The Jim Morrison Heist Pt. 01

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This black comedy of manners is dedicated to UtherVierDragon, Lit author and fellow colleague. His superlative use of fantasy genre names inspired me to write The Jim Morrison Heist, a 40,000-word novella, in one frantic month. The Heist is to be a 4-part serial with new chapters once a week. I still enjoy giving serious characters funny names like in the Vampire Korps & STALK stories. The character Anyys Rowling pronounces her name: a niece rolling.

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Zoey never dreamt bumming a ride would include her giving the driver a blowjob in the front seat and him rear ending her in the back.

In her last class that afternoon a gigantic thunderclap startled her so much she came close to peeing her panties. The classroom jerked in their seats then ran to the three big windows, their professor right behind. A storm ramped up outside, a force of nature special effects lightshow that blew away the one at the Herbie Kirby Hyperbole concert last weekend. Rain fell next, merely driving at first, increasing to falling in sheets. Water rapidly pooled in the fields across the street. At the end of the lesson rain still drummed outside, likely to continue into the evening.

Then and there Zoey decided the time had come to make her move.

For a month she'd seen a herd of female students congregate after class around professor Jallen Delete's desk. Not a particularly bad-looking man, but he was old as any senior male instructor at the college. Zoey never understood the attraction. Jallen's fashion sense sucked out loud: tweed jackets with faux leather elbow patches (extra cheese please), knitted ties with denim shirts, corduroy slacks and Argyle socks. Worse, he cultivated unruly hair worn grotesquely long and gray pork chop sideboards. What possessed him had possessed Isaac Asimov too. Not surprisingly Jallen Delete spoke in a soft Scottish burr just like Sean Connery.

But it took a lot more than a sexy accent to cream Zoey's panties.

So that stormy afternoon she lingered at her desk until the last of the professor's groupies (shamelessly giggling in his ear) had packed their tents and decamped. Zoey wanted to make a clever interest-creating remark to get his attention but couldn't think of a word; and she the most passionate and accomplished poet in his class. The arrogant old fart studiously ignored her lingering, head down, scribbling madly with a fountain pen on a stack of papers on his desk. He didn't even raise his eyes when she flagrantly spread her knees wide apart to afford him a choice glimpse up her mini skirt at the tiniest panties she owned. They were a gauzy white nylon invisible enough to see the lips of her who-ha. She'd modeled them in front of her bedroom mirror enough times to know the good professor either needed glasses, was dim-witted, a fucking berk, or all of the above. And she refused to concede this contest of wills to this dreadfully obdurate person. No male in the human population of the planet scorned her. Zoey scraped the legs of her desk across the linoleum floor while reaching under her skirt to wriggle out of her panties. She dangled them on the tip of her left forefinger.

Now she had Jallen's full attention.

"What in the world, Miss Quark?" he ejaculated.

Zoey deigned not to answer, not yet anyway. She stood up, walked around in front of her desk and bent forward to return school books to a purple back pack. She bent far enough for him to have an unobstructed view of her bottom, baby maker and bunghole. Then she marched up to his desk and stood beside him, skirt hiked up enough to highlight the mouth of her kootch all pooched out.

Jallen stared and stammered, "I repeat, Miss Quark, what in the world are you ever doing?"

"Whatever in the world does it look like I'm doing?"

He answered her question with a question. "Why did you take off your panties just now?"

Zoey licked her lips coyly and smiled, tossed the white thong on top of the papers he'd been grading. He looked from the tangle of lingerie on his desk over to her pussy and finally into her eyes while she tugged her skirt down. She giggled as innocently as any slut in Jallen's class, but dialed back her defiant tone.

"I took my panties off because they got too damp to wear."

"And you couldn't wait to remove them in the ladies room?"

Zoey batted her eyelashes. "But, professor, they'd got so wet and it's such a bore making that trek to the ladies' I simply could not bear to wait. You seemed so preoccupied I didn't think you'd notice."

His eyes stole down to the thong. "You didn't think I'd notice you were still sitting in my classroom after everyone else had long gone? First, you lag behind then you start stripping off right in front of me. What did you think I would think?"

She faked a gasp and put a hand to her mouth as if just realizing the implications of what she'd done. "Oh my, I hope you didn't get the wrong impression."

