The Tutor

It was boring. I was sat near the back of the class and squirmed in my seat. Of all the modules that had to be completed this year as part of the hospitality management course this had to be the most pointless and the most excruciating to have to sit through for two and a half hours every week. If I couldn't see a relevance to it here and now what possible bearing could it have once I left this place behind and stepped out into the real world? I wasn't alone in this feeling. Others around me took advantage of the size of the class to read a magazine while the tutor droned on. This was what I wanted to do with my life but this year it was becoming increasingly difficult to put more than one cheek into my half-assed effort to get through to the final year.

The only good thing about this particular module -- Lateral Thinking and Problem Solving -- was the tutor herself. Ms Jones was a tall, black woman with a slender figure and she had a passion for wearing clothes that made her stand out from the rest of the tutors and professors that walked these academic halls. She brought fashion and beauty to a dreary room. It was a shame she taught something so damned boring. It clashed against the excitement generated by watching her in the room.

I had already lost the plot when it had come to what she was talking about. My mind had switched off after the first few minutes and there was nothing in it at all. I didn't even have a desire to take a magazine out and read that. I'm certain that she knew the students never really paid full attention to her. But, if she was looking around she would see that I was focused on the front of the class, mainly because I was looking at how she was dressed. Ms Jones was all in black, from the tailored blouse to her skirt that ended above the knee, down her stockings and ending with heeled shoes that made her taller than she already was. They could have been tights I suppose but tights were never erotic to me. Ms Jones was wearing stockings.

There had been a rumour surrounding Ms Jones that I'd heard when I started attending this particular module. She had only recently joined the university staff, having been a consultant in her previous job. All the details had been pretty sketchy and most of what we had heard was probably untrue in the way that rumours tended to be. Something might have started off as being the truth and, as it got passed around, details were added and conclusions drawn and it became nothing like the original revelation. Being a consultant for an international hotel chain she had become embroiled in a scandal involving a transsexual member of staff and was fired from her prestigious job. Looking at Ms Jones I didn't feel she was the kind of person to sexually harass others. I saw that as one of the additions that had been tacked onto the rumour. That was just my personal feeling. I didn't know her. That alone was reason enough not to be judgmental over what had happened.

Sat in that class I invariably allowed my imagination to run riot and I would sit there, not really listening, and aware of a growing erection in my trousers as Ms Jones addressed the students in her underwear. I should really get myself a girlfriend but I really wasn't too bothered about that. Relationships were hard work and it was hard enough right now surviving at university without the added expense of dating. So, there I was, imaging Ms Jones. She was standing before her desk, arms crossed beneath her breasts. And she was wearing red. A red basque that swelled her breasts, suspender tabs hanging from the bottom supporting her black stockings. Red panties covering her sex, the material taut across her bottom whenever she turned around. Red was a colour that sat well against the darkness of her skin. I could easily have imagined her naked but having her dressed this way was more arousing to me. I might have been bored by the content of her lecture but I was never bored by the time I left the class. However, I was agitated by my arousal. I took care of that whenever I reached home.

There were those times when I wished Ms Jones would take care of that for me. A lot of students do develop a crush on a lecturer and I was no different from them in that respect. She was a beautiful woman and I preferred her exotic looks to those of the female students around me. Ms Jones wasn't like the other tutors and professors who seemed to be living in years gone past in the way they dressed and the way they droned on. Unfortunately even she couldn't make her class seem as exciting as the way she addressed it. If only she was taking a different lecture. I would have been more attentive to what she was saying rather than imagining her in different stages of undress and wondering what it would be like to kiss her full lips.

This lecture was the last of the day and I was relieved when it came to an end. I was always one of the last to leave and walked towards the door, glancing over at the desk as Ms Jones packed up her things. She was slightly bent over the desk and I glanced at her bottom and saw what I always saw. A slight damp patch in the gusset of her panties, it darker against the lighter red that remained dry.

