Considerate Boyfriend Pt. 02

Throughout my entire interview with this lovely lady, I had this nagging feeling that I knew her from somewhere. She seemed so familiar to me. She was tall, and even in a slightly dowdy wool business suit, I could tell there were some striking curves beneath all that houndstooth.

My interview with her ran rather long. We grew comfortable together. I even forgot that I was still a long-suffering divorcee. As we approached what I sensed would be the end of this period with her the thought occurred to me that my time with Sydney had a great deal to do with my success here. I don't want to sound too crude but getting myself laid and having a genuinely thrilling time with someone of the opposite sex seemed to have taken a lot of the wrinkles out of my sail. The professor who was interviewing me, Professor dePoet, just happened to share many of my interests in authors, literary genres and I quickly came to feel very much at ease with her, as if we had known each other for a long time.

Professor dePoet even gave me her cellphone number before we parted and encouraged me to give her a call if I got the job. She offered to recommend places to live in town and give a guided tour of this little city.

"It's not Chicago -- or even Denver for that matter, but the people are good and the city itself has a lot to offer," she told me.

I was offered the teaching position the very next morning. I accepted without a moment's hesitation. Professor dePoet, Betsy was her first name, was true to her word and helped me find a nice little bungalow for rent just a couple of blocks from her home. This move was going so smoothly and taking such interesting turns that I never thought to worry about things. I returned home on the second day after my interview, intending to pack my things and hightail it back out to my new position as soon as I could. I only had a few days before the fall semester was to begin.

In the back of my mind, I continued to think of Sydney. I wondered if we would ever see each other again. I had no doubt she would win her bet with Tommy, but I wondered if Tommy was capable of being more considerate. I worried mostly about her, because I wanted more than anything for her to be happy and to find a partner she could trust. I was slowly coming to believe that partner she could trust was not going to be me.

"Professor Torby, I have a question about the syllabus," called a voice close behind me from the front of the classroom.

It was the first day of classes. I had been writing my name, office number and all the other first-day trivia I always wrote out for students on the first day of class. I was understandably nervous, but I was also incensed. My nickname was Torby. My full and proper name -- the name I expected every student to use was Professor Torbelson. Even as I turned to correct this student, I knew I would need to be firm and correct them in no uncertain terms. I was a strong believer in the respect both students and teachers must show one another.

After finishing the word I was writing I turned sharply and stared down the source of the question. The voice had come from the first row of seats, and I homed in at once on the location. Then my eyes were drawn to the short sack of a dress hiked up high on her legs, the leather sandals on her feet and -- as recognition replaced anger, I noticed Sydney's head of hair was no longer streaked with blue. It was a lovely straw-hued shade of blonde now. I stopped dead in my tracks and only stared at her as she beamed the happiest smile back at me.

"Professor Torby," she began again as I continued to stare, "The syllabus says you accept extra credit work if we make arrangements with you in advance.

There was a long, pregnant pause then. I learned two things during that pause. First, Sydney still wasn't wearing any panties. And second, that thick bush of delicious curls between her legs was still dyed the most edible shade of cotton-candy blue. And even though I was ten feet away, all that thick triangle of curls looked quite drenched and matted to her belly when she slowly, absentmindedly allowed her legs inch apart. I wasn't even sure Sydney realized she was driving me to distraction.

"I want to do well in your class, so I want to get started early. I may need to do a lot of extra work... but I'm willing," she told me.

I honestly believed Sydney and her desire to do well. Still, I stared like an idiot at the lovely candy-blue beaver she held open for me beneath her desk. Suddenly, I became aware that I was sporting a nasty and quite obvious bulge in my pants and I hastily covered my crotch with a file folder. I awkwardly sidled over to the podium to cover my boner. I don't think I took my eyes off of Sydney's dreamy blue lagoon for a single second.

When I could stare no more and the rest of the class began to grow restless, I tried to cover my awkwardness by pretending to ask Sydney her name. That was my next mistake.

"And you are?" I asked, fumbling for the class registration sheet.

"Sydney," she told me blankly. Apparently, she was willing to play along with this part of my charade for the benefit of the class.

