The Feminist Triangle Ch. 01

When the image of Beaumont jerking off in his office left the forefront of Ross's mind, the inevitable was already happening. Hannah wouldn't be able to sleep, so she had crept silently from her room in her pink robe to say one last thing. The Beaumont she was now approaching had his back to her, and was still steadily stroking himself, now with his organ exposed in the amber light of the room. Ross tried to close his eyes, feeling the impending embarrassment from both of them, but couldn't tear his eyes away from Hannah's oblivious approach. He felt her breath catch in her throat when she finally saw what was happening, and felt her genuine shock and panic. She was surely wishing she had made more noise when exiting her room, as to give Beaumont ample time to cover up his despicable activity. He groaned quietly, his eyes closed and a barely noticeable smile was left neglected on his face. Hannah stared at his face for a long time before her eyes moved back to his erect manhood, which he was still working at in slow, smooth strokes. Would she turn and creep back to her room, letting him finish his moment without the humiliation and awkwardness that would surely follow otherwise? Ross hoped with every fiber of his being that she would, but knew from a lifetime of experience that the possibility was doubtful. He also knew that Hannah's friendship with Beaumont could be completely shattered by this one simple discovery, and even the darkest parts of him didn't really want that to happen.

She didn't escape the room. She stood watching him touch himself, her face a mixture of panic and fascination in the glow from the window. Her pink robe was drawn tightly around her and her arms were now crossed nervously around her chest, hugging herself tightly. When she finally allowed her arms to fall to her sides, the sound of her skin brushing the fabric made Beaumont stop his motion and hold his breath. A change took place on Hannah's face that Ross couldn't quite understand. Knowing she had finally been heard, and that it would be mere seconds before Beaumont got up the nerve to turn around, Hannah stepped around the side of the couch to face him, her eyes bright and alive.

"I'm sorry," was what she said shortly. It was what she came into the living area to say, after all. Consequently, she didn't seem all that sorry anymore.

"Oh God," he muttered, springing into a standing position and covering himself frantically, wanting to apologize himself but knowing somehow that it was pointless.

Hannah's hand returned to his arm where it had been five minutes earlier, and his ashamed face came up to meet what he predicted would be an accusing gaze. They were both so dizzy now with the tension they had created that neither seemed sure what was really happening.

"I felt it when you hugged me," she was saying now, the caution not quite gone from her voice, "but I didn't really believe what I was feeling until I saw it."

"I'm sorry Hannah...I know it isn't appropriate."

"Do you think I really care what's appropriate right now?"

Ross pulled himself from the keyhole and rested against the wall in complete defeat. It was what she wanted after all...to be the cause of a throbbing erection to go with a stomach full of butterflies and a heart full of fire. If only he had known. It might be his arm she was holding now instead of the professor's. Without looking, he could sense the professor's eyes roaming Hannah's robed body as he said the words, "God, Hannah." The man was literally drinking in her beauty now that he felt it was safe. Afraid to miss any fraction of that beauty, Ross returned his eye to the keyhole and shifted his weight to his other side silently.

Hannah's eyes were locked on Beaumont's face with its cliché, chiseled good looks. Ross couldn't believe this guy called himself a professional. He was a regular frat-boy masquerading as an academic.

"Do you want to see?" she asked softly, unintentionally using an innocent, polite tone and lending a very strange disconnected nature to her words. Beaumont's eyes grew wider and he stared into her eyes, questioning whether or not she was really serious. Then his face grew very serious and his breathing quickened.

"Please," he choked out, unable to say more.

Without any further ado, she began to slide the pink robe off of her tanned shoulders, letting it fall down her arms to gather around her waist. Ross could see her entire naked back and was completely awash and intoxicated by the smooth, feminine curve of her. He was so entranced by her back that it wasn't until several seconds later that he realized what view Beaumont was getting...a wide open view of Hannah's exposed breasts. The professor was equally entranced. His hand came up instinctively to touch her, then pulled back when his inhibitions interfered.

