Orchid Ch. 01

"I remember," he says smoothly.

"The thing is," I sigh, "I've had dates where someone wanted me only because of the way I am, you know? I mean, there's nothing wrong with a little fetishizing sometimes, but I... I will not be reduced to a stereotype. Or a tag."

"Okay," he says.

"I am more than just a birth defect, or-or a condition. I'm-"

"Your poetry was beautiful," he says, interrupting, and just like that the wheels are falling off my rant. "That was what got my attention."

"Uh..."

"I try to get to know all my students a little bit, in the first few classes. You remember..."

"Uh huh."

"...but you stood out. Very early."

"Uh huh." I feel proud for managing to make any sound at all, even if the sound makes me look like a completely moron.

"I will say that I... I don't know... suspected? ...that you might have been... transgendered..."

"Uh huh."

"You had this whole theme... in your work. Of metamorphosis, and birth, and starting over... A lot of students see college as a time to reinvent themselves. You know, it's not unheard of, but... It was different for you somehow. Whether or not your new beginning was literal or metaphorical didn't affect me wanting to ask you out tonight."

"Uh huh."

"Are you okay?"

"Uh huh." I blink and shake my head. "I mean, Yes." I take a sip of water to buy me a few precious seconds.

"Okay. And is it okay that I said transgendered? You just got done saying you don't-"

I smile watching him flounder, and wave my hands to get his attention. "What's important is that I don't want to nitpick words. English simply doesn't have great choices sometimes, so we have to make do. I promise I won't be offended as long as you're attempting to be respectful."

"That's... huh." He sits back and shifts to one side of his chair, with his fingertips running through his beard. "That's very understanding."

"It's not a very popular approach, I know. People like to offended by everything because they think it gives them some moral high ground, but... I don't want to spend my life being frustrated by everything around me. I've got too much I want to do, you know? I choose not to be insulted by the well-meaning." I take a sip of water, wetting my parched throat, and smile. "Of course, assholes are a completely different story."

The waiter came up at that moment, politely introducing himself and taking our drink orders, and as soon as he's gone Calvin is looking at me again. It's the same expression he had when he'd watch students give oral presentations (yes, I was usually watching him when others were giving presentations). Absorbing, appraising, and weighing. It's hard not to blush, especially as a bit of silence settles in.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"Sure," I say, smiling. "Fire away."

"How far along into your transition are you?"

I lean my head back and forth from side to side, trying to figure out where to start. "Well, I've been on hormones for three years now. I'm pretty much done... changing."

"You are an exceptionally beautiful woman," he says, just as simply as that.

"Thank you," I stammer. I don't usually think of myself as 'pretty', and I don't mean that self-deprecatingly. I think I pull off 'cute' very well, especially with my wardrobe, but I can usually look around at a moments notice and find a lot of people prettier than I am. Beautiful is just...

"Have you had any surgeries?"

"I, um..." I have to cough to clear my throat. He thinks I'm beautiful. "I was in a trial for something called a... a puberty blocker? so my... I didn't get a lot of the secondary masculine stuff." He thinks I'm beautiful. "My shoulders didn't get very broad. My face didn't widen the same. My voice isn't as deep. I didn't need a lot of feminization because... um... " He thinks I'm beautiful.

"I see," he says, stepping in when my voice falters. "So no surgeries."

"No," I croak, and then blush. He thinks I'm beautiful!

"Okay then."

He smiles, and I freeze with panic as I realize what he was really asking. No surgeries. I have no idea what to say. I mean, it's not like I need to correct him, but somehow I ended up answering his question without even knowing what he was asking! If that's even what he was asking! I squirm in my chair, crossing my legs even tighter, as the silence stretches out. My nervousness rises steadily until I realize that he's still sitting there. He's still smiling at me. He still wants to be here. That takes several more seconds of breathing to get through.

The waiter returns with our drinks, and I take a healthy sip of my wine. I'm a little self-conscious of it afterwards, but Calvin is still just smiling at me.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

"Yup!" I squeak nervously.

"Okay, okay." He smiles and shifts in his chair. "Let's switch subjects."

"Thank you!" I sound like a mouse. Before he can start the waiter comes back and takes our order, and I savor every second that the attention is off of me. It lets me catch my breath. As soon as the waiter is gone, Calvin smiles happily.