My eyes swept down the list until I found a first name of Sydney. The last name gave me the makings of a heart attack!

"dePoet," I said, then gulped and added weakly, "You are Sydney dePoet?"

"Uh-huh."

I was invited for dinner at Professor Betsy dePoet's home tonight! She and I had really hit it off these past few days and until ninety seconds ago, I had held every hope of enjoying Betsy's chicken and mushrooms in wine sauce and then doing my damnedest to glaze the lovely and charming Professor Betsy dePoet with my own creamy sauce!

I didn't know what to do so I decided to punt.

"Miss dePoet, why don't you see me after class, and we can discuss what can be done for extra credit. In fact, anyone else who is interested in earning extra credit this semester is welcome to stay for the discussion." Eyes began to glaze over with boredom just as I had expected.

"Sure," she told me, then carefully, teasingly, she closed the gates to that little bit of her blue heaven beneath the desk. I just knew she was leaving a wet little pool on her chair.

Sydney actually allowed me to teach the rest of the class without interruption. It took some willpower on my part, but I managed to introduce the syllabus, the short textbook we would be using and outline the collection of short stories and one novel we would be reading and writing papers on. I don't think I bored them too badly and I even drew a few chuckles from the back of the room with a couple of my jokes. All in all, I felt my first class on my first day in a new school had gone extremely well -- except for the presence of one Ms. Sydney dePoet sitting in the front row and distracting me simply by her hot, sweet little presence.

"Congratulations on getting your new job, Professor Torbelson," she told me after the classroom had cleared and we were alone. She was standing in front of my desk, so thankfully, she wasn't distracting me with the sight of that sweet triangle of cotton-candy blue heaven beneath her dress.

"Thank you, but why are you here, Sydney? Where is your boyfriend, Tommy?" I asked, needing some explanation. I thought for another second and added my most pressing question, "Is Betsy -- Professor dePoet your mother?"

Sydney just giggled. "Well, first of all, Tommy and I had a little difference of opinion about our bet. He thought I cheated by getting a job and -- again -- he didn't understand at all and got all mad about my making so much money dancing like that. Even though I won the bet fair and square he didn't act any more considerate. I packed up all my things and came back here. You are more considerate than Tommy ever was Mr. -- er Professor Torbelson! It was my mother's idea for me to come back here and enroll in a class or two and get a job and kind of rethink my relationship with Tommy. My mother and I are getting along much better right now. That's when I found out you got the job. Congratulations again, by the way!"

"So, you told Tommy about me and about dancing that night?

"Well, I told him about how I danced and how considerate and generous all those men were that night. I didn't exactly tell Tommy about you, though," she told me.

I sighed with relief over that. The last thing I needed was a jealous twenty-something boyfriend with revenge on his mind coming for a visit.

Sydney interrupted the easing of my fears with a question of her own, "How come you never told me your name was Torbelson and not Torby?"

"Sorry, that was an oversight on my part. When we introduced ourselves, I was trying to be as friendly as I could. Torby is the name all my friends call me, and I should have told you more, but, well we were just getting along so well that it slipped my mind," I explained. That was more or less the truth.

"Well, I guess you're right. We did hit it off -- and we did talk about a lot of other things, didn't we?" she replied.

"Yes, we did. Our time together was, um -- very gratifying, Sydney. You will never know how much our time together meant to me. You helped me in so many ways. I don't think I could have gotten through the interviewing process for this position if it hadn't been for all you did for me," I confessed.

"W-what did I do, exactly?"

"Oh, Sydney. My divorce sent me into a funk that lasted for months. I wasn't in a very good place when I met you on the bus. But you are a very special young lady. You are very open and honest, and you reminded me that there are still extraordinary people in this world. And you are one of those people," I explained.

It helped me clarify my own feelings to confess this to her. I didn't know if I would ever use the 'L' word with Sydney, but I did know that she was a lovely, sincere, open and almost childlike young lady who had reminded me at a most critical time in my life that I was still young. I could begin again in this world and that I could find a new place in life. I didn't know yet if Sydney might become a part of this new life.