I'm not a person others would consider to be the life and soul of a party. I do socialise with friends I have made since coming to university but, on the whole, I do prefer a quieter evening. I adore my books and the writing that I do. I wasn't going directly home this evening but fancied a couple of quiet drinks in a bar that I knew very few students went to. It was close to where I lived and out from the city centre. On the way there I was drawn to a shop and browsed through that for a while before I ended up buying a couple of graphic novels, knowing I would need to take on a couple of extra shifts during the week to pay for them before I incurred any overdraft charges.

As more of a working man's bar it was fairly quiet at that time of the afternoon; it got busier as people got out from their jobs and later in the evening. It was a dark place with a great deal of character and I liked it. After paying for my drink I took a seat in a secluded part of the bar and removed one of the graphic novels from the plastic bag and started to read it thankful that no distracting, loud music was blaring out from the speakers. It proved a welcome distraction from Ms Jones though I knew that I would be thinking of her later in the evening as I lay in bed, getting rid of the desirable agitation she elicited within me.

By the time I had finished reading the second chapter of the novel I shut it and picked up the empty glass to go and order a fresh pint. I approached the bar and gave my order to the barmaid and then waited for it to be served. Looking around I saw Ms Jones sat alone at another table, a half bottle of wine sat before her. She was leaving through a magazine, one hand holding a smouldering cigarette. I had never seen her in here before but, usually, I kept to myself so it was possible she had been and I had simply never realised it. Hair had fallen across her face and she brushed it away and I noticed she was now wearing glasses. I had never imagined her in glasses and they made her even more attractive in my eyes.

Taking my pint I walked back to my seat and sat down heavily. It would be difficult to not think of her now, so close to where I was. I was hard in my trousers and I shifted my position to become more comfortable but it continued to strain and lead my imagination to more carnal thoughts of her. Those same thoughts I would be having later as I stroked my cock invaded me now. I tried to concentrate on the graphic novel but it was useless. Instead, I leant back and drank my pint, eager to leave in case I did something inappropriate but more than willing to stay in the hope that she might have noticed me and would come over and talk with me.

She walked past me on her way to the bathrooms. My eyes followed her, the gentle sway of her bottom with each step, the perfectly straight seam up the back of each stocking. There was a knot in my stomach and a growing discomfort in my trousers. Though attempting to give up I reached into my backpack and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and was lighting one to relax my nerves when the door opened and Ms Jones re-emerged and started walking back to her table. She detoured over to where I sat and stood there with a smile on her face.

'Were you reading that when you should have been concentrating on my lecture today?' she asked me.

I shook my head. 'No.' My word sounded quite defensive.

'I'm joking with you,' she said. 'You're one of the few that doesn't do that.'

I tapped the graphic novel with my hand. 'I didn't have this with me then.'

Ms Jones laughed. 'May I join you? Or, are you leaving?'

My intent had only been to have two pints. There was more beer in the fridge at the studio I rented but the possibility to sit with Ms Jones and to talk with her was a more powerful draw than a lonely evening at home. I told her that I wasn't leaving and would be happy to have her join me. I watched her return to where she had been sat and collected her belongings and wine before she came back and slid into the seat opposite me. My cock appeared to swell having her close to me.

'Is this your usual haunt?' Ms Jones asked.

'Usually,' I replied. 'I rent a studio close by. I'd rather drink here than in town.'

'I'm Lesley, by the way.'

I remembered her name from the first lecture. I told her my name which she already knew. With so many students attending her class it was gratifying to know she knew who I was.

We talked a while about the course in general and what I wanted to do after it had finished and I graduated. To be honest I had not thought that far ahead. There was time enough to turn my attention to that during the final year.

'You live for the moment then?' Lesley asked.

'To an extent,' I replied. I did plan things in advance but only those things I knew would be in the immediate future. There were times when I could be spontaneous and do things on the spur of the moment.

'So, if I was to invite you to the quiz night here later, would you join me?' she asked.

'Yes,' I answered.

