Humanity

As usual, I felt the need to write some background, so it takes this story a while to get going. Hopefully, the background enhances the story.

This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person is coincidental and unintended. Comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable, are always welcome. Thank you for reading this.

_______________________________

I was fortunate to land a wrestling scholarship to a well-regarded university near Chicago. I also majored in history. I was a better historian than wrestler, but the four-years of scholarship allowed me to hang around another year to get my master's.

My father was a mid-level executive at a large bank. He'd been a helicopter pilot in the Army and got his fixed-wing private license as well. Dad and Mom liked to rent a Cessna and fly to Florida every now and again. They were flying home from Florida while I was working on my master's when Dad encountered a problem beyond his skill level over Tennessee. Losing both parents at once is tough, especially when you're an only child.

The small upside to losing my parents was that their estate had enough money to fund getting my doctorate. One of my mentors used her contacts to get me into a very prestigious school near Boston. Eighteen months later, I was Dr. Stone.

I didn't think I'd not have any problem finding a teaching job. Despite plastering resumes over most of American higher education, my only offer was from a small religious college in Tennessee. Their contract asked me to agree that I would be fired if I consumed alcohol or had pre-marital sex. That was a deal-breaker. Consequently, I was living in the Boston area on $ 18,000/year as a research assistant to a faculty member.

About a year after I got my Ph.D., a faculty member friend told me that a very old university in Southwestern Germany was looking for an American to teach US history on a two-year trial basis. I spoke German well and my friend had good contacts at the German school. My specialty was European history, but I figured I knew enough US history to pass. I borrowed some money and flew to Germany for an interview.

The interview had me taking questions from a panel of history faculty. The questions moved randomly back and forth over particular issues in history, my personal background, my knowledge of Germany, my career goals, and good places to eat and drink in Boston and Chicago. The panel had four old men and, on one end, a woman who looked to be in her thirties: Dr. Sabine Stolz. The interview was in German, but Dr. Stolz had a disconcerting tendency to switch abruptly between German and English, sometimes in mid-sentence.

After two hours, Dr. Stolz stood and escorted me to the door. She was about my height with blonde hair cut to about her jawline. I guess you'd say she had a good face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw; but her natural facial expression seemed very stern. The baggy black top and black slacks she was wearing kept me from drawing conclusions about her body other than that she was probably slim and had long legs.

Dr. Stolz asked if I could stay over the night and asked how to reach me. I'd spent the money for a European-compatible cell phone, just in case, so I gave her that number. I spent the next several hours finding the least over-priced place to stay and wandering the lovely old town. It was about eighteen hundred hours when my phone rang. It was Dr. Stolz asking if I could meet her in half an hour. She gave me the name and directions to a restaurant. I'd walked by the place already, thinking it was beyond my budget.

The woman who met me at the restaurant was recognizable as Sabine Stolz, just. The baggy black clothes had been replaced with a sheer print dress that clung to her slender figure and showed quite a lot of elegant leg. The stern expression was replaced with a broad, warm smile that persuaded me that Dr. Stolz had a lovely face. Overall, Sabine Stolz was an exceptionally lovely woman.

After we were seated and ordered drinks, Dr. Stolz handed me a letter. The letter said that I was being offered a two-year contract to teach and do research under a permanent faculty member. The contract was renewable for another two years at the university's option. The salary was what I had expected and, while it wouldn't make me wealthy, it was a lot more than I was making in Boston.

After I read the letter, Dr. Stolz said, "Congratulations Dr. Stone. If you choose to accept, you will be working under my supervision. My goal is to create an American Studies program which will include faculty from all the social sciences. If I can do that and lead the program, it will substantially improve my status at this university and in German academics. I don't know whether you plan to stay in Germany for the long-term. It will be difficult for you to get a permanent faculty position in Germany because you do not have a degree from a German university. We are somewhat parochial in that respect. If achieve my goal, I will be in position to help you overcome your handicap here in Germany or to utilize my academic contacts in the US should you choose to go home. I will help you if you commit to helping me."