Sydney's innocent little face lit up at my honesty. She seemed to accept my praise as encouragement as well, because she grew excited. I could tell by the way she began to bob up and down on her toes.

"Oh, I'm so looking forward to dinner with you and my mother tonight!" she said, "Would you like me to wear my school girl outfit for you? I still have it!" she offered in all her sudden excitement.

There was so much wrong with all of this! How did I ever get myself into something that was careening out of control like... well, a bus crash. The last thing I needed right now was to spend my evening with not one but two women for whom I held all manner of insanely passionate, romantic, lewd, caring, and yes, considerate emotions! I most certainly did not need to have Sydney parading around dressed as a school girl tonight. I was going to have my hands full as it was just managing two beautiful women at the same table with me. Having Sydney dressed as my wet dream of a schoolgirl would have been too much.

"No!" I snapped, "Definitely not that outfit! Why don't you talk to your mother and see what she suggests? I think you ought to wear something a little more appropriate for your age. Perhaps you should follow your mother's lead."

Sydney thought about this for a moment and said, "Oh... Okay. But - I've seen what she's wearing tonight, and my schoolgirl outfit is pretty tame compared to that little thing."

My heart skipped a beat. It seems the dePoet women had it in for me with a vengeance. I considered calling Betsy and giving her some excuse for aborting my night's mission. I positively could not imagine any way that both Sydney and Betsy might find it in their hearts to let me live through the night. If Betsy discovered anything of my past shenanigans with Sydney, I was dead. If Sydney learned of my randy plans for this evening with her mother, I would also be dead. If they both learned the truth, I would be dead and I would also be cut up into little pieces and fed to the coyotes that roamed these parts.

"Well, at least wear something that shows you're a lady," I suggested, fearing Sydney's understanding of ladylike was wildly different from my own.

"Ladylike," she repeated, then added, "and feminine."

"Of course, yes. Something that demonstrates you are lovely and feminine," I agreed nervously.

Sydney left me alone with my thoughts then. I was finding it difficult to understand the remarkable distinctions between Sydney and her mother, Betsy. The two were so very different. All I knew of Betsy dePoet spoke of her firm intellectual commitments and deep dedication to teaching literature and speech. Sydney, on the other hand, was a lighthearted spirit, a will-o-the-wisp, a pixie. Both mother and daughter were remarkably lovely but so very different in almost every aspect. Betsy was tall, within an inch of my own height while Sydney did not measure a full five feet. Sydney was a natural blonde with bright blue eyes, while her mother had dark shoulder-length hair, piercing brown eyes and a sultry look about her that made even the way she walked seem exotic. When I thought more about the dramatic differences between the two of them, I decided Sydney's father must have contributed a great deal to the differences in their daughter's character and genetic makeup in order to make mother and daughter such striking opposites.

Seven o'clock that evening came much too soon for me. There would be no turning back as I rang Betsy's doorbell and waited... and waited. I heard ominous, loud clicking footsteps inside. My fear of the moment was that they had shared their stories with one another and would greet me at the door armed and ready for vengeance. No matter what happened next, I was certain that I was doomed.

There was a muffled conversation on the other side of the door, a fit of giggling and then, suddenly, the door swung open to reveal both Betsy and Sydney standing in the entryway. Sydney had a knack for surprising me. First, it had been with her banana swallowing 'technique', then with her stretching exercises and most recently by showing up in my class and displaying that lovely blue bit of cotton candy between her legs. Standing on Betsy's porch looking in at the pair of them, I decided Sydney had learned the value of the element surprise from her mother.

I stood frozen in place on Betsy's front porch, unable to move, or even to speak. Both dePoet ladies stood happily smirking mischievously at me. They each had reason to smile like gamblers holding an unbeatable hand. They had certainly left me flummoxed and had I not been left completely speechless, I might have thought to ask both mother and daughter what they were doing. As things stood, I was content to simply stand and stare.

"Come in, Torby," said Betsy at last, "We're being rude leaving you standing out there!"

I didn't mind. I would have been content to stand out on Betsy's porch all night long. Nonetheless, I did force myself to move through the doorway and into the house. I'm sure my eyes were open wide as saucers and my mouth was hanging open.

