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Professor Evans stood at his window, looking down on the students milling about below. It was shocking the way young girls dressed these days. Well, they were young women, he supposed, at least in law, but he could never think of anyone under 25 as a proper adult, certainly not given the way they behaved.

There was one now, with cut-off jeans transformed into something so short he could just about make out the southernmost coastline of her buttocks. Disgraceful. There were far too many of them like that. Even some of the girls who went in for gender studies. They took the liberty of declaring that they were entitled to dress as they pleased, but if you so much as glanced at them they shot you a dirty look back. What did they expect, when they dressed so provocatively?

He turned. The whole world was going mad; sex mad. On his desk was a padded brown envelope bearing witness to that. It had been sent to him at the university, delivered that lunch time; containing a small, plaster figurine of two lovers entwined, with an accompanying letter. Well, more of a note really. He placed the figurine to one side and the note in front of him. Then he tapped in digits on the phone, putting the thing on speaker.

That was another thing about the modern world. He really shouldn’t have to wait so long to be put through to the relevant officer. He watched as the hand on the clock on his wall shifted a full six minutes. Then a voice finally said, “PC Whippy speaking. How can I help you?”

It was a female voice. Dimly Professor Evans thought the name chimed well with his own ideas about how to treat miscreants, but he was too irate for the idea to hang around. “This is Professor Evans,” he said, as if the woman should know instantly who he was. “I’ve received an odd parcel through the post. I want something done about it.”

“Very good, sir,” PC Whippy said. “When you say odd, do you mean suspicious?”

“Suspicious?” Professor Evans said. “Odd, suspicious; what’s the difference?”

“Well, sir, under subsection 47 of the Unsolicited Mail Act…”

Professor Evans clicked his tongue impatiently. “Are you interested in my complaint, Constable?”

The woman took a deep breath. “Have you any reason to suspect that the contents are of an explosive nature?”

“What? No, no,” Professor Evans said, but he eyed the figurine suspiciously, as if there might be a tiny consignment of Semtex inside.

“Well that’s alright then. Saves us calling out the Bomb Squad, eh?”

Professor Evans felt his exasperation grow. Were the police populated by morons now on top of everything else? “Constable…” he said, trying to keep his anger in check.

“Could you please describe the parcel for me, sir?” PC Whippy said calmly.

That was more like it. “Well, it’s not so much a parcel as a padded envelope,” Professor Evans said. “It contained a small plaster figure and an accompanying note. I suppose it’s, er, the note that is the offensive item.”

“I see, sir. Would you care to enlighten me as to the wording of the note?”

Professor Evans cleared his throat, leaning forwards, wishing he didn’t have to read the thing out loud. “It says, ‘Dear recipient! A well-wisher has chosen you to receive this exceptional gift. Enclosed, you will find a special figurine. This figurine will enable you to experience your deepest sexual desires. All you have to do is kiss it, and recite the incantation below. After that, place the figurine in a prominent location and wait for your desires to be fulfilled. Enjoy!’”

He got the feeling the woman on the other end of the line was stifling a laugh. He was overcome with rage when she said, “Well, if I received an offer like that, I’d take it up in no time. I’ve got a date this Saturday. A thing like that’d be just the job.”

“PC Whippy!” Professor Evans exploded. “You’re an officer of the law, and I am a concerned citizen making a complaint!”

“Yes, sir,” the woman said, sounding suitably chastened. “Of course, sir. My apologies, sir.” She paused. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, it doesn’t sound a particularly threatening missive.”

“That’s hardly the point,” Professor Evans said.

“No, sir,” the woman said. “Well, according to subsection 84 of the Unsolicited Mail Act, you are of course entitled to make a formal complaint. Is it your desire to instigate proceedings against the sender, if found?”

Professor Evans hadn’t thought that far. It would be a hassle, of course it would. But the chances of the police actually finding the miscreant were probably so miniscule there wasn’t much chance of that, especially if PC Whippy’s intellectual level was anything to go by. “Of course,” he said.

“Then we are obliged to investigate, sir,” the woman said.

“Good.”

“I will be happy to call at your convenience to collect the offending items and satisfy the requirements of the Internal Data Collection Procedure.”

“What?”

“You have to fill out certain forms, sir.”

“I see. Well, I’m quite happy to do that.” He wasn’t. He was actually regretting this now, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself by backtracking. “I’ll be at home by six o’clock. Some time between six and seven would be convenient.” He didn’t want the police calling at the university.

He was expecting PC Whippy to say something about that being outside of office hours, but all she said was, “Very well, sir. If you’d just give me your address…”

Once the conversation was over, Professor Evans leaned back in his chair. The world was indeed mad, he decided. The effrontery of the woman, this PC Whippy; he should lodge a complaint against her too. Suggesting that he should actually be happy to receive this obscene gesture with that silly quip about having a date on Saturday.

That reminded him that he himself had a date coming up on Saturday. No, not a date. He didn’t go on dates. He hadn’t done anything that could remotely be construed as a date since his wife had died in that tragic accident six years ago that he didn’t like to think about. But just recently he had begun to have certain feelings for that nice woman in administration, Tess. Unlike the students, as far as he could make out she was a model of diligence and modesty (though the fact that she was divorced was something of a black mark against her). He was at a loss to explain why he’d suddenly come to experience these feelings. Perhaps his grief had finally abated enough.

He had some vague idea that Tess might be interested in him; he didn’t know why. He’d remembered her expressing an interest in Arts and Crafts at some point in the past, and there was a new exhibition opening that he was keen to visit himself. When he’d asked if she would like to accompany him the following weekend, he’d at first thought that he’d made a mistake. The poor woman looked as if she was going to faint, and she just whispered, “No, no, I can’t!” He’d already turned away, feeling slightly disappointed, when she’d said, “But the weekend after that… It’s my hus… My ex-husband’s weekend with the children… If you… I’d like to… Thank you, Professor Evans.”