"I'm just a woman," she reassured him in a bolder voice.

The barely audible moan of delight that escaped his lips seemed to be exactly what she was going for. She took a hold of his hand and cupped it to one of her breasts for a few moments before doing the same with his other hand. He stood squeezing her young breasts with a face full of sheer bliss, his knees doing all they could not to buckle beneath him. She went ahead and let the robe drop down around her feet, then stepped forward to escape its confines, closing all of the distance between she and Beaumont. With his hands still on her breasts, she was pressed up against him, probably feeling his ever-resilient erection, and her lips were now mere millimeters from his. Ross could not stand to see them kiss. That would be the end for so much of his sanity. He pulled away from the keyhole and crawled, shaking, to the edge of the bed. He made it somehow, silently, onto the bed and lay sprawled out on top of the covers.

In a few moments the silence dissipated and he started to hear soft moans. The first were from Hannah, who was probably on her back on the floor by now, pinned beneath Beaumont's strong body and squirming with the pleasure of his hands and mouth on her. When she gave a sharp little gasp, Ross struggled against the picture that formed in his mind- a picture of Beaumont gently biting down on one of her nipples while his hand moved down to play in that most secret place between her parted legs. He rolled to one side and clutched the pillow through the thick comforter, wanting it all to just stop...to all have never even happened. He wanted to wake up now to find that it had all been a nightmare. Instead, he knew that in a few minutes he would hear them attempting to muffle the sounds of their intense lovemaking. She would do everything she could to restrain the pleasured screams that would want to come out, because she would never want to disturb Ross. She would want him to get a good night's sleep, because that's the kind of friend she was. She wouldn't want her party on the floor with the professor to cause Ross any discomfort whatsoever, especially not when he had been so incredibly kind to her all these semesters. Oh God, how could she be doing this?

Ross could almost feel the moment when the professor finally penetrated her, and he nearly yelled out in anguish, but didn't. Beaumont let out a groan of absolute satisfaction...of exceeded expectations...of enlightened soul. Hannah's fingertips raked the carpet audibly as her tight little body welcomed him in, her back surely arching so that her breasts pressed against him and her body locked in tight around his eager erection. The swell of her voice told him she was already close to coming thanks to his surely expert foreplay, and the quick roughness of his breath told her that he was fighting against having his body taken over by a sex-drunk animal. Her hips hit the floor a few times as she rolled her hips around on him, letting him feel her from every angle. Ross heard her clearly when she said again, "I'm just a woman," and then in a darker tone, "Just fuck me."

The audio nightmare didn't end for a long time. Beaumont did what she asked him to do, and couldn't seem to get enough. When the end finally did come, with both of them nearly screaming, having completely forgotten about Ross's presence in the next room, their personalities had both shifted completely. He had abandoned his idea of what was appropriate and professional, and she had becoming the dirty-talking, cock-rocking woman of every pig-headed man's dreams. What hurt most of all was knowing that Beaumont hadn't been the only one who had fantasized about this day. She had clearly wanted him all along. Ross was completely at a loss for words...his own mind couldn't articulate what he was feeling.

As the two of them lay panting in each other's arms in the other room, falling down from their high heaven of erotic throes, Ross did begin to understand his own feelings. He was intensely angry. Despite this anger, he also had another erection...the product of hearing Hannah's moans, and the inability to keep himself from replacing Beaumont with himself in his mental struggle. He wished he had the courage to walk through the door and demand that he, too, get a portion of what she was clearly offering. These are things he could never say to her, and could never demand.

By the time the two of them gathered up their clothes and headed to their respective rooms, careful now to keep up appearances, Ross knew what had to be done. He had figured out the entire plan. He felt satisfied enough with his formulation that he allowed himself one guilty pleasure he had denied himself almost nightly for the last two years... he took a hold of his painfully throbbing cock, then let go of what was appropriate.