A Dandy Professor and a Dapper Boy

Something about the sheer dress socks made Charles nervous.

He was at his bed, fully dressed in his best three-piece suit, lush paisley tie knotted around his crisp cutaway collar, grosgrain braces to match, silk handkerchief spilling out of his breast pocket, glittering cufflinks--the whole nine yards. But he saved the sheer socks for last. It was the way he could see his feet perfectly through them, like pantyhose. Sheer and silky, luxurious, cushioning his feet. Something about them felt . . . wrong. And right. So, so right.

But these were the kind of socks Professor Williams always wore, and Charles felt a twinge in his groin at just the thought of his favourite Professor. The sharpest dressed Professor at his university law school, always in three-piece suits, always in beautifully shined shoes, and always with silky see-through socks like this. That was why Charles had finally ordered himself a pair. And now, trying them on for the first time, he was having second thoughts. What if someone noticed? What if someone said they looked girly? But Professor Williams always wore them, and no one questioned his impeccable style.

So Charles took a deep breath and slipped on his velvet slippers. These were new, too, quite a bit more formal than Charles' usual wingtips and laceups. These were soft, decadent, dandyish. It was a semiformal ball, so Charles thought he could get away with an even more peacockish outfit than usual.

Standing up and admiring himself in his bedroom mirror, Charles was pleased with what he saw. He wasn't a particularly tall or broad lad, but the suit did wonders for his frame - making him look more masculine and elegant. The dandy accessories on the other hand, the purple paisley tie and the pocket square enhanced his effeminate side. Smoothing his slick hair back, Charles took extra time putting all the finishing touches on his look. A slight adjustment of his large tie knot, an extra puff on his pocket square.

Once he'd achieved as close to perfection as he could, Charles was ready and summoned an Uber on his phone. It was time to go.

Fidgeting in his suit while he waited for his driver, Charles thought about the night ahead. A rather dull affair, he thought, but with any luck Mr Williams would be there in one of his impeccable dandy outfits and that was reason enough to attend.

Mr Williams had always inspired and excited Charles. From their earliest interactions as student and teacher, Charles sensed a connection between them. A mutual subconscious understanding between two dandy men in an otherwise conservative world. Charles didn't know if there were any gay men at the school, and indeed wasn't even sure if he himself was comfortable at the label. That he might be interested in men was Charles' most closely guarded secret.

Still, there was no denying that he was attracted to the Professor. Thinking about Mr Williams always took Charles to a sexual place. He'd masturbated countless times thinking about being seduced by the confident older man. All he had to do was imagine touching Mr William's tie while they kissed and Charles would become rock hard.

Catching himself imagining just this scenario, Charles realised he'd been rubbing his rock hard cock with one hand and stroking his silky tie knot in the other when his phone beeped - his driver was here.

Thanks to traffic, Charles arrived a little late. The ball was in the oldest building of the university campus: marble, columns, a bust of the founder. He collected a champagne flute and took stock of the fashions in the room. His cock started to plump at the sight of all of his fellow students wearing suits. It was still a thrill to see all of his acquaintances dressed to his liking. Sure, some fellows had wimpy little tie knots, or some wore trendy tan shoes with their dark suits. But some had pocket squares, and one had cufflinks, so Charles decided that all wasn't lost with the world.

But he was looking for one person in particular. Surely he'd find him in the crowd of standard-issue suits in charcoal and navy. Where was his favourite peacock?

Charles also started to wonder why he was the only guy there with champagne. Certainly there were some women sipping bubbly, but all of the guys had cups of beer, pinching their tie knots, shifting uncomfortably in their suits. Maybe it was the suits and ties that made them self-conscious? Charles decided that the beer had something to do with that. They didn't want to seem like poofs.

And then Charles saw him. Professor Williams, floating through the crowd with a champagne flute glittering against his cufflinked wrist, clad in an immaculate three-piece pinstripe suit.

As the elegant Professor drew closer, Charles began to make out the finer details of the beautiful older man's outfit. The suit was a dark navy, beautifully cut and accented with a bold pin stripe. It hugged his body in all the right places and gave the man a powerful sense of masculinity. His shirt was crisp white, with a full British cutaway collar that held an enormous and luxurious tie knot under his throat. And what a tie it was! A bright and thick pink silk tie cascaded down his body, the blade disappearing under the Professor's waistcoat.

