Forget-Me-Not Dahlia

"Look, No No" She frustratedly spluttered out, moving away from George's extended hand.

"George… so you do remember it," He said softly. His smile crookedly making its way up onto his cheek in a contented grin. A smile that was beautiful in its friendliness and asymmetrical delight.

"Please tell me your name?"

"Please you don't need to know it!"

And with that she paced quickly away, unable to hear George's final sentence.

"Yes… I do"

George stood and watched her leave. He knew once again he'd been too rash and that he most definitely couldn't have helped it. But then he uneasily thought, maybe she's really not interested. More doubt slipped into his mind as he thought about the consequences of pursuing her. He would have to, of course, but at the cost of becoming heartbroken. However, a long year has passed, he thought, and yet still she remembers my name.

****************

George strides full force into the second lecture, where he's sure she'll be. He restrains himself from looking at her until he's at the podium and can gaze uninterrupted. His head lifts to smile upon an ugly empty seat. Panic grips him, and his eyes hurry over the sedate faces.

From up on high Dahlia is present to witness the hurried search and she can't help but roll her eyes in exasperation. She'd slipped in early so there'd be no accidental meeting outside or unnecessary walking past him.

She ducks her head to her notes, her eyes intent on finding some undiscovered secret contained within them. It doesn't seem like anything's happening. She risks a quick glance up, but sees he's already smiling up at her. George has hastily found his jewel amongst the scattered stones. She's squirreled away at the back. He's quietly annoyed. From here he can't see the shine of her beautiful waves, the flecks of green in her brown eyes and the silly arrangement of her eyebrows, which comes with the exasperated expression, he's sure she has on her face.

He sees her look up. He almost feels like foolishly waving at her. What's gotten into you? You're nearly 40 and your thinking about waving?!? You've completely lost it, he thought, goading himself. He was sure he was coming across as an old befuddled horny male, crazy even. But how to act debonair and attractive when I'm so out of sorts. Well the 'debonair' clinched it… you really are old, he grimaced to himself.

Dahlia heard his voice crackle a little as he started talking of water transport in plants. It slowly smoothed out and he seemed to be back to his passionate description of all things vegetative. He also appeared to be deep in thought.

It was now Dahlia's turn to watch the professor, as she became transfixed with following his movements. He'd check the brown cord laces on his shoes, stroke his hand through his burnished brown hair, pushing it back though it soon fluttered forwards again. Folding his arms he idly tapped his hand on his elbow. He'd hold his hands out and use them as tools of emphasis before clasping them together again, sometimes intertwining his fingers. He leant with his elbow on the podium and with his other hand takes the small flowers from his lapel, twirling them in his fingers. He watches their small petals swirl around; talking all the time about a lecture that's obviously second nature.

Their Forget-me-nots, She notices, …is that…supposed to mean something?

Scolding herself for becoming so captivated by his movements, she tries to understand what he was saying about the Xylem, but she'd missed several important points. Why did I have to come? She sighed becoming more and more confused by his superior intelligence. Loathing her shyness, she thinks how she doesn't know anybody well enough yet to borrow their lecturer notes. Urgh! I need to do well. Why should George… professor Estraven get in the way of my studies? This is his doing, why should I suffer for it? She thinks, carefully planning how to avoid him after lectures, so she can continue her course unhindered. Unfortunately she can't help but think there's another reason she came today.

If only, he thought, If only there's a way to find out her name.

Standing at the podium reshuffling his papers, he distinguished amongst his notes something of interest. It was a list of names. Of course, He thought. I already have her name. George looked up at his students who were relaxing in their stupor. Then his eyes rested on a very flustered looking girl high up in the room, and he spoke.

"I'm afraid I forgot to start the lecture properly, I was supposed to make sure you are all in the right place and accounted for. When I call your name, raise your hand so that I know it is you."

Dahlia felt more and more disconcerted as his eyes examined her face. He never moved his eyes from her as he spoke the general address meant just for her. If she kept her hand down she thought, it would only draw more attention. If she raised her hand there would be no doubt of her name. He had her.