He was slightly nervous about it now, but he couldn’t think why. They’d just be two adults sharing a mutual interest. Could there be anything more innocent? But there were occasions when the prospect of Saturday made him as giddy as a schoolboy. He suddenly realised he was just sitting, in some kind of revelry. He’d been doing paperwork, which of course these days meant grappling with arcane computer functions. He couldn’t remember when he’d last done any paperwork that actually involved paper. And perhaps because it was all so dull and exasperating, his mind had wandered, to Saturday. He was hardly conscious of what he was thinking or doing, but he heard PC Whippy’s voice at the back of his head. He was thinking of Tess as his hand reached out for the figurine. He found himself mumbling the words at the bottom of the sheet that had come with the figure.

Then he came to properly, putting the figurine down with a bang, feeling a fool for doing what he’d just done. Nothing like that would happen on Saturday; nor should it. They would be two adults sharing a mutual interest; that was all. He couldn’t wait for this evening, so that he could deliver the figurine into the safe hands of the constabulary, who would obviously not do much about it, but at least he would have the satisfaction of having done something.

He forced himself to work conscientiously for another hour. By then it was four o’clock, and he decided he might as well go home and await the arrival of the impudent police constable. But before packing his things together, he would need to empty his bladder, which was rather full.

There wasn’t much activity in the building now, and Professor Evans only saw one other person as he marched down the corridor to the staff lavatories. It so happened that his one concession to rebelliousness was to use the disabled toilet, which was much larger than the others. It hardly mattered that he did, since no disabled person worked in the department. Of course these days people said differently-abled, he recalled, scowling at the thought of all those neologisms that threatened to ruin the English language; quite aside from it hardly being the toilet that was differently-abled. He’d once heard a colleague call it the accessible toilet and pointed out rather rudely that technically speaking, all unlocked toilets were accessible to most people, and that it was wrong to define a thing from the point of view of a small minority of the population. His viewpoint had been received with a heavy sigh.

It was when he had done his business, washed and dried his hands and pulled down on the door handle that he was rendered momentarily paralysed from shock. The door was pushed open from outside, propelling the Professor backwards. Four girls, he supposed they were students, were forcing their way in. The door was banged shut and locked again, a big-boned girl blocking it. She had on black tights, which were ripped in several places, a full, plump face, a shock of blue dye running through hair otherwise coloured white, and bits of metal fixed to her skin in seemingly random places.

“This is outrageous!” Professor Evans exclaimed, feeling himself go red in the face. “Stand aside, young lady!”

The girls giggled. He turned, glaring at the other three. One of them was the girl in the cut-offs he’d spied from the window earlier. Another was wearing those glossy leggings that seemed to be going out of style, and a top that couldn’t have done less to conceal her bra if it had tried. The remaining girl was at least properly covered up top with a jumper of some sort, but it was so tight it showed off an enormous bosom to full effect, while her legs were clad in black nylon disappearing under a pleated skirt of no great length.

“This is highly inappropriate!” Professor Evans tried again.

“Inappropriate!” Metal Girl said scornfully. He turned to look at her. She was glaring at him. “Like the way you look at us isn’t inappropriate!”

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Doncha? Doncha think we see how you look at us?”

Professor Evans decided this was unfair. He tried hard not to. “Stand aside!” he barked.

The girl smirked. “You wanna look, Professor Evans?” She was pulling up her skirt. Her nylons were ripped right the way up to her crotch. Skirt round her waist she pulled tights and knickers half way down her thighs. “Is this what you wanna see, Pervy Evans.”

“Stop this at once!” Professor Evans said.

The other girls giggled. “That’s what all the girls call you,” Buttocks Girl said. “Pervy Evans.”

He turned briefly to view their mischievous faces, but Metal Girl was moving her hand. She rubbed it against her crotch. Professor Evans noticed she even had metal there, rings in her… her labia. “Take a good look, Pervy Evans,” the girl said. “Take a good look at my cunt. It’s what you’ve wanted to see, isn’t it? Like it, do you? Turn you on looking at my cunt, does it?”

Her fingers moved, her labia creasing under her touch, shape-shifting. The others giggled as one of Metal Girl’s fingers disappeared.

“Now look here,” Professor Evans said. “This isn’t right.”

“No?” the girl said. “Well nor is the way you look at us, like you want to feel us up.” As she spoke, she added a second finger to the first, arching her body and more or less thrusting her naked, finger-filled sex at him. “Shall I frig myself for you, Pervy Evans? Will that turn you on, make you big and hard?”

‘Of course not!’ Professor Evans wanted to say, but obscurely he felt that would be rude, even to this… bizarre creature.

“Are you big and hard?” Metal Girl persisted. “Does it make your cock big watching me touch my cunt?”

There seemed to be only one way out of this, however much it hurt, Professor Evans had to backpedal. “Look, I apologise if I’ve offended you in any…”

Metal Girl sneered. “Answer the question! Are you big and hard now that you’re looking at my cunt, Pervy Evans?”

“I’m certainly not going to…”

“Well then we’ll just have to find out for ourselves,” Metal Girl said, fingers sliding out to flick at the metal attached to her thick, puffy netherlips.

“What?” Professor Evans said.

He had no time to move, and in any case nowhere to go when Buttocks Girl stepped forward and placed her hand on his crotch.

“Well?” Metal Girl said. “Is he big and hard?”

“Getting there,” Buttock Girl said, clenching her fingers.

This was a lie. The shock and the situation had not been conducive to an erection, but with the girl’s fingers flexing against his cock through trousers and underpants, something began to happen. It was shameful, and Professor Evans tried hard to make his member shrink again. He failed dismally, his organ swelling in direct proportion to his attempts to keep it down.

Buttocks Girl giggled. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said, rubbing her hand over the front of Professor Evans’ trousers.

“Good!” Metal Girl said, digging two fingers back into herself. “Wanna show us your cock, Pervy Evans? Get it out! Show us it!”

“Look, this is totally…”

“Get his knob out!” Metal Girl barked.

“But… but…” Professor Evans stuttered.

