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Subject: {ASSM} Visiting Professor I
Date: Fri, 26 Oct 2001 01:10:04 -0400
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INTRODUCTION
 
This is subject to all the usual provisos: 
Graphic sex follows.
I'm not responsible for you reading this if you are underage.
The contents are purely fiction and all characters/contexts are figments of my
imagination.
This story is copyrighted and any reproduction requires the explicit consent of
the author; i.e. me.
AIDS/HIV and other STD do not exist in my fiction but do in reality-if you
attempt to live the lifestyle depicted please take precautions.

I haven't posted a story on the ASS or ASSM sites for six or seven years, and
back in the past only one long story and a couple of episodes.  Marriage can do
that, but since that now is my past I thought I would toss something out. 
Originally this was just a tangent of a larger project, but I think it can
stand-alone.  It starts a little slow but it lays a foundation for future
development.  If you want the sex scene in this post it starts about two-thirds
of the way through.  

The next part of the story will be posted whenever I feel it's ready.  There
are also a couple of trails that I plan to develop, but if any reader would
like to suggest where I could take this it will be considered.

If you're biting at the bit for something more finished, I can repost "Luca"
which was probably originally posted in 1994/5 but doesn't seem to be on the
ASS archive.  It's a little faster, seven or eight chapters of the "week in a
life" of the main character, a bisexual female.  Unfortunately the other bits
and pieces I posted, including the blind naked wrestling on the raw rope mat of
the Japanese teahouse, have been digitally degraded.   

If anyone wants a repost of "Luca" drop me a line.

If there are problems with the format, please let me know and advise me how to
correct it.  It like this and have constructive criticism I am open to your
corrections and suggestions.


VISITING PROFESSOR (Part I)

A story by Alex S. Sexton

ONE

David Grim stole into his office in the few days after finals and Christmas. 
He knew that if one of his colleagues, or worse the department chair, ran into
him he'd have to ramble on about the research he'd done in Europe for the past
three months, deal with questions on the progress of his book, or be asked to
serve on some ad hoc committee or search.  ("David, you've got a lot of time on
your hands right now, so why don't you . . .)  It was only a few minutes past
eight and the History department secretary hadn't arrived, so David couldn't
even get to his mailbox.  

Probably doesn't matter, he thought, three months of mail wouldn't fit in his
pigeonhole so the secretary had probably put it in his office.  He was right. 
There was a pile of it on a chair surrounded by packages from various
publishers containing examination and desk copies.  It seemed to suit the
season.  David took off his coat and sat behind his desk.  There was a scratch
pad where some diligent work-study student had transcribed his phone messages
for the semester.  Obviously a dedicated worker, dating and numbering each call
up to 78 up until two days ago.  Instinctively he looked over to the phone and
saw there were four new messages.

David dialed into the answering service to listen to the recordings.  While he
was doing that he sorted through the stack of letters on the chair, dropping
two out of three in the trash.  

Message one: Carlotta, could he call her at area code . . . for second he
couldn't remember any Carlotta, then suddenly recalled a poised and attractive
African-American woman who had taken a couple of classes with in graduate
school.  He'd run into her a couple of times since then at AHA or some other
conference for historians.  Wonder what she wants, he asked himself.  They had
been acquaintances more than friends in grad school, finished up about the same
time, and she had got a good job somewhere in upstate New York at a woman's
college with an impressive endowment.  Some sniggered it was only because of
affirmative action, but David knew her well enough from class that she had
gotten the position on her merits. 

Message two: Doug, a History major who'd graduated the year before last and
would Dr. Grim mind writing a recommendation for Dougie's application for law
school?  Please call at . . .. No problem, thought Dave, and jotted the number
down.

Message three: Carlotta again, could he please call at either work or at home. 
She gave both numbers, plus that of her department's secretary.  There was an
urgent matter she wished to discuss.

Message four: David's Academic Dean, calling on the dot of eight this morning,
requesting Dr. Grim report to the Dean's office immediately upon receiving this
message.  Wonder what this is about, David asked himself, was he being fired,
some student complaint, an endowed chair?  He laughed at the last thought, not
until 'the book' was published.

The Dean was not one to be kept waiting so David put down the mail still to be
sorted next to the few pieces worth keeping from what he'd already gone
through.  He put on his coat and headed over to the administration building. 
The department secretary had arrived and was making coffee.

