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Shelby was both near-terminally horny and dancing on the edge of real boredom.

Not to mention hosting a swirling, smoldering vortex of self pity and doubt. Plus the classroom was stuffy and far too warm, from there being fifty plus students packed into a 20-student volume. She had arrived late, which was good. It forced her to sit in the inconspicuous, nearly-hidden rear corner, where nobody could really see her. She wouldn’t have to participate, not actively.

The horniness was a residuum of two things, one short term the other longer. It had now been three months and four days (Damn, but she hated how she kept track of the time in spite of herself!) since her nasty breakup with her last boyfriend, and she hadn’t even had a date since then, much less a sex-partner. And then, this morning, she had spent a long time in the shower shaving her legs and pits, and doing a thorough trim on her pussy. The first since the breakup.

That activity had led, as it usually did, to interesting finger and shower-spray games which provided sudden, but shallow, relief. Mostly what the exercise did was finally revive the flow of her juices. Hence the horniness now suffusing her like a thick fog.

The boredom, on the other hand, was an oddity – the class was wildly multifaceted, and usually quite a treat, but today’s topic just happened to be a low-level introduction to something she was thoroughly conversant in already. She had thought briefly about not attending, but worried about the politics of a first year graduate student being noticed for her absence from the main class. And so here she was. Bummer. Oh well, at least the class would be over shortly after noon, and she had only one more class today.

She laid much of the blame for her “situation” on her physique. She could be quite objective about herself on some fronts – she was, and would readily admit to being, bright, well read, intellectually talented, physically in good shape, a good conversationalist.

But along with most human females she also suffered from an inability to view herself objectively in a mirror, and an ABSOLUTE inability to see herself through the veil of testosterone that colored and shaped every hetero male’s view of every female in the world. She was, in fact, an attractive woman: not to herself (all mirrors lied to her stridently and she believed them totally), but to the rest of the world, and to men in particular. She had yet to encounter any male who would tell her so. Her profound streak of shyness didn’t help. Most likely, she had just never let the proper men get close enough to say such a thing. Which was really too bad.

She tilted back against the wall, let her waist-length bright-copper ponytail drape over her shoulder. It almost reached the floor when she was sitting in this low chair. She felt strongly that her hair was her best feature. Best being a highly relative term – that it was ‘her best’ generally disturbed her when she thought about her physical self. She was tallish, slender, well-muscled from exercise and yoga and dance. She was thin from front to rear, and wore her low-rise hip huggers very well indeed. Too wide across the hips, she often thought. Again, she was simply wrong about that – a good many of her female acquaintances would have given a great deal to have her bottom.

She was lucky, too – one of the fortunate few real redheads who have perfect, pink, translucent skin – and perfectly white teeth, not the slightly yellow-tinted set that is so common. She felt her face was too pointed, making her look like she was somehow zooming through the air cartoon-fashion.

The rest of the world, at least the male part, would have wondered in confusion about that analysis, although they would certainly have agreed that she had heavy eyebrows. But her face was, in actuality, both symmetrical and balanced.

The biggest problem for her was boobs. Or, more precisely, her feeling a significant lack thereof. Even here in class she was always aware of the tits on other women nearby, and frankly envious. Beneath her blouse, cupped in her little-nothing bra, were her own personal little-nothings. Phooey. She had often thought (but never seriously) about surgery, about “augmentation” (what a dopey word!). It wouldn’t fit her pocketbook or credit line, and she had NO interest whatever in surgical procedures upon herself, especially optional ones.

Besides, it didn’t jibe in any way with her view of how (intellectually, at least) a woman should feel about her own body. And the last thing she needed was to attract some clown of a man who could fall in love with her due to a pair of subcutaneous bags of a ridiculously overpriced silicone compound. No way!

She relaxed against the wall, letting the room’s warmth permeate her. It blended with her internal heat quite nicely. The lecture and discussion began; everyone else was animated and interested. She was out of sight, in her own little dream-world.

She looked about through squinted eyes. bahis firmaları Nobody in the entire room had her in their line of sight except Danny, one of the six professors who team-taught this course, and he was riveted on the speaker. He was very, very good about paying close attention no matter who was talking – she had noticed that in class, and especially in their two or three long, interesting conversations after sessions he’d taught.