But Buttocks Girl was already unzipping him, and words suddenly failed him as Leggings Girl and Big Breast girl shot him amused and sadistic looks. He was amazed at the ease with which Buttocks Girls managed to find his member and bring it out. She moved to one side, still holding him, her hand moving slowly back and forth.

“Ooooh!” Metal Girl said mockingly, moving her own hand, sliding the two fingers back and forth inside herself. “Should I be flattered, Pervy Evans? Or are you just hoping one of the others will suck your cock while you watch me bring myself off?”

The vulgarity was astounding, but Professor Evans couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. This was against every code in the book, yet here he stood as Metal Girl manipulated herself and Buttocks Girl stimulated him.

“You’re the blow-job expert here,” Metal Girl was saying, looking at Buttocks Girl. “What do you reckon? Fancy sucking Pervy Evans’ knob?”

“I dunno,” Buttocks Girl said. “I haven’t decided yet.”

They were deliberately humiliating him, Professor Evans decided. But somehow he felt completely powerless, not knowing what to do, short of manhandling Metal Girl out of the way with brute force, but that carried its own risks.

Now Big Breast girl was lifting her skirt. The nylon turned out to be stockings. Her knickers were of a blue, pastel shade, and she quickly pulled them to one side, lifting one foot and placing it on the metal bin designed for sanitary items. Now she too drew her hand across her sex, her fingers pressing hard against her labia. “Please suck it!” she said. “It would be such a turn on!”

“I dunno,” Buttocks girl repeated, her hand still moving slowly before she let go. She turned around and bent over a little. Professor Evans saw her as he’d seen her before, the shorts so high they revealed tiny slices of buttock.

She backed up, the denim touching the stiff cock. Professor Evans backed away instinctively. Buttocks Girl backed up, still bent over. Again denim touched cock. Professor Evans retreated some more, the girl following, the others giggling.

Suddenly he was backed into the corner, Buttocks Girl wriggling her bottom, then backing onto him to crush her round cheeks against his cock. Metal Girl and Big Breast Girl were watching with eager glee, their hands moving against their own crotches.

Leggings Girl now pulled the revealing top away and swiftly extracted her breasts from a pink, lace bra. Placing her hands on her mounds, she fondled them, then she tilted her head forward, pushing one of the breasts up, extending her tongue and sliding it over her own nipple. “Do you like my tits?” Pervy Evans, she asked. “Do you want to taste my nipples. Do you want to make them really hard?”

“This… This…,” Professor Evans stuttered, but the words failed to emerge. Buttocks Girl was grinding her denim bottom against him. He hated the way he couldn’t control his genitals. He should exert his authority right now and have these girls expelled.

“Or do you want to taste pussy, Pervy Evans?” Big Breast Girl said. She slid two fingers into herself, bringing them out and holding them up. “Do you want to feel the taste of my hot pussy?”

He drew in breath sharply. Big Breast Girl moved across to where Buttocks Girl was still moving against him. She leered, her fingers appearing just beneath his nostrils. The scent was strong, to Professor Evans like that of some wild, sexual, predatory Amazon. “Smell my pussy!” the girl said. Then she moved her fingers away, shifting her legs a little to push them back up inside herself. “Do you like the smell, Pervy Evans? Do you want a taste?”

Professor Evans shook his head. He mustn’t agree to anything, mustn’t. “Suit yourself,” the girl said. Then her hand came up, and her fingers were sliding across his mouth, leaving a smear of her arousal on him.

He tried to steel himself, to reassert himself. He failed dismally. Metal Girl was staring at him with evident contempt, her fingers moving steadily in her pussy. “Maybe he wants to fuck you,” she said to Buttocks Girl.

Buttocks Girl giggled and moved away. Leggings Girl moved up to him, lowering herself so that she could wrap her breasts around his throbbing member. He felt suddenly completely powerless. Buttocks Girl was unzipping her shorts. Big Breast Girl moved her fingers inside herself again. As Leggings Girl crushed her breasts around his member and Buttocks Girl stripped out of her shorts, Big Breast Girl once again smeared secretion on his face.

It was unacceptable, inappropriate, all kinds of wrong, but Professor Evans still couldn’t find it in himself to put up any resistance as Leggings Girl moved away and Buttocks Girl moved in, facing him this time. She was wearing a minimal piece of cloth, a thong. She grabbed his organ, pulling the thong away with the other hand and guiding the stiff rod in between the flimsy material and her pubes. “I love the feel of a stiff cock against my shaved pussy,” she told him. “Even if it is a pervert’s cock.”

“I reckon Pervy Evans is the type to go for shaved pussy,” Metal Girl said, her fingers still working. She hardly had a full growth herself.

“Is that true?” Buttocks Girl cooed, the fingers of one hand stroking his cheek while those on the other stroked his hardness through the gauzy fabric. “Please say it is? It would be such a turn on. I might even let you fuck me if you told me you liked my shaved pussy.”

“How about that, Pervy Evans?” Metal Girl said. “She’s practically gagging for it. Don’t you want to fuck her? Fuck tight, shaved, student pussy. Isn’t that what you want, Pervy Evans?”

Of course it wasn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter a word. “Perhaps he’s still waiting for that blow job,” Big Breast Girl said. “I certainly am.” Her fingers were moving inside her still. “I might even cum if I could see that.”

Buttocks Girl giggled. Then she lowered her body, the cock coming out of her panties as she once again grabbed it with her hand, pulling the foreskin back. Her mouth was right up close to the bulging head. “I’m still not sure,” she said.

The full conflict tore at Professor Evans; the knowledge of how inappropriate and unethical it would be against the sudden promise of the girl’s mouth. He could hardly breathe. Her tongue came out, just about touching his erection, which twitched worryingly.

“How about it, Pervy Evans?” Metal Girl said. “You want her to suck your cock?”

He shook his head. It was the right thing to do.

Metal Girl sneered. Big Breast Girl pouted. “Please!” she said to Buttocks Girl. “Please do it anyway! I want to see it!”

Leggings Girl was pinching one of her hard, swollen nipples. The other hand went between her legs, rubbing vigorously. “Please!” she said. “I want to see it to.”