"Hey Francine," he called popping his head through the doorway, "it's good to
see a friendly face. . . I'll be right back to talk to you . . . the Dean's
picked up my scent and I don't want him to be on my trail for the kill . . .
picked up something for you in Europe, you can have it as soon as I get back,
presuming I get out of the Dean's office alive . . . don't tell any of the
codgers I'm here, ok?"  Francine nodded dumbly, and David realized she really
wasn't awake yet.

As he strode across the quad to the administrative offices David contemplated
where he was.  It was good to be back, and as much as he enjoyed the last three
months overseas this campus had become his home.  Nine years of teaching here,
tenure and full professorship as soon as he finished this book.  Fit and in
good health, reasonably attractive-at least enough so that Europe had not just
been dusty diplomatic archives but included two or three flings-and healed from
the wounds of a divorce now three years past.  Still missed the kids but the
marriage had turned into a wreck.  

He walked into a cold wind and reminisced the night Antia had opened the
mansard window in the attic apartment overlooking Berlin, stripped the blankets
off him, leaving him shackled to the bedposts turning blue while she made
cocoa, and then blew him back to life.  She'd was a graduate student assigned
to translate some of the records, always wore black and mostly leather. . .
he'd never been tied up before.  And before that in London: Claire could
transform from the mousy librarian by taking off her glasses and letting her
blond hair down, lost her servile demeanor when riding him in her basement
bed-sit. . . but was so cuddly after they got caught in that cold downpour and
warmed up under her goose-down duvet.  Forty-one, but he still had it.

When he reached the Dean's office David was shown immediately in to the inner
sanctum.  That was unusual-it was well known Dean Lang liked to keep people
waiting just to have the upper hand.  They danced through the normal social
platitudes: how was Europe and the book, how had the fall term gone.  Tried to
reach you at home, had the phone disconnected while away but should be back on
tomorrow.

Dean Lang got down to the business at hand.  He'd received a call from a Dr.
Duberry and then another from President Williams, both from Montrose College,
requesting his, Lang's, and David's assistance.  David said he knew neither. 
Lang looked puzzled, Professor Duberry said she was a friend of yours, Carlotta
Duberry.  Oh, she was Carlotta Grey then, in graduate school.  Well Diane
Williams was at Harvard during our graduate years, we remain good friends, and
has made a special request.  Lang said it with the typical Ivy League sneer of
superiority.  Apparently, he continued, Montrose has lost one its historians, a
Professor Duer, in a car accident.  Duberry thought you might be able to help
find a replacement for the spring on short notice, given Duer and you both are
in the same field . . . she since found out that you were on sabbatical, and
Diane called me yesterday evening, at home, and suggested I might second you to
Montrose for the spring semester.

David explained he was on sabbatical and that his tenure and promotion where
dependent on his completing this monograph.  It would be much appreciated if
David would at least consider the situation. . . Dean Lang had consulted with
Edwards, the History chair, and while it would be impossible for David not to
teach in the autumn things could be arranged so that the second semester of the
sabbatical could be fulfilled next spring . . . David explained he was under
contract to finish the book, but Lang told him that he had talked to the
editor, another Harvard man, and reached an understanding.  Publications on the
Crimean War, however innovative, could be afforded a delay.  Nor would it
hinder David's petition for tenure and promotion; in fact, if David were to
help Montrose it would be seen as great service to the college here, and Dean
Lang would be personally indebted to him.

David left Dean Lang's office on the understanding that he would seriously
consider guesting at Montrose but would first have to talk with Carlotta to
gauge the situation there, and with his own chair, Edwards, regarding his
position in the department.  Back at the office David pulled the gift for
Francine, a Gucci handbag he picked up in Milan, grab a cup of coffee and
talked with Edwards who gave his stamp of approval.  "It would get us in the
good graces with the Dean," explained the senior historian, "so I encourage you
to look into it."

After trying to reach Carlotta at her office David dialed her home number.  A
child answered the phone, and after a few minutes he was handed over to
Carlotta.  After a few pleasantries Carlotta explained the situation.  Duer had
been one of their modern Europeanists, specializing in diplomatic history. 
He'd died in car crash on the way home from winter graduation ceremonies.  The
rotation at Montrose had Duer to teach a standard introductory course and two
upper-levels that David also taught.  Initially Carlotta had called David to
see if he might know someone who could fill in, but when she found out that he
was on sabbatical thought he might be the ideal substitute.  

