Take a Seat

I found his office afterwards. It wasn't an actual interview, but I'd still taken the time and he'd flaked. Of course he wasn't here either. I wandered about, nosily looking at the works he'd deigned to put on his walls. Perhaps my impression was hasty.

The idea of being a model for his class made me nervous. As a grad student I could certainly use the easy extra cash. All I had to do was meet with this Professor, get his approval, and then show up to sit in peculiar, sometimes provocative positions.

In the nude.

I enjoyed being naked. Being naked in front of people might be fun.

Might 'have' been fun.

Ready to leave, unwilling to wait him out, I turn to go. The green catches my eye. An oil painting? No, an imitation. A photo of what once was. I wonder about the original. I can't help but notice the green sofa, the aged lime green thing itself is on the opposite side of this room. I'd almost taken a seat a moment ago.

I move closer to this shadow, this copy of a copy of carnal passion, and fully feel its profound effect on me. A tingle starting near my clit running through me, connecting the sensation to my nipples. I bite my inner cheek, hoping the pain will stop me from groping myself in this stranger's office. I wonder at the people, and what the original would have done to me.

It's his face that I'm drawn to more than anything. His ecstasy as he reclines, staring at the lover atop him. Her backside bare to us, head tilted back, his fingers firmly grasping her throat. I swallow hard imagining his hand around my own throat. My pussy quivers, begging. I should look away. I should leave. His eyes hold me.

Her hands lay on his stomach for leverage as his heavily lidded eyes take her in, all of her that he keeps from us. There's a mirror to the side, he could have shared. He kept her to himself. How amorous! I imagine I hear the word mine drawl from his lips time and again.

Aside from the passion, lights, color, line work, there's something that haunts me about this photo. It's the only replica among dozens of originals. Plenty of nudes, figures, life art. And it's this piece alone that's making me wet.

Enough...

Heated, I turn to leave. Those captivating eyes appear in the doorway. Equally surprised at my presence, though his face is not as flushed. A half-hearted apology and I'm still rubbed the wrong way as he's sizing me up in my leggings and thin hoodie.

"You okay? You look..."

"Just warm." And annoyed at his candid concern.

The picture hangs heavy before me as my eyes dart, body squirms, and nipples harden through thin fabric. The look he gives, he knows. He shuts the door and locks it. Sitting center on the couch, he stares at the picture, mirroring it.

"Take a seat," concurrent request and command. Half hard as his hungry eyes overwhelm me. He leans back and looks at me the way he looked at her. My body trembles, giving me away. His lids heavy again, his cock visibly growing under his pants, he gestures for me to obey. I should leave.

I want his skillful hands, his starving eyes on me. I take her position atop him. My thin leggings and his rough pants barriers, for now. He's older, but his eyes have the same magic. He rubs my thighs, moves to my ass, then to my pussy. My body shivers at his touch, eliciting a smirk I'd kill to see again. His hands move under the hoodie to my uninhibited breasts. He moans at his discovery. My back arches, pushing more into his proficient hands.

My hips begin to grind up and down his clothed cock. He groans and then pulls my hoodie up to devour my breasts. His hips start thrusting. A knowing hand wraps itself around my throat, holding me in place as my hips match his rhythm. His grasp squeezes firmer and my pussy convulses, bodies shaking, his quakes, eyes shut tight, profanities uttered like prayers and he pulls me to him, to rest on his chest as we find our breath.

A sincere apology articulated for forgetting our appointment. I kiss his neck before standing to leave. He looks dazed and confused and adorable. "See you next week in class, Professor."