discomfort between her legs. She was horny as always. "Well, as much as I would love to sit around and talk about my sex life, I must go to my class," Lydia remarked absconding from the troubling chatter, which by some strange twist of fate she had been forced into. "She really should get out more often," said Dianne nonchalantly, not noticing the look of distaste on Janine's face at the uncalled for jibing of her best friend and colleague. Janine quickly excused herself from any further conversation and walked back to her office. Once inside, she sat down heavily in her chair. She couldn't keep her mind off Mac because her mind kept recalling the long sexy nights she had shared with him. It was the little things, which she thought she had always abhorred, that enticed her and drove her to love him further. The gentle way he would kid about her sexual appetite, the crude and often abusive language he used while making love and the overall sexy way he looked at her with his large inquisitive eyes, all made her melt like butter in her seat. Soon the unbearable heat between her thighs became a raging fire and she began to thirst for something to quench her uncontrollable lust. "A finger or two would do," she thought as she closed her eyes. She had plenty of time, until her first lecture. Slowly, as if it moved on its own, her right hand crept down to pull up her dress. One hand found a breast, while the other dug its way into her soaking wet panties. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through her as her hand came in contact with her slick, feminine perfumed sex. Through her lust filled daze, she heard a knock at the door. Straightening herself up and rushing to the door with a professional face, she opened the door after unlocking it nervously. There stood the object of her fancies grinning like a Cheshire cat in heat. "Good morning, Doctor," he said stepping into the small tasteful office of Dr. Janine Sloane. Not sure of what to say, feel or do, Janine extended her hand out to greet him. In a pseudo-like gesture of sincerity, actually more of a mock romanticism, Mac took her hand and kissed it like he would the delicate hand of a princess. She noticed his eyes widen slightly with erotic intent. She thought at first he had caught her in the act of solitary pleasure, and a second later it was obvious he had, his sparkling eyes projecting that knowledge. She flushed as she realized the evidence was right there under his nose, he could feel the slight dampness and taste the remnants of her womanly secretions on her hand. "Did I come at a bad time?" "No, I was just getting some work done," she replied, taking her hand away. "I bet." "What do you want Mac?" she asked. "I just wanted to say hello, that's all," he said stepping closer. She could feel his magnetic personality pulling her towards him. Even the deep character lines around his sinister smile were making her feel woozy. "Well, hello. I am really sorry, but I must be going," she said, picking up her books to leave and to get as far away from him as possible. "We will catch up later, perhaps?" "Maybe." She walked briskly to her classroom, thinking about his stare of sexual innuendo. He had degraded her again with just the look in his eyes. The knowledge that he knew she had been touching herself made her want to go and hide forever, but it also made her feel extremely randy. Mac always made her randy; in fact, it was his specialty. He could make any situation erotic no matter what they were doing. Once in the early days of their courtship, they had been sitting at a play. He started letting his hands wander, holding her close, whispering tantalizing thoughts in her ear - thoroughly letting his magnetic charm make her weak at the knees. He exuded sex from every pore in his body like it was a hormonal pheromone. They could have been at a funeral and she would have gotten excited. Dragging herself back from the faculty meeting for the Science department, Janine couldn't believe her newfound situation. Part of her hated Mac for everything he stood for and another part of her yearned for his touch. "I guess opposites do attract," she thought. There were no two other people who were SO as different from one another as she and Mac. His idea of a romantic evening usually was a brutal verbal battle of wits, followed by a passionate make up session. She never had to beg anything from anyone before she met him, especially for sex. Never had she been so willing to be subjugated by a male through her own desire - like she allowed herself to be with Mac. She wasn't into BDSM or anything, but he knew all the right buttons to push to bring her down to a totally submissive level. For awhile, she had thought it was just a phase she was going through, but it wasn't. He overwhelmed her. He personified the arrogant, self-confident bad boy while she played the "goody two