"So."

"So!"

"Do you want to talk about me for a little bit?" Bless his heart.

"Well," I say, "why don't we try a little back and forth?"

"Okay," he says, nodding slowly. "Okay. You first."

"How long have you been teaching?"

"It'll be 15 years... hmmm...in... Well, let's say almost 15 years."

"Almost 15 years."

He smirks and raises an eyebrow at me, and I coyly probe the inside of my cheek with my tongue. "And, I don't know, three or four before that where I was a teaching assistant working on my PhD. A long time."

"Your turn."

He shifts to his side while he stares at me. "What's your major?"

"Veterinary nursing."

"Like a Vet Tech?"

"Mmmhmm!"

"Huh."

I waste no time firing right back. "Have you ever dated a student before?"

"No," he says, blushing a little, "and you're not my student anymore."

"What about ex-students?"

"You're the first." It's hard to hear, or maybe accept, that what he's saying is that 'I'm special'. "Okay. I need a good one."

"The pressure is on, Professor."

"Please call me Calvin," he says, blushing.

"Ok, but I'm counting that as a request, which is technically a question."

"What? No, that's..."

I laugh as he narrows his eyes. "Have you ever slept with a student?"

"Jeeeus," he says, leaning in over the table to whisper. "I already answered that!" Eyes wide, with a grin that's so subtle as to fool anyone out of earshot.

"Dating and fucking are two very different things."

"I guess they can be, but... not for me."

"Interesting," I say. "Your turn."

"Why a Vet Tech?"

"Hmmm," I say, taking a sip of water. "Well... " I stare down at the table for a minute and sigh. "I almost don't want to answer this because it's not a fun 'first date-y' answer, but-"

"It's okay," he offers. "You don't have to answer."

I take another deep breath. "Part of it is that I like animals. Obviously."

"Of course," he says with a smile.

"Part of it is that it's a field I can get into quickly that pays relatively well."

"Is speed a factor?"

I nod. "And part of it is that I... am... most likely going to be... sterile. I kind of always wanted to be a nurse, but..."

"Oh... Kit, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I say, holding up a hand to stall him. "That was always a part of the bargain. I uh... I knew that going in."

"That doesn't make it any easier."

"No. No it doesn't." After a small pause, I add, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" he asks incredulously.

"For... bringing us down."

"Do you know what it was about your poetry that really caught my attention?" I shake my head. "You would write these incredible, introspective pieces, about things that were going on around you, and things that were happening in your life at the time, and it was sort of... beautifully honest. Sometimes very brutally honest, which few can manage about themselves."

I nod, swallowing hard.

"There is something really endearing about how..." He waves his hands in the air in front of himself, gesticulating to help summon the vocabulary he desires. "...upfront you are. It's refreshing."

"Thank you," I whisper.

"It seems like everyone else is so busy flexing their Twitter muscles and hiding behind a username, and you just... you put yourself out there, as you are. And that's impressive."

"Thank you."

"I told myself, after that semester was over, that if I had the opportunity to get to know you better, I would take it." He smiles warmly, and my heart melts. "And here we are."

"Here we are," I say, managing a weak smile.

"Thank you for coming tonight."

I nod, smiling a little brighter, and as if perfectly choreographed our food arrives to provide another much needed distraction. I thank the servers politely. Even as we're quietly enjoying our food, I keep catching him looking up at me. Of course, the only reason I see that is because I'm trying to sneak a few glances at him too, and we share a few blushes.

"So," he says, prepping me a full thirty seconds before he's ready to swallow and talk any more. "So, just to let you know, I fully plan on asking you out again." I giggle and cover my mouth. "That's... that's coming."

"Oh, well, if it helps at all, I'm gonna say yes."

"That takes some of the pressure off." He breathes a little easier and nods. "I'm glad you know your Whedon. And you're okay with the... um..."

I tilt my head to the side, eyebrows rising as he grasps at straws. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Age difference, is what I was going to say."

"I am," I say, shrugging. "I decided, years ago, that I didn't have time in my life for people that weren't worthwhile. I don't care what shape, type, or form you are. What matters is that you... matter. That you have substance"

"And I have substance?"