Carlotta suggested a salary for the spring semester based on what Duer earned,
plus $5,000 because of expedient circumstances.  Montrose would also provide
free housing-Carlotta still had an apartment in town that would be big enough
for David and his family; sorry, didn't know he had divorced; there's also
furnished on-campus housing that might suit him better.  The amount of money
suggested for one term with the bonus almost matched David's annual salary. 
Given the pressure from Dean Lange, Edwards and Carlotta, plus the inducement
of salary, free bread-and-board at Montrose, and just a general dislike to
writing and desire to teach, David capitulated.  Carlotta would have the Dean
at Montrose, Nancy Stedman, draw up a contract and have it sent overnight
express; in addition she would forward to David materials such as text he'd
need for the courses.

For David now things were in motion it was relatively easy for him make plans. 
There wasn't much point in opening up the house since he would be at Montrose
in a couple of weeks.  Has bags were still packed, so he decided to fly to
Florida and spend the holidays with them.  David hadn't planned to go there
that Christmas, but it seemed the best thing to do and would please the old
folks.  His return was planned for the first week of the New Year, giving him
enough time to pack up the car with essentials and make the drive to upstate
New York.

TWO
The second week of January David arrived to the town of Montrose and the campus
of Montrose Woman's College.  He followed the directions he'd been sent and
found his housing, a row of six houses behind the student union.  In one lived
the campus nurse and following the directions David got from her the key for
his own home for the next few months.  They went through the normal polite
conversation about the weather, what a shame about poor Dr. Duer, until enough
time had lapsed for David to excuse himself and unpack.

The housing was open plan: a ground floor space of living room, dining area and
kitchen.  A stairway led to a simple second floor with two bedrooms and a
bathroom.  The furniture was sparse but utilitarian, as was the equipment in
the kitchen.  David picked a bedroom-the one with the queen size bed, not the
other with the two singles-hung up his shirts and suits.  After unloading some
of the boxes he'd brought-books, CDs, lecture notes-he decided to take a walk
around the campus.

David was ready to orient himself from the map he'd downloaded and quickly
found the library, located where the bulk of the new dorms were, and navigated
through the quads of the old campus, with their faux-gothic architecture and
empire state granite facades.  The history department was located on the second
floor of the Foix building.  David introduced himself at the administrative
office and found that, in spite classes not beginning till the next week, that
Carlotta was in.  Again they went through the usual pleasantries, how long it
had been since they last saw each other and how did he find the accommodations.
 Carlotta volunteered to show him Duer's office, or more precisely David's
while he was at MWC.  As they walked down the hallway they passed two
maintenance men hauling out file cabinets from the late professor's office.  

"On Dean Stedman's orders, ma'am," answered one of them when Carlotta asked
what they were doing, "you'll find her in there."  And indeed she was.  Nancy
Stedman surprised David.  She stood about five foot, short blond hair, maybe a
few pounds overweight but very shapely in a tight mauve skirt and jacket.  She
looked to be in her mid-thirties.  She was standing behind the heavy desk
emptying the contents of the drawers into a large cardboard box.

"Nancy, this is David Grim," introduced Carlotta.  Dean Stedman looked up from
her task.  She looked a little flustered but quickly regrouped.  David shook
her hand; it was a firm handshake for such a small hand.  Her eyes were a dark
ocean blue.

"I thought we should have Gunter's office cleaned out for Dr. Grim," explained
Nancy.  "His file cabinets were locked and we can't find the keys so I'm having
them taken down to storage."  She turned to David, "Maintenance will bring some
new ones up either this afternoon or tomorrow.  I'm not sure how much space
you'll want, but I can have Dr. Duer's books packed up too."

David said she needn't bother; he hadn't brought much to fill the shelves. 
Duer's sister, he was informed, would not be able to come to Montrose for a few
months to go through his personal belongings and wrap up his estate, so it was
decided that nothing needed to be removed.  Nancy Stedman picked up the box,
which was full and clearly weighty, and declined David's offer to help her. 
She carried it down the hall.