His wrists were framed by a beautiful French cuff, pinned together with two rose gold stud cuff links.

Charles drew his attention down and saw that Professor Williams was of course wearing his signature sheer silk socks, but tonight his shoes were an especially dandy pair of patent leather oxfords, shined like mirrors.

His heartbeat quickening as he took in the site of the Professor, Charles took a deep pull from his glass of champagne to give himself courage. "Before the night is through, I will tell that man how amazing his clothes are" Charles murmured under his breath.

Calming his nerves, Charles took a moment to adjust his tie and suit, his eyes never leaving the Professor and he moved through the room.

Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted as a hand clapped his back. "Look at you, you bloody big girl. A three piece suit? You love wearing this crap!"

Charles knew who it was before he even turned around to look.

Snidely, he replied "I'd rather not look like my Mum dressed me, Brent."

Brent threw his arms out, sloshing his beer on the floor. "What, this? This is my best suit. I've got better things to spend my money on than prissy boy clothes."

"Look, Brent, I know that you're all about buying your weight in protein powder each month." Charles had already scanned Brent's outfit earlier: a grey suit so tight that it was already wrinkling just to stay on him, paired with a scrawny black tie and scuffed double monkstraps with cheap soles. "But some of us can't spend six days a week at the gym."

"It's a lifestyle!" Brent leaned closer. Too close. "All day, every fuckin day. The gym is my office. I'm 22 and in the best shape of my life. Results, boy. These gains are results."

Charles' nose wrinkled with the odour of beer on Brent's breath. "And how has all that lifting worked out in the relationship department?"

"More than you, girly boy, with your girly champagne and your fuckin girly ass little slippers and pansy pantyhose socks." Brent scowled at Charles' shoes.

"Is that right?" Charles started looking around for an exit, but Charles immediately regretted breaking eye contact. He knew Brent would take that as a sign of weakness.

"You know, I love seein' smart little sissies like you tryin' to tell me how to live my life." Brent leaned in even closer. "When I start my own firm, can't wait to not hire you bud. Cuz that's what I've got that you don't--leadership and goals."

"Is there something I can help you with, gentlemen?" Professor Williams stepped in, patent oxfords glistening like dark mirrors and clicking on the marble tiles. "You both seem to be having a spirited discussion."

"Oh—uh . . ." Brent might have towered four inches taller than the Professor, but he deflated. "Nothing, uh, sir. I mean, uh, Professor."

"You know," said Professor Williams, "you might want to get some water, Mr. Ward. Go a little easy on the beer, perhaps?"

Brent peeked at his nearly empty cup. "Yes, sir." He shuffled away.

Charles breathed a sigh of a relief. "I'm sorry about that, Professor."

"What was that all about?"

"He was commenting on my clothes, sir." Charles' eyes were glued to the Professor's shoes: they came to a rounded point, a perfect silhouette. Wholecuts, too, so they had to have been custom made. Charles could almost make out his reflection in them.

"I think he's had a few too many. He doesn't like the way I look."

"You always have been a sharp dresser, Mr. Porter."

Charles blushed. This was the first time Professor Williams had ever commented on his dress, and it made him punch-drunk, more than any amount of champagne.

"Why thank you sir, that ah... right back at you." Charles was a bit flustered. Between the smiling man in front of him who's occupied so many of his fantasies and his irritating encounter with the boorish Brent, he was quite off balance.

"I think we're the only two gentlemen here in three piece suits this evening, Charles. Such a shame, nothing makes a man look more sophisticated and alluring like a waistcoat and a beautiful suit."

"Yes, I ah... I agree sir." Charles stammered nervously.

"I particularly like this combination you're wearing, the tie is quite fetching." Said the Professor as he reached out and took the blade of the tie between his fingers, rubbing the fabric together slowly. "And such a luxurious material."

Charles stood there awkwardly while the Professor fingered his tie. He was acutely aware that people could be looking and it filled him with mixed sensations of apprehension and confusing arousal.