“If he doesn’t want his cock sucked, maybe we should just sit on his face, all of us,” Metal Girl said. “Maybe that’s Pervy Evans’ thing, face-sitting!”

Buttocks Girl was getting up, her hand still on Professor Evan’s cock. “Ah, shit!” she said. “If he doesn’t want it sucked, what’s the point? But I’m getting horny standing here with a dick in my hand.” She leaned in, pressing her lips against his cheek. “I need my pussy seen to!” she whispered. “By a big hard cock! You want to give me that, Pervy Evans?”

Again he shook his head.

“Too bad,” the girl said, moving back a step and releasing her grip on his cock. Instead she planted her feet far enough apart for her to be able to pull the thin strip of material to one side and push two fingers up inside herself. She gave an exaggerated moan as Big Breast Girl attended Professor Evans’ other flank.

The two of them stood there, both of them fingering themselves. “Why won’t you let one of us suck your cock?” Big Breast Girl complained. “Why don’t you want to fuck us? We’re so horny! We could do with a stiff, real man’s cock!”

She glanced at Buttocks Girl, and the two of them pulled their fingers out to smear his face with their juices. As they did so, Leggings Girl positioned herself in front of him, lowering her body and gripping his cock. Her lips grazed the head of his cock as she said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to suck you, Pervy Evans?”

“Qu-quite sure,” Professor Evans managed to stutter.

“Too bad,” Leggings Girl said, “because I haven’t eaten for a while, and I’m really hungry.”

The others laughed at that. Leggings Girl began moving her hand, working Professor Evans’ shaft quite fast. The girls on either side of him were masturbating again, but his attention was diverted by the sound from the door. Metal Girl was working her fingers inside herself too, and the noise that was being made was entirely appropriate for this swamp Professor Evans found himself in.

Leggings Girl and Big Breast Girl began stroking their juice-coated fingers over his cheeks again. “Why won’t you fuck us, Pervy Evans?” Big Breast Girl said. “Don’t you find us attractive?”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to deny a girl what she needs?” Buttocks Girl said. “And I really need a hard cock in me!”

Obscene little tarts, Professor Evans thought. But it was hard for him to deny that his member was reacting to the way Leggings Girl was tugging on it. She was fondling her breasts with her free hand, making sure her nipples protruded as she rubbed the head of his member over them.

“Please fuck us!” Buttocks Girl pleaded.

“We’re women in need,” Big Breast Girl told him.

Their fingers once again moved across his face. Leggings Girl rubbed him hard, making sure hard cock and soft breast were in contact as much as possible.

“I want that cock in me!” Buttocks Girl breathed, pushing her fingers back inside herself.

“Me too!” Big Breast Girl said, doing the same.

“Are you sure you don’t want to fuck them, Pervy Evans?” Leggings Girl asked, tugging on him as she moved his helmet all across her breasts. “Get your stiff cock inside their tight pussies?”

“Aaaaarrrrghhhhh!” Metal Girl cried suddenly. “Ahhhh shit!” Then she sounded like she was hyperventilating.

Professor Evans turned to look at her just in time to see a fountain of liquid shoot from her sex. He’d never seen anything like it, certainly not the way the girl slapped her pussy before another spurt shot out. “Aaaarrrgghhhh!” she cried again, sounding as if she was running out of breath.

The sight and sound transmitted itself to Professor Evans’ own sex organ before he even knew what was happening.

“Oh Pervy Evans!” Leggings Girl cried.

He looked down to see his own seed dribbling, bubbling onto Leggings Girl’s breasts. “That’s so hot!” Big Breast Girl said as Leggings Girl rubbed and tugged; rubbed and tugged until Professor Evans thought his organ was going to come off. Then she used both hands to massage the ejaculate into her skin, the girls on either side of him wiping their gooey fingers across the Professor’s face one last time.

He sank to his haunches, covering his face with his hands. There was no way of grasping what had just happened. He heard the girls laugh and giggle. There was rustling, and then the door was unlocked and opened. Not even a parting shot met his ears as they left.

He rose, dread coursing through him. He closed the door and locked it before cleaning himself off carefully. This had to be a set-up, didn’t it? He couldn’t think of any other reason for what had just happened.

Making his way back to the office, he tried to get things into perspective. He ought by rights to report the girls, have them expelled, but the way things were these days it was obviously he who would be in the firing line. The women were always deemed to be right, weren’t they? Young, vulnerable female students, as the jargon went. Who’d believe they’d assaulted him? And, well, there was plenty of his DNA on that one girl, too, wasn’t there?

There was a knock at the open door. He looked up to see a young woman with Asian features in professional attire.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

The woman smiled at him. “I’m from Customer Services,” she said.

Professor Evans screwed up his face. It made no sense to him. Was everybody completely insane today? “What?”

“I’m calling to enquire if everything is to your satisfaction,” she said, gesturing towards the figurine, which was still standing on his desk. “We take pride in…”

“You mean you’re responsible for sending that… that… thing!” Professor Evans exploded.

“Not me personally,” the woman replied. “My job is simply to…”

“You haven’t heard the last of this!” Professor Evans told her.

The woman raised a calm eyebrow. “I sense a certain hostility,” she said.

“Are you surprised? Let me tell you something…”

“No,” the woman said, her voice carrying surprising authority. “Let me give you a word of advice, Professor Evans. Secret desires that are buried as deeply as yours cause their own problems. Secret desires combined with an extraordinary level of guilt…” She shrugged. “Everything that happens is just a physical manifestation of the mess that’s in your own head.”

“Don’t give me that pseudo-psychological American drivel!” Professor Evans barked. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

“Goodbye, Professor Evans,” the woman said. “I hope you’re more accepting of the rest of your experience.” She turned and walked away.

The rest of his experience? What was that supposed to mean? Professor Evans strode from his office, giving chase, but the woman seemed to have disappeared into thin air. It felt like the world was crumbling in on itself. Back in his office he stuffed the note and the figurine back in the envelope, placing them in his briefcase, hardly caring if he forgot anything else before striding out of his office to go home and await the presumably wholly inept PC Whippy.