"Cat got your tongue?" Sydney asked with a giggle. She seemed to be exceptionally lighthearted this evening.

Betsy took charge then and grasped me by the hand, saying, "Come into the living room. We have a few minutes before dinner will be ready and, as you've probably already guessed, we have a few things to talk about."

She began to pull me out of the hallway and into the living room. Sydney took up my other hand, and between the two of them they managed to steer me to the couch, seat me in the center of it and continue holding both my hands as they sat a respectful distance from me on either side.

Sydney giggled again, then asked, "You're probably wondering why we're dressed like this, aren't you?"

I surprised myself by speaking for the first time in several minutes.

"Not dressed," I said blankly.

"Oh, come on now! Sydney and I are both dressed a little bit," Betsy countered, "I mean, these heels are brand new. Bought them just for you. Don't you like?" She told me this while thrusting her pretty foot out in front of me and turning her ankle carefully for me to admire the shiny black leather and the long, spiked heels. She did have a point. Her new shoes made her long, slender legs and delicate feet look even more inviting. Her lacy dark stocking and black garter belt with those shining brass clasps were merely icing on an already delicious-looking cake.

"And I bought new shoes too!" Sydney blurted out, "Do you like?"

I snapped my head to the right only to discover that Sydney's foot was also extended, her delicate foot sheathed in a sweet, bright, cotton candy blue pump, her ankle turning from side to side proudly. If anything, she had on even higher heels than her mother. Even with the height added by these shoes, she couldn't compensate for her mother's added inches in body height.

"I even managed to match the color pretty closely, don't you think?" she added.

She shifted, turning slightly toward me, drawing her other foot up and inward, until it was inches away from all that dense, delicious, curly blue pubic hair between her now splayed legs. Staring into that thicket of blue curls, I decided it already looked extremely damp.

"What do you think? Did I get it right?" she asked, clearly pleased with her fashion choice.

"Oh, yeah!" I gasped. This was almost my first bit of speaking since I arrived. I was over my initial shock. Her shoes were bright and they matched, even heightened the breathtaking blue of the pubic hair shrouding her tight little pussy. I couldn't help myself, and I began to stare.

"You're probably wondering why we're -- um -- dressed the way we are tonight, aren't you, Professor Torby?" Sydney asked.

"Torby... You can just call me Torby outside of class. It's Professor Torbelson in class. And yes, I do want to know why you both look so darned attractive tonight," I countered. After all that was going on, I felt letting Sydney call me Torby was the least I could do. Calling these ladies attractive was the politest word I could use to describe their appearance without breaking down and becoming a slobbering idiot. At this very moment I felt like an awkward, virgin teenage boy who was seeing his very first naked woman.

Betsy took her turn at being in charge of our conversation then. "Torby, when Sydney stopped by my office earlier today, she was all excited about having you for an instructor. One thing led to another and I could tell quickly enough that there was more to her story. So, I pressed her. It seems, I have you to thank for convincing Sydney that Tommy was not particularly good boyfriend material."

"I- I did no such thing!" I protested, "I never said a bad word about him!"

Truth be told, Sydney had learned several truly valuable skills under Tommy's guidance. I had personally benefited from Tommy's time with her. He had taught her many things, including that jaw-dropping ability of hers to gobble my cock down whole and drink up every last drop of my goodies. I could never bad-mouth Tommy if he could teach a skill like that.

"You have it all wrong. I think -- and Sydney agrees with me about this - finally, that Tommy may not have been the best of boyfriends. He was crude. He was not very considerate," Betsy began.

"And don't forget jealous! He was jealous and never understood when men were being considerate and nice to me," Sydney interrupted.

"And jealous. Tommy was a jealous, rather possessive boyfriend. In short, Torby, he didn't measure up," Betsy said, then paused before driving onward. She was turned slightly toward me now like Sydney, but still holding my hand, as was Sydney. Her legs were parted with her knee thrown up on the couch between us. Her dark pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a landing strip rising up from her dark, fleshy, inviting slit. No curls there. I was staring at a pussy again.