Going Back to School

"I am so embarrassed. But they've seen you by now, so can we just pretend to have a pleasant conversation?"

"Well, sure." I said, looking back at where the voice had come from. It wasn't hard to pick out the sorority girls staring us down. "Or, we can just have a pleasant conversation." That at least drew a weak smile from her.

"Look, I... I don't usually do...." she stammered softly.

"I guessed as much," I smiled at her. "Me neither if it makes you feel any better."

"Not really," she smiled genuinely for the first time that morning. "I'm Rachel."

"I guessed that too. Andrew Davidson." I said, offering her my hand. She daintily placed her hand in mine before pulling it away.

"What were you doing at a frat party anyway? Aren't you a little old to still be in school?"

"Probably," I said with a chuckle. "I just got out of the Air Force, so I have some time to waste before I die."

She laughed. We talked as the line slowly moved. I told her I was taking a few freshman classes and recited my schedule. Turns out we were both in the same Brit Lit class that morning.

"I've heard that this professor can be quite a bitch," she warned.

"I survived drill sergeants and basic training, I'm sure that I can handle her."

Once we had our caffeine in hand, I offered to walk with her, if her sorority spies wouldn't mind.

"That would be nice. I can tell them you asked for my number or something."

"You could ask for mine too. Then we'd be even." I tried to smile at her. She frowned.

"No, then they'll take it from my phone and stalk you and dig up whatever dirt they can on you. They like to hold things over boys heads whenever possible."

"I'm not a normal college boy." I stated flatly.

She grinned. "No, you certainly aren't."

We sat together and listened to the lecture. A teaching assistant (TA) started it off. Rachel took wonderful notes. I scribbled words here and there. My biology, math, and history classes would be fairly easy A's for me, even if I didn't study very much. This one, however, might prove to be a real challenge.

Then, the professor herself stepped in front of the podium to continue the lecture. I stared blankly at the very familiar face. It couldn't be. It just could not be. I grabbed my phone and sent Greg Landers a text.

--- This Professor Morgan, is that really Rebecca Morgan from high school? ---

He did not reply right away. My mind wandered.

Rebecca Morgan was drop-dead gorgeous back in the day. I had the biggest crush imaginable on her. I followed her around like a lost puppy all through high school. She had nice, round, full, jaw-dropping tits, and a sexy round butt. She had full hips, full lips, and the sweetest personality to match. Her bright green eyes and auburn hair went with a smile that could melt my soul. She was kind to everyone, even a complete nobody like me. She was super popular and naturally, a cheerleader. I attended every game and never watched the field once.

We had several classes together, and she usually ended up sitting beside me. She would often talk to me about her boyfriends. Eventually, we would spend long hours on the telephone. I listened as she wondered about who she was and what she was doing in life. She confided in me about her first kiss, first date, and first love. Sadly, none of those were me.

I hadn't seen her since graduation. I enlisted in the military, and lost touch with many of my old friends. I didn't use social media at all, so I wasn't in the loop on what most of my classmates had been up to over the years.

Rebecca still looked much the same as she had when we graduated. She was beautiful, sexy, and still possessed that great rack. Her smile radiated up from the podium. She was still drop-dead gorgeous. I still wanted to kiss her, to hold her. I still felt like I would do anything just to be near her.

I tried to make my way down to the podium after class, but she left the lecture hall right away. The TA was handing out copies of the syllabus. I snagged one and circled her office number and hours.

My phone vibrated as I exited the hall. It was Greg.

--- That's her. She's been teaching here since her divorce finalized several years ago. ---

I reminisced some more about Rebecca as I headed home. I thought about the one time that I had asked her out, our sophomore year. She had given me the sweetest smile as I asked, but said she couldn't, as she was seeing someone new. I was emotionally crushed. I retreated against a wall outside the library, on the verge of tears as she walked away.

A couple of upperclassmen heard the rejection and mocked me relentlessly for the rest of the day. I got into a fistfight that afternoon with three of them. I walked away the bloodiest, but I had not been knocked off my feet. I had stood my ground. They left me alone after that.