Ordinarily, I probably would have been put off by Dr. Stolz's blatant ambition. However, she had a magnetic quality which had me wanting to ally with her. That urge only became stronger as we talked over dinner and I came to appreciate her intellectual capacity. Dr. Stolz's stated purpose behind her ambition was to foster a better and more accurate understanding of America in Europe so that Europe and America together would create a more peaceful world that valued every human being.

I am a sucker for a pretty face. That was not, however, the only reason why I told Dr. Stolz at the end of the meal that I would accept the university's offer. The bigger reason was that I had no viable alternatives.

I moved to Southwestern Germany at the beginning of August. Dr. Stolz had me teaching an introductory course in American history for undergraduates and I needed to find good German-language texts. I also had extensive research work in aid of the book Dr. Stolz was writing on the history of German American relations since World War II.

Somewhat to my surprise, Dr. Stolz was a good boss. She did not tolerate sloppy or incomplete work or thinking, but her criticisms were constructive and invariably correct. She also had developed a talent for navigating both the University's administrative bureaucracy and academic politics. Since I was new and at the absolute bottom of the academic barrel, both of those talents were helpful to me and I learned a great deal about the business of being a professor.

My relationship with Dr. Stolz was friendly but entirely professional. Apart from an occasional beer in a pub, we did not socialize, and I knew nothing of her private life. While I'd been in Boston, I had joined a rowing club as a way of staying in shape affordably. A small river ran beside the ancient town in which the university was located and there was a rowing club. My schedule kept me from making practices for the eight-man boats, which I'd rowed in Boston, but I was welcomed and quickly mastered the single skull well enough to give myself a good workout. The club also had a bench, barbell, and some plates in a small room in the boathouse. I was in Germany to build a career, not to socialize. Such social life as I had consisted of drinks and an occasional dinner with friends, I made in the rowing club.

In January, I was sent to the US with a senior physics professor and a university administrator. German students had their tuition and fees paid by their state governments at predetermined rates. However, the University was free to charge foreign students whatever the market would bear and there was a push to recruit grad students from the US. The three of us were assigned to hold a series of presentations and receptions at several universities in North Carolina, Virginia, and D.C. I was along because I was American.

Our first stop was a well-regarded state university in North Carolina. During the reception which followed the presentation, a young woman came up to me and began asking our university, the town, and how it was for an American there. "Beautiful" is a very loose, subjective term. Lynne Adams was beautiful even under any definition. Part of her appeal was her erect posture and the effortless grace with which she moved. I initially thought she was a dancer but decided that her very noticeable breasts were too big and that she was probably a gymnast. Another part of her appeal was her face: prominent cheekbones, sensuous lips, a strong chin, and sparkling blue eyes framed by shoulder-length dark brown hair. Finally, there was her personality: friendly and outgoing without being "bubbly" or giggly; and the fact that she was obviously very bright. She also projected a wholesomeness that just emphasized her physical appeal.

I spoke with Ms. Adams longer than I should have before introducing her to the physics professor and the administrator, whom she needed to talk with if she was genuinely interested in post-graduate work at our university. At one point, I guess to show her proficiency, Ms. Adams switched to German while we were talking. Her German was very good and there was something special about hearing the language, which can sound harsh to an English-speaker, delivered with a Southern accent.

Out of idle curiosity, I googled the North Carolina school's athletic department that night in my room. There was Ms. Adams on the women's gymnastics team, a true beauty among several very attractive women. Her bio on the website implied that she was probably a "role-player" rather than one of the team's top gymnasts. Thinking back to my undergraduate wrestling career, I could empathize. I put Ms. Adams out of my mind before any dangerous fantasies started. Besides, I'd only talked to her for a half hour and was very unlikely ever to see her again.

According to Dr. Stolz, I performed well in the first year of my contract. During the summer, I spent some time in D.C. researching in the US National Archives, the Smithsonian, and Library of Congress for Dr. Stolz's book. In my second year in Germany, I would again teach an introductory class and do research but would also assist Dr. Stolz with a graduate student seminar.