Carlotta commented it was strange that Dean Stedman had taken on the task of
cleaning up Duer's office on her own; it was the kind of task that would
normally be delegated.  She's a strange thing, observed Carlotta, becoming very
uppity and aloof.  Stedman was only in her second year as dean at Montrose, and
before taking the position had been chair of large biology department at a
state university.  She was perceived as being career driven, ambitious,
professional and single, but there was a feeling she might be out of depth as a
Dean, and was falling off the tracks.  David shuddered at the mixed metaphors. 
Carlotta left to find David a set of keys for the building and the office.

David perused the bookshelves.  About half the material was in German that
David had only fleeting knowledge.  He recognized some of the authors, and
noted that the English-language component of Duer's library was an excellent
selection, though perhaps a little too conservative and archival for David's
taste.  Carlotta came back with a key ring.  She invited him over to dinner
that evening, carefully drawing directions to her home.  Carlotta had obviously
done well for herself.  She'd married the vice-president for business affairs,
an older widower, seven years previously, quickly borne a son, the Duberry now
lived on 70 acres about 10 miles from the campus.

David wandered into town and had a lunch at a downtown caf  before visiting
human resources and completing the necessary employment paperwork.  After that
he went back to Duer's, well now his, office.  David turned on the computer
that sat on a smaller desk overlooking the academic quad.  The high back of his
chair faced the door.  He checked his free email account and then his account
at his real job.  Nothing much . . . half a dozen things from the listservs,
and a couple of belated holiday greetings.  Nevertheless, he might as well
reply to some of them.

"Herr professor," spoke a soft voice.  David hadn't heard the office door open.
 He sent the email and slowly turned around.  A woman with cascading red hair,
black sweater, short black skirt and wool tights was carefully locking the
door.  About five-four or five.  She turned toward him and he heard her sharp
intake of breath as she failed to recognize the stranger behind Duer's desk.

"Where is herr professor Duer?" she asked, her voice still soft.  The accent
was affectively foreign, it lilted instead of commanding German pronunciation. 
It could have been comical but was alluring instead.  In fact, she was
alluring.  Large green eyes, full lips, a face one could die for.  She couldn't
be much older than twenty.  David recovered.

"I'm here for Dr. Duer," he said.  She stared at him, holding him in her gaze. 
David was mesmerized.

"Auk!" she exclaimed, "more of his games."  

She strode across the office, placed a sheet of paper on the desktop, and
pulled her black sweater over her head.  She looked around and then tossed it
on one of the guest chairs.  While she walked behind the desk she hiked her
skirt across the tops of her thighs and sat in his lap, gripping David's hips
with her knees so she would slip off.

Before he could protest she placed her forearm against his forehead, pushing
his head into the chair's leather padding.  She planted her mouth on his,
mashing their lips together while her pelvis ground against his.  With her
other hand she grasp his penis through his pants and David felt her fingers
reach for his balls.  Within seconds he was hard.  She let go of his erection
but continued to grind her hips against it, kept on kissing him.

Then she drew back.  Settling on his knees she looked into his eyes and pulled
her back black blouse off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind
her.  The redhead wore a sheer black bra that was tight and bunched her breasts
together.  Through the fabric David could see her taut nipples and wavy
areolas, between the two cups was an embroidered red rose   She slip from her
perch and knelt on the floor between his legs.  Carefully she undid the button
on his pants and drew the zipper down.  Urgently she pulled at his pants,
looking up at him imploringly.  David lifted his buttocks and she drew his
pants down to they bunched around his ankles.

Looking down they both could see his erection shivering in his boxers.
Delicately she pulled open his fly aside with one hand and carefully removed
his erection with the other.  For a few seconds they stared as it quivered. 
She lowered her chin onto his thighs and pushed her tongue against the
underside of his prick.  Raising her head her tongue traced the vein to the
mushroom head; the tip of it washed the shiny dome and probed the hole.  David
felt a burning sensation.  Then she gobbled up the head of penis.  He could
feel her tongue swirling around, reaching to the underside of the dome.