"You wouldn't be the first girl student to try to seduce a teacher for a passing grade."

"And that's what you thought I was doing? You've never given one of my papers less than top marks. Why would I try to kiss up to you if I wasn't failing your class?"

"My point precisely, Miss Quark. So again I pose the question: why did you drop your knickers right in front of me?"

Zoey acted shocked. "You're not thinking straight, professor. For one thing you're older than my dad. I never thought you'd get the wrong idea even if you happened to see what I was doing."

"Happened to see you? You made enough noise moving your desk around to wake a nursery."

"All I can say is I stayed behind because it's raining so hard. I can't very well ride my Vespa home in this kind of weather. I don't like being soaked to the skin, and my underwear is uncomfortably wet already." She reached across his desk, picked up her discarded thong and pressed it into his hand. "See how wet they are for yourself."

Jallen carefully examined Zoey's panties, going as far as sniffing the crotch. "These are only a little damp, young lady. They smell nice but they're not that wet."

She gaped at him in disbelief. "I'll be the judge of that, not you."

"Fine," Jallen said. "I'm willing to forget the whole incident, you can go now. Off with you, I've work to do."

He began to tuck the cast off thong into his shirt pocket. Zoey tried to snap it out his hand but Jallen held the panties out of her reach.

She fumed, "Hey, those belong to me, they're my property."

"Yes, however you forfeited your property when you slung it onto my desk. I was merely getting intimate feminine apparel out of plain sight. You can't leave a soiled pair of panties here, not even if you throw them in the dust bin. One of the other teachers or a cleaner might get all manner of preposterous notions if they find such an item in my classroom."

"My panties aren't your souvenir!"

"But you put them in my hand."

"That didn't imply ownership."

"Then climb back into them and leave my classroom please. School's out."

"But I told you they're too wet to wear."

"Miss Quark, might I point out every garment you have on will be wet if you ride home on a bike in this rain. I'll have no more of it! The dubious situation you created has devolved into a Wodehouse farce."

"I'd say it's more of a misunderstanding, professor."

"See here, young lady, I am not the one at fault in this charade. I was sitting here peacefully working when you started undressing in front of me, exposing yourself bending all over your desk and waving this in my face with your, your labia hanging out of that very short skirt. Not that that's not a fetching skirt. And an alluring set of lips."

Zoey agreed to the logic of his argument. She tried to tease him and it backfired on her. If a professor presented her thong before the school board and relayed the details of how she flashed him she was liable to get expelled, arrested for indecent exposure or some other idiotic rule of law. Her parents might conceivably make her get a job. The insanely expensive tuition was part and parcel of the distinguished Hogfarts Magick College, Distrikt 9. And her folks were none too keen on her attending in the first place.

She had a last possible card to play.

"I apologize, professor, this is my favorite class. If you let me put my panties back on I'll leave and never play up in here again. Please."

Professor Jallen Delete huffed, put the wadded thong in his hand up to his nostrils for another whiff and, after protracted consideration, relented. "Okay. You may have them back."

In gratitude Zoey crushed her breasts into him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, thank you, thank you, sir, I am so grateful."

"On one condition mind."

She respectfully asked in a tiny voice, "And what would that be, sir?"

The professor put a finger under her chin and tipped her head so she could meet his eye. She'd never noticed how green his were before, like they saw right through her. The next thing she knew he intoned in that soft Scottish burr of his: "I'll put these back on you with my own two hands to reassure myself they're nice and snug and not apt to fall off again while you're still on school grounds. Fair's fair. Are we in agreement?"

No man had ever said anything so deliciously wicked to her. Never in her life had her secretions been so copious or her nipples as hard as they were now in that classroom that rainy Monday afternoon. Zoey verged on panting, her breathing ragged. "It's a done deal as far as I'm concerned."

