My Tuesday morning programming class filed in, like soldiers, or maybe army ants. No, that wasn't fair! They were a good group of people, most of them kids, with a sprinkling of adults to make things interesting, but they were a pretty lackluster group. Usually in each class there is someone acting like a class clown to break things up, or a brilliant student who challenges me beyond what I thought I was capable of doing. Not this group, they were a solid non-entity for the most part. Staying below the radar screen and working through college as a steady pace. I spent the first three weeks of the semester trying to light a fire, but my efforts were pretty much unsuccessful. They didn't rise to the occasion but they did perform adequately enough to pass my class. A few A's, but mostly B's, with some C's for the few that are on the lazy side. No one will flunk, which always makes my department chair happy. They filed in and filled the stadium-style room from the bottom up. It took several class meetings to get them to understand that the back rows were off limits. I hated being alone in the front of the room screaming to reach the folks sitting in the back rows. A flash of color caught me off guard as someone walked in.
She wasn't a member of this class; no way could you describe her as a non-entity. She was dressed like no one I had ever seen on campus. Pink caught my eye, which was a bold statement for this group of people who tended towards browns, grays, dark blues, and blacks. The pink miniskirt was tight around her thighs; with an off-white, or a real light pink, blouse; hot pink stilettos heels; and white hose on her legs. She held my attention as she walked up the aisle all the way to the back. She settled against the wall in a seat that was in the direct center of the row and in front of the aisle so I had a perfect view right up to her. I swallowed nervously.
No one watched her walk up the stairs, how could even this group not see her? She was stunning from behind. Her rear end had moved in a tight figure eight as she climbed the steps. Her short skirt made her legs look 6 feet long all by themselves. When she turned around I thought my breath was going to stop. Dark hair framed a gorgeous face that held a very intelligent eyes and wicked grin. Her chest was pushing at the confines of the blouse, but even that didn't cause you to look away from her eyes. I felt like a deer in the headlights. Who was she and what was she doing here? She sat there, her knees together, hands folded in her lap as she waited attentively. She glanced at the clock which made me remember it was time to start. I swear she smiled a little wider knowing that her glance prompted me to start class, if she hadn't I might still be standing there astounded.
The lesson plan called for a short lecture, which was fine with me. I could give this talk with my eyes closed and maybe I should because every time I looked up at the group my eyes automatically centered on her, the only sign of color and life in the entire room. Normally this class was a featureless group; today they faded even further into the background. I was speaking to her alone, droning on with my lecture, pausing at the appropriate times as I made the necessary points. She even laughed a silvery laugh at my one witticism deeply buried in the wording that few students ever caught. She laughed outright at the humorous ending of the one story I always use to illustrate my main point. No one in the room seemed to notice the laugh that struck my spine like lightening.
Class ended with a short discussion and I addressed several questions about the assigned lab work. She never asked a question or seemed confused about any point. This group always had questions, trying to get me to give them more help than I think they needed, thus making their lab work simple instead of challenging. As the class filed out, she was the last to leave, walking past me with a subtle perfume that made my mouth water. A final glance back at me to see if I was watching her, she left the room and it darkened like someone had turned off the lights. I sat there like I had been run over by a truck!
Back in the safety of my small office I caught my breath and my less-than-normal grip on reality. Checking my computer system, I had no notes about new students. I did a quick mental count and realized the class was one over the correct number of students. She wasn't supposed to be there! I wonder if she'll be there when the same group met for Thursday lab work.
To my shockingly intense disappointment, she wasn't there in the lab. I spent the 3 hours working through the room, examining code and correcting some errors, asking students to look at what they were trying to accomplish in a different way and make things more efficient. Even few moments I would look at the door and glance around the lab to see if she snuck in, no luck. I think I was much shorter than I usually was with some of the stupidity that I normally handled with more humor. Even this group could tell I was a little distracted, but did they know about what, or whom?
