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All characters in this story are age 18 or older.
The character Mark is narrating.
When I saw she wasn’t home Sunday morning, the right thing to do – the sane, normal thing to do – would have been to go away and come back later. I could have gone to the gym, run my errands, caught up on paperwork, even watched the inanity known as TV.
The fact that I didn’t was a dangerous sign. Instead, I hung around on the deck for a few minutes, thinking she might have stepped out for a moment and would return shortly. When that didn’t happen, I went looking for her.
Her typical haunts came up nil. She wasn’t at either of the neighborhood groceries. I cruised U-town, thinking she might be at work. But the campus had little to offer on Sunday morning except the silence of undergrads, sleeping off their hangovers.
Finally I bought a paper and camped out on her doorstep. Jantzen would have flipped. He would have taken me off the case in a nanosecond and given her to someone else. I was determined not to let that happen. She was mine and mine only, at least for the rest of the month.
Monday I met her on the grounds of the arboretum, where she was just saying a few opening words to her class. Today was a field trip. She was reminding them to study the trees, not by their leaves, but by their bark and the way they held their branches, because the final exam would be in December.
At this point I should add that the good Dr. Arthur was looking untouchably beautiful today. Her dark blond hair was French braided, and the weave flowed like artisan-carved wood. Under her mottled brown jumper, her high-necked blouse was fire-engine red. Her dress reached below her knees, so the tops of her riding boots could not be seen.
I have no idea what a woman with brains and class would ever want with a boy like me, except of course to service her occasionally; but if that’s all I was going to get, carpe diem and all else be damned.
Lisa was not expecting me, but as I approached the herd of students, she did not miss a beat.
“Class,” she announced, “I am very pleased to introduce you to Dr. Mark Graham. Dr. Graham is visiting from Nevada, doing some research on his post-doctoral studies. It’s an honor to have him.”
“Thank you for your kind introduction,” I replied. One or two of the twenty-somethings gave me flirty looks and started texting their friends. How anyone could put up with that behavior, I’ll never know.
“Cell phones off, please,” Lisa reminded them. Apparently she didn’t put up with idiocy, either. Still holding their attention, she turned slightly towards me and invited me to deliver canlı bahis şirketleri a few words on the life cycle of deciduous trees.
“Well let’s see how this group is doing. Who can tell me what deciduous means?”
A kid in a knit cap raised his hand. I met his eyes and nodded. “They lose they leaves in da fawl,” he drawled.
“Good. And what is it called, when deciduous trees drop their leaves?”
The class could not venture to say, so I helped them out by showing off my recently gleaned knowledge on the subject.
“Abscission,” I said, and spelled it so they could write it down. Lisa was watching me, not interfering, just observing. I got the feeling she could stand quietly and observe a volcano, probably considering the thermodynamic relationships as she did so.
I carried on. “Let’s think of some other examples of abscission. Remember losing your baby teeth?”
The students murmured. All of them could relate to that. “What else can you think of?”
One young lady tentatively raised her hand. “Um, a tadpole’s tail?”
“Excellent, right. What else.”
“Deer.” This from a kid who looked as if he’d hunted a few. “They shed their antlers.”
“You have a smart group here,” I said to Lisa. “And why does abscission take place?”
Five or six hands shot up. I picked one at random. “The part that isn’t needed falls off,” she chirped.
“Right again. The purpose of the leaf, or the baby tooth, or whatever, is done. And so is mine for the moment, so I’ll turn you over to Dr. Arthur now.” To her I added, “I want to make some observations in the apple orchard.”
“Well done,” said the lady. She shook my hand. “See you later.”
Pleased with myself, I sauntered toward my car. A few members of the class thanked me and said goodbye. I waved and smiled. The grove in question was less than a mile down the road. A footpath led there, but I needed the time, so I drove around.
Nearly an hour later, my teacher friend came walking through the trees. What a hypocrite I must be! First I set her down about professionalism, then I arrange a romantic rendezvous in a forest.
I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her body against mine; I wanted to kiss her. It wasn’t going to happen.
Instead, I took off my blazer and draped it, lining side up, over the apple bough I had picked out. The arms flapped down on either side of the branch. Under the spine of the jacket, about midway between the shoulder blades, was a gnarled, bumpy knot.
Lisa didn’t seem angry about my unexpected appearance in her classroom. She greeted me with an approving, if somewhat amused, canlı kaçak iddaa smile.
“Come here often, Dr. Graham?” she quipped.
“Only in the line of duty,” I smirked.