Jallen smiled, bestowed a grandfatherly peck on her forehead. Cupping her breasts he nudged her into a corner of the room and hoisted up the hem of her skirt. He knelt in front of her, his nose an inch from her open pussy, and ordered her to step into the panties and drew them up her legs and over her hips. Zoey found Jallen clumsy, unaccustomed to assisting women put their panties on. All men were better at helping take them off. Jallen deemed it expedient to insert a finger into each side of the thong's crotchpiece to properly smooth the tangled nylon to ensure her entire pubic region was decently covered, thoughtfully leaving none of her private parts exposed. Jallen accidentally got his fingertips sticky during the process. He gently turned her around with a hand on each globe of her ass to ascertain the thin sting in back wasn't twisted. He curled a finger around it, ostensibly to keep the string taut and perfectly straight, and drew it all the way down to the crotch. Doing so caused a knuckle to come into contact with her anus more than once before he had the string situated to his satisfaction. His due diligence left Zoey's knees shaking. A friendly smack on the bum announced mission accomplished as he eased the hem of her skirt back down. She turned around to face him.

He stood before her again, putting a shiny wet fingertip to her lips and sliding it in and out between them. Randy bugger! "How's that, dear? Satisfactory?"

Zoey nibbled at his finger, tasting her own arousal. "Very comfortable, professor, thank you for being such a gentleman," she murmured, her voice so husky it surprised her. Probably him too. Her panties were wetter than ever now, the old boy had magic hands.

"My pleasure, Miss Quark. So sorry I came off as severe and impatient a moment ago. A man can lose his professorship frightfully easy these days."

Zoey glanced out of the big classroom windows. Placing the blame right back on him, she said, "To make up for your unseemly provocative behavior earlier, professor, would you mind terribly giving me a lift home? It's still raining."

"Well, I can hardly have you venturing through the streets on a bike in this downpour. The likelihood of accidents increase in inclement weather. A careless driver might run over you. There's also the distinct possibility of catching pneumonia."

Probably not in summertime she thought, but said, "Thank you, that's so sweet. Oh dear, what about my Vespa?"

He had all the answers. "I'll arrange for you to have transportation to school tomorrow morning. That way you can ride your bike home safely if the rain's left off then. Now where do you live?"

"Halifax, Distrikt 13."

"Marvelous, not even out of my way. Let me collect a few things first then we'll be off."

Jallen stuffed some papers into an expensive briefcase and fetched a brolly from the credenza behind his desk. Zoey didn't get drenched under the safety of the professor's umbrella on the way to his car. The only wetness afflicting her was a heated one between the legs, and that one not unwelcome. Her professor readied his keys to open the most ancient monstrosity with four tires she'd ever seen. She saw he saw her eyes widen as he unlocked the passenger door.

"Try not to laugh, she's a grand old bus."

"I love this! It's got fins and four doors and everything."

He handed his briefcase to her, held the door open and shouted above the rain to be heard, "Unlock the driver's side please so my clothes don't soak up more water than necessary."

Zoey scrambled into the car, quickly slid over to the steering wheel to pop the lock on the driver's side before sliding back out of his way. He flung himself in out of the weather, held his brolly haphazardly outside the partially open left car door until he managed to telescope the unwieldy waterlogged thing closed and passed it smoothly to her like a doctor handing a scalpel back to a nurse. He yanked the door shut and instantly the elements were held at bay.

"Abandon that in the floorboard please," he ordered. She set it down beside her back pack, heard him exhale: "Whew, glad I'm not at sea in this muck."

"No shit," she agreed. "I've never seen anything like this storm. It's worse than it looks indoors. Very nice to be safely inside the dry confines of your, uh, vehicle. What kind of car is this?"

"More hog than car, a 1959 Cadillac De Ville. I call the old girl HMS Land Barge."

"That's hysterical. And the steering is on the wrong side. Do you get stared at a lot motoring?"

"Not in this kind of weather." He started the beast, shifted into drive and left Hogfarts behind at a stately pace.

Zoey said, "I'm not accustomed to a ride this smooth. Just how big is this thing anyhow?"

"Don't quote me, but almost 20 feet long and six and a half feet wide. And thanks for not making any Batmobile jokes. It belonged to my father when we lived in California. I'm grateful it ain't pink."

"Wow, this seat is big as my grandmother's old divan."

"Bench seat. The back can accommodate eight adults."

"No it can't!" tittered Zoey. She clambered onto her knees to swing around to see behind her, perfectly aware in such an unladylike position Jallen had an unobstructed view of her behind; not that she minded, he'd already had his nose up there anyway. Had a fiddle too.

Except for the windscreen wipers doing battle with the noisy torrential rain the two of them rode slowly, and in silence. In the unnatural rain even the normal checkpoints closed for business, a welcome change. Progress didn't speed up the journey for some unexplainable reason. Bored, and determined to stimulate conversation (among other things) Zoey vigorously rubbed both palms together claiming her hands were cold.