This is how he would get her name; he excitedly spieled of the list of names, but paid no heed to the springing array of hands. He only looked for one.

"Dahlia Saunders"

He looked down and grinned with satisfaction at his paper.

****************

Managing to escape the last lecture had been tricky, but she'd used the thronging hoards to carry her away, determined that he'd not be able to force her to do anything else. Another week had passed however, and now she must go through her evasive dance once more. Yet she was more determined than ever that he shouldn't interfere with her learning.

As the lecture paced forwards Dahlia was aware that he didn't look at her all that much. There was no longing look, or smile for her. He kept looking at his watch constantly, impatient for time to be got through. Slumping in her seat she thought she felt disappointed but she quickly changed it to confusion. No not disappointed just… confused, she corrected herself.

The lecture ended early. Dahlia got up from her seat straight away not waiting for a clot of students to travel with. She didn't look at the front of the hall; she just strides towards the door taking two steps at a time down the stairs. She nears the exit.

"Dahlia," she hears George say in a clear commanding tone. Her feet obeyed, stopping immediately. Her mind told her to continue on, but then he spoke again.

"Dahlia, I'd like a word please."

Heavily turning and scarping her feet forwards she came upon an invisible line of tolerance. Here at this distance she could just about manage to stay composed, and not overheat. One of the dawdling gossips, milling around them, could have easy lain down in the space between her and the professor.

"Please come to my office. I have something very important to say to you"

"No! I mean I'm in a hurry, could you not tell me here"

"You look beautiful today…"

"Professor!"

Dahlia could feel the other students scrutinising them. She was immediately panicked. He was speaking much too load; it was starting to draw looks. Looking over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard, she caught the momentary raised eyebrow of a fuzzy haired male student. She lightly shrugged her shoulders in response, before he fell back into deep conversation with his fellow cluster of students.

Dahlia's embarrassment was growing. How loud will he get if I refuse? Bugger it, She thought. Deciding to follow him to his office, she hoped she could berate him properly for his reckless behaviour and perhaps put an end to this thing… whatever it was between them.

"You know I think I do have time," She finally conceded.

George had no intention of going any further than his first declaration. He knew he was bluffing, but it had worked perfectly. She was too shy, too virtuous, to let him continue. Watching how she'd blushed on their previous meeting had told him as much.

As they walked to the office George's hands were pushed deep in the pockets of his faded trousers. His arms cinched to his sides despite their length, which made him hunch his shoulders slightly. It made him look guarded, but his legs swung freely making it seem as if he was incapable of containing some excitement he felt. He nodded hellos to other passing colleagues, before eventually reaching his office.

It was quite a solitary office at the end of a narrow corridor surrounded with what appeared to be mostly storerooms. Glimpsing the last offices however, she noticed they contained tall shelves filled with strikingly elegant plants. His body tilted forwards, as his office door swung open, and he motioned with his hand for her to enter first. He closed the door behind them.

"I brought you here to explain my behaviour" George spoke instantly. There was then a long silence in which Dahlia made it clear that she wasn't about to make this easy for him. "I cannot explain my behaviour when we first meet; it is unexplainable even to me." George stated to pace the office talking with his hands. "All that can be said… is that… I had an irresistible need to… and then you left and I've put you into the depths of my mind. And now you've reappeared, and all this time it feels like you have just been out if sight." At this he stopped, and stared at Dahlia. "Now here you are before me. My mind seems to think you've never been gone, because it loves you the same. I feel the same."

George moved to her suddenly, leaning on the wall she stood against, "Dahlia" he whispered to her. The whisper trickled into her ear with his warm breath. It made her stretch her hands upon the cold wall seeking something to hold onto. Her heart was thumping faster. She felt the side of his face brush hers. "How long have I waited for you? …to met you once again." She slid from under him.

He stood with eyes closed, exactly where she'd left him.

"Stop," Dahlia burst out. "I didn't come here to be manhandled again," She sarcastically sniped.

"Why did you come?" George turned to face her. Dahlia was trembling on the other side of the office, her back against the opposite wall.