Several restless days later she appeared again, this time walking ahead of me in the halls. I caught sight of the pink first and realized it was her. The halls and sidewalks were so crowded that she quickly lost me in the maze of people. When I gave up the search I realized I was outside the Nursing building, far removed from my usual haunts of Information Technology Engineering Center. Since the nursing building was in the center of the campus she could have been heading almost anywhere.
Tuesday came again, only much more slowly than ever before. The usually rank and file came in, but no sign pink, or any other bright color. Just as I resigned myself to starting my lecture a swirl of pink and white hurried into the room and heading up the steps almost faster than I could follow. Again I was struck in awe. Normally I would have some crack about rushing students, but I couldn't find the words. She settled quickly, smoothing her blouse down in a move that made me wish she would repeat in the nude. She started from her neck and went to her waist, making no detour, she went straight over the mountains rather than go around them. Again she had to look at the clock to remind me to get started. I was feeling a little like a marionette on strings, and she was the one running the show.
The lecture today was my favorite, full of stories about real world examples of what could go wrong and frequently did. Her laughter was a little louder today, or maybe I was just anticipating it so much it sounded louder and sweeter than last week. I couldn't help but look up every time she got the jokes that most of the rest of the class missed. She had a rare sense of humor, and a sense of the idiocy that made Dilbert all too real in the Information Technology world. At one point I paused, the rest of the class was scribbling notes and I looked up at her. She wasn't wearing a mini today, more of a pleated shirt and it was folded down a little in the front. I could tell this because she had relaxed and opened her legs. The skirt hid anything I might see, but the long expanse of silk-covered leg was like a beacon in the back of the room. Her hands were lightly rubbing, more caressing, her inside thigh as my heart jumped several beats.
She was smiling as I struggled to find my place in the lecture notes I never have to use. When I started again, the puppet-mistress had closed those magnificent legs. I wasn't sure I was disappointed or thankful. At the end of the lecture and question period, the class left. This time I watched her come down the stairs, slowly like she owned the whole place. She was certainly voluptuous, with athleticism in her steps that I found fascinating. She paused at the door again and looked right at me, making sure I was watching her, just like it was something I was supposed to be doing. This time she smiled widely and then walked out. Any thoughts of asking who she was and why she was in my class left the forebrain as I sat on my stool trying to regain my equilibrium enough to walk through the halls and them back to my own refuge.
In my office I replayed her entire visit, it felt like I was watching her even though I know I was looking at other parts of the room at some point during the 90 minute class. I opened the collar of my blouse. My usually chilly office was feeling quite warm.
I was in the faculty cafeteria, just sitting there absently eating lunch when I heard some of my fellow professors talking about students. Some of the teachers were pretty graphic sometimes, but no one mentioned a vision in pink. I know Harry over in Medical wouldn't hesitate to regale us with stories if he had seen her. We would suffer through another list of the things he would do to her, enough of a list to turn my stomach. I can't believe he was as crude in his personal life as he said to his cronies, or that anyone would let him touch them. She wouldn't, she couldn't! I couldn't even imagine her with someone like him! What could I imagine? I was too nervous to head down that particular road.
I refused to just be another typical professor, insulting students or treating them like hell. I didn't get along with most of my `peers' because they didn't consider me a peer. I wasn't a lifelong card-carrying member of the academic profession. I came into it as a second career after military service and time spent working in the real world. The department chair hired me to add some level of real-world experience and that set me apart from my brethren, which was fine with me. I sat there lost in my thoughts when I saw movement of bright pink out the window. The windows were tinted so I shouldn't have been able to see much color at all, but her outfit, a pink gossamer-like dress was clear as a bell through the windows. She was walking across the quad toward the main library.
I was almost late to my next class making that detour though the Library, but there was no sign of the Pink Goddess, as my lame brain thought of her. I'm not sure what I would say if I caught up with her, but I couldn't stop myself from trying. The rest of the week passed in a blur, I didn't even look for her on Thursday, and I did do my best to do a better and more patient job with my students.