Rebecca heard about the fight. She met me at my house after school and helped me clean my face up. She spent a couple hours with me before my parents came home, tending to me and apologizing over and over for what happened. She kissed me on the cheek as she left. I'll never forget that feeling.

Thursday morning, I was back in the coffee shop line, half expecting to run into Rachel again. I was disappointed when I paid for my coffee and bagel, and she wasn't there. I scanned the seating area momentarily, spotting some of her sorority sisters giving me looks, then headed off to class.

I crossed the campus, and shortly reached the lecture hall. There, in the same spot she sat in last week, was Rachel.

"Hey you," she beamed. "I was wondering where you were."

I held up my coffee cup silently.

"I see. You didn't bring me one, did you?" she said with a mock pout.

"Sorry no, I figured you had gone ahead and gotten one before I got there. Besides, you drink those fancy things. This is coffee regular; one creamer, one sugar. No foam or whipped cream or sprinkles or such."

She grinned. "I drink regular coffee sometimes."

"I'll remember that." I mused as I sat beside her.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the podium. Rebecca was beginning to talk. She looked amazing, I tried not to stare at her tits the entire time, but I failed. At least in the back row, I was far enough away, she wouldn't know where my gaze was locked into. Rachel, however, noticed.

"You sure are paying close attention."

"What?... Oh, well, yeah. Well, I want to do well in this class."

"Yeah sure, although you haven't written one thing she's said down." Rachel said with a smirk, gesturing at the blank notebook on my desk.

I grinned and shrugged. She laughed at me as the lecture ended and class was dismissed.

The next Tuesday though, she was waiting for me outside the dining hall to get coffee.

"It's about time you got here." Rachel said, smiling at me. She had her blonde hair loose and down, different from the simple ponytails she had been sporting the previous times I had seen her before class. She was also not wearing a sweatshirt or hoodie. She had on a thin baby-blue bouse and some short denim shorts that seemed to barely cover her butt.

"You look nice today" I said without thinking about it.

"You saying I never looked good before?" she teased.

"No, that's not what I mean.... Very funny." She was laughing continuously and grinned at me.

She winked and led me to the coffee shop line. We chatted a bit about class and then her sorority pledging. Apparently, there was a wet t-shirt contest this weekend at the same frat house.

"But, thanks to what I did with you last time, I can sit this one out." She was almost bragging about it.

"Well, I was going to go, but If you're not going to be up there, I'll just stay home."

"You were really going to go to that party?"

"Of course not." I grinned.

She smacked my arm. "But you'd go if I was going to be in it."

"If you invited me I might. I'm not going to go prowling frat parties, hoping to see girls flashing their tits."

"Oh really? You just bring beer in hopes of a blowjob," she chided me.

"I told you; I had no idea that was going to happen. Plus, I tried to stop you."

"I know, I know," she smirked, "I'm just picking on you. You were a gentleman and very sweet. That night totally could have gone worse for me for sure."

The conversation was shortened by the baristas. They took our order and I paid for both.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I was being nice."

"Thank you." She beamed me a sweet smile.

We grabbed our drinks and walked to class. We made small talk about how classes were going. She complained about her roommate snoring and that she was missing her dad. I talked about my time in the military and how odd it was to move back to my hometown after so many years.

We took our seats, and I paid actual attention to the class this time. Rebecca looked great, but I figured I shouldn't gawk at her like that, especially since other people, well, at least Rachel, had noticed.

Once it was over, Rachel grabbed her stuff and started to head out. She waved and said she'd see me Thursday.

"You bet. Bright and early."

I watched her walk away. Those shorts made her ass look pretty good.

We met up again Thursday morning. She was back to the yoga pants, hoodie, & ponytail look. She complained about a lack of sleep.

"They had us up late at the house doing some pledge stuff," she sighed.

"So why are you doing all that anyway? They seem to just make you do things you don't want to do."

"Yeah, kind of. But the people I will get to meet and network with will help me down the line for years to come."

"Like with what, a job? I've never heard of anyone putting their fraternity or sorority on a CV."

"Just in general, I guess," she yawned.

"It's all a big waste of time if you ask me. I never even considered it when I was first in school."

She just gazed off into the distance. Then, she looked up at me.

"Hey, were you really thinking about going to the party this weekend?" she asked, quite out of the blue.