shoes" role as if they were cast in a cheesy romance novel. She often pictured herself as the rich catholic schoolgirl, with Mac as the boy from the other side of the tracks. A strange sound interrupted her brooding as she rounded the corner to her office. For a second she thought she heard sobbing coming from Lydia's office next to hers. Apprehensively, she started to knock on the door, but before her knuckles could rap on the big heavy door, she heard a conversation between Lydia and presumably one of her students. It seemed a bit too early in the semester for such a sobbing appeal to a professor. "I just can't do it," sobbed the faceless girl. "Listen," said Lydia's voice. "Sometimes, you just have to find your priorities. It will all work out." "How do you do it? I mean live with the knowledge you're not like other girls?" "Well, I usually try to think of myself as normal because there is nothing abnormal about me. It's the people who would put me down for being different that are abnormal. They have the problem and I don't," said Lydia, as she thought of how much a hypocrite she was being. The poor girl needed advice though and damned if she was going to allow the girl to make the same mistakes she had made at that age. "Once you find happiness you should hold onto it," she thought, as Kate's last words echoed in her mind. Their last goodbye kiss had lasted for hours as they lounged in bed memorizing each other's body with their lips, tongue and hands. She couldn't forget the beautiful image of Kate's long, raven hair whipping side to side with each spasm of pleasure that she had given her. There had been nothing like it in the world for her before and there probably never would be again. "You're right, you know," the girl said, as she blotted the tears from her face with a soiled tissue. The girl noticed the caring in the soft eyes looking at her. It was that tenderness that led her back to reality. She felt a warmth as she gradually calmed down to her normal happy self. It was so kind of the doctor to talk to her and to let her in on her secret. They both shared something very special. "Someday, you will find happiness, Charlotte. And when you do, don't let it slip away." "Dr. Trent?" She asked. Her eyes pleaded for some sign of what to do next and she knew this woman had the answers she sought. "Yes?" "I was just wondering, I mean, I know you told me that you were...like me, but I was wondering if you have ever?" she asked hoping the attractive older woman would divulge the secret knowledge she yearned for, since she had first found herself attracted to a woman. She ached to know what it would be like to kiss a woman, let alone make love to one. If she was ever going to find out, then she hoped it would be from a generous and sweet person like Dr. Trent. "Dated another woman? Yes, a long time ago, when I was in college," Lydia stated apprehensively, wondering if she should have mentioned her own sexual preferences to the girl after she had found her crying after class. "What was it like?" "Well," she paused, not sure of how to explain what it was like or even if she could. Then, she wondered if it was her place as Charlotte's professor even to have this conversation with her and admitted: "It's very special." Charlotte brushed her hair from out of her eyes and just stared at Lydia with a new look in her eyes. Lydia knew that look well. It was the same look she saw on Kate's the first night they professed their love for each other. It was a look with a combination of love, respect, and lust. Whether or not Charlotte was in love, or even somewhat attracted to Lydia, was hard to tell, but the chemistry between Instructor and Student had changed. "If you would like, you can call me anytime, if you like to talk about things," said Dianne, regretting it as soon as she spoke the words. She didn't know what she was doing. Something like this could cause her to lose her job. "What if the rest of the University finds out?" she thought. "May I? Thank you! You are the only person I have to talk to about this." "Of course, you can, Charlotte. Nevertheless, let's keep this conversation to ourselves. I am not out. Out of the closet, that is. It could cause problems for me." "No, don't worry! I know what that is like." Janine trembled with surprise as she listened to the startling conversation. She knew Lydia was not interested in finding a man or a husband, but had thought it was just because she had been hurt in past relationships. "And what are we up to Doctor?" asked an all too familiar voice. "Oh, I was just going to ask Lydia a question, but she is busy with a student. What are you up to Mac?" "I was just going to drop by to see if you had changed your mind yet? How about dinner?" "All right. But, only dinner." "No dessert?" "Perhaps, but I am watching my weight," she said, licking her lips unconsciously. "How about