I bite my lip and nod, blushing again, and that touches off a lengthy back and forth of not quite meeting each other's eyes while we work on our meals. The truth, though, is that my stomach is so twisted into knots that I'm having to force myself to chew through anything. I'm already thinking fifteen minutes ahead.

***

"Would you like to share a cab?" I ask, fifteen minutes later, just after he hands the waiter his card.

"Shh... um... Sure. Are you headed... uptown?" He pauses, looking around to try and orient himself toward whatever direction his home might be, but I cut him off.

"Would you like to share a cab?"

***

As if he hadn't done enough, Calvin held my hand. He held doors, and he hailed the cab for us, and he held my hand. I kept staring down in disbelief. I loved that he held my hand. Calvin Ayers. Professor Calvin Ayers.

He didn't say a word when I pulled him out of the cab, though he also wasn't trying to get out before me. He let me take the lead. The perfect mix of confidence and self-assurance. Accepting as I started up the stairs, but without any hint of expectation. I kept having to look back to check that it was really him.

"Here we are," he says, pausing modestly at my door. I need both hands to get it open, and he waits just beyond the threshold when I bounce across. "Kit, I had a-"

"I would like it if you'd come inside," I say, smiling hopefully.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and I nod emphatically. I back up as he steps forward, keeping myself squared with him, and my skin is so hot I'm surprised my clothes aren't combusting. As soon as he clears the path of the door I push it shut behind him. He looks nervous. Not scared nervous, but... worried-for-me nervous. "Kit, I promise, I had a-"

"Do you know why I said yes? When you asked me out?"

He shakes his head, and I take another step forward. Even in heels, he's still a good four inches taller than I am.

"I have... fantasized... about you." He swallows, throat and jaw clenching, and nods. "A lot."

"Really?"

I bite down hard on my lower lip, flushing away the blood with sheer pressure, and nod. "A lot."

"What-what..." He swallows again, and leans back just the tiniest amount. Not fearfully, but... in confusion? Maybe? "What did, I mean, what do-"

"That was why I said yes." He nods quickly, accepting that as an answer. "To... I don't know... satisfy the fantasy, but... I invited you up because you were more than I had dreamed." I step a little closer, and have to lean my head back. God, I love that he's tall. "I had a lovely time tonight. You were a real gentleman, and real gentlemen get their cocks sucked."

Instant panic, chased by excitement, arousal, and sheer surprise. I tremble watching them run rampant across his face. His lips work frantically. Blinking furiously. He leans back a little further, and I take the final step between us, so that our bodies are pressed together. My small, hormone-granted breasts press into his chest. Swelling outward and flattening inside my bra. I reach up and lay my hands on his shoulders, soaking in his flustered disbelief.

Before he gets out another word, I slide my right foot back behind me and bend the left knee. As soon as the right knee touches the floor, I swing my leg out and get it beneath me as well. Constant eye contact, looking straight up at him. He practically chokes as I unzip his pants. It doesn't take much fishing around to find the thickening shaft hanging inside of his boxers, and I smile as I pull his length through.

"Kit," he croaks, as I run my tongue along the thick vein. I smile, stroking him gently with my right hand while the left reaches into his boxers again to pull out the fleshy pouch. He groans as I stroke him at an angle, and leave him an unobstructed view of the first time I suckle on one of his tender jewels. "Oh fuck."

I draw the whole thing deeper into my mouth, gently massaging it against the roof with my tongue. The webbing of my thumb is slick with my own saliva. God, I hope this is just the first time.

"Are-are you sure?" he asks, his voice only slightly steadier. "I'm... I'm..."

I shift my feet beneath me, so that the balls and my toes are gripping the floor. My black pumps flex out and away from the soles of my stockinged feet, and I sit back on my heels. His cock swells in my palm as I stroke him. Squeezing a little harder. Dragging the velvet flesh up and down the solid shaft within. Half of his sack is shiny with my saliva.

"I'm sure," I say, just before I take his head in past my lips. Calvin groans, still staring down at me. I keep my right hand firmly planted against his pants. The belt buckle feels cool against my palm. It's not until I'm there, with the full distance between he and I that I really take in his length, and it's more than I usually fantasized. He's longer than I am. I tremble as I swallow a little more.

"Jesus, Kit."

I work slowly, bobbing and savoring. The heady musk. I run my tongue along the flared ridge, teasing and coaxing him. Luring him. The skin of my cheeks, neck, and chest, flush bright red, and my eyes roll up behind the lids as I take him deeper. Deeper.