I had only returned from the US a few days earlier when I attended a history department reception for new graduate students. As "contract faculty" I was entitled to attend, just. The reception was in a hallway outside a lecture hall and was attended by about 40-50 people. I was trying to listen attentively to an older professor who specialized in economic history when I noticed someone wiggling through the crowd towards us. As the person came closer, I saw shoulder-length dark brown hair and a face I'd tried for months to forget without success. "Professor Stone," Lynne Adams said with a smile and twinkling eyes, "you persuaded me to come here."

If anything, Lynne had gotten more beautiful in the eight months since I met her. "You're in history?" I stammered.

"Yes," she replied, "I'm working on my master's focused on modern Central European history." That was my real area of interest, despite having been drawn into American history by Dr. Stolz.

Lynne was a bit intoxicating and I selfishly monopolized her time that night. As the reception was starting to break up, I had the presence of mind to introduce her to Dr. Stolz. I went to see if I could still get wine for the two women. As I came back with two glasses, Lynne and Dr. Stolz seemed to be hitting it off well.

Lynne's stated dinner plan was to go back to her apartment after the reception and "heat something up." That prompted me to offer to take her to dinner, although I didn't expect her to accept. She did accept and I took her to a place which featured regional cuisine. It was a bit over my budget, but it wasn't often that I got to go to dinner with someone as beautiful as Lynne.

It would have been very easy for me to be intimidated by Lynne's beauty. She must have appreciated that because she did a marvelous job of keeping me at ease, making fun of herself at various times. We had a great meal and a better, wide-ranging conversation. I was trying, and failing, to come up with a suggestion that would let me keep seeing her when Lynne said, "You look like you've stayed in shape. Where do you work out?"

I told her about the rowing club. "That sounds great," Lynne said, "But I've never rowed."

"I hadn't either," I said, "until I got to Boston about two years ago. If you've got basic coordination, which I'm sure you do, it's not hard to pick up. I know several women at the club who I'm sure would be happy to show you enough to get you on the water."

"When are you going again?" Lynne asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon," I replied.

"Can I come with you?" Lynne asked.

I met Lynne about 14:30 the next afternoon and we walked to the boathouse. I'd called a friend from the club, Frieda, who met us and took Lynne under her wing. As I'd expected, there were several women, and more guys, happy to teach Lynne to row. Very quickly, Frieda had Lynne in a four-person shell with Frieda and two other women.

Lynne and I discovered that we shared several interests. We went to a couple of small concerts together and a Q & A session with one of the leaders of the national Green Party. One Saturday just before Halloween, we took a long walk along the trails that run through the hills surrounding the town. Although it is densely populated and has a pollution problem, Southwestern Germany can be very beautiful in autumn. None of these were "dates," just two friends doing things they enjoyed together.

It was getting cooler in November, but I was still rowing. I'd learned in Boston you can row year-round if you dress intelligently. I was getting a single skull ready to take out one Saturday morning when Lynne appeared.

"Hi Harry," she said, "Frieda and the other two girls I row with couldn't make it today but now's when I have time to work out. You up for trying a double skull?"

I'd never rowed with one other person in a double skull, but I wasn't about to pass on an opportunity to spend time with Lynne. "I haven't rowed a double," I said, "but, we're smart people. I'm sure we can figure it out." After a few missteps and some laughs, we did. It had been a wet autumn and the river's current was stronger than normal. Rowing upstream was real work. Lynne was strong and disciplined.

When we reached our turnaround point, we stopped and drifted for a moment to catch our breath. Lynne said, "This current will give us a real kick in the ass. Let's try to bust it all the way home." We busted it. The current helped, but we were both beat, and sweating profusely, when we got back to the boathouse. Once we got the skull cleaned up and stowed, Lynne said "I stink. Thank god I brought a change of clothes."

The boathouse only had one changing room and shower. The Germans thought nothing of guys and girls changing and showering at the same time. I thought that might be too much immersion in German culture for Lynne, so I offered to stand guard outside while she showered and dressed.

After I had cleaned up, Lynne and I walked into the old town for lunch. "Thanks for standing guard," Lynne said. "I was in there with Frieda a few days ago, buck naked, when two guys walked in and started showering. That was exciting but also unsettling."

