Cairin's Quest

Walking across the campus we were bombarded with loud speakers invading the senses with ceaseless pounding bass rhythms and skreeling leads. Every frat house seemed to be alive and crawling with students dressed up as everything the mind could imagine in its most avant garde moments.

"Halloween happens to be the night when most virgins, if there be any left, sacrifice themselves to the gods of Samhain," laughed Missy.

I didn't respond or laugh. Missy stopped dead in her tracks and gave me the look.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"What?" I said.

"Girl," she continued, "I gotta keep you close by. Not only are you eighteen and ripe for the picking, you're a virgin most pure I take it?"

I lowered my eyes and quickly nodded.

"Why should I not have known!" Missy locked her elbow in mine and we proceeded. It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but Missy had become such a friend as to make admissions of that sort comforting. I knew at that instant that I would keep out of trouble with her help.

The Omega crowd was maniacal, with music so deafening that no amount of screaming could counter its effect. Beer and liquor and wine flowed from every cooler and fridge in the place. It was a free for all. Some of the costumes were practically non-existent, if you catch my drift, making me feel formal and overdressed, but I didn't mind. I was here with Missy, and she was enjoying herself.

Periodically the crowds in the corridor would separate us from each other, until we found ourselves on opposite sides of the room. Missy had found a nice sophomore with whom she was trying her best to carry on a conversation. She motioned to me across the din that she was stepping just outside, and left with a wink.

This left me standing against the wall with my Diet Dr. Pepper in hand, just watching the activities surrounding me. Students were slowly pairing off and going to rooms above stairs in states of semi-inebriation. I smiled to think how true was Missy's earlier observation.

As my thoughts were wondering, three frats approached with an offer of beer. I graciously refused for reasons I didn't drink the stuff, not to mention being under the legal age to drink. One of them winked.

"Guys! This here's a princess! Get her a glass of our finest wine. The one in the box over there."

It was just a small glass so I figured, why not?

As they adopted their typical frat guy posturing around me, I sipped on my wine, wondering what Missy was up to. I was beginning to tire of all this anyway, and was thinking of finding her, when the room began to slowly gyrate with the music. I hadn't had much of a supper earlier, so I just attributed it to the wine having a pronounced effect on my empty stomach, giving me all the more reason to find Missy.

Suddenly the room began to lurch and I seemed to lose my ability to stand or walk. I leaned against the wall, seeking its support, but to no avail. The next thing I knew, I was being carried up the stairs by the Omega team and into a room at the top. My head was becoming fuzzy as they plopped me down on the bed and began untying the sari, and with a single pull, spun me full circle and back onto the bed in nothing but a bra and a thong. I scrambled for the sheet to cover myself and asked for the sari back, but words just wouldn't issue from my mouth. I was forcing myself to stay awake against an overpowering need to drift into unconsciousness. The three students were drunk and laughing the whole while. One took a lighter and lit the sari. As the flames began to swallow the fabric I watched them throw open a window and fling it out.

Then they staggered toward me with a drunken hunger that was unmistakable. I clutched the sheet as best I could, covering myself from their gaze and advances, but found I had almost completely lost control of my muscles, fumbling hopelessly in the folds. I realized then that something had been put into the wine, and my hymen would be tonight's sacrifice to the gods of Samhain.

The room grew quiet as they stared at me. Somewhere music was blaring loudly. No one would hear me scream. In the adjoining room, a bedstead was pounding rhythmically against the accompanying wall to the unmistakable sounds of sex and orgasm. I was drifting into an irresistible state of unconsciousness as I felt two hands grasp my ankles.

The last thing I remember in the room was Missy busting in and threatening the guys with all sorts of evil if they continued. They backed off. I was naked except for my bra and thong. Missy wrapped me in the sheet and talked the strongest one into carrying me back downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs there was a shopping cart with some six-packs which were thrown aside and I was lowered into it.

But the frat boys weren't giving up that easily. There I was, unable to move a muscle, and practically comatose, as Missy began bargaining with them. Everything was a blur, but I caught the general drift that the guys expected something for their efforts and would not leave us alone without some satisfaction.