He allowed himself one glass of Scotch at home, while waiting for the arrival of the constabulary; pouring another, but not touching it. He was still angry, but also puzzled. With a little distance to events it seemed to him that the Asian woman had intimated that the business with the four students in the disabled toilet had something to do with the figurine. He certainly wasn’t going to discuss that incident with PC Whippy, not least because he was still very much afraid it would come back to haunt him, in spite of himself being the victim. The Asian woman seemed to have intimated that it had happened because it was in his head, but that was obviously arrant piffle. However the girls had taunted him, he wasn’t a pervert. Maybe he did look occasionally, but the way these young women dressed, what did they expect? It wasn’t as if he’d ever dream of molesting them in any way.

The doorbell rang at the stroke of six. Professor Evans was surprised. He hadn’t expected PC Whippy to be so swift or punctual. He was astonished to open the door and find, not the constabulary as expected, but Anthea… for the moment he forgot what her surname was… who came to his lectures and took notes assiduously, but who he couldn’t remember ever saying a word, though he thought she must have done at some point.

Now she spoke. “Good Evening, Professor Evans? May I come in?” She sounded nervous.

“Is it important?” Professor Evans asked. “Only there’s a…”

Anthea had already moved past him, leaving behind a faint trace smell of some kind of alcohol. He frowned. He wouldn’t have expected that of such a nice girl.

Having closed the door, he went to find her. She was in the lounge, where his Scotch stood, along with the figurine, which he had stood on the table on top of the padded envelope, in readiness for PC Whippy. “That’s nice,” Anthea said, pointing to it.

“Erm, Anthea. What can I do for you?” Professor Evans said, wondering how to get rid of her before PC Whippy arrived. Although she probably only wanted to consult him on some academic matter, after the events of the afternoon, he was in no mood for anything that might be misconstrued.

“A drink would be nice,” Anthea said shyly. It didn’t escape Professor Evans that she was staring at his glass of Scotch, but he was damned if he was going to ply a young female student with alcohol.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” he decided pointedly. He was busy pouring it in the kitchen when the doorbell rang again.

The door to the kitchen was the closest one to the front door. Professor Evans contemplated briefly asking Anthea to wait elsewhere for the duration of PC Whippy’s visit, but his needs were small and so was his abode. There wasn’t really anywhere else. Perhaps he should put PC Whippy off? But why? Anthea’s visit was obviously completely innocent. He opened the front door, seeing the uniformed officer of the law outside, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

“Professor Evans,” he said, putting his hand out.

“PC Whippy,” the woman said, pushing past him without bothering to shake his hand. Professor Evans sighed heavily at this flagrant breach of manners, slammed the door shut and followed the woman who was making for the lounge, completely uninvited.

He stopped dead in the doorway as a cold hand clutched at his heart. Anthea was sitting bare-breasted in the one armchair, legs crossed, the now empty tumbler in her hand, smiling sweetly. PC Whippy looked from Anthea to Professor Evans, then back to Anthea and once again at Professor Evans. “Would you care to explain, sir?”

Considering the events of the afternoon, there could only be one explanation. “I’m being set up!” he blustered.

“Yes, sir,” PC Whippy said. “That’s what they all say, sir.”

“But… But…,” Professor Evans stuttered. “It’s true! Anthea showed up completely uninvited!”

“I’m sure she did, sir,” PC Whippy said, voice dripping with the kind of sarcasm that only comes with extended police training. Then, peering at Anthea, who was looking unnecessarily intrigued, “She looks very young, sir.”

That, Professor Evans decided, was something they certainly couldn’t pin on him. “She’s an adult,” he stated, though he found it hard to regard her as properly grown up.

“I’m sure she is, sir,” PC Whippy responded. “But girls these days, you can’t really tell, can you?” She turned to Anthea again. “Have you got any means of identification, dear?”

Anthea shook her head. Before his eyes, Professor Evans saw his whole life being flushed down the toilet. He would almost certainly be taken down the station and cautioned, subjected to questioning. There was no way his career could survive this. And if those wretched girls from this afternoon… It didn’t bear thinking about.

He caught the girl looking at him shyly, but also beseechingly. What was he supposed to do, he wondered? “I’m sorry if I’ve got you into trouble, Professor Evans,” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”

A straw of hope presented it, and Professor Evans made to grasp it. “It’s all right, Anthea,” he said as calmly as he could. “Just tell the nice police officer how it really is.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” PC Whippy said. “It’s obvious that you hold a position of authority in relation to this young woman. You do understand that we can’t just accept what she says in circumstances such as these?”

Professor Evans felt his heart sink again. This was bad, really bad. He came to a little when PC Whippy produced a pair of white gloves from her pocket. The latex snapped loudly as she pulled them on. “Now, sir, I’m obliged to ask you to drop your trousers and underpants, sir.”

“What?” he exclaimed, suddenly regaining his old sense of indignation. “This is outrageous.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” PC Whippy said calmly. “But you must understand that as an officer present at a suspected crime scene, I am obliged to investigate.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Professor Evans shot back. “I called you, remember? To report a suspected crime. You really don’t think I’m stupid enough to allow myself to be caught in flagrante, as it were at the exact time I’ve agreed with you?”

“That’s not for me to say, sir,” PC Whippy replied. “But I am obliged to check for evidence of sexual activity.”

That made Professor Evans go hot all over. The memory of what had happened in the disabled toilet flooded over him. Of course there were signs of sexual activity, there must be, however minute.

He tried to calm himself. “Well this is awkward,” he said.

“Why’s that, sir?”

“Well, I… erm… I’m involved in an affair,” he lied. “At work. A married woman. This afternoon, we… I’m sure you understand, Constable.”

PC Whippy gave him the kind of look that said she didn’t understand at all, and indeed thought he was a big fat liar. Then she turned to Anthea. “I’m sorry to have to ask this of you, miss, but if the Professor can’t be examined, I’m going to have to ask you to remove the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” Professor Evans exclaimed. “You can’t do that! It’s… It’s…”

But Anthea was already wrestling her skirt and leggings off, with indecent haste for such a shy girl.