Professor Ayers.

Unbidden, my left hand slides up his leg. Up over his hip. Calvin grunts as I take his wrist and guide his hand toward the top of my head. His touch is hesitant. Safe. Amazing. Even pressure across the entirety of his palm...

...and then the tips press in and down. The pads of each finger grip through the shiny black hair. My left hand drifts down again to rest on my thigh. I'm still setting the pace, still controlling the speed, but his hand is matching me. Helping me. I groan loudly, giving voice to my body's need for me to be touching it.

Calvin's grip tightens, grabbing at my scalp, and stops my moving. Stopping my rocking. I whimper and nod, careful to keep my teeth from his magnificent flesh. He pulls away my right hand, and I let it fall. Both hands pressed flat down against my thighs. I look up at him fearfully, knowing I would gag and gag hard if he tried to go too fast or too far.

"Trust me," he says, and I melt.

He grunts as he thrusts into my mouth. I have to open my jaw wider to make room for the engorged head, and saliva quickly overflows my lower lip. I flinch, and my eyes close reflexively the first time he pushes too far, and he pauses. Holding himself just at that edge. After a few seconds, I manage to pry one of them open, and the look he gives me makes me shudder. Desire, tempered with self-control and patience.

"Unbutton your shirt." My cheeks ignite. Fingers fumbling furiously. Two buttons. Three. "Those are a lovely handful, aren't they?" His tone is so warm and encouraging. I've heard almost those exact words before, said differently, and felt ashamed... but from him?

When he says it, I feel beautiful.

"Spread your knees." I whimper gratefully as I widen my stance. My skirt rides up my thighs, exposing the banded tops of my stockings. "Let me see it." My left hand reaches in beneath the skirt, hooking and pulling down on my dark blue panties while the right reaches in for my aching cock. Calvin leans his head slightly to the side, tilting from the hip, and watches. I keep my palm flat, displaying for him rather than stroking, even though every cell in my body is singing for me to take hold and finish with him.

His hold on my head never falters, and never lessens, and it's slow when he starts driving his cock into my mouth again. Slow and steady. Never too deep, never too fast, but always pushing right up to that limit. Tears streak from the corners of my eyes as he goes faster. Pushing me. My cock, fully hard, leaks a thick drop of precum onto the floor in front of me.

"Oh," Calvin groans, his voice becoming very tight. "Oh. Oooh."

He says nothing more, but the throbbing of his shaft is warning enough. My throat closes completely when the first volley of salty crystal slides over the back of my tongue. My mouth, already backed up with saliva I couldn't swallow, nearly overflows with the addition of his seed. In a panic, I seal my lips tight around his shaft to save it, and my cheeks puff out.

"Are you stuck?" he asks, after several seconds spent completely still. I whine and nod, and Calvin slowly draws his hips back. The surface of his shaft is like a long glistening pearl. Once he's down to just the head still inside my mouth, I can finally force myself to swallow. It takes more than one.

"Thank you, Daddy," I gasp, chest heaving for air. My eyes bulge, and I freeze completely when I hear my own voice. Did I just...

"You're welcome, Babygirl."

Did I just do that?! I can't force my eyes up past his knees. Did I just call him Daddy?! And did he just...

Calvin hums softly to himself as he zips up, and after a few awkward seconds, slips back out the front door. The latch clicking into place is like the crack of a starting gun. My eyes drift closed, and my fingers wrap tightly around the shaft. I sag forward, left palm planted on the floor in front of me, and stroke myself. Faster. Faster. I can still taste him. He was inside of my mouth. Inside of my body. Inside of me.

"I can't believe I called him Daddy," I moan, and the nervous, wrenching agony inside me explodes onto the paneled wood floor in a long off-white streak. Two streaks. Three. My head hangs down, heavy, with saliva and his cum dripping from my lips. I finally release the vice grip on my cock and reach up blindly to turn the lock on the deadbolt.

He called me Babygirl. Without missing a beat.

***

Weds. 4:42 pm
Hey

Weds. 4:42 pm
Holy shit!
You didn't forget!
Hi!

Weds. 4:44 pm
There's no way I was going to forget you after
Saturday night.
You really one-upped me at the end there.