He was unusually frank and approachable, to all the students. Too bad he was twice her age, or even more. He’d joked about the “Big six-oh” looming, back when the profs had introduced themselves, meaning , say, thirty-plus years between them. Not to mention the professor-student taboo. She looked about the room for the umpteenth time since the start of the semester, inventorying once again. Lots of men, but actually less than half the class. A few really BAD examples of the modern male, physically. Bad mentally also – as she had found out from their class participation. A couple of genuinely good-looking ones, unfortunately neither one very bright. Very jock, both of them. A nasty judgment, but one could tell, couldn’t one? Three others, smart, good-looking, obviously younger than herself but not ridiculously so. And all three with female partners in the class already. Three other men -older, married and settled. Inventory closed. Damn!

She drifted, closed her eyes, soaked in the close atmosphere. In moments she was deep into a daydream, gloriously but very non-specifically sensual. Without forcing it, or even knowingly launching the effort, she began to examine her recent lack of sex, and drifted back over her experiences to date. She was perhaps five or six years older than most of the students in the class. And she had only run through four ‘boyfriends’ in her life so far, if that actually meant ‘lovers’ in the sense of sexual intimacy. She almost snorted aloud to herself in her drowse, at the idea of intimacy. Desired, but did it really apply to her relationships? She doubted it, and certainly not compared to what some (not all, but some) of her girlfriends as related during girl-talk.

After all, she was horribly shy, always had been, and so much brighter than most of her male acquaintances that they tended to stay well clear of her emotionally. They probably did the same with all other females as well, but that didn’t make her feel any better, did it? So, she hadn’t even started her sexual life (other than intense masturbation that began before she had any other retrievable memories!) until she was twenty-four, and then it had been a conscious, almost forced, decision. It was certainly NOT as if she had been swept off her feet – more of a lab experiment whose time had finally come. Nice, interesting, but nothing to scribble breathlessly about in the lab book, really. Certainly not the mind-blowing emotional and physical extravaganza most women, herself included, seemed to hope for.

She had not yet encountered “Le Grande Passion Romantique”, had not fallen madly into love with some mentally or physically hunky man. Nor, to her dismay, had she fallen madly in lust either, despite her tentative sexual adventures. The latter – lust that is – seemed at least plausible, for the world was in fact filled with potentially attractive men, and she certainly LIKED the business of sex so far, but…

Perhaps the problem was that she expected of herself that she must find Le Grande Passion Romantique first, and only from within that was she somehow allowed (Oh? And by whom, brain?) to find herself enveloped in a lust-filled relationship? Romantic twaddle, she knew that intellectually. Oh well.

Her latest? Well, objectively, he’d been nice enough, but totally unsatisfying, at least sexually. He was purely self-centered on that topic, as if her needs and desires and preferences didn’t exist, and that upset her, but she didn’t have much of anything to compare it to, just a strong feeling that something was seriously awry. At least she had managed to come with him a couple of times during their year-plus together… although always with some secret help from her fingers. That was disappointing, but she knew from girlfriends and reading that it was far from uncommon.

She was deep into daydreaming leg-squeeze mode now, using her thigh muscles and the rhythmic bouncing of her leg balanced on tiptoe to produce a subtle, precisely-located squeeze-slide-vibration right where she needed it. And she was completely unaware of doing so.

She drifted, part of her mind in the warm fog of sensations from between her legs, the other part leaping about monkey-style from thought to thought. After several minutes, buried deep in her fog, she started to come.

A little piece of her mind knew this was dangerous, and the whole business was most unusual for her, but she was being totally discreet, and besides… it felt GOOD! Her face flushed, her jaw and neck muscles tightened slightly, and she stopped the leg as her inner belly muscles kaçak iddaa took over and pulsed through their nice little ecstatic dance.