Missy was not joking when she said she'd protect me.

She slowly went down on her knees at the bottom of the stairs in front of a room full of drunken frat whores and Omegas, and began to give one of them a blowjob. Quickly the word began to spread around the room. It was electric. A chant began to erupt from the whole room as she deftly sucked the first one to an orgasm. The second one lasted only a moment as she gave him a hand job which sent ropes of cream across the front of her shepherdess outfit. As she began to take charge of the third, the crowd gave way and opened up.

Moments before I completely passed out I remember regurgitating my glass of wine all over myself and looking into the eyes of my father as he broke up the public display of fellatio and sent people on their way, effectively shutting the party down. I had a vague memory of bumping along in a shopping cart across campus, accompanied by the professor and Missy, who was frantically explaining to him what had happened. When Missy had seen my sari in flames being defenestrated onto the lawn, she ran up the stairs and began pushing open all the doors until she found me. She just wanted to protect me and get me out of there, so she did what she felt she had to. No mention was made of my virginity, thank God, I was already mortified enough to never want to show my face in public again.

I woke up on a couch in a strange house that turned out to be my father's. My vision was blurred and I could still hardly move. Missy was sitting in a robe that she had borrowed from the professor, while her costume was being washed and dried. I was still in bra and panties, wrapped in the sheet. Professor Rodgers approached me and seemed to be glad I was awake. He drew back the sheet and both he and Missy winced from the acrid and sour smell of regurgitated alcohol. It had soaked everything; the sheet, my bra, my panties, my self.

"Why is it, young lady, that every time we meet, I end up staring at your underwear?"

He helped me up and led me into the bathroom, where he instructed Missy to clean me up as best she could and to hand out the bra and thong so he could put them, along with the sheet, into the wash with the costume.

"Professor Rodgers is a true gentleman," Missy said to me, "He saved us from a lot of nasty treatment out there. I mean, who knows if they would have stopped once I had jerked the three of them off? I was frightened. I didn't want my friend to be deflowered by that bunch!"

I managed to utter the first words since that first sip of wine.

"Thank you, Missy."

Then I fell asleep in the bathtub as she was sponging the sour residue of vomit from my skin.

I don't know how long I had been out, but I woke up on the couch again, completely covered by a warm fleece blanket with absolutely nothing on underneath. The professor and Missy were talking and drinking hot tea and were delighted to see me conscious again. Missy ran into the kitchen to fetch me some tea, which was her cure for practically everything. The professor, being the gentleman that he was, averted his eyes as I began to blush a crimson red from embarrassment.

I apologized for blushing, explaining that I was particularly prone to it, especially since I had arrived at college. This brought a smile to his face. A kindly understanding genre of a smile.

"I'm glad to see you blush. It expresses a modesty that is sorely lacking in most of the coeds I saw out there tonight, and it also indicates you're coming around from whatever they put in your drink."

"That was a close call," intruded Missy, coming back with hot tea and shortbread cookies, "I don't know what we would have done had you not arrived. How did you know we were there?"

"I didn't. I was just walking across campus from my lab and heard the huge ruckus coming from the Omega frat house and thought I would just look in. I will be talking to the dean tomorrow to see if we should take any disciplinary action."

"No! Don't!" I cried out, "It might reflect on Missy's status here too, as some might think she was engaging in or instigating some illicit activity. I wouldn't want that. She was just protecting me from..."

My voice trailed off as I couldn't bring myself to admit I was still a virgin. My blush resumed its course. I think it turned my toes red.

"What she's saying is," interrupted Missy, "is that there was no harm done really. We don't want to make a stink over things. And they had better treat us like fucking goddesses from now on, if they know what's good for 'em."

I have to admit, I was seeing a side of Missy I hadn't seen before. I would have to talk about it to her later, without the professor present.

A buzzer buzzed indicating the clothes were dry. My father brought them in and laid them out on the coffee table, obviously trying not to pay too much attention to my underthings, especially the thong.

"I'll just go up to my bedroom while you two get dressed."

