College Daze Ch. 02

COLLEGE DAZE

Chapter 2

One of the requirements for being a graduate student is having to teach lower level general education classes. There are both positive and negative aspects of having to teach. The biggest positive is that I get a salary. Any money for a struggling grad student is welcome, even when my grant takes good care of most of my needs. The negatives appear to outweigh the positives. Time spent in class, preparation, and grading of homework and tests is big. Not as big as the interruption of my schedule for research, programming and writing my thesis. One side benefit is to the school, they get someone to instruct at a salary far below what even the lowliest professors make.

So, I sit on a stool behind the lectern in front of the hall for the freshman physics class, a general requirement. Three hundred seats make up the auditorium, but according to my paperwork, only a few more than one-third will be occupied.

SDSU has an eclectic student body. Being only a few blocks from the Pacific Ocean and the beach, I see all styles of dress, especially on warm days like today. I enjoy watching as the students wander in to a classroom for the first time. A sense of apprehension is evident on most faces.

The guys, wearing everything from dress pants, button-down shirts and loafers to board shorts and tee shirts, tend to spread out throughout the room, with more casually dressed sitting further back. I fit in with the more casual crowd. A black tee, Levi's, and engineer boots don't fit the mold for most college teachers. My hair is pulled back into a ponytail, not all that unusual for academia.

Outnumbered, two to one, the girls on the other hand, tend to enter in groups and sit together. Each group usually dresses in similar styles. Be it slacks and blouses, summer dresses, shorts and tees, or other choices. Occasionally, a lone girl enters, clad in a short skirt or bikini top. Something to attract attention to themselves. I seem to get more of these girls than other teachers do.

One girl I didn't expect is here. We lock eyes. The color fades out of her and she stops, letting her two friends continue. I think she is about to bolt, run away and not face what happened last night. Her friends turn and grab her. As they pull her to a seat, I let my gaze wander, not wanting to give anything away.

The class starts bad. I am still in shock from seeing her. When I left this morning, I wondered if she would still be at the house when I got back, of course, if I would ever see her again. Now, as I run through the roll, my eyes first go to her then scan the rest of the auditorium. Each time I call out a name that most likely belongs to a girl.

She squeaks out a quiet here. I look back at the list. Amber Colton. Now I know her name. Amber. I place a mark next to her name before I continue.

I recruit a couple of students from the front row to pass out the course syllabus. I sneak a look at her. She has regained her color, but is still drawn in. Her friends are prodding her to find out what is wrong. Turning away quickly each time, I glance her way, admiring her form.

Time moves quickly as I regain my posture. I explain the specifics of the class, the lab requirements, and testing policy. I then announce I need five, no make that six, lab assistants to help out each Thursday, the lab day. I tell everyone to come by my office over the next two hours if they are interested.

The bell rings.

'Ms. Colton,' I state. She stops dead in her tracks as she tries to exit quickly, so fast that her friends are left behind.

She turns and I wave her up to the front. She reluctantly walks forward. She looks amazing. Her tight, white and pink, sleeveless tee stops just below her navel. About three inches lower, her hip hugging, skinny, blue jeans start. I can't help but staring.

'Hi,' she says shyly. Her tan is so dark I can barely discern her flush.

'Do you want to talk?' I say quietly so as not to be heard by the other students standing nearby.

Her head darts quickly around until she sees her friends waiting, confused. 'I have to get to another class,' she responds.

'Okay,' I say with a smile that seems not to want to go away. I give her a wink as she turns and trots out.

Five students follow me out of the class. The number has grown by the time I reach my office where I am greeted by more than a dozen waiting.

I unlock the door. A wash of cool air spills out into the crowded corridor. I keep my office cooler than the recommended temperature because of the computer I house there. The Sun Microsystems minicomputer put a dent of more than 100k in my grant money. It is tied into the Gray supercomputer down in the basement. The reason I am at SDSU is the Cray, the fastest computer at any college in California.

I pass out questionnaires to everyone waiting. It is not really an application, but it does ask for some things like where they are from, are they on a scholarship, their favorite subject in high school (other than physics of course), and why they want to be a lab assistant. I am glad I printed off two dozen, because I have only three left over.

I gather the applications. I quickly read through them. I take the questionnaires seriously, especially the scholarship question because a professor gave me my first chance as a teaching assistant as an under graduate because he saw potential and found out I needed all the help I could get.

I am also amused by some of the answers, like the one that said she wanted to be a lab assistant because her boyfriend went to a different college. I guess my reputation is spreading through the dorms of my taking care of female students, no, make that appreciating female students who take care of me.

Interviews. Short, closed door interviews with everyone who wants to be a lab assistant. I talk to every one individually, watching for nervousness among other things. I also like to watch the reactions to sitting on the high stool in front of the drafting table sitting in front of the window that I correct homework on. The air conditioner vent is aimed right at that spot. With the thin, tight clothes, the girls usually have on, I get an eyeful of taut peaks poking through. Most of the girls play along, and brush their perky breasts across my chest as they squeeze by after the chat. I think it gets them as hot and bothered as my blatant ogling of their rock tit does me.

