Mousy girl had the palest white skin, the deepest dark brown almost black eyes, and jet-black hair. She stood about 5' 4" and weighed 115 pounds dripping wet naked. She had floppy b-cup breasts, small but very dark brown aureole, and thick almost bulbous nipples. She shaved her legs. She usually didn't wear stockings, until the weather turned winter, then she wore stockings, leggings, whatever else to be warm in old drafty Hemmings' classrooms. She didn't shave her pits. It was her way of being "continental" as she put it. They were quite bushy. Her eyes were just a little beady not those big fashion model saucer eyes. Her nose just a little crooked. Her lips just a little too thin for her to be called beautiful. She was the kind of girl that made you look twice or maybe three times because you couldn't tell if she was pretty. With dark lipstick and the right eye shadow she might pass for alluring.
Everyone at Hemmings wondered how Mousy Girl paid her bills. Mousy Girl grew up in a "coal holler" in Appalachia. She talked constantly about how dirt poor her family was. At her grandma's house you still used an outhouse, not a proper toilet. Her father drank a bit and moved from job to job hustling to keep food on the table. Mousy Girl talked matter-of-factly that if things were really tough, you could always trap a rabbit or find some other game to put a meal on a table. But at Hemmings, Mousy Girl was never short of cash, was always wearing cute clothes, and always seemed to find a buck or two to take outrageous road trips. After her first year Mousy Girl moved out of the dorms-but most Hemmings' students moved off-grounds after their first year.
Mousy Girl and I became fast friends during her first semester at Hemmings. After the first meeting of my freshman honors aesthetics seminar Mousy Girl appeared almost mystically in my office.
"Professor Wheatfield," she began matter of factly, "I want to talk." She closed the office door and sprawled over the chair in front of my desk. I caught a glimpse of black lace panty I guessed not by accident.
"Professor Wheatfield, you and I understand each other." Mousy Girl continued.
I had no clue what she was talking about. I had just finished a class where we had talked about Elliot's Prufrock. I had teased a preppie trust fund chick about the look and taste of a "peach." "Dare I eat a peach," is how Prufrock goes, and I asked the preppie chick, Dabney Hunter, to write a description of a peach that would make us want to eat her peach. I planned to sleep with Dabney Hunter, or was it Hunter Dabney, I never quite got that right, and I had used most of the first session of class to make her feel out of sorts, if not naked in front of her peers. It was clear to the entire class, I had hoped, that we were talking about Dabney's red haired muff . . . though I was talking in actual words about Prufrock's peach. Dabney Hunter had no clue what had hit her.
"Usually I begin at $250, or most often just $1000 for the night," Mousy Girl continued.
"Excuse me," I replied.
"Like I was saying," Mousy Girl continued in her Appalachian coal holler twang, "Usually what I am offering would be at minimum $250, most likely more . . . after watching you in class today it is clear that you plan to get into a freshman girl's pants. I am pointing out that getting into my pants usually carries a price, but that I am willing to negotiate."
This was a very smart and perceptive chick. I liked her instantly.
"I saw what you were doing to that red head," Mousy Girl continued. "I am sure the child is a virgin. Though she may seem to love those designer show off the body duds, in the dorm she is frigid chick. She lives in a single. She talks with the rest of us barely, but she is like a woman on a mission. She has one of those calendars from hell with every minute organized. Just thought you might want to know those facts."
I wasn't sure how to respond.
"I have seen her in the shower." Mousy Girl continued.
Hemmings used to be a boys college. Its dorms had big open shower rooms. Not much privacy. Just a big square room with half a dozen showerheads on the wall. The rooms shocked the girls when the school went co-ed, but for whatever reasons nothing ever was done to put in curtains. All the private once a month things girls did to keep clean were done in a big square room where everyone could watch. All the shaving, trimming, tweaking whatever else was done on public display.
"She has a bushy red 'peach,' was that your word in class...?" Mousy Girl said. "This girl could not wear a thong on the beach without embarrassing everyone....unless someone took a razor to that forest she has growing between her legs."
I finally spoke.
"And what is it that you and I think alike about?" I asked.
"Sex." Mousy Girl was direct. "You like sex. And I like sex. I usually happen to charge for it. A girl has bills to pay. You like it with young girls. I am a young girl. We can negotiate."
This girl was direct. Most 18 year olds were not quite so savvy.
Mousy Girl stood up and simply shucked off her clothes.
"Here is me naked," was all she said.
I liked what I saw. She was not perfect by any means. A few ab crunches would help her.
"Are you shy?" she asked.
"Maybe," I replied.
"We will get over that."
"So what are you proposing?" I asked.
"Simple, you fuck my brains out, I blow you silly, you take my asshole...whatever you want, and I get an A. Any semester I take your class, same deal."
This seemed too easy.
"Why so direct?" I asked.
"Like I said, usually I charge. Let me be honest, I am working my way through school on my back. Some day I hope to maybe be a writer. I grew up where you do what you must to get by. Call me an entrepreneur at heart. I market my skills. Did I say I give great head?"
Usually I was in control with the freshman women. I made them do what I wanted. I was still a little suspicious.
She was now sitting naked, her legs spread, revealing a delicious pussy. She idly played with her clit as we talked.
"So why me?"
"I like how you worked the red head .. . and to be honest, I might like a taste of that peach as well. Peach was your word in class wasn't it?"
I liked where this was going. Mousy Girl spread her lips just a bit more and poked a finger inside. She was all about performance.
"So how do we proceed?" I asked.
"How about I blow you?"
I was always hesitant to get naked with a student until I knew I had her. It's like those dumb guys who take someone back to their house-when a girl can describe in detail your bedroom you are toast.
Mousy Girl got up and walked behind the desk. She stood right in front of me.
"No trap here love," she said. "I know you have worries...trust me...after I turned 18 my senior year in high school I worked very hard to earn the Hemmings' tuition, and I was scared about 'vice' cops. I am naked there is no scam."
She reached to my pants and undid the zipper. I stood, made for easier access. She undid my belt and pulled pants and briefs down in one motion. She eased me back in the chair and took my penis in her mouth. She fondled my balls. She sucked up and down the entire length of my shaft. She was very good as she took the whole thing right down to the base. I was in heaven. Her head bobbed up and down. After a few minutes of bliss I came and she swallowed the whole load.
"Nice," she said. "Tasty." She licked her lips. "We will do more of this. You will have to invite me to spend the night." She was matter of fact.
"Of course," I agreed.
"And I want the red head," she continued.
"You want?" I asked.
"Yeah, you and I are going to take her together one night."
"Sure," what else could I say.
We both dressed. She came up to me and gave me the deepest most incredible kiss.
"We do understand one another," Mousy Girl said. "And we can do business."