Kneel For Me

JESSICA I stare at the flyer on campus, willing myself to be brave enough to write down the information. I wanted to do something brave, I remind myself, and before I lose all courage, I scribble down the number listed and scurry away so I won’t be late for my next class. College isn’t at all what I thought it would be. I expected big parties and hot guys and a schedule so busy that I would barely have time to study. Instead, it’s pretty much like high school except I live in a dorm. I’m still keeping my head buried in books and too shy to do anything except mumble out some basic conversation to my roommate who’s usually not around anyway because there’s a girl who knows how to have some fun. Maybe a little too much, if I’m being honest. If I wake up one more time to the sounds of her f*****g her boyfriend from about four feet away, I’m going to seriously lose my s**t. It’s probably just jealousy. I mean, at least one of us is getting some c**k. I just really wish it was me. Being a virgin at nineteen isn’t the end of the world, but it sure feels that way when no one makes me want to spread my legs. When guys flirt with me, I just feel annoyed. I want a man, and all I see around me are boys who wouldn’t know how to pleasure a woman if she came with a diagram and how-to instructions. Judging by my roommate’s boyfriend, they also don’t last very long. I don’t want two minutes of mediocre f*****g. I want to have my world rocked. I want an out-of-body experience and to be so sore that I can barely walk afterward. I refuse to settle for anything less, and that’s why I’m alone and bored out of my goddamn mind. But all that ends today. I slip into my next class and try to focus on the lecture, but all I can think about is the number that’s burning a hole in my pocket. I’ve heard the art department here is pretty awesome. Not that I would know, I can barely draw a stick figure, but everyone knows they need real-life models to draw, and I’m going to volunteer to be one. If I’m going to try and put myself out there and meet someone, then what better way than to stand up naked in front of a bunch of strangers? Besides, I’ve heard that some of the art students are older, so maybe I’ll get lucky and snag myself a silver fox— some sexy, older man who’s decided to come back and get the degree in art he always wished he’d gotten. A girl can dream, right? As soon as class is over, I grab my phone and call the number I’m holding so tightly my fingers are cramping. The sexy, deep voice that answers isn’t at all what I’m expecting. “Um, hi,” I say, sounding like a complete i***t. “I’m calling about the flyer I saw on campus.” “Which flyer is that?” he asks, and I swear I can hear him smiling, almost like he’s teasing me and daring me to say it. “The one for a nude model.” I feel my face heat up in embarrassment even though no one can see me. “Have you ever done this before?” “No,” I say, letting out a small, nervous laugh. “Not at all.” “Perfect. Can you come in on Friday at seven?” “So late?” He lets out a deep laugh that suddenly has me squeezing my thighs together as warmth washes over me. What in the f**k? “Seven on a Friday is late? This should be an interesting time for you. What’s your name?” “Jessica,” I mumble, feeling stupider by the second. “I look forward to meeting you, Jessica. If you could show up a few minutes early, that would be great. It’ll give me a chance to walk you through everything.” “Sounds good. Oh, wait, what’s your name? I didn’t see it on the flyer.” “I’m Professor Reed,” he says, and his voice is so damn sexy I almost let out an honest-to-god moan over the phone. Luckily, I stop it in time and just settle on biting my lower lip and wondering what in the f**k is happening to me. “Thanks, Professor Reed. I’ll see you on Friday.” “Looking forward to it, Jessica,” he says before hanging up and leaving me in a pair of soaked panties and more frustration than I know what to do with. Time seems to slow down as the next two days drag by. All I can think about is the sexy, deep voice. I hear it playing in my mind, over and over again. When I’m finally walking out of my last class on Friday afternoon, I smile and rush back to my dorm. I want to shower before I stand naked in front of a room full of strangers, so I grab my shower caddy and slip into the bathroom. Once I’m silky smooth, I can’t resist running my hand over my bald p***y. It’s not the first time I’ve touched myself in the dorm bathrooms, but it is the first time with a very specific voice in my head. Usually, I just think of some random, vague, mystery man. He’s always older and sexy, and I imagine him taking control and popping my cherry and opening up this whole new world of s*x to me. This time when I slide my finger into my tight p***y, all I’m thinking about is Professor Reed. I hear his voice in my ear, telling me to c*m for him, and when I bring my soaked fingers to my clit and start to rub, I have to bite down on my forearm to keep from screaming as I c*m hard beneath the spray of water. I’m gasping and my legs are shaky by the time I start to come down.