Old College Try

Professor Tim Coughlin looked up from his desk when he heard the door to the outer office slam shut and his secretary's sigh of dismay. Only one person would be brazen enough to bang doors shut right in front of Ellen. If there was one thing his elderly secretary hated, it was sudden, loud noises and no one knew that better than Daphne Anderson, his Teacher's Assistant, did. He caught himself smiling at the mental image of Ellen clucking her disapproval and Daphne sticking her tongue out behind the poor woman's back. He quickly wiped the smile from his face and cleared his throat. Unconsciously, he straightened his tie and smoothed his wrinkled jacket before his TA waltzed into the room.

Daphne carried a stack of graded papers in one hand and carefully watched the cup of coffee she held in the other hand so that no liquid sloshed out. She walked to his desk and set everything down, then slid the coffee towards him.

"That's for you," she said brightly.

"Black?"

"Yep. I actually had to leap over the counter knock the creamer out of the barista's hand before he screwed it up."

"Why on earth were you a political science major? Sounds like you'd be much more in your element fighting crime, one misguided Starbucks employee at a time."

Daphne laughed, and the sound filled the room. Tim smiled despite himself and heard Ellen sniff outside in disapproval. Although he knew it would make his prim secretary suspicious, he rose to shut the door so that he would not have to hear the sounds of her judgment. When he turned from the doorway to his desk, he caught Daphne watching him.

"What?" He asked gruffly.

"Nothing. It's just..." she blushed and his mind filled in her pause with some very strange and very sexual things. For some reason he could not stop it.

"What?" he persisted, waiting for...what?

"It's just that you have the tape dispenser stuck to you. Not just a piece of tape- the entire dispenser is attached to your shirt."

"Where?" He spun around, looking for the offending object.

"It's on your lower back. Hang on, I'll get it." She crossed the room and stood behind him, laying a small hand on his shoulder. He was very aware of her fingers pressing down on him as she yanked the plastic dispenser off his clothing.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said, with her hand still on his shoulder. "I've told you and told you to stop sitting on the office supplies." She giggled and removed her hand. He found himself at a loss for a comeback and instead simply turned away and walked back to his desk.

"I graded the environmental politics essays according to your rubric."

"Ah. Thank you." He bent his head back down to the papers on his desk, but sensed that she did not get up to leave. He glanced up and saw her watching him with her big brown eyes. She was a lovely girl, he supposed, although of course he never considered it. He was always drawn to her eyes when he looked at her; they were undoubtedly her best feature. If the eyes are the window to the soul, he thought, her soul is deep and beautiful. A stubborn lock of dark hair fell into her face and she tried in vain to blow it out of the way, puckering her lips and frowning in frustration. He smiled at this and her eyes lit up when she noticed.

"Aha! There it is, Sunshine. Would it be too difficult to smile more often, Prof?"

"Yes, it certainly would. I've heard it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile, and this is the only way I'll get any exercise. Why are you still here?"

She feigned hurt. "Because I work for you, Dr. Coughlin. You hired me to grade papers, bring you coffee, remove office supplies from your person, and generally assist you. I'm all yours until five o'clock, so you might as well take advantage of me."

He looked at her sharply, not sure that he'd heard right. She laughed when she realized how that had come out.

"Oh man! Not like that!" She winked. "I just meant you might as well let me do some grading or something while I'm here."

He relaxed. "I'm not sure I collected much this week," he said. "I've been working on that case for the town in Nevada."

"Oh, are you doing that now?"

"That's what this mess is. It's kept me pretty tied up, going through all the info for the prosecution, and it looks like everything's sound, but I still need to look into some things. Anyway, I don't think I have anything else for you this week. You can go home. I'll call you if I staple anything to my pant leg or something."

"Alright. I'll get out of here. I've got to get ready for a date tonight anyway, and since I haven't worn heels since Prom, I should probably do a dress rehearsal." She grinned at him and left the room. He could hear the door in the outer office slam again and he grinned, too, thinking of Ellen's strife.