'And if I invited you to my apartment after that, would you?'

I nodded my head. 'Yes.'

'Or maybe you'd rather come with me now?' There was a seductive edge to her voice and her eyes were watching me closely.

Damn, how much I wanted to agree to that. The invitation spoke of only one thing that could happen between us and I suddenly wanted that so much. But I had to decline. I had things that needed to be done at home and, more than that, I wanted to freshen myself up for her, to be dressed not as scruffily as I was right now. Lesley appeared a little disappointed with my answer and I assured her I would be meeting her later and would welcome the chance to go home with her. The disappointment faded and she smiled warmly again.

'Please don't think I'm being sluttish or anything,' she said. 'I'm off the opinion life is too short to waste. I'm attracted to you, simple as that.'

'I don't think that.'

'Good.' Lesley stood up from the table. 'Would you like another one of those?'

'Please,' I said. I watched her standing at the bar, my heart positively thundering in my chest. If it got any harder I felt it would punch a hole through me and end up lying on the table, still pumping away. I knew I wasn't imagining this. I knew I wasn't alone at the table and that Ms Jones was further down the bar. For all that, the reality of it seemed dreamlike. I believe I wouldn't have had the courage to approach her in the way she had done. That was the way I was. More of the classical introvert than a person who would approach another and state my feelings for them. I was relieved she was extrovert enough for the both of us.

Lesley returned and we made plans to meet outside a half-hour before the table quiz was due to start. She informed me that she had just entered us while she bought the drinks. 'I love these kind of things,' she said. 'Some people would say I'm quite anally retentive when it comes to general knowledge and obscure facts.'

'Are you?' I asked.

'Maybe you'll find out later.'

'I guess I will.'

It was nearly another hour before we left the bar and started walking. Lesley lived not too far from where I did and she escorted me home before going on alone. I was tempted to ask her in and knew she would have accepted but a tidy studio it was not and I'd rather not have her see the current state of it. We stood outside for a moment, holding each other as we kissed, her lips so soft as they melded over my own, and her tongue rich and velvety as it invaded my mouth. Lesley was smiling as she broke the embrace and stepped back.

'Until later,' she promised.

I watched her turn and walk away and stood there until she had reached the end of the street and then I walked down the side of the house to the separate entrance to my studio flat. The landlord lived in the house with his family but we never had that much contact except on rent days and whenever there was a problem with electricity or the water supply. I had my privacy and that was important. More than ever now, knowing that, at some stage, I wouldn't be spending a night alone there.

Unlocking the door I entered and headed up the stairs and pushed open the door that led into my studio. As the door closed and I stood in the untidy lounge/bedroom I wondered if I had really kissed Ms Jones. Had I? I put a finger to my lips and felt a slight stickiness from her lipstick. That same hand fell away from my mouth and sought out my cock, rubbing my shaft through my trousers. Shivers of delight coursed through me and the urge to pull them down, remain standing where I was and quickly bring about a satisfying climax was strong. I decided not to. As my eyes roamed around the time would be better spent in cleaning the place up in case she decided to come here instead of honouring the invitation back to her apartment.

The studio consisted of one main room and two smaller areas and it suited my current needs. My double bed was at one side of the room surrounded by a wardrobe and chest of drawers. At the other end was a couch, a desk for my computer and an aging television and video. The space between that was occupied by a coffee table that was littered with debris and untidy stacks of magazines. I always was careful to ensure the pornographic ones remained in the drawer of the table. It was untidy but it didn't take long to clean up and deposit the coffee cups and glasses in the small kitchen. With it being a wooden floor it simply needed brushing. Like I said it was quickly done and then I sat down on the couch and smoked another cigarette.

Talking with her had attracted me further to her. She was a warm person, funny and intelligent. If I had heard those rumours about her, no doubt she had too. There was an area I was not going to go to. I'm off the opinion that what a person does in the past remains in the past. When I have dated girls I have never wanted to know about past boyfriends. It's none of my business and has no bearing on what we had. It would be the same now with Lesley and I.