She pointed to my jacket’s careful arrangement. “What’s this?”
“Your saddle, m’lady,” I bowed. “Lift your skirts, please.”
“You never fail to surprise me. I thought we weren’t going to – “
“We aren’t,” I reassured her. “It’s just that…”
Here I had to pause to regain control. The way she looked up at me, her face only a few inches from mine, made me want to quit my job and just make love to her, then and there. I steadied myself.
“I know it’s frustrating for you when I’m working on your breasts. I thought you might like to masturbate while I work.”
Never have I seen a woman blush more deeply, but she stammered out her agreement.
“Okay then. Lift your skirts.”
“There’s just one thing,” she said hastily. Her hands fluttered over her crotch, like Eve embarrassed in the Garden. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“That’s okay, I’ve seen women before.”
“Right. Okay, Dr. Graham.” She giggled and lifted her dress to her hips.
The sight of those dark blond curls peeping out from the apex of her thighs nearly drove me stark raving. What would it be like to bury my nose in that fragrant grove, scenting and tasting her musk? I would never find out, at least, not today.
With great care I slid my hands up along her naked hips. The wool of her jumper gathered around my wrists. I lifted her the short distance to the low limb, and sat her on my blazer.
She obeyed, straddling the branch.
She did so, and found the horn of the saddle. The look she gave me swelled my head with power. My other head swelled, too. There is nothing like the rush of a woman discovering her own sexual pleasure. Helping Lisa learn to fly was delightful.
I stood beside her and unzipped her blouse and jumper, pulling them forward so they lay in loose folds around her ribs. The bra underneath was Christmas red. She gave me a sultry pout.
“Do you like it?”
“Can’t stand it. It’ll have to go,” and I unhooked the back and slid the straps down her shoulders in record time.
If there is one picture I will always return to in memory, it is this: the sight of this beautiful woman, riding a tree branch, wearing just her boots and a few rumpled clothes around her loins. Lady Godiva never had it so good, and for that matter, neither did I.
I stepped in close beside her. My hips were level with the branch, so it could have been my wood between her thighs. canlı kaçak bahis Her breasts were exactly even with my lips. At last I could embrace her, for professional reasons, and I did so.
Her nipple was ambrosia in my mouth. I let my tongue speak directly to her skin about all the things I could not say. My other hand massaged the breast-in-waiting, palming her nipple and squeezing the creamy flesh.
She melted into the moment. With a final hard suck that made her gasp, I switched my attentions to the breast I hadn’t pampered in twenty hours or so. My handwork became more insistent, my thumb a little rougher over the protruding tip, and she gasped again.
It might have been the dappled shade of the apples trees that made her shiver, but I choose to think my ministrations were the cause. I felt, rather than saw her body rocking forward as she ground her sex against the burled wood under my jacket. The bough bobbed up and down, and the drying autumn leaves rustled a soft music in time to our rhythm.
Lisa squirmed in my arms, unintelligible bits of words falling from her mouth as my sucking became more strident. I pressed the palms of my hands against her shoulder blades, smashing her chest against my face. I pinched her airborne nipple just a little harder than I thought was necessary, and with a shriek of joy she clasped the back of my head, and came all over my coat.
Of course I could not manually verify that this was so. Would that I could have felt her, probed her slippery valley and curled my fingers toward her g-spot. How sweet it would have been to send her into violent spasms of bliss.
It was hard, damnably hard, to focus on the glass as half full. Here was a beautiful, passionate woman clinging forcefully to my shoulders, her back arched and her breasts high in the air, trembling in the aftermath of what I gave her; yet I wanted more. I wanted all of her, naked in my bed, for hours upon hours as I caressed every sweet inch of her skin. I wanted to kiss the backs of her knees, to dart my tongue into her secret places.
She opened her eyes and caught the hunger in my stare. “Was I too noisy?”
Her blush made me smile. “No, not at all.”
I helped her down, handling her carefully, as though she were fragile. She lifted the red lace cups to cover those amorous mounds and turned her back. Together we dressed her and made her presentable again. The leaf I noticed in the strands of her hair, I left alone. The simple reminder of our passion was pleasing.
As we walked toward my car, she remarked how fortunate it was that no one had interrupted us.
“Don’t be silly. Who do you think I work for?”
“Wish Fulfillment,” she laughed. “I should have guessed.”
As slowly as I could I drove back to the main building. It was awkward not to kiss her goodbye. Instead I lifted my palm in a friendly wave.
“See you tomorrow.”
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