I was an English major when I was in college. My particular focus of study was Victorian literature. I enjoyed it, I did well, and eventually I graduated with honors. I would spend almost every evening pouring over the delicious words of Oscar Wilde, Coleridge or Tennyson. Such linguistic genius! I studied hard and attracted the attention of my professors, who, when I was a senior, asked if I would help the department by tutoring some of the freshmen who were having difficulty with the introductory lit classes.
It was one afternoon in the lab that I was discussing Eco's theory of Semiotics with a grad student that I first noticed Lauren. She was standing just in front of my desk, waiting for my conversation to end, looking like she wanted to ask me a question. She was an attractive girl: a lithely build with small, graceful breasts underneath a round face with a tiny pert mouth and beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was a dark red, surely artificial, curly, and pulled back in a tight pony-tail.
I dismissed the graduate student, introduced myself to the stranger, and asked her how I could help her. She introduced herself as Lauren and said that she was having problems deciphering the language of Hamlet. She found Shakespeare's dialogue convoluted and difficult to understand.
I helped her as best I could. She leaned over my body as I pointed to different passages in the text, explaining that Shakespeare had to be read in the context of the iambic pentameter and that sentence structure had to be manipulated to conform to the organization of the line. Her tiny breasts brushed against my shoulder. I began to moisten between my legs as I wondered why she was standing so close to me.
I finished my explanation and turned to look at her. She smiled back at me. I was tingling all over when I said that if she had any more trouble, she could call me at my apartment. She got out a pen and wrote my phone number on the inside of the front cover.
That night I told my boyfriend, Clark, about my encounter with Lauren. He kidded me about my fascination with the girl. He was excited as well, as he always is when I talk to him of my attraction to other women.
It was after dinner when she called. I was reading, as usual. Clark was watching TV. Lauren asked if it would be all right to come over the next day; she was having problems and wanted my help. I responded by inviting her to dinner with Clark and myself. She agreed, but only if she could bring her boyfriend Bryant. I told her it was fine with me and gave her directions to my apartment.
The next evening at just before 7 p.m., Lauren and Bryant knocked on my door. I invited them in and we all sat down to eat. Clark and Bryant hit it off immediately: they were both big football fans and quickly began talking about this team and that, this player and that. After dinner, the two of them watched whatever was on ESPN while Lauren and I retreated to my bedroom with her books to study.
We closed the door behind us and sat down on the bed. Lauren pulled out her copy of Hamlet and the two of us began going through it passage by passage. I grew more and more aroused with her sitting next to me. Her scent was intoxicating, and it was all I could do not to fling the book to the floor and attack her. I found it hard to concentrate, the words on the page danced in front of my eyes, and my breath came in short shallow pants. I turned to look at her, to see if she understood the particular soliloquy we were discussing when I was caught by her eyes. I stopped talking mid-sentence and merely stared into the depth of the blue dots before me. She smiled, took the book off my lap and placed it on my nightstand. Then she moved forward to kiss me.
Our lips touched and fireworks exploded in my head. I was drunk with her; my mouth yielded to hers. Our lips parted and our tongues quickly found each other. She put her arms around me, drawing me closer to her body. My hands slipped around her waist and held her.
There was a brief rap at the door and Lauren and I quickly broke our embrace. We smoothed out our clothes and I called out, asking who was at the door. Clark said that it was him and I told him to come in. He opened the door upon what I hoped was a platonic image of myself and Lauren studying. He said he just wanted to check up on us and asked if we needed anything. I said we were OK. He nodded and bent over to kiss my ear. As he did, he whispered that my hair was a mess and that there was lipstick all over my face.
He stood back up, smiled at me and Lauren and returned to the front room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Lauren and I were in each other's arms, kissing passionately. I couldn't hold myself back, and I quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head. I wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. I groped at her breasts while I began kissing and licking her nipples. She sighed and lay back onto the bed, pulling me on top of her.
I undid her jeans and tossed them to the floor. I removed her underwear and threw them onto her crumpled jeans. Her long lean body lay on my bed, beautiful and inviting. She took my head in her hands and directed me to the soft downy hair between her legs. I kissed the top of her folds and spread her lips, pushing my tongue inside of her. As I pushed into her, her hands pulled tightly at my hair. It was though she was trying to pull my entire head inside of her. I kissed and kissed and kissed, moving from her entrance up to her hard almond-shaped clitoris. I pulled the tip into my mouth and gently bit it. I held it gently in my teeth and rubbed it vigorously with my tongue. Lauren began shuddering in orgasm. She held me tightly against her and came.
Lauren then released my hair. I looked up from between her thighs and smiled at her and invited her to a study session the next week. She looked down at me and agreed.