Jessica And The Voice

Jessica grimaced, lost in a fog of trembling irritation, tapping her tennis-shoed foot and wondering where the hell her ride had got to and why the sweet bajaysus he was always, always late. College gave out at four. She told him that. She told him that until she was sure his ears had blistered and it had burrowed into his brain, a big "4pm" imprinted on his forehead. She told him that, over and over and over until she sometimes thought that was all she ever said to him, and still he was late. She knew there was no point checking her cellphone for messages, but she did so, from boredom or habit or just because she wanted - somewhere in the deep recesses of her irked mind - to fuel her irritation even more. No messages. Of course, no messages. Why would he call? What sort of idiot would even THINK of calling to let her know he was going to be late? What sort of fool would do that?

Jessica bared her teeth as she gripped her hands into tight fists. She took a strong, deep breath and exhaled slowly, through half-revealed, pearly-white teeth, her facial muscles relaxing as she took stock of her situation and assessed the facts. Firstly, it was summer. The sun was still bright and warm and welcoming. She wasn't shivering. In fact, standing there in her mid-thigh pleated skirt and black blouse, tottering on impractical heels, the cloth clinging to her proud, pert breasts, she had every reason to realize that she looked her best in summer, as well as to regret there was nobody in the deserted car park to see her. She hitched her purse further up her shoulder. Secondly, she was mightily sick and damn tired of Smooth Boy Martin and his fast suits and fast cars which were never quite fast enough to pick her up in time, and this was certainly a suitable pretext to ditch him to the kerb where, on reflection, she had to admit as she scrunched up her nose, he quite possibly was now, chatting to some other dumb girl.

No, she had had her fun with him. She'd got a lot out of it. Mostly good dinners, some slightly-better-than-average sex, and a reasonable necklace. She couldn't ask for much more from a four month relationship.

Thirdly....Jessica pondered again, smoothing a trace of mousy hair away from her face and smoothing it down so it hung where she liked it to hang - halfway down her back. Thirdly....damn, she was struggling for a third. And then, as is some divine being was offering the assistance that her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was unable to provide, she saw him. She heard him first, trotting down the college steps, and turned, a look of mild alarm on her face. And then she saw him. Professor Baines. To pretty much anyone else, Professor Baines was a reasonably-attractive, moderately suave, reasonably sophisticated, slightly engaging nonentity, one of a swathe of professors who stalked the campuses, looking rushed and hurried and harried and nodding at everyone, lest they offend anyone by not doing so, lest they miss someone they wanted to impress. Professor Baines - Jack, as she already called him, having found his first name with a little bit of basic research - was, to every girl on campus apart from Jessica - assuming they ever thought of him at all - just another professor, maybe a year or two away from going to seed, but heading that way rapidly, his dark hair graying at the temples, his stocky body clad in a suit that was probably once a degree or two above presentable, but was now a degree or two below. Jack glanced at Jessica and gave his standard small nod and looked set, in his absent-minded way, to turn away from her and walk on, but he stopped. Jessica's smile faded. Professor Baines never stopped. Why was he stopping? He was looking at her, too. He never looked at her. Oh my God! Oh my God!.....

...Several weeks before, Jessica had been ambling towards the library, in her much-practised "oh cripes, I guess I better go to the library" manner, when she had seen a door ajar and a voice coming from the lecture room. And what a voice. She closed her eyes and just listened. It was smooth, baritone, every vowel, every word, beautifully enunciated. It was like snow on Christmas morning, like the soft gurgle of a baby and the roar of a bear, mixed into a heady brew of low, sensual, burning fire. The voice shook every part of her body. She knew, even then, that if she peeked around the door, the face would never - COULD never - match The Voice, but she didn't care. She had to see him. She pushed the door and was met by a sight that made her blink even more furiously than normal. A man, in a crumpled gray suit, was standing in front of a row of benches upon which sat..two students. One was half-asleep, a pale creature in a heavy metal t-shirt. The other wasn't half-asleep. She was drowsing. She was all-out snoozing, her back rising and falling steadily as The Voice rumbled on. Jessica burned with rage at the gross indignity of treating The Voice in such a shabby manner, and she was even more enraged when the man in the crumpled suit starting waving her away. How dare he do that? She wanted to see The Voice. She glared at him and to her surprise, he smiled back. And then she looked at his hand and saw that he wasn't waving her away, he was telling her to come in. And then she heard The Voice again and it was transmitting through the mouth of this dull-looking Professor.
"Hello there, are you coming in?"