Pink was waiting for me in the classroom today; she was sitting there like she was on a throne. Her arms spread to the backs of the chairs on either side of her, her legs crossed, she was focused on me while I fussed getting my stuff all set up. I felt like a 12-year old girl with a crush. The rest of the class came in and spread out like normal. I deliberately turned my back and managed to start my lecture on time. One of the students raised a tentative hand. "Professor, didn't we cover this material last week?"
Hell, I got so flustered; I was using material I didn't even have with me! Pink looked down upon me and smiled graciously, like she knew why I was flustered and was flattered rather than insulted. I thanked the brave student and launched into my actual topic. Programming Threads had never gone so quickly! There were surprisingly few questions that we actually finished early. I let the class go, my concentration was shot. As the class filed out, Pink stayed put. When I looked up she was opening her legs again. The brave student glanced at me as she left and turned and acknowledged the figure in the back of the room. She smiled a little and closed the door firmly behind her.
Pink smiled a look that thrilled me, and then I heard her voice with more than a laugh. Even her speaking voice had a touch of shining silver. "Professor, it is a pleasure to finally have time to meet you."
"Hello finally! I don't assume you have a transfer slip or anything for me?"
"Tsk, tsk." She clicked her tongue. "By now you know I am not a registered student. I am not looking for a grade in your class."
"So what do I owe the pleasure?"
She opened her legs wider and this time lifted her tight pink skirt to her waist. I was struck totally speechless. She was in stockings, not hose, and under that skirt was absolutely nothing except a perfectly shaved pussy. She rubbed the inner muscle of her thigh, which directed my gaze. "Professor, I am not a student, but I think there is much I can always learn."
She stood suddenly and I lost my view of a delicious pussy. I looked at her face and saw a satisfied look. "You remind me of someone I knew long ago. She and I were never very close, but as a schoolgirl I had such a major crush. I saw you in the quad one day and I almost fell down thinking you were the same woman."
"Since I haven't been teaching long, it couldn't be me, much to my sorrow."
"I know that, Professor, she would be in his late 60's by now. You are much more interesting to the adult me, than she was to the child me." She came down the aisle in a slow walk. I can't say she was stalking me, because her slow movements made it possible for me to beat a hasty retreat. Maybe it was physically possible for me to leave, but mentally I could barely move. As she got closer I got a better look at her. She stood before me in all her glory and leaned in close. She kissed me on my cheek and the contact was so shocking I fell backwards against my stool. She didn't advance; she just stood there feeling something in my reaction.
"Is there a class in here next?"
All I could do was shrug; my voice hadn't found its way back.
She took my hand and pulled it to one of her breasts! It was amazing! Full, but obviously all her! It filled her bra heavily and when I squeezed it, she sighed. "You have great hands, Professor."
Without realizing it, I had taken my other hand and was massaging her other breast. She leaned against me and a wave of her perfume combined with what we were doing made me dizzy. My arms went around her, partially to feel her and partly to steady myself. She was shorter than she looked, but that just made her fit tightly against me perfectly.
"I always knew we would fit nicely together."
She started pulling away, but her arms kept me close against her. We shifted towards the desk and stopped when her rear caught the edge. At that moment she kissed me. Her lips were so incredibly soft and slowly, so slowly they firmed up and her tongue pushed into me. It was a long flexible tongue that felt so good. Our tongues danced a bit and then she let me catch my breath. By now she was sitting on the side of the desk, her skirt pulled up, I could feel her heat against me as I got lost in her angel eyes again. She pushed me lower, I got a birds-eye view of her chest, at least covered at the moment, but her hands were insistent and I went lower until I was on my knees. She was on the edge of the desk and I got a close-up look at the world's perfect flower, tender petals, folded sweetly, a touch of dew, and the moist glorious pink color, what else for the Pink Goddess.