He acted like he believed her. "There might be some gloves in the dash compartment."

She opened it and pawed through some roadmaps, a two-battery torch, a box of tissues, receipts and coils of insulated wire.

"There's no gloves in . . ." she paused, not in shock but awe.

While her back was turned Jallen had undone the front of his trousers. Out of the rumpled corduroy a most impressive erection pointed toward the vinyl headliner. "Best I can do then, Miss Quark. If you hold onto this you might be able to warm one hand at a time."

Zoey scooted over next to him in a trice.

"Are you kidding me? I can get both hands around it at the same time and still see the head and then some. How absolutely brilliant, professor. Who'd've ever thought to use a boner for warming hands? It works good too."

"Then carry on exploring potential patent options."

She squeezed him and cupped his ball bag for good measure. Jallen groaned. "Your hands really are cold. I'm liable to wilt any second."

"No way, you're harder than marble. But if you do start wilting I've got an idea about how to revive you."

"A revival stimulus. Now you've got my curiosity piqued, young lady. Since your hands warmed up so fast why don't you share your idea with me? My, my, my, you are quite the innovator." He grunted as if punched in the stomach when her mouth engulfed his makeshift hand warmer, drew it deep inside. "Don't you dare leave off demonstrating now, Miss Quark, it may be in danger of wilting."

Zoey stopped what she was doing only long enough to call him a liar. Once she resumed Jallen kept a firm hand on top of her head to make sure her rhythmic presentation continued unimpeded for several minutes. At last she raised her head up, gasping loudly for breath like she'd just been rescued from drowning.

When her breathing got back to normal she asked, "Professor, is this the reason why all your female students hang around you so much?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny a sordid rumour like that."

"You can tell me, my lips are sealed."

"They better not be, we've miles to go to Halifax."

Zoey giggled. She bent to address her self-appointed task once more and Jallen was able to keep both hands on the wheel longer at a time. The only time he spoke was a few seconds before the inevitable gush. Zoey knew how close he was when his labored breathing drowned out the noise of the wipers and rain.

"Oh, Miss Quark, I do so hope you swallow."

"Don't worry, professor, I won't let your bench seat get all stained."

"I'm not concerned about that. These are my favorite trousers and corduroy is murder to get stains out of."

Her tongue registered a throbbing along the length of him before the first pungent jet coated it. The taste of each successive pulse of sperm increased with the warm contents of her mouth. She gulped three times get every drop down. Afterward, they both breathed in gulps. While resting her head on the professor's lap savoring his aftertaste Zoey recalled a conversation she'd overheard weeks ago sitting in the stall of a ladies' loo at Hogfarts. Two girls entered talking, unaware anyone else was inside listening:

"I thought his jizz tasted like warm pineapple juice."

"Not me, salty as every mouthful any fast bowler ever fed me."

Both girls' laughter abruptly ceased when Zoey flushed the toilet. When she'd exited the stall she saw neither girl. She rushed through the lavatory door to look in the hall in hope of identifying who'd been talking, but those wagging tongues disappeared, maybe literally. Zoey didn't know who said what or whom they'd been talking about. Thinking about it again with her head in Jallen's lap, his come tasted like unrefrigerated pineapple juice.

"What are you smiling at, young lady?"

Zoey pasted on her best innocuous smile for him grinning down at her, his face flushed red. She said, "Maybe how much fun it is to be a naughty girl."

"You've remarkable oral skills, Miss Quark."

"Is that flattery? I recognize it when I hear it, don't let that stop you though."

"Why would I not mean it? You're a truly sensuous woman, so rare and elusive. The same who just made my day."

"Sorry I can't deep throat."

He touched his forehead pretending to be pained. "I'm complimenting you and you're apologizing? Child, please! You surprised me when you drank down my, uh, whole offering, so to speak."

"I looove come! It pleased me to please you. You taste good. Like warm pineapple juice. Has any girl ever told you that?"

"Not that I remember. Whatever particular flavour you attribute to me may be a diet of vegetables, nuts and fruit, especially the latter. Ta, wonder woman, I owe you a favour. If you permit me, I'll pay you back tenfold."