around six?" he offered. "Sounds good." She knew she was setting herself up for another fall, but she had always had trouble saying no to Mac. "I can handle having dinner with him," she thought, reassuring herself. Sitting at her desk, she noticed a small petite black girl leaving Lydia's office. The girl was definitely a beauty and probably had all the boys falling at her feet. It seemed ironic to Janine as she thought about Lydia and all the signs, which she had missed, that now so clearly suggested she was bisexual if not lesbian. It was hard thinking of Lydia in that way. She had always seemed so calm, reserved, and rather asexual. Evidently, there was a lot more to her than appearances suggested. *** By the end of the day, Dianne found herself alone in her office with damp panties and a caffeine rush. Too much caffeine gave her way too much energy, making her bounce off the walls. She looked forward to meeting Mac privately to get to know him better, so taking matters into her own hands she had put a note on his desk asking him to drop by for a chat. Life had become boring in the past month or so. Her summer had been filled with hot sex and companionship, but then Bill had shipped off to southeast Asia somewhere. Of course, she polished his pistol for him before he departed, but that had been over four weeks ago. While she did indulge in a casual one nighter here and there, she had not been thoroughly fucked in over a week. Dianne once had thought of going to a sex addicts meeting, but she figured she would probably screw all the members. She started to fantasize about all the different kind of "members" that would be at a sex addicts meeting. "It would be like a candy shop," she thought. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of such tantalizing thoughts, as she started to go through her lecture notes for the next day. "Come on in," she announced, after hearing the knock at the office door. She licked her lips and casually ran her hand down to smooth out her dress. "Well, hello there, Doctor. How are the classes going?" Mac just walked in and perched on the desk inside of Dianne's office as they exchanged pleasantries and informal hellos. He knew she was the complete opposite of the women he usually went for, but she seemed all right. Her personality needed some fine-tuning, yet she still had an excellent body. "Perhaps," he thought, "taking this job wasn't that bad of an idea." It had been getting a bit uncomfortable at Berkeley after his countless rendezvous' with half the female student population. Sometimes, it was just easier to screw a student, rather than be slapped with a sexual harassment suit from a fellow employee. The students were much more liberal. "So, I hope you don't find this too bold, but would you like to have dinner tonight? You know, a get to know the new guy dinner," Dianne asked, hoping he would answer in the affirmative, although she didn't have a serious doubt that he would. "Dinner? I have...plans. How about a raincheck?" "Oh, ok...sure...no problem," she said smiling, but visibly taken aback. "Well, I must get going. Lovely talking to you," he winked. Dianne sat down with a loud thump. If there was ever a time she needed to be fucked, this had been it. "Damn," she thought. "He's probably gay." At this point, she would have screwed anything that moved. It had been a long day and she decided to head home for the day. Perhaps, she would go down to Bill's Bar. She could make it that far. The gentlemen there usually liked seeing her and right now, she wasn't in a mood to be very discriminating. *** Over dinner at a fancy restaurant, Mac brought the conversation back around to sex. It was his favorite subject. Janine didn't seem to mind though. She couldn't keep her mind off of it either; in fact, his familiar sensuality was starting to get to her. He smelled wonderful. She started to become lost in his eyes like a little girl watching her teenage idol. "So, do you still scream out my name when you make love?" he asked. "I never screamed out your name." "No? I remember, and I am sure all of Palo Alto remembers, that you did. Actually, I bet I could make you scream my name right now," he said, goading her on. "Hmm, I don't think so. What are you going to do hit me?" she asked, remembering the game. Perhaps it's the wine, she thought, as she made a mental note not to accept another glass of it. Then, all mental processes ceased to work when she felt his stockinged foot creep up her pantyhose clad legs. He didn't say a word as he sipped his wine and let his probing foot climb higher up under her dress. She gasped out, while looking around to see if anybody noticed his foot resting on her upper thigh. The tablecloth was long enough to hide the game. "No, I don't have to hit you," he said, as his foot found her the apex at the top of her thighs. He noticed her spreading her legs further