He typed an email to Nevada and sent it, then leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. His thoughts drifted, and then settled on a subject that surprised him. The harder he tried to push Daphne from his mind, the more he found himself focusing on her. His 23-year-old assistant was slim and tiny. Her small frame made her breasts look bigger. She wore shirts that were not revealing, but which highlighted all the right spots. Her stomach was flat and tight, and her ass... Oh God, her ass. He shoved these thoughts from his mind, but kept inadvertently returning to them. How large were her tits? A respectable B cup or a C? What did her bras look like? Occasionally he saw a strap, but wondered if they were lace or cotton and he wondered what they felt like under someone's hand. What kind of panties did she wear- thongs? Boy shorts? What was her preference? Was her pussy shaved, or- STOP IT, he commanded himself, and turned resolutely back to his work.

Daphne stood in front of her closet in only her lacy bra and thong, frowning. What does a person wear on a fancy date? What did fancy entail? If it was Italian food, she'd be bound to spill sauce, s she couldn't wear white or anything that was dry-clean only. She finally settled on a basic black dress, knowing she couldn't go wrong. The neckline dipped a little deeper than what she usually wore, but her boobs looked great. The heels were doing wonders for her legs as well, although she'd wobbled a little at first. She brushed her hair and ensured she had her cell phone and enough money for a taxi fare, just in case. Then she sat down to wait for Ryan, her date.

As she waited, she found herself thinking of her preoccupied professor. She'd had a crush on him since her first year of college, and she wondered what her 18-year-old self would have thought of being alone with him in his office with the door shut. I probably would have jumped him, she thought. I'm wiser now, though. That man would be nothing but heartbreak." He was so young for a professor, and really good looking. His dry sense of humor was a definite appeal. When she'd first seen him, he'd been married, but now in his mid-30s, the professor was divorced. She wondered briefly if he was seeing anyone outside of work, or if school was taking over his social life. He probably needed someone at home to remove the paper clips and Post-It notes he accidentally stuck to himself. She smiled, then saw Ryan's car pull in the driveway and wobbled to her feet.

Tim was leaving his office at nine when Ellen dropped the bomb.

"You're quite sure you won't need me tomorrow?"

"Why would I need you tomorrow? It's Saturday."

"Tomorrow's your presentation for the civic leaders, Dr. Coughlin. You're supposed to tell them about the laws regarding that nuclear waste facility. Don't you remember? Larry Flends wants you to back the humanitarians?"

"Oh fuck!" he yelled and darted back into his office. He heard Ellen's shocked hiss behind him, but didn't care. That presentation was at ten tomorrow and he'd completely forgotten. He had 13 hours to do what he needed a month to prepare for.

Dinner was not going well. It was Italian, and Daphne was wrestling with her spaghetti. It was a battle pitting her against pasta al dente, and she was losing miserably. Ryan looked at her with disdain.

"You know, in Italy, they use a spoon. You can't even manage with a fork."

She laughed in what she hoped was a charming manner, but mentally she considered launching a saucy meatball at his pristine starched shirt. Conversation lagged. He was a boring prick, and she couldn't believe that she had thought she might be getting lucky tonight. She had shaved her pussy for nothing.

In her clutch, her cell phone buzzed. She knew it was rude, but the date was awful. To spite him for criticizing her spaghetti technique, she excused herself to take the call. She stepped outside and flipped open the phone.

"Daphne." Tim's voice sounded urgent and gruff. For some reason, her stomach flipped.

"Professor Coughlin? Are you ok? Is the copier broken again? Did you put a dime in this time?"

"Will you please shut up long enough to let me explain?" She was immediately silent. "Thank you. Remember that nuclear waste presentation that I was supposed to give?"

"Yeah, isn't that...? Oh, shit. It's tomorrow and you haven't even started yet, have you?" He decided to pretend that he hadn't heard the sound of laughter in her voice.

"Can you come back to my office? I can't do this on my own in one night and Ellen went home very pleased with herself for ruining my evening. I trust you're not busy?" She glanced through the window of the restaurant, where Ryan appeared to be chastising a waiter.

"No, I'm not busy at all. I'll be right there."

"Thank you," he said, and hung up. She walked back in and asked the maitre d' to take a message for her date. "Sorry, there was a family emergency, I had to leave. I'll call you." She smiled graciously, the host's heart fluttered, and she turned on her heel, knowing that she definitely would not call.

The phone on his desk rang and he stopped perusing the book in front of him long enough to answer with a hurried, "Hello?"

