THIS IS FUN WITH FICTION POST – NOT ANOTHER JENNA CONFESSIONAL 🙂
I have always loved a man who has a way with words. What better place to pull a wordsmith than down at the local library? Ever since high school, I have lingered between aisles of bookshelves hoping to catch the eye of a one of those intellectual types.
Looking back over my years at college, I could take credit for contributing significantly to the education of many a college student. With my personal tuition and practical demonstrations, several History and Politics majors have learnt more than enough to sit Anatomy exams.
Making out with a freshman was always a prosperous use of a rainy lunch break. I may not know my passé composé from my gerundive verbs, but I am the expert in French kissing.
How gleeful I was when one of those sweet boys agreed to be by study-buddy. Not only would they eagerly volunteer to finish my coursework for me, but they also supplied me with plenty of opportunity to practice my abilities to leave a man in such a vulnerable position he will agree to anything. Perfecting my skills in rendering pleasure with my pretty mouth and supple hands was essential if I was ever going to complete my degree in Architecture.
There was only one way I was ever going to leave college victorious. I was going to have to seduce my Professor into agreeing to coach me in the exact questions that would be in my finals.
Professor Thibaut was rather delicious compared to most of the other faculty staff. The main challenge I had was competition. Every secretary, administrator and some of the other girls studying Architecture had their eyes on his dark curly locks and his sleek toned torso. I knew I was going to have to put all my effort into making myself irresistible to him.
Of course once I had succeeded in drawing his attention, it would be up to me to give him the best sex of his life if I was going to get what I wanted out of him.
During my first two years at college, I tried to maintain an air of mysteriousness fitting for a sex siren. I never dropped a single hint that he was the prey and I was biding my time to devour. I would play little games with him, such as turning up at class in my prim and classy Audrey Hepburn style, but accidentally losing a button close to my plump cleavage. How did the button of my blouse end up in his jacket pocket? That must have startled him because next time I turned up for class, he seemed to crimson when his eyes strayed my way. I knew back then that he had noticed me and now it was just a matter of holding his attention from a distance over the course of my college degree.
When the time was right, I discovered that Professor Thibaut was more enamoured by my curves than those of Le Corbusier. Indeed when I asked him what had drawn him into Architecture, he confessed his appreciation for beautiful forms, including my slender frame. After we made love on his desk for the first time, he romantically described the way the light dances around on curves so that the eyes do not want to turn away. Since the moment I walked into his classroom he had fought the urge to rest his gaze on my curves. Now he was able to know them intimately.
When Professor Thibaut asked me why I had chosen to study Architecture, I candidly told him about how exciting it was when my father had decided to add an extension to our holiday villa in Newport, Rhode Island, I became fascinated by the process of erection. (Indeed, I knew it would have been foolish to confess at that point that I used to go out and sunbathe in my bikini, enjoying being the centre of attention as the construction workers ogled at me. During the summer holidays I learnt a lot about erections and how good they felt throbbing inside me, enough to know that I would enjoy a career as an architect if that allowed me to swan around a construction site and flirt with the builders.)
After our amorous liaisons together, my Professor coached me in the exact questions that would appear in my finals exams. It turned out that in his spare time Professor Thibaut had a penchant for photography. Normally it was fine architecture that was the focus of his camera lens. But I persuaded him to allow me to model for him. It would be a memento for him after I had left campus to begin my internship.
Professor Thibaut had a plush office lined with countless volumes on classic and modern architecture. I knew it would make the perfect setting for some intimate snaps to leave him so could reminisce over his favourite student.
It was also handy for me to have copies of those same photographs so that if I failed my finals, I had a backup plan to make sure I left Cornell University with full credits.