Jessica nodded and shook her head at the same time. A remarkable feat, even for her, and found herself stepping inside the room and taking a seat at the back, furrowing her brow and gazing at the Man Who Was Transmitting The Voice as he transmitted further. He talked about poets and kings and princes and servants and times when Few Had Enough To Eat, and she was hooked, the words carrying her away to another place, another time, and making her spine tingle from the tip to the base, and back again. She didn't know it was coming until it was almost upon her, but from the soft half of her soul, a clarion sounded, the voice kept dripping gold, her toes curled. Oh My GOD! Oh MY GOD! She whimpered, tried to stand. Failed. Tried to run while sitting down. Failed. Tried to curl up into a ball. Failed. Her head tilted back as she let loose a thunderous roar which she managed, somehow, to transform into a half-yawn. Her body was shaking, her hands damp with sweat, a blush rising on her cheeks, a blush which only deepened as she realised that all three people in the room were looking at her. Yes, her orgasm had even woken Sleeping Ugly. Jessica managed to peel on her "boy, I am dumb" grin and hoisted herself to her feet, still unsure if her legs would remain true to her. To her eternal gratitude, they did, and she ran out of the hall and tried to get The Voice out of her head.

.. and - aside from a little research when her smouldering curiousity got the better of her - she had, until now, until The Voice Transmitter looked at her and smiled and looked like he was about to - "oh my God, don't speak..please, please don't speak...". - as if he was about to speak.

"H..."

He began, but Jessica cut him off mid-word.

"Hi there, Professor it's great to see you how are you today you'll never guess what just happened to me my boyfriend well ex boyfriend soon to be ex anyway you can be sure of that wow he really pisses me off sometimes anyways he said he would pick me up at four pm and if I told him once I told him about a gazillion times you know how it is anyway he said he would pick me up at four and now look at the time well it's well past four as you know anyway I better be thinking about heading off and maybe getting a taxi or a bus or a boat or something to get me to..."

Baines nodded, then looked concerned, then nodded again and mumbled something, then opened his mouth and looked set to start Transmitting.

("Oh sweet Jesus, Jessica, run, run as fast as you can. But wait, I can't run at all. My legs. Where are my legs?")

"well, I imagine that might be a very good idea, Miss Foster..."

("He knows MY N..N..NAME. Oh My Fucking God!")

"..unless..of course..you would care to get a ride with me?"

("Oh. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!")

Somehow she managed to nod and mutter "th...that would be just plain terrific if you could see your way to doing that Professor Baines", or rather, she thought she did. What Profesor Baines heard was "thwood be terfic fyoocud do that prosserban". She was already drunk on The Voice, intoxicated by the melodies flowing into her ears.

Baines nodded and pointed towards his car, a bland but almost-new Ford. He walked towards it and opened the passenger door as Jessica tottered behind him and slid into the driver's seat, attaching his seatbelt with a weary sigh. Jessica paused, looked around, half-hoping her boyfriend would arrive to save her from the lure of The Voice, but of course he did not, and she moved into the car, smoothing her skirt as far as it would go and fixing a smile to her face, a well-practised grin which, in her state of intoxication, looked more like a pained grimace.

Baines started the car and pulled out of the car park, looking across at the girl and stealing quick glances at her legs and breasts, his nostrils full of her expensive, boyfriend-purchased perfume, trying to think of something to say. He was never the best conversationalist, outside class, at least, and he opted to try a neutral subject.

"So..weather is still pretty..uh..nice, right?"

Jessica writhed. A first she shuddered and shook a little and then, when she realised she could sate the urge in no other way, she writhed, almost sobbing with trepidation, The Voice blazing into her ears and making her heart race faster, pumping blood around her body, tingling at her hips, a soft buzzing in her feet. She nodded and let out a long, low sigh as Baines furrowed his brow more deeply than he had ever furrowed his brow before, which was a Considerable Feat.

"Are you alright?"