and knew he had her. "So," she gasped, "what do you think of your new job?" His toes had found her special spot and were rubbing her persistently. "Oh, I like this job, much better." Dianne couldn't stand the torture any longer. She felt her frustrations leaving her body in an excruciatingly pleasurable orgasm. She bit into a dinner roll as the first wave of pleasure coursed through her body. She barely had time to fake a cough as the second spasm caused her to clasp her legs together pinning his foot tightly against her covered sex. When she was through, she heard him talking softly to the waiter asking for more water. "Are you alright, darling?" "Must have gone down the wrong pipe. I am fine now," she said, waving off the waiter, with the start of a schoolgirl giggle. "Would you like dessert now?" he asked, staring into her eyes with a look of lust. "Yes." *** Dianne lay in her tub with bubbles up to her neck. Her wet fleshy breasts poked out from out under the frothy water. Her hands splashed around in the water looking for her sponge. Teasing herself, she brushed her hand between her legs and fought off the urge to submerge her fingers into herself. She was an expert at auto arousal and could have written her thesis on it. Her thumb found her clitoris and she thrummed it slowly, while rubbing the soapy flesh around her slit under the water. Her middle finger slowly trailed her open lips. The labia parted and a finger slipped into her. The door opened and a burly looking man entered. He was a nightly patron to Bill's Bar. She liked the muscled hunk without a brain, which enjoyed being a monthly patron to her open bed. "Where would you like these glasses, Dianne?" he asked, holding two champagne glasses in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. "Oh, forget the wine for now. Would you hand me that towel?" she asked, slowly rising from the liquid depths of the tub. The water fell like sheets of rain down her body and soapy bubbles clung to her body, lightly covering her furry sex and firm breasts. "Of course," he answered. He was never one to talk too much. It was never expected anyhow. "Oh, I seem to have gotten you a bit wet. Let's get those clothes off you before you catch a cold," she said playfully. "Oh, yeah...right!" he said, disrobing as if he was the next contestant competing for a prize for the fastest undresser in the west. He picked her up easily as if one would pick up a doll. He carefully carried her lithe form into the bedroom, over to the bed, then set her down, as if she were a precious object. Unwrapping her towel, she swung her legs wide and teasingly splayed her labia with her fingers, while saying, "You know what to do." He didn't say a word as he knelt between her legs. The dim light of the bathroom shadowed his hard rugged features. She looked down at his red fur covered head while he slurped at her dark depths of pink. He swirled his tongue around her womanhood like she had taught him. Her hips lurched forward against his face and her body trembled with each thrust of his talented tongue. She groped at her own breasts twisting the nipples slightly between her fingers. The tingles spread through her body starting at her loins up to her stomach. It was time. She yanked his hair, which prodded him to cease licking her; instead he got up on his haunches and pressed his mammoth penis at her entrance. He thrust into her letting her have the full length of his shaft quickly. Her groan of pleasure/pain drove him to start moving quicker. He knew from past experience that she liked it hard and fast. Her breathing matched his timed strokes and her breasts jiggled in his hands as his mouth sought her rosy nipples. Simultaneously sucking and humping her gyrating body, he felt the desire to spill his seed within her, but he knew that would be a mistake because she was not done yet. Trying his best to keep her climbing the staircase of her desire, he bucked his hips in a frenzy of lust. She was close and could feel his tension as he got closer to orgasm, too. She moaned out that she was there. The orgasm made her body tense and her inner muscles squeezed, churning the orgasm throughout her body. Her release made her weak and she felt his oozing within her. *** Mac opened the door to his apartment and ushered Janine into his humble abode. The lights were flicked on and as soon as the door was closed, she threw her arms around him. The kiss was urgent and full of passion. The two of them buckled to their knees onto the shag carpet. Neither of them were worried about rug burn, as they tore off their clothes in abandon. He withdrew his mouth from hers and backed away. Mac looked at her with a knowing grin and waited for her to ask. She had to ask because it was part of the game. It was their game. "Please..." she whispered. "What?" he asked, "Would you like some wine?" "No! Pleeaase," she said