“I’m sorry, sir,” PC Whippy said. “But if it’s pointless examining you, then I need to examine the girl. It’s standard procedure.” She turned to Anthea. “If you’ll just lean back and spread your legs, dear.”

Anthea complied instantly. Professor Evans made a conscious effort to look away. It felt as if his head was about to explode. To be sure he had no real knowledge of police procedure, but he felt sure this was wrong; very wrong.

PC Whippy was moving across to Anthea, and now Professor Evans couldn’t help but look. “Open your mouth dear,” the Constable said, before leaning in. She put her face up close to the girl and sniffed. “Well, there’s no scent of semen on your breath, but the alcohol could have obliterated that. Stick your tongue out.“ Anthea complied. PC Whippy seemed to be examining the tongue closely, then she used her white, gloved fingers to force the girl’s mouth open a little more, until she seemed satisfied. “No sign of semen in mouth,” she decided. Then looking down the girl’s body, “No visible signs of semen on body.”

“Well that settles it then, doesn’t it?” Professor Evans said.

“Not so fast,” PC Whippy said, sinking to her haunches. Professor Evans watched in amazement as she pulled the girl’s labia apart, leaning in to peer inside, sniffing. Then she slid her gloved fingers inside, making a scooping motion. Pulling them out, she said, “Well, no signs of semen, but from the smell of you, Anthea, I’d say you were a very horny girl indeed.”

Suddenly Professor Evans felt like even more of a fool than hitherto. Something snapped into place in his head. “It’s a felony to go about impersonating a police officer,” he blustered. “Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but you’re not a real police officer, are you?”

“That depends how you look at it, sir,” PC Whippy replied.

“Depends how you look at it?” Professor Evans said. “Look, either you are a police officer or you aren’t. And if you aren’t, you’re impersonating one. It seems crystal clear to me.”

Now Anthea was on her feet. She walked towards him with coy eyes full of hunger. “Please don’t make a scene, Professor,” she said. Somehow she managed to take his hand and place it on one of her smooth, pale breasts.

“If we were in the Normal World,” PC Whippy said, “I’d be committing a felony, but we’re not in the Normal World.”

This made no sense to Professor Evans. “Then what world are we in?” he sneered sarcastically, moving his hand away from Anthea.

“A world you yourself have created, sir,” PC Whippy replied.

“Don’t give me that American new age psycho-twaddle!” Professor Evans blustered.

Undaunted, PC Whippy said, “Now, sir, while I can’t possibly approve of such a thing, I think it would be very embarrassing for young Anthea if she put herself to all this trouble and found the object of her desire unforthcoming.”

Professor Evans stared at her open-mouthed, hardly believing what he was hearing. “First you suspect me of… of… trying to seduce someone of indeterminate age. Then the next thing you’re suggesting I… I…”

Suddenly young Anthea was taking his hand again. “Please don’t be like this, Professor Evans. We’re both adults.”

“You’re just a girl,” Professor Evans said, before he could stop himself.

Anthea made an exaggerated pout, but said nothing. Instead she took his hand, making sure his fingers and her pubes met.

“It’s unethical,” Professor Evans tried.

“It may be unethical, sir,” PC Whippy broke in, “but there’s also subsection 13 of the Randy old Goats Act 1972 to consider.”

“What are you talking about?” Professor Evans said, snatching his hand away.

“If you do not comply with the young woman’s wishes, I may have to haul you down the station in handcuffs.”

“Down the station!” Professor exclaimed. “You’re not even a real police officer.”

“Would you like to put that to the test, sir?”

This was absolutely and unfathomably insane. “Are you telling me that you will place me under arrest for not behaving in an unethical way with a student?”

“No, sir. But I might just place you under arrest for denying this young woman what she came for.”

Professor Evans didn’t know what to say. There was no way of understanding what was going on in this surreal situation. To make matters worse, Anthea had gone down on her knees and was fiddling with his flies. He went to push her hands away, but PC Whippy was there, grabbing his arms, pulling them back behind his back.

“Don’t make me cuff you, sir.”

That was the last thing Professor Evans wanted. He stood there, unable to think what to do about this, his arms held by PC Whippy while Anthea found what she was looking for. He was even more alarmed when the girl decided to unbuckle his belt, letting his trousers drop to the floor, before making sure his underpants went the same way.

He was thankfully still limp. He had no desire to repeat events in the disabled toilet. The trouble was that the moment Anthea’s soft tongue touched his organ, it began to expand.

“You taste ever so nice, Professor Evans,” the girl told him, looking up shyly. Then she cupped his balls, and made sure his entire cock made it into her mouth. That was it. The thing grew, and to Professor Evans’ amazement, Anthea made no attempt to let any of it out, keeping the full growth in her mouth.

“Mmmmm,” she purred, her tongue slithering all over his hard shaft. Then she began sucking proper, bobbing her head, her lips gripping the cock as she slurped loudly. “Mmmmmm!”

“Not so bad after all, is it, sir?” PC Whippy said.

Professor Evans wasn’t going to answer that. It was the second time in a few hours that a girl less than half his age had shown an interest in his genitals. He imagined plenty of men longed for this. Maybe he’d had the odd thought himself, quickly discarding it, knowing it just wasn’t done.

“Getting to enjoy that, aren’t you?” PC Whippy said, as if she could read his mind. “Don’t worry, Anthea here won’t tell. She has a thing for older men, and she can keep a secret. Isn’t that so, Anthea?”

Anthea lifted her head, staring straight up at Professor Evans. “She’s right, Professor. I can keep a secret and I like older men. I’ve been fucked by lots of older married men, and I never say a word about it to anyone. Do you want to fuck me, Professor Evans?”

He looked down in shock at the girl’s beseeching eyes. “You mustn’t say such things,” he said.

“Why not?” she said. “It’s true.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “I hope you want to fuck me, Professor. I want you to fuck me.”