I was trembling with nervous anticipation by the time I had stepped out of the shower and started to dress. There was no doubt in my mind that I would end up in bed with her and I wanted that so much it was scary. The more I thought about Lesley the more aroused I became and the more concerned at my impending performance. It had been so long. And being so aroused I knew it could well be over in a flash. That was the last thing I needed. In the end I gave in, stripped off the clothes I had already put on and lay on the bed with a magazine and masturbated. My cock was hard in my hand, my fingers gripped tight around my throbbing shaft as I moved up and down, squeezing clear pre-come from my head and smearing it around with the palm of my hand, sighing as the pleasure scoured through me. The photographs of the blonde woman were forgotten in an instant. They morphed into the image of Lesley, removing her clothes and revealing her naked body to me. I grunted as I came, spraying my chest with sperm as it exploded from my cock. I kept on wanking myself, smearing my sperm around my shaft until I could stand it no longer and let my hand fall away. I lay there for several minutes, my hand massaging my sodden skin, giving me the time to normalise myself. When I stood my legs seemed a touch weak and I shuffled across to the bathroom and cleaned myself up and dressed once more.

Lesley was already waiting by the time I reached the pub less than ten minutes later. She was in the doorway smoking a cigarette wearing a long black coat that covered her entire body. I smiled as I walked up to her and kissed her and we entered the bar, glad to get out from the cold night and into the warmth. They even had the fire roaring and we managed to get a seat right next to it. Lesley insisted on buying the first round and also returned with the quiz answer sheets.

'Were you waiting long?' I asked.

'No,' she said as she removed her coat. Under that she wore a crimson blouse that fastened by being wrapped around her. Her breasts appeared delicious behind it. A short black skirt and her legs shimmered in nylon. Her boots came to her knees and were the reason I had to reach up to kiss her outside. She sat back down and reached across the table and took my hand, caressing the back of it with her fingers.

'If we win, what's the prize?'

'A weekend break in Harrogate,' she replied. 'Think about it. A whole weekend just in bed together…sounds wonderful.'

'Are you always this forward?' I asked.

'Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?'

I shook my head. 'No, not at all.'

'It's like I said before, life is too short to waste,' she replied.

'Well then,' I smiled, 'we'll just have to win. How anally retentive are you exactly?'

Lesley laughed and leaned across the table to kiss me. I kissed her back and caught the scent of the perfume she wore.

The rules of the quiz were simple. The manager of the pub would ask a total of twenty-five questions. There were no multiple answers. We'd either get it right or wrong. The result would be announced one hour after the quiz ended. I hoped my general knowledge would be enough to make a decent contribution. And that the pressure of doing it for real as opposed to answering the questions at home wouldn't make me out to be an idiot.

Standing behind the counter the manager, a heavy-set man in his fifties, held up a microphone and read the first question. 'What is the biggest planet in our solar system?'

I glanced across at Lesley. 'Jupiter.'

She nodded as she wrote the answer down.

'Next question, ladies and gentlemen; what does a lepidopterist study?'

I had a blank questioning look on my face but Lesley simply grinned and scribbled an answer down. I glanced over. Butterflies and moths. I would take her word for it.

'On which Japanese island is Tokyo?'

I knew the answer to the third question but Lesley was already writing the answer down. Honshu. More questions followed and I felt we stood a very good chance of winning the prize break. Lesley knew the answers to more of the questions than I did and I had the impression that we weren't going to have any wrong answers. After the twelfth question was delivered a break was announced.

'Take the time to rest the old grey matter,' grinned the manager. 'It's going to get a lot tougher after the break.'

I shuffled my chair closer to Lesley and we went through our answers, satisfied that they were all correct. Her leg brushed against me and I rested one hand under the table on her knee, stroking her. I glanced over and she was smiling back at me. I briefly kissed her. I was glad this was happening. It made me happy and it appeared to be doing the same for her.