reaching for him. She knew what she had to ask, but tried to seduce him out of the game. "Oh, would you like water instead?" he asked grinning wider. "I want you." "Want me to do what?" he pressed further, stroking his penis. "I want you to make love to me, NOW!" she gave in and begged. "Ok." He slid to the floor and started kissing her with lust. This was his favorite part. Watching her beg was just the beginning. It was the way she screamed his name in passion that he loved to hear her pant, moan and scream because of what he did to her. Enveloping her body, mind and soul with desire got him off. It was like no other thrill. She was like no other woman and he had had many women. He had had all kinds of women. Some had large breasts he could play with for hours, some had an ass he could look at forever, some had such a beautiful face he could kiss for an eternity, but Janine was a woman whom he could make love to forever because she loved every moment of his passionate torture. She begged for his desire and she took him to another place. All it took was for him to touch her with his naked hand on her thigh and she would open up her soul to him. She would let him rape her mind for a moment of bliss. It was something he felt guilty about, but he loved playing with emotions. He actually went to other women in order to come back to her and make her love him more. It was perverse and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself or his own desire. The sex was wonderful. Their bodies bounced and heaved in a writhing bundle on the carpeted floor and their moans pierced the night. The sound of the sweaty bodies bucking and slapping into each other made them both quiver with passion. The release was only the beginning. The game wasn't over, yet. *** Lydia lay on her couch watching "Seinfeld" again. Kramer had just entered the room in a whirlwind of comedy as the phone rang. For a brief second she got frightened that it might be Charlotte, but she figured it was probably her mother again. "Hello?" she asked. "Dr. Trent?" asked a quiet feminine voice. "Yes?" she asked. Her heart beat a mile a minute. Thoughts of how to get out of her new found friendship with the girl passed through her head, each one seeming like a lame excuse to ditch the poor girl in her need. "I just wanted to thank you again. Am I bothering you?" Charlotte asked. "No, no you're not bothering me. Are you all right? You sound scared." "Well, I just don't have anybody to talk to about my feelings and stuff." "Is there a girl involved? Perhaps, someone you know?" asked Lydia, assuming the poor girl had a crush on someone. "Yes, but I don't think she is interested in me. I can't really talk about this on the phone. My roommate is coming back soon. It's not too late at night for me to come...I mean, oh nevermind. I am sure you have a lot more important things to do." "Oh, I see. Well, you could come over here and talk about it. That would be fine," proclaimed Dianne. "Great! You don't really mind?" Charlotte asked in a girlish voice. Dianne gave the poor girl her address and hoped she wouldn't have any trouble finding the house. It was starting to get late and she didn't want Charlotte wandering the streets this late at night just to talk to her. Against her will, she started to become anxious like a schoolgirl waiting for a date. She checked her hair in the mirror and became even more nervous because of the effect Charlotte was having on her. It didn't take long for her to arrive and Lydia let the desperate looking girl into her home. Charlotte's long dark hair hung down over her shoulder and rested on her petite breasts framing her delicate olive face. She looked young, innocent and beautiful, yet her eyes told a different story, as they shone brightly with sexual intent. Lydia had the girl come in and sit down, then relaxed as they talked about all the obstacles in the path of lesbians in modern society. The discussion slowly turned into laughter as they each relayed their horror stories. They both had been caught glancing at other girls in a shower room and they both had crushes on a roommate or two. "Tell me about your roommate? What is she like?" asked Lydia. "She is this cute little redhead. I just loved redheads!" Charlotte exclaimed and Lydia blushed as she played with a red curly lock of hair. "Redheads, eh?" Lydia laughed. "You have beautiful red hair," Charlotte said getting bolder. "Thank you. I often think of coloring it though. It gets a lot of attention." "NO! Don't ever do that." "I won't...it's just a thought I have every once in awhile." "Do you brush it often? Your hair is so shiny and perfect!" exclaimed Charlotte. "You sound like a shampoo commercial!" laughed Lydia. "Haha, I am sorry. Would you let me comb it for you?" asked Charlotte, as her eyes gleamed with sexual desire. "Sure. There is a comb in my bedroom. Come on, I'll