Her voice came over the line. "I'm standing outside, but the building is locked. Come let me in."

"Right," he said, and hung up. He took the stairs two at a time to reach the front door and peered through the glass to see her standing there clutching her bag and looking back at him. He smiled swiftly and shoved the key into the lock so she could enter. She stepped into the lobby beside him and shivered.

"It's chilly," she said in explanation, and he quickly determined that she was right. Her nipples stood out proudly beneath her clothes and it was all he could do not to reach out and rub them warm again. He coughed and hoped she hadn't noticed him staring.

"Come on," he said brusquely, and herded her up the stairs ahead of him. Her ass swayed under her tiny dress and her legs looked incredible in those heels. He was tempted to let her get far enough up the stairs ahead of him that he could see up her skirt, but he shook his head and followed her up. They entered the office and she sat down in her usual chair across the desk. He shoved a book towards her and told her exactly what to look for. She nodded and began immediately.

After a moment he said, "You look nice tonight, Daphne." She smiled wryly, knowing that this was the best compliment she would get out of him. "Thanks, Prof." They both turned back to their reading, but soon he realized something. "Oh, God. Daph-- your date was..." He choked, trying to apologize for royally fucking up her evening. His handsome face looked panicked, but Daphne giggled over the top of her book. "It's ok. It wasn't much of a date. I'd much rather dig frantically for legal information any night." He could tell she was earnest and he nodded and went back to his work.

"Besides," she said, "I wasn't going to get laid tonight anyway." She buried her face in her book, shocked at what had just come out of her mouth, but when she glanced across at him through a curtain of hair, she saw that he was smiling broadly at his computer screen.

"Good girl," he said, and she had never been happier.

They worked until two, when she suggested a coffee break. He looked gratefully at her, so she ran to the outer office to make it. She set about brewing enough to get two people through the night and began to search through the cabinets for a spoon when she heard a book fall to the floor in his office. She peeked into the room and saw her professor slouched on the desk, with his head on his arms, asleep. The law book he had been searching through had fallen to the ground. She smiled and went back to the coffee.

Tim was asleep the second he decided to rest his eyelids. Almost immediately, he fell into a dream. He dreamed Daphne returned with the coffee, which he accepted. Their hands touched, their eyes met. He swept the books and documents from his desk, stood up, and pushed her onto it. He kissed her the way he'd wanted to kiss her for five years now. Her lips parted, his tongue snaked between them and scorched every corner of her mouth with its heat. The passion built to a fury, and soon she was grinding her hips against his thigh and stroking his length through his pants. He sat in his chair, facing her, and began to kiss her thighs, aware only of the smooth skin under his lips, while he pushed her skirt farther and farther up her legs. He moved his cheek up her thigh and she gasped when his stubble scratched her tender leg. He kept pushing her skirt until it was finally at her waist and was staring hungrily at her dripping pussy. Wow, he thought. She doesn't wear panties at all. I hadn't guessed that. He glanced up at her for her permission.

"Professor?' She said. "Professor?"

His eyes snapped open and he found himself looking at the legs he had just tickled with his strong jaw, but now they were not parted on his desk. They were standing demurely beside him, still covered by a modest skirt. He slowly raised his glance, aware of his raging hard on and glad his lap was far enough under the desk that she couldn't see. His eyes traveled up her body groggily, taking in her full hips, her perfect stomach, and her wonderful breasts, until he reached her smiling brown eyes.

"How was your nap?" She asked.

"Wonderful," he answered truthfully.

She set down a mug of coffee next to him, and then reached towards his face. He watched her carefully, unsure of what to do. Was this finally happening? Her fingers brushed lightly against his temple and cheek, but she brought her hand back, revealing the index card she'd removed from the side of his face.

"Wow. Two in one day. You, sir, are a wonder. For your next trick, I'd like to see you attach a Sharpie to your body somehow."

He smiled ruefully, less at her joke than at his own pathetic state. He must have looked like the absent-minded professor to her. The very hard absent-minded professor. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll try to stay awake. We've got to keep working." He glanced at the clock on his computer. Only 2:15. He hadn't slept as long as he feared.