Okay, okay. Stand easy, Jessica. Fuck this. Fuck this all. I can't carry on like this. Jessica nodded, took a long deep breath and summoned all her energy as she let her skirt slide a little further up her legs, glancing sideways at the Transmitter as she licked her red lips with the tip of her tongue.

"Tell me about the weather, professor. Tell me."

Baines tilted his head to the side and nodded slowly, rolling his tongue around his cheek and looking curiously at her as he drove along the narrow country lanes.

"The weather, huh? Well, as far as I can see the weather started sunny and kinda..continued being sunny throughout the day, which is...at the very least, the least you can hope for from the summer."

Jessica nodded, sliding her skirt slowly but steadily to her waist, exposing her white thong and moving manicured pink fingernails to slip it aside. Intent on the road, Baines did not notice her at first, but he moved his head to take a right turn and did a double-take to beat all double-takes. This was something he did not understand, nor could he credit. Something totally outside his realm of experience, some considerable distance from his comfort zone. The girl next to him was sitting, eyes closed, legs wide, thong tugged aside to reveal a glowing pinkness between her legs and she was sliding her fingertips up and down steadily. As he stared, he pressed the brake, wondering if she was ill, in need of assistance. He had done a first aid course at college a couple of years ago and he tried to think back to that, but instead found his eyes glued to her pussy, his hands whitening as they gripped the steering wheel, a suddenly-demanding voice echoing in his brain.

"THe weather, professor. The ffffucking weather!"

Baines shook his head, then gulped.

"Ah, yes, the weather. RIght. Well, uh...generally at this time of year, as you know, or maybe you don't, we tend to get a few showers of rain and it generally ..well, sometimes....makes things..uh..wet."..

"WET! OH!"

Jessica's hand was just a blur now, her fingers rubbing her soft little bud as she spread her legs further, her thigh softly touching his. Instinctively, Baines clutched the soft flesh with his hand and squeezed. Finding the sensation rather wonderful, he slid his palm upwards, turning toward her. Jessica stopped moaning, feeling some dead leaves crawling up her leg. Oh God no! She grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

"The weather professor, or anything..anything, anything!"

It was Baines's turn to shift in his seat now as his cock unfurled in his pants, a look of distress on his face which he quickly hid. He wasn't unflappable, but he was very sedate and eager to please.

"The weather..right..well..I suppose, if you are asking my opinion, which it seems to me you are....the weather would be..."

("OH GOD YES! HMMMMM!")

"....the best weather for me would be weather that was cool..but...well, sunny. I am no fan of rain, as you may already have..guessed..."

("Oh! OH!")

If there was one thing Jessica was good at, it was unzipping pants. She was a pro. From an early age, she unzipped pants like arch-thieves could pick pockets and she put the skill to use now, sliding her hand to his groin and flicking open his zipper with her long nails. Reaching inside, her hand met a stiff obstruction which she extracted and squeezed tightly as her other hand rubbed her wet pussy, flicking her fingernail against her clit and pushing two fingertips inside herself.

"Weather...Weather..well..oh God, uh..Miss Foster, you appear to have my penis in your ..uh..oh wow. Squeeze it..squeeze it!"

His hand moved once again to her thigh but Jessica batted it away again and Baines opted to lay back as she pulled his rod back and forth, his foreskin moving over the head, exposing and covering the bulbous tip.

"TALK TO ME!" Jessica was almost screaming.

"What the..oh.God..talk. Jerk my rod and...oh ...wow..I...look..this....can we at least get to know each other first? Maybe dinner..drinks..something like...awww!"

Suddenly, a shot of something white hit the windshield, spurting across the glass like the lash of a scorpion, followed by another, then another. Jessica kept working his cock while her free hand primed herself to explode, his moans filling her ears as she lost consciousness for a brief moment, waking to find her body shaking, her nerves tingling, every part of her body on fire, a ringing in her ears getting louder and louder, loud enough to wake the Gods, should they need to be woken. She felt so good she wanted to vomit, the pit of her stomach aching, her toes and fingers curling, the Transmitter beside her trembling as he unloaded the last of his goo across his mediocre suit. She'd never had anything like this before and knew, with a sudden shock of sadness, that she never would again. She lowered her head, sniffing as if she was about to cry, then tilting her head back and chuckling.

"Take me home, Professor. And please don't say another fucking word!"