The earlier reasons she'd picked for following him here were forgotten, as he eagerly looked upon her.

"I came here to… to stop this."

"What is it you wish to stop?" George stepped closer to her.

"Whatever you're thinking right now!"

Damn, she's right, he thought. He was thinking some pretty depraved thoughts all centring on her.

"I want to stop whatever you think is going on between us." She continued.

"Right," He said in a serious tone. He picked up a pen from his desk.

"I want 500 words on 'why you don't want me to kiss you, right here' to be done immediately". He moved up close to her again, and handed her the pen. Dahlia took it, unsure of what to do. Her chest was beginning to break with the thump of her heart.

Her rousing scent found it's way to him, as he found his way closer to her. Looking upon her, confused by her own desire, made his cock stiffen uncomfortably in his trousers. He longed to release it.

She made to take paper from his desk, thinking perhaps he was giving her a way out. He stopped her, lifting his arm and pushing his hand into the wall. She longed to stick to her plan and remove herself from his office, but her head was going round and round. She must hang onto her previous thoughts. The ones she knew were right. The ones she wouldn't regret.

Dahlia looked upon George even more confused and flustered as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Write it here Dahlia, next to my heart if you mean to break it." He lifted her hand and repositioned the pen between her fingers. He then guided her hand to his chest, and left it there. The cold steel of the pen was hard in her hand and she could feel her warm blood pumping through her fingers next to it. Her hand brushed his springy chest hair beneath which her hand met with warm thumping skin. She could feel him breathe stuttered intakes and slightly uncompossed outtakes of breath. She curled her hand to stabilize the pen and begin writing. Maybe if she could write one word 'No' then she could leave.

Dahlia could sense him drawing closer and his hot breath fell on the top of her head as he looked down upon her. Standing there small, strong and yet beautifully delicate. Her hand was shaking. she drew the pen down to form one black line over his heart. As she did she felt his skin react, tightening under her touch, his hair rising. He was standing so close now, there was just a breath of air between them. The pen fell from her hand as she looked up to find his kiss.

George forced his way through her arms and to her lips. She was wrapped deep in his arms as he pulled her closer. Spreading his bottom lip underneath her top, he drew away her flavour. He curled his lip into his mouth eager for his first taste. Tightening his jaw, he sucked her potion from his lip. A strange sweet tang of blackcurrants and chocolate was mixed together with some other unimaginable taste; it was unique to her.

Once again George pulled Dahlia's lips to his. Taking her top lip between his, softly he brushed hers, while his hot damp breath heated the delicate skin. He waited softly embracing her lip in his until he began to feel her bottom lip graze his. Slowly he felt her increasing touch on his lips with hers. Like the sun opening a flower he would slowly draw out her desire.

Rewarding her, George pressed his lips heavily onto hers. Feeling her tingling skin on his pushed his heart apart under his chest. This time Dahlia didn't shove him away. She curled her hands around him, under his jacket, feeling his heat becoming trapped. Trapped, like she was in his grip. She shifted restlessly at the warm ache in her cunt. Releasing her once again, Dahlia drooped against the wall and panted. George slid his jacket from his broad shoulders.

"Professor?" She whispered, unsure of what to do.

"I think you can call me George," he smiled, causing her to will to perish even more.

He dragged her in, clucking at her round bum. In his arms, he walked her to his desk. Fully in his power her flat shoes slipped from her feet as she felt herself being placed upon it. Hurrying for the door, he flicked the key, locking it. Oh fuck. Get up and leave now, leave… please! She told herself.

When George returned to her, he could still see hesitation in her lovely brilliant oval eyes. There's no way she's leaving now, he thought decidedly. Feeling unsettled by her strong will, one which was still half set on leaving, he quickly made to kiss away all her indecision. Thoughts were running mad in his head. Needing her more than ever, he became intent on removing any barriers to her gentle skin; her clothes that draped over such hidden wonders. She couldn't leave naked, although he secretly laughed at the idea. Then she'd have to stay, have to make love to him. Have to want him. Especially when Dahlia saw how much he could make her body want him.