Then realizing that my bra and thong were my only items of dress, added that he would find a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants for the walk home.

Once we were dressed and ready to go we thanked him and headed out across campus into the night. I was still very unsteady and she held my arm tightly in hers. We must have looked a sight; a bedraggled girl in oversized sweatpants being led by Little Bo Peep in a Day-Glo purple wig. Missy smiled the whole way back.

"Why the huge grin, Missy?" I asked her.

"Oh, I don't know," she mused, "The professor is such a nice man, a true gentleman. I didn't know they existed anymore."

"I must admit," I answered, "I'm beginning to change my opinion of him."

Missy gave me an odd look at that response, then went back to her musing smile. Indeed, my opinion of her was greatly changed after what she did to protect me earlier that evening. And of course, the derogatory view my mother held of my father had certainly been altered by the night's activities.

All in all, it was a night for the memory. I just wished my father could have a close encounter with me without having my knickers involved.

*8*

For the next few weeks we returned to the grindstone, hardly taking a breath between the endless cycle of classes and tests, looking forward to the Thanksgiving holiday. I was struggling especially with the elements of bone identification.

One day at the end of class, after the associate professor left, Missy and I snuck into the back room where the bones that were used for identification in class were kept. We just thought we'd brush up and get a little ahead of the class through practical means.

As we were examining the differences between saurischian and ornithischian pelvic girdles, we heard the classroom door shut. Of course, as it was questionable whether what we were doing was above board or not, we crept up to the small opening where the lab door was ajar and looked into the classroom. There, sitting on the edge of his desk, was my father. He was talking to someone out of our range of vision, obviously a student, from the fact that he was advising him or her to work harder since midterm grades were due and they were lacking the levels the student needed to pass.

"I'll work harder, professor," came the unmistakable voice of Ginny, brassy and seductive, "but I might need some help. Could you perhaps...er...help me with something?"

"Sure," answered the professor, "What can I show you? What bones are you struggling with?"

Ginny suddenly came into view. She was wearing a halter top, despite the cold, which made her nipples erect, and a short skirt that barely covered her ass. Her red hair was a shower of curls covering her shoulders.

"Oh, I can identify most of the bones in this class," Missy and I stifled a snicker, realizing how true that statement really was, "but I am struggling with one."

"And which one would that be?" the professor asked.

"Damn! He walked right into that one," I thought to myself, looking down at Missy, who returned my gaze with a cross-eyed look of disbelief.

Ginny slithered up to the professor, ramping up her potent powers of seduction, until they were touching. She reached down and caressed his cock, which Missy and I could see was beginning to respond.

"It worries me," she whispered cajolingly, "that if I saw this bone without knowing who it belonged to, I would not be able to identify its owner. Can you help me, Professor Rodgers?"

I was about to burst through the door right then and there, but Missy stopped me, whispering, "Let it play out. The professor's a big boy. He can make his own choices."

Ginny pressed herself closer to him, rubbing her hardened, and quite pronounced, nipples against his chest. While doing so she slowly reached around behind her and pulled the string that held the halter up.

"Ooops!" she whispered, leaving her boobs with their crowning nipples exposed to his gaze. By this time she had already undone his belt and the zipper of his fly. Taking off his tie, she tied her wrists behind her back in some very deft and practiced moves, then slowly lowered herself, taking the rim of his jockey shorts into her teeth and pulling them down, pants and all.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to go out there and deck Ginny a good one. But I was paralyzed by what I was seeing; my own father being seduced by that fucking whore.

But then my eyes froze at the sight before me. Springing from the edge of his briefs as they were being pulled down, was the most potent specimen of a man I have ever seen, perfectly straight, long, robust, and erect. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, even though I knew it was my father's tool that I was fixating upon. It projected from a nest of sandy-colored hair that was thick and curly, just like the hair on his head. It was beautiful. I watched Ginny as she inched closer and closer to the magnificent mushroomed head at the end of his penis, her ruby-red lipsticked mouth opening to take him in, when suddenly two hands enmeshed themselves into her ginger curls and she was lifted bodily to a standing position before him.

