Switching it Up

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Meghan

The heavy cedarwood door of the meeting room resists but eventually yields under a fair degree of my bodyweight. That saying about minding the door doesn’t hit me on the ass on the way in springs to mind. If it did, perhaps it could project me airborne across the room some distance! Not the best image with which to introduce myself to the academic community of Greenville though, so I make sure I’m well clear of it as it closes. The smile is still on my lips from this silly thought as I make my way to the coffee machine. I knew I’d catch some looks this morning; the new blood is bound to attract some inquisitive attention. There’s a guy at the coffee machine filling a mug, he glanced up at me as I walked in. He’s just a little bit damn fine, at a glance. Broad shoulders, beautiful musculature, a strong and self-assured posture. I bet the ladies like him. He’s probably one of those self-obsessed jerks who trade heavily on their appearances and college football careers. I hope I’m wrong, but I’ll be cautious here, I think. Professional and strictly business with this one, but it can’t hurt to window shop him a little. That butt is a glorious hand-full. I’ll be sure to open the door for him in future. After you, please, sir.

He glances up as I share counter space with him, my quest for coffee pressing me to interact with him a little. As I glance at him, he does look like a Mr. Serious. His knitted brow and intent focus soften though as he feels my gaze upon him. My goodness, those eyes are breathtaking. I offer a simple “Good morning” and his friendly response is a comfort that quells the inklings of first-day nerves that have started to flutter in my stomach. His lips are full and round; he is a very attractive man. He seems a little awkward in his responses, but he’s welcoming and friendly. Not quite the arrogant jerk I was imagining, which is refreshing. As I lean past him to take the pot, I accidentally bump his left arm. He recoils but swiftly attempts to cover it up, forcing a smile and stifling a subtle gasp. The creases in his forehead seem to indicate he’s masking pain. I feel sorry for hurting him, but it was a pretty casual graze. He won’t acknowledge it though, so perhaps he has some sunburn or a new tattoo there.

It seems a little perverted to admit it, but as I leaned past him just now I shamelessly enjoyed the faint aroma of the scent he’s wearing. It’s a delicious little secret of a scent, Mr. Serious, all musky and rich and dark. In the right place and time and circumstances, Mr Serious, your presence and that heady scent could be intoxicatingly sexy, I think to myself. He is a very handsome man though, and I’m sure he’s well aware of his effect on the ladies.

He saunters off to his seat as I finish preparing my brew. As I stroll toward the conference table, I feel the eyes of a few of my peers follow me. The attention is unnerving enough that I run a hand over the curve of my buttock to feel for any telltale crease in the fabric. That unwelcome idea of my dress having become tucked up in my underwear plagues me. I reach down and gently tug the hem of my dress but feel no yield in the length of my skirt—it’s safe to say I haven’t had my knickers in a bunch just yet. I hope their glances are just healthy curiosity because I’m the new person.

There is a little space at one end of the conference table and I settle in amongst my peers, ready for the meeting to begin. I recognize a few faces—some of the staff were present at the induction day last week. It isn’t long before Professor Chamberlain arrives and begins his address. It’s a fairly stock-standard, predictable housekeeping session, opening the door toward what’s intended to be a productive and successful semester. Professor Chamberlain is a sage old soul, but sweet enough. Not a fraction of ill-intent is evident about him; he’s wise and friendly with a definite air of moral righteousness. He provides a welcome memory jolt for the orientation evening tomorrow night that had slipped my mind. But first I have two days of lectures with these new students to get through.

My mind wanders as the monotony of Prof. Chamberlain’s voice drones on well past what could be considered a reasonably concise address. My thoughts turn to my new students and their feelings as they set out on this first day of their college careers. Having some adult maturity on my first day is a definite plus, but my recollections of first day experiences as a student are still sharp in my mind. My role in setting up these students for academic success is a big responsibility, but I feel capable of it. First day does still unnerve me a little, but I know I’m not feeling a fraction of the anxiety that some of these kids are just now.

The completion of Professor Chamberlain’s address is appreciated. I’m impatient to get started on my first day and hastily make my way toward the door after the meeting is officially closed. Mr. Serious is immediately ahead of me and I can’t help but admire the view of that nice, round butt. He holds the door ajar and glances up to meet my eye as I reach the doorway. I smile and mouth a “thank you” before striding purposefully toward my classroom. Let’s get cracking!

***

Home certainly is a welcome sight this evening. It has been an epic first day. Not a bad day, but it is satisfying to ease off my heels and take off my skirt and blouse. I realize it’s probably considered slovenly, but I can’t be fussed with getting fully changed for dinner. My silk kimono feels lovely against my skin as it clings seductively around my curves, the waist tie holding it closed at the front, though it’s prone to drape shamelessly open at times. It’s hardly glamorous, yet I feel beautiful when I wear it. It’s perfect for when I’m alone at home. I ponder the thought of whether I’d ever feel comfortable enough with a partner to allow him to see that real side of my life, but dismiss the idea and make my way to the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

I’m barely hungry, probably due in part to being tired. Regardless, I make a quick and simple dinner and pour a half-glass of wine to enjoy with it as I catch the evening news. It’s a slow news day so my mind is doing most of the entertaining, rehashing the day’s events and the exchanges I had with my students. They are a great bunch; I’m really enthusiastic about our potential greatness here. I was able to promote my WAR class that’s scheduled for tomorrow, and I feel confident that the girls in particular see that my office door is open for them. The morning’s lectures had run to plan. Today was really about introducing the course and setting the ground rules, nothing too heavy.