I looked up and saw she had lain back on the desk; stuff had fallen all around her to the floor. For one second my gaze took in the classroom door and I saw the face of that brave female student watching before the perfume of this flower caught me. Her scent was spicy and sweet at the same time. Touching the inside of her thigh I could feel one of us tremble, but I wasn't sure who. I had to taste her, this flower. Touching my tongue to her petals I heard a sigh as her distinctive tastes overwhelmed me. I couldn't place it exactly, like a spiced-up strawberry, maybe with a touch of cinnamon. Her texture was softness personified. If it was possible to serve rose petals, that's what she felt like. Licking slowly upward I was rewarded with a sigh that turned to a moan when I found her clit, still hidden under its hood. Down I moved, using my tongue like a narrow point separating her layers. I licked down to the end of her slit and slowly penetrated in as far as I could go. Another prize, her taste deepened, to a fine wine made of strawberry and roses as I was breathing her purest scent. It was a heady combination, one that was instantly addictive.
Turning slightly I stayed deep inside her and sucked her labia into my mouth. Her liquid was increasing; I could sense the flow as I sucked it in like my life depended on it, on her! Using my fingers I opened this flower completely, looking at her dark pink opening, knowing all goodness was coming toward me, I laid my tongue across her clit and massaged lightly. Her hips moved in a pattern just like my tongue and we danced together as she got even wetter for me. I slipped in two fingers and she gave a small cry that was music to me. Pushing back her clit hood, I saw her sensitive pink nubbin. Gently around it, I teased her clit, only touching it lightly, trying to stimulate rather than force a reply. She was so responsive; her legs went over my shoulders, ankles hooking around my neck while her thighs remained wide. Her hands found my head and she pulled me in tighter against her. I continued my assault, moving firmer with more deliberation as she responded in kind. I found myself sucking on her clit as my fingers drove in and out of her, three fingers, with my other thumb pressing on her anus. She gave a pure guttural groan as my thumb pierced her in that more private of spots. It changed her taste again, more earthly than perfume, but equally delightful.
She was rocking against me, getting so close to a glorious climax. I could hear it in her breathing, become harder, more forceful, her movements more jerky than smooth, and hands so firm in keeping me against her, as if I wanted to move. She flooded my mouth with more new flavors as her back arched with a loud cry. My face was soaked, she was amazing! Her cum was liquid gold to me, and tasted pink, believe it or not. Her legs clenched against me almost painfully, her hands tightening their grip on my head and hair. Suddenly she rose from the desk, stiff as can be, her back arched, her thighs took me up with her. We held that pose for what felt like hours, but could only have really been seconds, before she collapsed back to the desk, exhaling a huge breath she had held. Her legs fell away; her arms fell to each side. She wasn't breathing!
I jumped up and started shaking her, she looked . . .
"It's OK professor, it's called `Le Petite Morte'." The brave female student had joined me when the Pink Goddess collapsed.
"Little Death?" I asked puzzled. She looked at me and smiled.
"She'll be fine."
A second later my Goddess drew a deep breath and her eyes fluttered open. "Oh Professor, that was incredible!" She looked at me, at us, and cocked an eyebrow at the student.
"Mistress, I was watching the door so you and the Professor wouldn't be interrupted." She said with a dark blush.
"Then we both owe you our thanks." She said in an imperious tone. Quieter, she continued. "But dear child I am not your Mistress."
The student looked down. "I know, but it was the only term I could think of to call you."
My Goddess pulled her to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you once again, my child, for your time and your consideration."
She blushed an even deeper crimson and ran out of the room.
"What a lovely child, but alas she is for another day, another time. Come on Professor, we have things to `discuss'."
We left together, the building, the school, and for the first time everyone noticed her. People moved out of her way and they never even saw me, me with my matted hair, still damp blouse, and a dazed look that couldn't be explained short of very good drugs. She took me through that crowd. No one approached her, but all eyes were on her, men and women alike. Once she stopped and murmured something to someone. He turned red and started apologizing. She smiled sweetly and then said a little louder, "I am not the one who deserves your apology. Go make things right." He turned and fled at top speed on an errand he hadn't known he needed to do. 'Who was she to have such power?' I thought, but a second later I knew it didn't matter.