Hands shaking George took a button between his fingers. Resting back on the palm of hands, Dahlia stared intently at George. The button slid through the fabric. It began a hasty panic by George to undo the rest of her. Her shirt fell open and he pushed up her camisole to reveal two of the finest breasts he'd ever seen. Moving to hide her small round breasts only caused them to sway gently. She went to speak "no… oh," but his tongue was already whipping around the nipple on her awaiting breast. He sucked. Lavishly.

Dahlia's small breasts sat on her chest perfectly, full and sensual, they complemented her small frame wonderfully. George could feel the smooth pink nipple becoming creased with unconcealed lust. Tending to her other breast he flicked and licked his tongue over the ripening nipple till they both sat proud of her pert breasts. Tingling swirls of appreciation overflowed from her breasts running a course over her fluttering stomach until it rested and built, hot and unrelenting, in her intimate nether region.

These past minutes had been a thoughtless indulgence. Dahlia concentrated on the reaction his tongue was generating. The feel of George's hands stroking her skin, working up along her back, feeling the indent of her curved spine. He noticed her becoming increasingly restless; she was squirming slightly trying to rub herself on his enclosed erection. She thought these tiny moments would go unnoticed, so indulged was he in her breasts. She was still unwilling to show just how much she wanted him, this man who had forced himself upon her once before. In reality her actions were driving him crazy, his mind unsure of any conscious intention behind them. Although he could tell from her bitten lip she was holding back, yet still she refused to meet his gaze. He needed to work harder to make her relent.

Kissing his way to the top of her jeans; George once again with shaking hands slipped the cold metal button open. Without a second thought her ripped the jeans from her legs. She drew in a quick breathy cry and brought her legs up to hide her exposed knickers. He threw down her jeans. Shuffling back on the desk, she was suddenly provoked by his steady advance. He could see her plain black cotton knickers peeking from between her ankles.

Black cotton knickers stood between him and her. Sliding his hands with satisfying curiosity over her thighs, his hands reach her clenched knees and begin to sink down between her legs. Reaching the top of her mound with his hand flat against her thighs he pushed apart her legs. She's watching his hands, but he's watching her. Dahlia could no more stop him than she could stop her immense embarrassment at being exposed to her professor's eyes. He pulled her to the edge of the desk again.

Bloody hell?! Dahlia looked terror stricken. Grabbing a pair of scissors from his desk, George had began to cut down to her slit, slicing through the small black bow at the front of her knickers. It was an impulsive action, but he knew she'd have to go the rest of the day knickerless. Cold steel carefully slid past her skin. Quivering she felt them graze her lips. The sound of crumbling material, breaking underneath the sharp scissors, reaching her ears. She held her breath. He could tell she was very wet as he enjoyed the sensation of the scissors sliding over her damp juices, which stuck to the fabric of her knickers, changing its consistency.

Stopping George drew the scissors out, bringing them to his nose and sniffing. Falling to his knees he peeled open the dark damp fabric fragments, seeing her dew laden flower open. He pushed her legs wider to let it bloom further, watching in wonder as his rare flower unfurled. Faced with her nectar filled bloom, he buzzes with excitement. Engrossed in his movements Dahlia had never seen someone so in awe of her before. She couldn't help but feel this obvious want grab at her heart. A few more snips and the black pants drifted to the floor, defeated.

George trailed his hands once again over her strong pale thighs and well-defined calves, marvelling at the supple pale olive skin he'd seen before in the park and never thought to see again. Her short but perfect legs an obvious result of the frequent cycling she did. He thought back to the days he saw her in the park, her summer dress clinging to her, revealing shape but not detail.

Seeing her bum pressed firmly against his desk below a red engorged line of hot flesh that moved under heavy breaths made him stiffen more. Letting out a lustful moan, his body gave way to small spasms triggered by the luxurious visual pleasure that meets his eyes. He could view her no longer, wanting instead to take her right then, but he couldn't miss the opportunity to taste her before the taint of his seed was spilled inside her. Looking up with a devilish smile he was surprised to catch her staring at him. Embarrassed she quickly looked away, as he caught a brilliant blush colour her pale skin.