I looked at Lynne. "Exciting?" I asked.

Lynne smiled a smile I'd not seen before. "You know I was a gymnast in college?" she asked. I nodded. "You know those leotards we wear, long sleeves and a high top but your legs are bare, and they ride up into your crack so you're showing your bare ass. The routines, especially floor and uneven bars, have you spreading your legs a lot with just the tight leotard covering you. If you're a gymnast, you either enjoy people seeing all of your lower body or, at least, you don't mind it."

"Which group did you fall in?" I asked.

Lynne smiled. "I liked it," she said. "I think I'm a bit of an exhibitionist."

That was exciting to hear. Lynne multiplied the effect by taking hold of my hand just after she said that.

Over beer and wurstsalat, Lynne asked what I was doing for dinner than night. I had no plans. "Why don't you come to my place," she said. "I'm not a great cook, but I can make something edible." I gladly accepted the invitation and asked where she lived. Upon hearing that she was in an apartment block a way towards the autobahn, I offered to drive her home. "No," Lynne said, "the walk is good exercise. Just get yourself there around 18:30." As I watched Lynne walk off to the west, I realized I was developing strong feelings about her. I wasn't sure how smart that was.

Lynne lived in a four-level apartment block on the main road to the autobahn. She was on the second (third to American counting) floor. This was one of those buildings in which the main door was locked. You had to press a button to buzz the apartment you wanted, and the resident pushed a switch to unlock the door and let you in. Fortunately, Lynne had given me her apartment number because she hadn't posted her name on the panel with the buzzer buttons. I buzzed, the door unlocked, and I climbed two flights of stairs.

I had tried to dress nicely but casually, wearing a medium weight coat over button-down shirt and creased slacks. I was surprised when Lynne answered the door in a warm-up suit. She smiled, let me in, and said, "Thank you for coming Harry." She seemed a bit nervous. She took a deep breath and said, "I'll be back in a moment." She walked back to what I assumed was the bedroom.

Lynne was gone for more than a moment. I was looking out the window at the traffic on the road, trying not to be nosy in her apartment, when I heard Lynne's voice behind me, tentatively, say "Harry?"

I turned. Lynne was standing in the doorway. She had a slightly scared look on her face and was playing nervously with her fingers. I concluded that she was nervous because she was completely nude. Before I could catch myself, I blurted "Jesus you are beautiful!"

Lynne broke into a smile. "I told you I was an exhibitionist," she said.

Recovering slightly, I replied, "You did, but I didn't expect to have the privilege of experiencing it. You are very beautiful dressed, even in workout clothes, but you take beauty to a higher plane in the nude."

Lynne walked to me, swinging her hips noticeably. She stopped in front of me. "I really don't want to be the only one naked," she said. She reached out and began unbuttoning my shirt. "Besides," she said, "I expect that you look a lot better nude than clothed too."

I offered no resistance as Lynne took my shirt off. As she placed in over a chair back, I kicked off my shoes. Lynne turned back to me. She unbuckled my belt and unzipped my trousers. She put her hands inside the waistband of my boxers and pushed the whole lot to the floor. I stepped out of the clothes and stood naked but for my socks.

Lynne stepped back and looked at me for several moments. Finally, she said, "You do look great naked. I like the socks. They emphasize your nudity."

"I feel a little silly wearing just socks," I replied.

Lynne came very close and said, "I'll get your mind off that." She kissed me on the lips. I put an arm around her back and pulled her to me. Her body felt as good as it looked. After a few moments, I broke the kiss, leaned my head down, and took one of her nipples in my mouth. Lynne reached a hand between my legs and began massaging the sensitive skin just behind my balls.

I began lightly running my teeth over Lynne's nipple. She started stroking my shaft, getting me harder than I was already. "Harry," Lynne said, "please move your big head. I want to see your dick." I reluctantly moved my head away from Lynne's breast. Keeping her hand on me, Lynne looked down at my hard-on. She lifted me up so she could see the underside. "That is a nice dick," Lynne said. "Will you please put it in me?"