Before it got too awkward, Professor Williams released the younger man's tie and smiled warmly. "Well, you have a good evening and don't spill anything on that beautiful suit. Oh, and do come and find me before you leave, there's something I'd like to talk to you about..."

Turning briskly away, Professor Williams left Charles standing with his mouth slightly agape. His drink shaking in his hand while his rock hard cock tented in his suit pants.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Charles spent most of the night with a few of his friendly acquaintances talking about their goals for legal internships and how they'd all like to be rich and powerful lawyers someday. The drinks flowed freely and Charles imbibed more than his fair share of champagne. He had to frequently adjust himself as he kept sighting the handsome object of his desires throughout the evening, even catching his eye once and being rewarded with a smile. Charles wasn't sure, but he thought the Professor might have winked at him too... but he put it down to wishful thinking and returned to the conversation he was engaged in.

At 1130, the bar called last drinks and Charles decided to call it a night. Gulping the last of his champagne, he scanned the room for the Professor but he was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't forgotten the Professor's request to come see him.

Sadly, Charles stood up and straightened his suit, taking extra time to make his tie perfect again, resting the knot snug against his shirt collar and pulling out the blade until a thick dimple appeared again, tucking it back in just enough to get the knot to jut out of his crisp collar. 'I've left it too late, damn.' Thought Charles as he once again scanned for the Professor to no avail.

Saying his goodbyes to his fellow students, Charles began walking out of the room towards the road. He walked back through the dark University inner-park and took a moment to enjoy the quiet solitude. Sighing deeply, Charles regretted not seeing the Professor again that night. He was just drunk enough to muster the courage to flirt a little he thought.

Suddenly, someone broke the night with a few softly spoken words.

"I thought you were going to come and see me, young man."

Startled by the voice, Charles spun on his heels to face the source of the voice and was shocked to see Professor Williams leaning against a tree smiling. "How fortuitous that you've followed me out here though."

Charles smiled brightly, "Fancy seeing you here, Professor... what - what are you doing here actually?"

"I was on the way back to my office for a nightcap, thought I'd stop and enjoy the stars for a few moments."

Charles fidgeted awkwardly, he'd wanted to be alone with Professor Williams so badly and for so long, and here was his opportunity and he didn't know how to handle it. Thankfully the older man stepped in.

"I was so impressed with the way you dressed tonight, I wanted to talk to you about it properly. It's so rare to see a handsome boy of your age take such obvious pride in his appearance, and you're such a master of the sartorial arts... I must say I've never met a straight boy quite like you." Professor Williams smiled knowingly.

"Why thank you, sir. You're too kind. You're an amazing dresser yourself."

"So you are straight then?" The Professor asked bluntly, leaving the tree and approaching Charles.

"Well ahh... yes, I mean, aren't you?" Charles stammered.

"What do you think, young man?"

"I'm not sure!"

The Professor chuckled, "Don't worry Charles, I'm not going to tell anyone, your secret is safe with me..."

"But... sir I'm not gay!" Charles squeaked. Lying to the Professor wasn't what Charles intended, but admitting his inclinations out loud was too much.

Smiling warmly, the Professor walked up to Charles and put his hand on his shoulder. "Relax, you don't have to admit to anything, but I promise you're always safe with me. I like you, Charles. I think you're a bright lad with a great future ahead of you."

Charles was comforted by this. "Thank you, sir."

The Professor looked at his watch and adjusted his tie. "Would you like a nightcap? Maybe a glass of whisky? I wouldn't mind one myself and I'd like your opinion on some new ties I've purchased."

Looking at the Professors' handsome face and alluring suit, Charles couldn't resist. "Why yes, sir. I'd love that."

"Excellent," said the Professor. Turning on a heel, the elegant older man led Charles across the campus, mirror-shined laceups clicking on the pavement.

"I'm very sorry that I had to be so awkward a moment ago."

"Beg your pardon?" Charles was puzzled that anything in Professor Williams' behaviour could come across as awkward. "I'm not quite sure I follow."

"I mean, asking about private matters. Your sexuality." The Professor's cufflinks sparkled in the light of the street lamps. "I don't ordinarily ask about something so personal, and you seemed . . . put off by it."