"No, why?"

"Well, even though I don't have to be in the contest, I still have to go. And I'm supposed to bring someone."

"Are you asking me out?" I said with some genuine surprise.

"As friends," she said quickly. "You're nice and easy to talk to. If I don't have a date, they'll pair me up with a random frat brother for the night, and those guys tend to be a bit handsy."

"Who says I'm not the handsy type?" I asked in mock indignation.

"You tried to turn down a blow job the first time we met," she flatlined. "Plus, we've had coffee together like four times now and you haven't asked for my number, tried to grab my ass, or hold my hand... you haven't tried to make a move at all. I figure you're a safer bet than some frat guy who won't hesitate to feel up my tits if I let my guard down for two seconds."

"You couldn't blame him though, they are nice." I winked and grinned. She laughed, exasperated.

"They are," she grinned, "but that's not the point."

"I know, but I'm all old and stuff. Like more than twice your age."

"A girl having daddy issues is a legitimate mainstream kink these days. No one will bat an eye at us."

I laughed out loud as we placed our order. Rachel stepped in front of me to pay.

"My turn. You bought last time."

"No argument from me. Gloria Steinem would be proud."

"Who?"

"Google her." I shook my head as I followed her out of the building and across campus.

"So, you'll come with me then? Please?" She batted her eyelashes dramatically. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Sure. Should I pick you up then?"

"No, just meet me at the frat house around 8 o'clock. I have to help set up for the show."

"You want me to come early and help too?"

"God no." Her voice was dramatic. "If you show up early, they'll put you through the third degree."

I laughed in disbelief. "I can handle myself."

"No, I'm serious. They've seen us walking together and tried to find dirt on you already. They've already figured out that you are ex-military." She paused and gazed right through me. "You never married, and you have no kids that anyone knows of. We've all seen your yearbook photos from high school. If you had any social media presence at all, they'd know a lot more by now."

I was genuinely surprised. She went on.

"See? I told you. You moved here from the D.C. area. We're assuming you retired from the service and moved back home. Your parents are both gone, but you have a sister, who you are seemingly estranged from and still lives here in town."

"How..." She cut me off.

"Because she has her maiden name on her Facebook page and there is no mention of you at all on there. They found her name in the funeral notices from when your dad died."

I was stunned. I'm sure it showed on my face as we entered the lecture hall. We took our usual seats and she continued.

"You also went to school with Professor Morgan here. I'm assuming you two either dated or at the very least you had a thing for her the way you stare at her during class."

"I'm sorry." I said, humbled. "We did not date. We were just good friends."

She smiled. "It's ok. I get it. She's your age and very pretty. Plus, she has great tits." she laughed. "Although, I bet that they sag way more than the ones you'll get to see on Saturday night."

"Maybe I'll get to find out one day." I quipped, mostly to myself.

I listened to the lecture as intently as I could, but I started to wonder about all the details Rachel already knew about me, especially the family stuff. I guess give some sorority girls enough free time, an axe to grind, and access to the internet, and anything was possible.

Rachel handed me her phone as class ended. Silently, I put in my cell number and hit call. Mine vibrated in my pocket, and we went our separate ways.

Later that evening, as I did some homework, I realized I was genuinely looking forward to Saturday night. Rachel was quick witted and seemed to have a good sense of humor about her. Plus, she was cute.

On Friday afternoon, Brian cornered me after our biology lab.

"Dude, are you going to the big frat party this weekend?"

I tried to be vague. "Yeah, I am. But no, I'm not buying you any booze this time."

"No, that's cool man. Say, they're bringing in an actual stripper for the night to be the contest judge. She's going to do a bunch of lap dances. Do you want to sign up for one? It's only fifty bucks!"

"I'll pass. Thanks though." He scampered away. I just shook my head. That poor kid was trying so hard to fit in.

I went by the administration building to see if Greg was around, but he wasn't. Gloria offered to make me an appointment for next week, but I passed. I just wanted to ask about Rebecca and see what he could tell me. I could text him, but it wasn't that important. I was just reliving an old crush. It would pass, or so I thought.