After seeing who is waiting in the hallways, I plan the order of interviews carefully. The last one is a well-endowed beauty in a yellow bikini top and a short white skirt.

As she walks in, a definite strut if I have ever seen one, I swear her skirt is shorter than it was in class. She sits demurely on the chair, her long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders. Big green eyes peek through long lashes, watching me as I take my chair.

I look up at her after perusing her questionnaire. She drew a smiley face with the tongue sticking out as the answer to the question of why she wanted to be a lab assistant. I catch a glimpse up her skirt. Her legs are slightly parted as she does her best Sharon Stone, twisting slightly so I have a good look at her bald lips. Further up, her nipples are prominently jutting out already.

We talk. Each time I look down at the paper in my hand, I notice that her knees are further apart. A mischevious grin builds up on her face as the interview continues, far longer than any of the previous ones.

Noticiing the goose flush on her arms, I stand, 'Well Tiffany, I think we are done here,' I state. She slides off the stool, her skirt rides up. She either doesn't notice or doesn't care that the hemline is now up near her hips.

Smiling, she stands to slip by me. I stop her by placing my hands on her upper arms. She stares up at me through a lock of hair as I rub my hands briskly up and down her arms. 'You're cold,' I say quietly. She nods in agreement, her full breasts, at least D-Cups more likely double D's, shake slightly. Her rigid nips boring holes into my chest.

She steps past and walks to the door. I turn to sit down. Noticing her book bag on the floor, I spin back. 'You forgot your'' The sound of the dead bolt engaging cuts off my statement.

I stare at her as she stands at the door. Her skirt is still riding her hips. She hesitates at the door, hand on the lock.

Stepping up behind her, I wrap an arm around her waist. Her moment of indecision ends as she leans back into me. I clear the hair from the side of her face and softly kiss her cheek right in front of her ear.

Lifting her arms, she wraps them around my neck as I tug on the knots holding her top on. She pulls my head forward and I meet her mouth with mine as the top falls away. No tan lines on this beach bunny. Her mouth is hungry, tongue lashing out meeting mine before retreating back with mine following.

I pick her up and tumble into my chair. With her on my lap, my hands are everywhere as my mouth explores her ears, jaw and neck. She arches her back as I take the taut, pink crown between my teeth. Her hands entwine into my hair as she pulls my mouth down hard on her upturned breast. I suckled, running my tongue around and teasing her extremely sensitive nipple. My fingers delve between her bare lips and deep within her steamy center. Brushing my thumb across her protruding clit, she tenses, then lets out a throaty moan as a quick orgasm overtakes her.

She tries to slide off my lap, but I pick her up and set her on the desk. Throwing a knee over each shoulder, I kiss my way up her thigh. She is shaking with anticipation, I know it's not cold because she is sweating. By the time I draw my tongue alonge her pouty furrow, her lips part easily, allowing her inner labia to flame out in a wanton need, a wanton desire to be filled. As I brush my nose across her love button, I fulfill her craving and I plunge my tongue in for all it's worth.

Her thighs clamp down on my ears as she lets loose a roar. Spasms wrack through her 5'6", 115 pound frame as she cums hard. I ride out the waves, unable to pull back. So, I continue to lap at her cream that flows from a series of intense orgasms. She collapses back against the computer moniter as she gasps, attempting to regain her breath. I lean back in the chair panting.

Staring, I yank open my jeans. I reach out and grap her by the hands, pulling her off the overpriced electronics and to her feet. My erection, sticking out from my pants bumps into her belly. She looks down. Eyes wide, she bites her bottom lip and rolls it, as if in contemplation of what is about to happen.

I spin her around and push her down on the desk. In one fell swoop, I bury all nine inches home, deep in her sopping wet hole.

She gasps loudly as I take her roughly, morphing into guttural moans as I stand to press in and out of her tightness.

She reaches the summit only after a few thrusts. I feel her flood around me as she howls. I pick up speed. The next orgasm is mild in comparison to her previous ones, but the clenching pulls me over. I slam home and release, exploding hardly into her willing love tunnel.

I pull her back onto my lap as I fall back into my chair. She closes her legs, trapping me within her as she squirms around on my lap. I look at my desk. It is a mess with papers strewn everywhere. My desk pad paper is warpping along the edge where she was sitting.

I smile and wrap my arms around her. I tease her nipples and bite on her earlobe.

After we both recover, she faces me and asks, 'Do I get the job?'

I reply, 'If you get it, you will be required to spend a lot of time coordinating with me on the details.'

'Alone?' She inquires.

I smile and nod.

She leans her head against my shoulder and sighs. I can feel the smile and the quiet anticipation.