She let the tip of her tongue work its way round the underside of his helmet. “Maybe if I suck you some more,” she murmured as if to herself. But she didn’t, not at first. Instead she wriggled her tongue underneath the head before kissing her way up and down the shaft. When her lips finally did engulf him again, Professor Evans didn’t know how to resist any longer. There were all kinds of things wrong with this situation, but the seductive warmth and sheer bliss of Anthea’s mouth zapped him of all his moral fibre.

In spite of that, he made one last attempt. “Anthea, this isn’t quite… I’m sure an intelligent girl like you understands…” Anthea simply looked up at him and smiled.

“Anthea,” PC Whippy said. “Why don’t you go and sit in the armchair and show Professor Evans how keen you are for him to fuck you.”

Professor Evans still couldn’t believe his ears. Anthea released his cock and made her way to the armchair. Already Professor Evans was missing her touch.

The girl sat down in the armchair. The girl spread her legs. The girl rested her ankles on the armrests. The girl used deft fingers to open herself wide for him. He stared open mouthed. There she was, offering herself up to him like some cheap tart.

“I’m so wet,” she breathed, sliding her two index fingers inside her tunnel. “I’m so horny. I need to be fucked. I need you to fuck me, Professor.”

In some way this was exactly what Professor Evans expected of young girls these days, just not one as seemingly nice and demure as Anthea.

“Go on, sir,” PC Whippy said, releasing his arms and giving him a little push. “Go over there and feel how wet she is.”

As if in a dream, Professor Evans made his way towards the waiting girl in the armchair. Trembling fingers soon discovered that the girl was indeed turned on, and he didn’t even have to do much with them. Anthea let him touch her wet pussy with one hand, while taking the other and moving it to her breast, a small bullet nipple pushing into the palm of his hand.

PC Whippy was behind him, giving him a little push. “I’m not saying I approve,” she said, “but I think you should get on top of her!”

Professor Evans half-turned. PC Whippy applied more pressure to his back. Anthea looked at him with beseeching eyes. “You don’t have to get me turned on, Professor. You can feel how wet I am, how turned on I am already. I want you, Professor. Fuck me now! Please fuck me now!”

He took the hand from her pussy and placed it over her mouth. “You mustn’t say such things, Anthea,” he said. But he was over her now, his cock head pushing at her moist opening. Somehow it seemed to him as if her pussy sucked his cock into it. He was deep inside her. Instinctively he began to move, but it didn’t feel as if he was moving at all. The girl’s vagina seemed to tighten, as if holding him captive. It felt as if he wasn’t moving himself, as if the girl’s vagina was sucking him in and releasing its grip all by itself.

He heard PC Whippy behind him, but hardly cared what she was doing. Not until he felt the strangest sensation ever. A combination of oil and rubber searching for his anus. He half-turned. “What are you doing?” His cock pulled back, almost exiting Anthea.

He couldn’t be sure if it was PC Whippy pushing on his buttocks that did it, or if Anthea’s vagina just sucked him back in. He was deep inside the girl again, and now a finger was buried to the hilt in his back passage.

“Sorry, sir,” PC Whippy said, sounding not in the least bit apologetic. “I’m obliged to do this under subsection 36 of the Randy Old Goats Act 1972.”

Professor Evans was about to protest, but then Anthea let out a moan, twisting her face to get away from the hand that was still clamped over her mouth. “That is so hot!” she breathed. Then, “Please, Professor, fuck me hard! I’m so horny!”

As a second finger joined the first, Professor Evans felt that he had no choice. He moved in Anthea, but again it seemed as if it was her vagina sucking and releasing that was doing all the work. His rectum protested against the invasion, but to no avail. “Just be glad I’m not using my truncheon, sir,” PC Whippy said.

Hard, pointy nipples dug into the palms of his hands as he clutched at Anthea’s breasts. “That is so hot!” Anthea breathed again. “I do so love a hard cock fucking me! I do love your cock, Professor! Do you love my pussy?”

There was no way Professor Evans’ sense of dignity would allow him to answer that. To his relief, PC Whippy’s other gloved hand was making its way underneath him, touching Anthea’s clit, causing the girl to arch her body and cry out, “Oh yes! I’m so fucking horny! Suck on my tits, Professor! Please suck on my tits!”

The nice, demure girl’s show of vulgarity astounded him, but Professor Evans did as she said, one hand moving from her breasts so that he could close his lips on a hard nipple. He was hardly moving at all, but the girl’s vagina continued to suck and release, suck and release while PC Whippy shoved her fingers into his back passage with little consideration for his comfort.

“That feels so good!” Anthea breathed. PC Whippy’s fingers were working overtime now, rubbing at the girls clit, punishing his rectum. “So good! So naughty! I love being a slut! Do you like me being your slut, Professor?”

Professor Evans clamped a hand over the girl’s mouth again, but he couldn’t stop his own mouth from wandering from one breast to another. He began to move a little more, even reconciling himself to the feel of PC Whippy’s fingers. The girl’s vagina continued that curious business of sucking him in and releasing, but with every suck she was tighter than before.

Then she twisted her head once more. Breathing heavily she moaned and gasped out loud. “I’m such a slut! Fuck me, Professor! Fuck your little slut!” Her body was tensing, her nipple a succulent treat in Professor Evans’ mouth, her pussy was clinging to his cock, almost crushing it. Anthea moaned and gasped again. “I love being a slut! I’m your slut, Professor! Let me cum on your cock, Professor!”

There was no way he could have prevented that, even had he wanted to. The girl began to cry out. Her vagina sucked him deep, deep inside. PC Whippy’s fingers were buried deep inside his back passage as her other hand rubbed at Anthea’s clit.

The girl herself was screaming out loud as her body jerked and convulsed beneath him.

At last he felt PC Whippy relent, removing her fingers from inside him. His sphincter closed resolutely. His cock was just resting inside the girl now as she sighed with contentment. Then she looked up at him with wide eyes. “But you haven’t cum yet, Professor.”

“That, that… doesn’t matter,” Professor Evans said, slightly disingenuously, but some kind of propriety had to be maintained.