As her orgasm receded, her eyes slowly opened. When they finally focused, she found herself centered squarely in Danny’s gaze. He must have been watching her since she closed her eyes! She started, and flushed brilliant red – a spectacular effect given her complexion. Good Grief! She’d been caught fair and square. The universe was so bloody unjust, she had never, ever done something like this before, not in public, and she’d been nailed first time. Now she felt as guilty as a six-year-old whose parent had just noticed the motions beneath the bed covers!

What next? H

e was looking at her with an odd expression – not embarrassment, not amusement, and not even prurient. No leer, none at all. Perhaps, oddly enough, a little bit of admiration? He smiled at her just the tiniest bit, then finally grinned widely and gave her a subtle “thumbs-up”, and returned his gaze and attention to the speaker. She stared about, checking to see if anyone else had participated vicariously. No sign whatever that they had.

She sat rigidly, face front, but finally let her eyes wander towards Danny. Professorially, he was off-duty today, neither lecturing nor discussing, and wearing his utterly non-professorial usual clothing – shorts and a running tee-shirt. He had nice legs, and a very nice taut butt, on which she and other women in the class had commented among themselves on a couple of occasions.

What must he be thinking of her, of her antics, of her as a person? She could practically cry, she was so embarrassed now. She shot one more glance his way. He was studiously attending to the discussion at the front of the room, but had shifted in his seat and she now had an entirely different view of him – and the man had developed a very significant, and very obvious, bulge in the front of his shorts.

With a start, she realized – “A hardon! He’s excited by what he’s been watching. Excited by me!” Followed immediately by “What does that mean? Is it better, or worse than having him NOT notice? Ye Gods, what to do do about this? How can I escape and disappear down a well and never have to face this man again?”

Not to mention the questions of why was her belly still in this uproar, and why were her pits suddenly tropical?

When the class ended, she still hadn’t decided how to handle this little mess she had generated. She waited for the room to drain, then stood and left. Just outside the door stood Danny. Their eyes met, she reddened violently. When he saw that, he stepped up and took her elbow, steered her over to the side of the hallway. She went with him passively, at a loss to do anything else. She looked about -they were alone – then at him, then stared at the floor. Her whole body was tingling, as if she’d been slapped by a giant cosmic hand.

He lifted her chin with one finger, dropped his hand, caught and held her gaze. She managed to return it without flinching, a major display of control and will-power on her part.

Danny said quietly, “I hope I didn’t embarrass you in there. I really didn’t mean to stare, or to be caught, either! I like a little bit of voyeurism as much as the next human, but I wasn’t polite at all. Damned rude of me to either watch or intrude, in fact, since I wasn’t invited to your party. Sorry.”

She was surprised – him, apologizing to HER? How odd. But nice. She managed to say “How could you embarrass ME? After all, it was me that… well, you know. Besides…” she almost giggled, “Besides, my eyes were closed, I believe, so how could you do that?” Then, “I just hope the whole rest of the world wasn’t watching, too!”

Danny shook his head and told her “No, believe me, they weren’t. I know, because you were so, well, let’s just say ‘preoccupied’, that I decided to keep guard for you, and I watched the others. As well as watching YOU, of course. If anyone else had noticed, I’d have come over and interrupted you immediately, but they didn’t. And since they didn’t notice, I just let you go. Perhaps I should have done something?”

Shelby cocked her head. Protecting her? How nice of him! “No, actually, although I’m just as embarrassed as hell, I’m glad you didn’t. I needed that!”

Sheesh! She thought to herself. How in the world could she let THAT slip out? Now she REALLY had reason for embarrassment.

Danny looked at her differently.

The hubbub of class dismissal was over, and they were alone. He seemed to consider his words very carefully, for he took the longest time. Then, finally, he said, looking her straight in the eyes, “There are other, better ways, you know.”

She was taken quite aback. The outer world seemed to slow to a crawl, her vision tunneled, the surrounding activity receded like a sudden tide. Just exactly what did he mean? Was it a come-on? A proposition? Surely not – he was her PROFESSOR… but of course, such a thing wouldn’t exactly be utterly unheard kaçak bahis of, would it? Her adrenalin level shot up, her pulse increased by half.