"Well, let's get to it," she said, and moved back to her side of the desk. He was glad for that, although it felt like his dick was returning to professional mode. Finally.

By five, it looked like they might actually make their deadline. He had produced a PowerPoint of his presentation, while she made photocopies of key passages and wrote down the speech he dictated. As she stood at the copy machine, printing page upon page of information, her attention drifted. At one point, she turned to glance back at him and saw that he was staring at her. He quickly turned back to the computer screen, but she saw a small wave of guilt wash over his attractive face. Why could he be guilty? Did she have a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe that he wasn't mentioning? She checked both feet. No. Was it something else? Had Tim Coughlin been checking her out? Daphne flushed with pleasure. Was he looking at her ass? The thought had her reeling. How many hours had she stood here at the copier wishing that he would look out his office towards her just once? She thought about how many times she'd wanted him to sneak a peek down her shirt, how many times she'd dreamed of kissing him mightily, weaving her fingers through his curls while he kneaded her ass. Her daydreams had gone much, much farther than that, though. Scenes flashed through her head, scenes starring her professor and herself. She had his cock in her mouth, sucking him off and loving every second of it. He had her breasts in his hands, massaging them and playing with her nipples. His mouth on her body; her hands all over his skin. Exploring every inch, tasting every centimeter. She ached for this man, and it could never be. Some naughty little voice in the back of her head chimed in. It could happen today, said the voice. It's a Saturday, just you two, locked in the office all alone..." Her eyes wandered and she silenced the voice by yelling the first word that came to her.

"PROFESSOR!" she cried.

"What?" He rushed to her, genuinely worried.

"I..." she couldn't think of anything but him for a moment. "I-I finished the copies."

He stared at her. "The copies."

"Yes, the copies. It's just that there were so many of them and it was taking so long and I thought you might be getting worried..." She looked at her feet, feeling incredibly stupid.

"The copies," he repeated.

"Yeah. So... shouldn't we revise that speech, Prof? You want to be sure you deliver," she said weakly, trying to change the subject.

"Right," he said, and turned back to his desk, all business once again. "Can I read it to you? I want to be sure it sounds right out loud."

"Ok, hang on." She crossed the outer office and began to tug at a couch that sat in the office corner. He helped her drag the thing into his office.

"Now I know why that hideous thing is in here," he laughed. "I guess the guy before me pulled a few all-nighters, too."

She sat gracefully on the couch and began to remove her heels.

"Wait-" he began, then stuttered. "D-Don't do that."

She looked at him.

"Health hazard," he supplied lamely. She settled for putting her feet up with her, and he began his speech. On the first page, she cheered whenever he made a strong point; on the second page, she nodded. By the third page, she was yawning, and the when he looked up midway through the fourth and last page, she was asleep on the ugly couch. He sank down by her feet and the papers slipped from his hands. The slight jostle shook her awake.

"Oh dear," she said, sitting up. "It was a good speech. Really." She patted his hand, but left her hand there when she was done.

"I could see that. Let's hope you're just exhausted and that it doesn't do that to the civic leaders." He smiled and slid closer to her. "I hope you aren't too tired," he said, searching her face with concern.

"Oh no," she tried to say, but she couldn't get the words out, because his mouth was pressed firmly against hers in an instant and all she could think about was how wonderful his lips felt. She kept kissing him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, weaving one hand into his hair. He pulled her closer to him and dropped his hands to her ass. Their kiss became deeper. Their tongues tangled and though they were both getting what they'd wanted for so long, all either one could think about was how much more they wanted. His kisses moved to her mouth, her jaw, her neck, and left her frantically kissing whatever she could reach. He bit her neck and she gasped at the feeling that twirled down to her pussy. She felt her panties dampen and smiled at no one in particular. He continued to kiss her collarbone and down the neckline of her dress. Her nipples stood up sharply through the fabric and he sucked on one through the cloth, massaging her other breast with one strong hand. It wasn't enough. She pushed herself away from him, stood up, and pulled off her dress, then sat back down quickly, not wanting to waste a second. He leaned back so he could look at her the way he'd always wanted to look at her. His eyes took in her lacy black bra (a B-cup) and her matching black panties (a thong). "You know," he growled, "I've heard you're only supposed to wear black underwear when you want someone to see it."