On the way out of the building, I passed a bulletin board and saw a flyer for the Campus Veterans Association. I took a picture of it on my phone. I didn't even know there was a Vets group here. That might be a thing to check out.

Saturday evening rolled around, and I found myself walking up to the frat house right before eight o'clock. As fate would have it, Brian was standing there at the door.

"Hey man! You're here. Cool. The stripper will be here soon. You sure you don't want a lap dance tonight? Last chance!"

"I'm good, thanks." I got the feeling he was in charge of making her as much money as possible tonight.

I stepped inside. I was hit with the same stale, musty, smokey smell as the first time I was here. I wondered if the carpets had ever been cleaned. There were a few people milling around. A girl wearing the sorority letters came up to me and said, "Everyone is in the back yard." With a wave, she beckoned me to follow her. She obviously knew who I was.

There was a platform stage set up in the small yard, made from stacks of cinder blocks and sheets of the cheapest particle board you can get at the big hardware stores. They had most of it covered with cheap tarps. There was a child's wading pool in the center of the stage.

Rachel was standing there on the stage in a small red bikini bottom and thin white camisole top, carefully filling a dozen or so buckets with water from a garden hose. She looked up and smiled as I approached her.

"Hi. I'm almost done here," she said, waving the hose around a little recklessly.

I stood at the front of the stage, which put me pretty much eye level with her tits. She was clearly not wearing anything under that tank top. I couldn't help but stare.

"I thought you didn't have to do this one?" I said gesturing at her outfit.

She blushed a bit. "Yeah, well I still have to dress the same as the others." She topped off the last bucket and twisted the nozzle shut.

"I'm not complaining." I noted. "Just surprised."

She grinned. "I bet not. The pledges got the choice to wear a bikini bottom or shorts. But, since I am not getting wet, I wasn't given the option of shorts."

"It's a good look on you. I approve." I said, craning my neck to take a good look at her ass.

She swatted at my face with her hand. "I'm sure you do. You'll also like this part too... I have to stay dressed like this all night long."

"That's not the worst idea I have ever heard." I felt my dick getting harder the longer I looked at her.

She stepped down from the stage and started to roll the hose back up. As she did, water flew from the nozzle and splashed onto her ribs.

"Fuck." She cussed as she looked down at the large damp spots on her top. Lucky for Rachel, no nipple showed though, but the side of her right boob was nice and wet.

"Can you go turn the water off just in case?" She asked sweetly.

"Of course." I followed the hose to the wall. I found the spigot and then rolled the hose up and hung it back on the hook.

"Thanks," she said, brushing her damp top with her hand.

"No sweat." I was staring at her boobs again.

"That had potential disaster written all over it." Rachel sighed in relief.

"It had potential for sure," I said with a smirk.

She smacked me in the chest. "You dirty old man."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, mainly because then I'd have to explain why you left to all the sisters."

"Of course. We would not want that." My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"You don't understand. This is important to me," she pleaded.

"Okay, I'll be nice. Shall we go inside? Get a drink maybe?"

"I'm nineteen," she said flatly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That doesn't answer the question."

"Sure. We can go inside." She smiled, rolling her eyes a little.

I followed her into the house, eyes glued to her jiggling butt. She looked back and caught me looking with a wry smile. She seemed to exaggerate the sway of her hips as she walked after that.

Inside, the crowd had built up significantly and the music was much louder. There was a group of guys gathered in the dining room in a big circle. In the center, we saw a woman in high heels, a see through baby doll negligée, and a white G-string. She was obscenely grinding her ass on someone's lap. Her large, surgically enhanced round tits were bouncing under the lace, and she was making some very exaggerated moaning noises.

"Are you going to get a lap dance tonight?" Rachel asked, her eyes wide, taking in the scene in front of us.

"No," I replied, "I've had a few before. They're fun and all, but I can think of better uses for fifty bucks."

"True. It'll buy a lot of coffee," she smiled.

I laughed. "That it will."

The song ended and the stripper stood and pulled the guy up out of the chair, palming his crotch in the process. I laughed as I saw Brain sit eagerly down.

"C'mon, let's go. "I said. "Unless you like to watch..." I trailed off.

"Sure." she said without thinking, then smacked my chest again. "And no, I don't."