show you." "You're apartment is so gorgeous. Here sit on the bed and I'll comb your hair. I was going to be a hairdresser you know, but I decided on getting a degree here. I had a scholarship, so its not like I could turn it down," blurted Charlotte, as she gently brushed Lydia's hair. Lydia felt a hand massaging her back as Charlotte ceased brushing her hair. Lydia didn't resist because it felt good to be touched. Charlotte's hands kneaded her neck in tiny circles and she said, "Boy, you're really tense!" "That feels really good. Don't stop," said Lydia, knowing full well it wouldn't end with just a massage. She didn't really care. The girl's hands were like heat seeking missiles, finding the tense spots immediately. "Lie on your stomach," breathed Charlotte. Lydia lay on her stomach as Charlotte unzipped Lydia's dress releasing the tension of the tight dress and also allowing herself to explore more of Lydia's soft flesh. "There that's better isn't it?" asked Charlotte. "Mmm, yes." "Let me undo this terrible contraption here. It's really not good to be wearing a bra during a massage." Lydia didn't say a word, as the brassiere was unclasped, feeling Charlotte's warm hands caress her bare back. She let go of all pretenses as she turned over letting the bra fall from her ample breasts. The dress slinked off her shoulders and she threw the bra onto the floor. "I know this is not appropriate, but dammit I want you," whispered Lydia into Charlotte's ear, as they hugged. Their breasts pressed together for the first time, Lydia's naked mounds pressing against the soft cloth of Charlotte's sweater. Lydia pressed her lips to the passionate girl's mouth. Their two tongues touched for the first time in an intimate kiss. Slipping out of her dress, Lydia motioned for Charlotte to do the same. As more of the innocent girl's olive skin began to show, the more Lydia desired to touch her. Lydia lay back as Charlotte explored her first woman sexually, soft tender explorations meandering over Lydia's body. Her breasts were cradled in loving hands as a soft mouth suckled her hardened nipples. A thigh wedged itself between her legs when Charlotte pressed the moist lips of her womanhood against Lydia's thigh after sitting astride her leg. Lydia let her rub herself on her as they kissed. Then, with a sudden jerk like magic Charlotte's eyes fluttered with her first orgasm. Lydia held her in her arms softly, stroking her sweaty brow. Slinking down her body kissing olive colored flesh, Lydia found two treasures begging to be touched. The tiny nipples sprouted from the firm, spongy flesh. Her lips traveled down to a pierced navel and sucked the metal hoop into her mouth. A trail of kisses followed her hands to the soft curly fur of the girl's vagina. Lydia feasted, teaching the young woman the art of love. *** The next morning early in the Faculty lounge. Dr. Maxwell Jones and Dr. Janine Sloane stood by the Mr. Coffee laughing over the latest Dilbert comic strip and Dianne peered over her mug in jealousy as they left almost holding hands. "Good Morning," chirped Ron in his usual snobbish way. "Hello, Ron." "It looks like our new recruit and Dr. Sloane are getting quite comfortable together?" he mentioned rather glibly. "I don't know. I think they have some things in the past in common. Probably a bed or two," said Dianne coarsely. "Jealous? I thought you of all people wouldn't let that stand in your way. From what I heard not many have turned you down," chuckled Ron. "Oh shut up, Ron! You're such a gossip." Lydia strode into the lounge gracefully and was greeted by a bitchy Dianne and a nosy Ron. If they couldn't tell she was glowing, then nobody could. *** "Here?" she asked. "Why not? It's a good a place as any. Don't you think?" he said. He slid down her body and pushed her onto the desk. Her dress allowed his hands to rip off her panties savagely. "Oh, God." "Mmm, nope, I am not a god. Have you become religious lately?" He slipped a finger inside of her. "Don't be such a wise ass," she said. "Yes, that's it right there. Shit, that feels so good." "You mean here?" he chuckled sucking her lips into his mouth. Her coral sex was wet with arousal and his saliva gleamed on the pouting lips. She could feel the intricate pattern of his oral ministrations effect her. She was so close. "Yes! Don't ever stop," she moaned. Janine was almost there. Her whole body was tense. Her breast's heaved with passion causing them to jiggle in each response to his lovemaking. With each swipe of his tongue on her clitoris her whole body jerked in a spasm of pleasure. "Hmm? I have to get going, love," he said leaving her at the edge of release. "What? NOW?" "Yes, I do have to teach classes every once and awhile." He grinned. "YOU bastard!" "Later, perhaps?" he smiled. "Yes," she admitted. "Later, love." He kissed her softly as he broke away from her clutching embrace.