"You have two choices, Miss Katz," he sternly addressed her, "Either you improve your grades and never come here again like this, or drop my class. I won't put up with this nonsense." By the time he had finished , his pants were zipped and buttoned.

"May I have my tie, please?"

To see the look on Ginny Katz's face was priceless. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she spit out the words, "Fuck you!" and stormed from the room.

The professor stood there, half leaning against the desk, staring down at the tie in his hands. It was hard to tell what he must have been thinking. Was he angry for having thrown away the fuck of his life, Ginny, eighteen years old and nubile like no other? Or was he breathing a sigh of relief that he had escaped from what might have been a compromising position, both personally and professionally. He slowly slipped his tie on and checked that his erection wasn't too obvious through his khaki slacks. Then he walked from the room.

We waited a few minutes, then slipped out of the lab and out of the classroom, making sure the coast was clear. Just as we were almost at the end of the hallway, my father came wheeling around the corner back toward the classroom, almost colliding with us. We all stopped and stood for a fraction of a second.

"Miss Rutger, Miss Mills, I was returning to the classroom for a book I left in the lab, but this is most fortuitous. Would you like to be my guests for Thanksgiving dinner? I have no family in town and since you are far from home also, I thought that you two might..."

"Yes! Yes!" Missy replied, rather too exuberantly I thought.

"Good then," he continued, "Seven o'clock Thursday. I believe you know the address. Oh yes, I have something I'd like to show you after dinner. I've been encamped in a coolie nearby these past two weeks working on a new dig. I have a bone you might be interested in seeing."

"Most definitely!" cried Missy, trying to suppress a giggle.

He looked at Missy, puzzled, for a second by her reaction, then turned on his heel and walked away.

"Shame on you!" I whispered, as soon as he was out of earshot. Then I started to giggle too.

*9*

"Did you see it? It was magnificent!" she yelled, as soon as we closed the door of my apartment.

"Oh hush, Missy," I admonished, "He's your professor, for God sakes!"

"Did you see how he brushed Ginny off?" I think this is what Missy was enjoying most. "Like a pesky gnat buzzing around his head," she giggled at her own allusion to his penis.

"Yes," I said, "but he could just as easily have taken her. After all, she's the prettiest girl on campus, and sexiest."

"I would disagree," Missy replied.

"Oh?"

"You're the prettiest, the sexiest, and the brightest," she continued, "The last thing you'll ever have to do is fuck your way to a better grade."

I sat down and looked at Missy in amazement. I had come to always expect the unexpected from her. I never knew she thought of me as anything but a friend and classmate. But here she was putting me above all the others in several categories which I had never considered. I shrugged off the compliment and began to study.

The last week before Thanksgiving flew by, leaving me little time to prepare. Before dinner I was fussing endlessly over what to wear. I decided upon a loose fitting, and very conservative, dress. One that would not reveal any panty lines, and underneath it all, the most plain simple white cotton panties I could lay my hands on. Missy showed up in a glorious state of simplicity, wearing what she wore just about every day of school. I was beginning to believe she had maybe eight, at most ten, different ensembles.

We were in a jolly mood on the walk over to his house.

"I can't believe this," she kept saying, "A whole evening with the professor...all to ourselves! Isn't it glorious?"

"At least the conversation will be enlightening and above what is usually heard on this campus," I said.

"Oh, Cairin, you know what I mean."

"Not exactly, Missy, except that you're acting like a child just about to walk into a candy store."

"Candy is right," she interjected, "and you can't find any candy on this campus more delicious than Professor Rodgers."

"Why Missy! If I didn't know better, I'd think you had a crush on the professor."

"Well, what if I did?"

"Missy!"

"No, really," she continued, "I don't know his age, but he can't be more than thirty or thirty-two."

"Thirty-seven," I corrected.

Missy stopped in her tracks and stared at me.

"How would you know that?"

"I...er...he said in class the other day, the year he received his PhD. I just worked it out from that."

I knew I was totally unconvincing, but Missy just shrugged her shoulders and walked on.