"Oh—eh—It is alright, sir. I just didn't understand why the question was so sudden." Was Professor Williams coming on to him just now? Charles really wanted that to be the case. He ran a finger under his collar, gulping, cock bobbing half hard in his velvety suit trousers as he thought about the number of times he'd fantasized about this elegant Professor. Even from behind, every detail of the man's outfit stimulated Charles more: the soft shoulder and the British cut of his suit, the swish of the double vents and the drape of the trousers, and those tantalizing glimpses of sheer hosiery as each step revealed a hint of his ankles. What a handsome figure he was in that suit of his. Charles couldn't believe he was about to enjoy a drink in private with someone so elegant and sophisticated. All a sudden, it wasn't just the champagne that made Charles feel lightheaded. He wanted to dress like this man so badly, and even tonight's tiny compliment made him giddy.

Each step of his velvet slippers across the marble tiles brought him closer to the Professor's office—and with each step Charles swelled with lust and shrank with nervousness. What if Brent saw him? The last thing he needed was for that meathead to catch him with the most dandyish Professor on campus. Two poofs strutting together. Charles would never live it down. Just the thought of it made Charles want to turn back. But the choice was out of his hands now, they'd arrived.

The Professor unlocked his door. "Have a seat." Charles had been in here before, though under very different circumstances. Books lined the walls, along with a fine mahogany desk with leather armchairs on either side. The Professor unlocked a drawer of his desk and pulled out a pair of tumblers and a decanter of scotch. "Are you fond of an Islay scotch?" Professor Williams poured.

"I—uh—" Charles had no idea what that meant. He sat down stiffly, heels halfway slipping out of his soft, elegant velvet slippers. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Professor Williams gave a very deep chuckle. "Relax, my boy. It is alright for you to say you've never heard of one before. Cheers."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I'm not schooled when it comes to scotches—or whiskey—or whatnot."

Professor Williams' tie puffed out of his waistcoat, the rich silk gleaming in the subdued light. "Don't be afraid to admit when you don't know something. It's better to ask questions. Besides, I doubt this is the last scotch you'll be drinking in your future."

Charles tried a sip, but had to press his lips together to keep from wincing. He wasn't used to liquor quite this strong.

"It is an acquired taste," said the Professor. "Much like fine clothing is."

"It's going to take some getting used to, sir" said Charles, as he coughed lightly. "Thank you though, I appreciate the offer."

"You're most welcome, my boy." The Professor smiled seductively over the rim of his glass. Holding Charles' eye, the Professor swished his glass. "I think you're just the kind of boy who can learn about the finer things in life, and you're just the kind of boy to appreciate them properly."

Charles smiled, "I have been known to enjoy a bit of luxury, sir!"

"So tell me Charles, now that I know you're not gay, is there a woman in your life?"

This caught Charles by surprise. Once again the Professor was steering the conversation to his personal life. Taking another, albeit smaller, sip this time, Charles winced lightly and summoned his courage. Maybe it was the drink talking, but Charles wanted to see where this evening was headed. "Well, no there's not a woman in my life... and I'm not... not gay. It's just that labels are difficult for me... sir."

"Now that's interesting, Charles. I must admit, I rankled with labels at your age... but it was quite liberating to admit to people I was gay. Even just to those closest to me."

"It does feel good to at least be honest about not being entirely straight, sir. I've never really admitted it to anyone before. You won't tell will you?"

"Not a soul. It's not my place to tell, don't worry my boy." The Professor smiled and stood up from his chair. He walked around the desk until he was standing in front of Charles. Leaning back against the desk, he placed an arm on the young man's shoulder, massaging the lustrous suit fabric for just an instant. Looking Charles square in the eye. "I swear, my boy. You are safe here."

Settling into the rich leather chair, Charles took another sip of his whisky and this time held it in his mouth for a moment. He found that he was beginning to like the taste. Looking up at the beautiful man towering above him, Charles physically swooned and trembled. He was overcome with relieved gratitude at being so accepted and he felt safe in this man's presence... and more so than ever, he wanted to be kissed by him. Charles felt all his inhibitions melting away. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the overpowering attraction he felt for the man. Charles had been waiting for a moment like this for years.

"Sir I... I wanted to say that..." Charles stammered, unable to finish.