“Let me help you, Professor!” Anthea said, pushing gently on his shoulders as indication that she wanted him to rise. So he did, amazed when the girl adjusted her body, coming down off the armchair to land on her knees in front of him. She looked up at him with eager eyes. “Do you want to cum on my face, Professor? Men always want to do that. I don’t mind. I like it. Do you want to cum on my face, Professor?”

His member was aching, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything, Memories of the earlier scenes in the disabled toilets haunted him.

“Don’t disappoint the girl!” PC Whippy said. “I won’t allow it!”

“Please,” Anthea pleaded. “Please cum on my face, Professor.”

A hand gripped his rod. PC Whippy’s latex clad hand. It felt slippery, and he didn’t like to think where it had been. Anthea tilted her head up, extending her tongue. “Please,” she breathed. “Cum for me, Professor. You can cum in my mouth if you want to. Do you want me to swallow your cum, Professor?”

“Anthea, you mustn’t say such things,” the Professor said, but half-heartedly.

“I know it’s filthy,” Anthea breathed. “But I’m a filthy slut, Professor. I’m your filthy slut and I want your cum!” She pushed her tongue out again.

Filthy didn’t begin to cover the sound of PC Whippy’s slimy latex glove tugging on his cock. All resistance gone, Professor Evans could feel sperm frothing as it prepared to journey along his cock. “Don’t keep the girl waiting, sir,” PC Whippy advised.

He gasped. Anthea moved her head directly underneath his cock. For the second time that day, Professor Evans was cumming on a female student. Globules of sperm flecked Anthea’s face. When he was finished spurting, the girl took his cock from PC Whippy, letting the full length fill her mouth, slowly sliding her lips back up from root to tip, cleaning the residue from him.

Anthea smiled happily. “Thank you, Professor Evans,” she said. “For giving this slut what she needs.”

“You’re welcome,” Professor Evans said, though really he felt deeply ashamed of himself.

“Come on, dear,” PC Whippy said, laying a hand on Anthea’s shoulder. “Let’s go and get you cleaned up.”

With the two women gone, Professor Evans sank down in the armchair Anthea had previously occupied, hardly noticing the huge stain where her pussy had leaked. He placed his head in his hands, closed his eyes and groaned. What had he just done? What had happened? Where would it end? In tears, no doubt.

Some sense that something had changed caused him to look up. He couldn’t believe it. He was back in his office at the university, the telephone receiver on his desk, a slight hiss coming from the speaker. The clock on the wall told him it was early afternoon.

Completely disorientated as he was, Professor Evans had no time to gather his thoughts or his sense of time and space. There was a knock at the door.

“Come!” he said, flinching his he remembered what seemed to have happened mere minutes before. Please cum on my face, Professor. Cum for me… You can cum in my mouth if you want to.

The door opened. He recognized the woman’s Asian features. His eyes fell on the small figurine.

He was gathering himself to give her a piece of his mind when a voice crackled from the speakerphone, “PC Whippy speaking. How can I help you?”

Alarm caused the Professor to stab at the phone, cutting the call. The woman was smiling with her mouth, but not with her eyes.

“Déjà vu,” she said.

“What?” Professor Evans squeaked.

“Technically, we haven’t met,” the woman said, “but I think you remember me.”

“Of course I remember you,” Professor Evans said, trying hard to regain some kind of composure.

“Yes, well, that was in the future.”

“What?”

“Time works in mysterious ways, Professor.”

Nothing was making any sense. He needed to focus. He lifted the figurine and brandished it at the woman, who was closing in on his desk. “You… you… You’re responsible for this!”

The woman remained calm. “As I explained before, I’m not actually responsible for it. Customer Services, remember?”

“I’m not a customer!” Professor Evans exploded. I didn’t ask for any of this.

“Oh but technically you did,” the woman said. “Or you will. I’m not quite sure. Even I get confused by all this.”

It was useless discussing this with the woman, he decided. “Here! Take the blasted thing.” He thrust the figurine towards her.

“First things first,” the woman said, audaciously positioning her buttocks on his desk. “I sense you’ve not really understood…”

“Understood!” the professor exclaimed. “This is a complete nightmare!”

“Maybe,” the woman said, “but it’s your nightmare. You created it. You could have just accepted the gift graciously.”

“How could I have?” Professor Evans blustered.

The woman shrugged. “Well,” she said. “I can at least put your mind at ease.”

Could she? He wasn’t sure, but it sounded good.

“Everything that has happened, has happened, to you. The others… Sometimes there’s residual overspill, but I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Residual what?”

“Overspill. But it’s only a minor issue. It’s being worked on as we speak.”

Professor Evans just shook his head.

“The point is,” the woman said, “that there’s no comeback. There never is. You can carry on as normal with no worries.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Do you not realise that you’re back where you started? Clean slate. Nothing to worry about.”

The laws of physics were not the Professor’s subject, but he suspected they were being unambiguously disobeyed. “Just answer me this,” he said. “Did any of the things I think happened actually happen?”

“Oh yes,” the woman said. “They happened, but the only remaining record of them is in your head.”

That sounded good, but Professor Evans still couldn’t get his head around it. He almost asked if he could have that in writing, but desisted, slightly worried when he caught the flicker of a smile on the woman’s face.

“Now,” she said. “One last thing. You need to kiss the figurine and nominate the next person to have their deepest sexual desires fulfilled.”

“What?” Professor Evans said. “You can’t possibly…”

“Just do it,” the woman said. “Once you’ve done it, you can get back to your normal existence.”

That sounded good. That sounded very good. Nevertheless, he felt like a fool pressing his lips against the plaster, knowing full well that the image that was still bouncing about in his head was of Anthea, on her knees in front of him. Her voice echoed in his head. Do you want to cum on my face, Professor? I like it. Please cum on my face, Professor. Cum for me…

“Anthea it is!” the woman exclaimed, snatching the figurine from him. “I’m sure she’ll be over the moon. Much more appreciative than some I could mention.” She slid off the desk. Afterwards, the Professor couldn’t quite remember if she’d actually exited through the door or just vanished into thin air.