The imp inside her, the one that had encouraged her in the first place, spoke, overriding her better judgment. “There sure are. Not a doubt about that. But that would require a sensitive, caring partner. And THOSE, Professor Danny, are in precious short supply around here! Believe me, I know.”

He tilted his head and took a long, thoughtful time before he spoke. “Well. Speaking hypothetically…”

She waited – he had a law background as well as ecology, and this business of posing “hypotheticals” was part of the way he usually taught. It was provocative, and also let one safely explore lots of interesting possibilities and permutations. He finished, very softly. “In short supply, very probably. But not zero. Hypothetically, the system is capable of providing such an item, even if they’re rare.”

He looked at her levelly. No amusement, no overt anything. Friendly, with a wonderfully spicy undertone.

She looked about. They were still completely alone in the hall.

Hypotheticals? This whole exchange, the situation, could easily stop, any time she wished, couldn’t it? Right now, her next response could end things. Just say something innocuous and walk away. Like, “Oh, sure, Professor Danny, I suppose you’re right, there must be some of them out there somewhere, so when you find one be sure to send him my way and thank you very much.” Sure she could!

Except… her imp continued in charge of her vocal cords. And what actually came out was – “So? Hypothetically speaking, purely hypothetically now, just like in class, well, how might such a situation work?”

She was digging herself into something here. Consciously. A wanton freedom seemed to be welling up from inside her. It surprised her, and was scaring the hell out of her, and she was loving it. All at once.

He answered “Well, for instance, about ten minutes off-campus there is a place where one can rent little rooms with individual hot-tubs, by the hour. Completely private. They are, actually, trysting places, with beds and saunas and showers as well as hot tubs. It’s a club. Somebody you know might be a member. Hypothetically.”

So there it was. What to do? She hesitated a long time, finally reached far down inside herself, pushed her Imp aside, and whispered on her own volition “It’s an interesting hypothetical. Very. But I, that is, a person, any person, wouldn’t want to get in the way of anyone else’s life or relationships, or interfere with anything. Hypothetically, that is.”

“One minute for a bit of my personal philosophy?”

She nodded.

He went on. “Shelby, I have this deep belief about human sensuality and sexuality. Each of us has something like a river of sensuality within. It’s wide and deep and always replenishing itself. It has a huge volume, and most of us never even know it’s there, much less do we explore or exploit it. But I seriously believe that a person can dip from that river and share it with more than one person. No one person can use up but a fraction of another person’s capacity, so taking a cup, or bucket, or barrel from the river to lavish on one person, even to completely fill that person’s needs, certainly does NOT lessen the amount available for any other person.” He smiled. “Others mean more or less the same thing when they say “One more slice from a cut loaf is never missed.” – but a loaf is finite, and the river, my river, and probably all of ours, is not.”

She nodded. It actually made good intellectual sense. But it also sounded like a very practiced line. She said so, and watched his reaction.

He took no offense, and he didn’t go on the defensive. He just said “Nope, not a line. I really do believe it. And I try to act that way in my life. You have to judge for yourself whether it can in any way be applied to you, to your situation. I put the idea out for examination and discussion, Shelby… it isn’t a question, and it isn’t an argument trying to persuade you to do anything you’re not up for.”

Shelby took a long, ragged, deep breath. His eyes held hers: they were friendly, warm, not laughing, not intimidating. She nodded, slowly, and said “I can understand that. Don’t know if I can apply it to myself. But – and of course we’re speaking hypothetically again – what would be the next step?”

He smiled, took her elbow gently, and said “If one could, hypothetically, just decide to ignore any other things on one’s schedule this afternoon, one could accompany a professor to his office and make a reservation, then drive over there immediately. Carpe diem would seem to be the word of the day. Hypothetically.”

Her heart was a trip-hammer. What the bloody hell was she doing, anyhow? Her belly was on fire, and she could hardly stand, her knees were suddenly weak. She was going to DO this insane thing, wasn’t she?

She nodded, grinned, and said, “Let’s go, then.”

There. It was decided. To bloody hell with her other afternoon class. More importantly, to hell equally with a whole flock of unvoiced scruples. Adventure time! “And…” she told herself, “…only about a decade overdue!”

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