Making a ring with her finger and thumb near the base of his penis she pulled
the skin downward.  His erection felt so taut, as if it was about to burst out.
 She plunged her face down until it rested on her finger ring.  Raising her
mouth only an inch or two and then plunging down again she deep-throated him. 
David could feel his prick coarse against the roof of her mouth, swimming in
her saliva.  The sensation was exquisite but not climatic; just a feeling that
he wanted to go on all day.  He closed his eyes and savored the pulsing of her
mouth over the length of his erection.

He didn't know how long she did this.  Probably only two or three minutes, but
it seemed to last longer.  One of his hands fell onto her head and David's
fingers strung through her red hair.  It was thick and luxurious.  The piston
movements slowed but got longer and longer.  Her lips drew from the base higher
and higher with each plunge until he felt them wrap around the base of his
erections dome.  He felt the first tingles of come from his prostate and balls.
 Finally the upward thrust released his prick; he heard a little pop and the
suction of her mouth around his flesh broke.

She looked at his penis.  It was shaking in anticipation, arching over his
belly toward his navel.  It glistened from her juices.  Carefully she put her
hands to the rose on her bra and unclasped it.  She pulled the cups back,
freeing her breasts.  Her hands grasped them, gently massaging them.  They were
firm and pliable.  Once again she leaned forward into him.  His penis fell
between her cleavage and she pressed her breasts around his erect flesh.  They
were not as big as he thought-she had to pull them around to encircle his
erection.

Her index fingers pressed her own nipples.  She raised her shoulders, David's
penis slipped between her cleavage.  He'd never felt anything like this before.
 The redhead's flesh quivered around him, melding around his hardness and
squishing it.  She lowered her shoulders and the cage of her breasts slipped
around the length.  Her chin rested on the head of his prick.  She looked up at
him, green eyes that were bottomless wells.  As if suddenly making a decision
she nip his prick with her teeth, and then started thrusting up and down, her
chest engulfing his erection.  

David felt a climax welling up.  Involuntarily he started to thrust against the
redhead.  She didn't notice his action and the first spurt of semen erupted on
her down stroke onto her shoulder.  Only when the white blob seared her skin
did she react.  She released his breasts and her lips wrapped around the head
of penis.  He felt the tongue swirl around under his dome.  The next two or
three spurts emptied into her mouth.  He felt himself relax and settle back
into the chair.

The redhead looked at him for a second and then carefully wipe the drop of
semen from her shoulder onto her finger.  She looked at it carefully, turning
her finger in front of her face as if to catch this specimen in the right
light.  Then she put the finger in her mouth and sucked the come off it.  Her
hands rested in his lap and carefully put his semi-hard penis back into his
shorts.

Getting up off her knees while she picked up her shirt, she leaned on the edge
of the desk, standing in front of him.  She put the blouse over her shoulders
and smoothed down her skirt.  Carefully she arranged her breasts into the bra
cups and clasped it.  Then she buttoned the silk blouse, tucking the tails into
her skirt.  Her tights had bunched up from kneeling, so she pulled them up
under her skirt, and pulled her shirt taut.  Walking across the room she picked
up her sweater and tied it around her waist, and then walked to the office
door.

"You will tell herr professor that I have fulfilled the assignment?" she asked
as she unlocked the door.  David almost swore she was winking.

He sat there vulnerable; pants around his ankles in a strange office at a new
job after have the first tit-fuck of his life.  

"What assignment?" he asked.

"The one he left for me.  It is on the table, you will tell him it was good,
ja?"  Again the false accent.

She closed the door.  David pulled up his pants and arranged his clothes.  He
picked up the sheet from the desk and read it.

Rachel:
We must see what you have learned over the holidays.  When you come back you
must come over on the first afternoon.  You must wear only black-everything
must be black.  You are to come to my office and lock the door.  You will make
it hard, use your body, use your mouth, but make it hard.  Then strip to the
waist, not your skirt or pants, this is not for fucking.  You will use your
breasts to see if you have trained them over the holidays; that were your
assignment, this is the test.  And then you leave.
GD

The note did at least make clear what had happened, but it did not explain why
Rachel had followed the orders.  "GD" would be Gunter Duer.  But he was now
dead but obviously had some control over the redhead.  And the redhead now had
a name, Rachel, and she was gorgeous.

Reality hit David.  Time to get back, shower, change and drive to the farm for
drinks and a welcome dinner at the Duberry's.  It would be nice, but it
wouldn't compete with this first greeting to Montrose Women's College.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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