My mind reaches back further into the day and hovers over this morning’s staff meeting. The reminder about orientation dinner jumps out in bold—I need to sort out an outfit for that, but I did mull it over a little during lunch. I must pull out my shortlisted garments after dinner and make a decision. I think I need to show some of my fun side, but also keep it a little classic. I have a perfect blue dress with a flared skirt and some matching heels. My concern is that it is a little sexy, and I’m wary of being seen as sexy in this setting. Especially by Mr. Serious. He’d be easy to fall for, I’m sure many girls have made that mistake. No sense inviting the wolf to the table.

Mrs. Davison introduced herself this afternoon and told me to watch out for him, apparently he’s a bit of a ladies’ man. Chris is his name, and it would seem that he isn’t held too high in her esteem. She came across as a bit matronly and overzealous, but I will be cautious around him. There’s no harm in looking though, and he is definitely easy to look at. The memory of his pillow-like lips flashes across my mind. They would be very kissable. It has been a long time since I last had a lover and just sitting here on the couch thinking about the visual appeal of Chris has started a warm sensation passing across my labia. I shut off the TV, frustrated with the lack of stimulation it’s offered me tonight, and I let my mind take care of this evening’s entertainment instead.

I picture him beside me here on the couch, drawing me close with his strong arms as I nestle into his collarbone. Those deep pools of chocolate eyes would have me magnetised under his sustained, intense gaze. I imagine the velvet softness of his lips as they graze almost mistakenly against my lower lip before I respond. I nuzzle at the nape of his neck, exploring him with tender kisses and then engulf his earlobe with my lips, gently suckling at the tender fold of soft-skinned flesh. His hair bristles from the chill as my breath blows over his skin. His strong arms manipulate my body to be pinned beneath him. He hungrily kisses me and bears his weight down on me, forcing my legs open to allow his hips to nestle within my thighs. Just thinking of feeling his contained hardness pressing against me is making my body ache with lust.

My goodness, I’d love to be grasping those beautiful buttocks as I pull him against me, tilting my pelvis to receive his dry-humping thrust. The muscles in my v****a are gently contracting; I can feel that there is a definite will on the part of my body to explore this fantasy a little further. I indulge myself a little and do a few Kegel flexes and feel the juice ebb from within me, pooling on the gusset of my panties as they cling statically to my v****a lips, a warm and moist and very sexy sensation.

Now Chris is tearing hungrily at my blouse, trying to liberate my breasts and flesh for his mouth and hands to explore. He manages to gain access to a n****e and the sensation of his touching and tasting has my back arched in ecstatic pleasure, moaning in appreciation. He struggles to retain his own ecstasy, returning to kiss my lips as he sneaks his left hand up behind my back, reaching for my scalp and grasping a handful of hair, pulling it firmly but gently as he tips my head back to expose the form of my trachea, kissing it with passion. My orgasm bubbles below the surface of my abdomen like a pot of pasta on the boil. He would feel so good against me right now, I’m so hungry to feel him inside me for real.

“Let me f**k you.” He is moaning. “I need to be inside you. Baby, I want you so much....... Please. Let me take your panties off. Come on, baby, I know you want it too”.

“I’m not ready for that,” I coyly respond. I’m totally ready, but even in my fantasy, it seems wrong to want it.

“Please, baby, let me lick you just a little? We don’t have to go all the way,” he offers. “I promise. I will stop if you ask.” He punctuates his comments with the most passionate, wet and sensuous kisses beneath my earlobes and on the nape of my neck. He seems to know I am absolutely c**k-hungry and fighting it with every ounce of my willpower. I’m clearly struggling to deny it any longer and he just needs to get across that line. Then he has me where he wants me.

“Oh... okay,” is all I can manage as I return to kissing his deliciously soft lips.

Chris stands and pulls me up, unbuttoning the remnants of blouse before unzipping my skirt and pushing it off my hips, exposing some black lace panties. He admires the view for a few moments before sliding them down over my stockinged legs, leaving me naked bar the stockings and heels. I undress his top half, freeing the deliciously manly chest he’s been containing beneath his clothing. He is magnificent. I can’t help but press my lips to his skin and kiss his beautiful body. He leans back and places my arms around his neck. He cups his hands around my buttocks, lifting me up to lower me onto the couch, pushing my knees apart, kneeling above me and kissing me deeply, passionately. He sinks down to kneel on the floor and tastes my c******s in the most incredible open-mouthed technique. I moan and squirm at the sensation. His fingers manipulate my labia expertly before he gently enters me with one finger.