Massage leads to client revealing hidden talents
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Emily Barlow sat in the outer office of her faculty advisor, impatiently waiting for an appointment scheduled more than a half hour ago. That the twenty year old redhead wasn’t alone in that regard - there were three other students also waiting - did little to alleviate her frustration.
“I’m sure Professor Nelson will be along shortly,” the gray haired secretary, whose nameplate identified as Norma Wood, said, repeating the assurance she’d given when Emily had walked in, barely a minute before her scheduled appointment, and then fifteen minutes later when the next student arrived.
Normally, Emily would’ve been out of there after ten minutes, not being all that big on waiting. This time, however, that wasn’t an option. Her final grades didn’t become official until an advisor had reviewed her record and certified that she had indeed met all the requirements for graduation. Once that was done, she could put North Brighton Community College behind her - something she couldn’t wait to do. The only reason she was even here in the first place, she reminded herself, was that her father had insisted she get at least an associate degree before he let her join the family’s lumber business. As if she was really going to do anything at the company that would require a degree, she reminded herself.
Three years before, Emily had been part of the freshman class in the much more prestigious Walker College, the same school her two older sisters had graduated from. Unfortunately, despite the alumni donation her father had made to the school to encourage them to overlook certain academic deficiencies, it didn’t take long for Emily to fall back into the same pattern she had followed at Clayton Falls High, with more time devoted to guys and parties than books and exams. She was on academic probation before the end of her first semester, and advised that perhaps a less challenging school might be more suitable by the end of her second. In other words, North Brighton, which would take just about anyone as long as the tuition check cleared.
Not that Emily applied herself any more at North Brighton than she had at Walker, but the smaller school had a much more relaxed standard. Even so, there had been a few setbacks along the way, but they had been handled, and in only a few days she was finally going to walk out of here with a degree in hand. A smile formed as she additionally recalled that, aside from the promised job, there was also the new car her father gave all his daughters at graduation. Since she was only getting an associate degree it wouldn’t be as grand as the ones her sisters had gotten, but it would still be better than most of the cars her friends drove.
The phone on the secretary’s desk again rang loudly, and Emily just knew it was going to be more bad news. Sure enough, Norma apologized once more, adding this time that she was deeply sorry, but that it seemed that Professor Nelson now wasn’t going to be able to make it in this morning at all. His car trouble had turned out to be more of a problem than originally thought and he had to call a tow truck to take it to the garage.
‘Now that’s just fucking wonderful,’ Emily thought as she glanced around the room at the faces of the other students.
“But not to worry,” Norma quickly added before disappointment could be reflected on all the prospective graduates’ faces, “Professor Nelson has arranged for one of the other professors to take care of your final reviews. She should be here in about ten minutes.”
‘They couldn’t have damn well done that a half hour ago?’ Emily thought, only seeing her own inconvenience.
Nine minutes later, the outer door opened and all eyes turned to watch Professor Paulette Darrieux stride into the room. Dressed in a conservative skirt and a loose fitting white blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck, the short- haired brunette’s style of dress seemed more appropriate to the nineteen fifties than the early twenty-first century.
‘Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better,’ Emily thought as she saw the History Professor.
If she had to draw up a list of the people she would miss the least from her time at North Brighton, the unexpected arrival would without a doubt be at the very top. She’d had the misfortune to have been in Paulette Darrieux’s class twice in the last two years. The first in a class that she’d failed, and then, during the most recent term, one she’d barely squeaked by in.
Professor Darrieux didn’t seem to even recognize Emily as she glanced at the row of waiting students. Instead, she turned her attention back to Norma, picking up the small pile of folders from the desk and asking who was up first.
“That would be Mr. Jenkins,” Norma said, indicating the name typed on the flap of the top folder, “followed by Miss Jones, Mr. Clarke, Miss Barlow and then Mr. Allen.”
“Then that is the order we shall go in,” Paulette smiled, her voice still carrying a touch of a French accent, even after spending the last third of her life in the States. “Just give me a few minutes to go over the first file and then send Mr. Jenkins in.”
Ten minutes later, Mr. Jenkins had been replaced by Miss Jones, and fifteen minutes after that her place in the office had been taken by Mr. Clarke. Figuring that she had at least ten to fifteen minutes, Emily decided to answer nature’s call and make a quick visit to the ladies room across the hall. She was as quick as she could be but, to her dismay, Ben Clarke was already exiting the faculty advisor’s office when she stepped out of the bathroom just eight minutes later.
“I missed my turn?” Emily asked as she stepped back into the office, noting that all of the seats were now empty.
“No need to worry, dear,” Norma said. “ I just switched the order and you can go in next. After all, the professor is a busy woman and we can’t waste her time, can we?”
‘What about my fucking time?’ Emily thought but prudently didn’t say as she retook her seat.
Unlike the previous review, the one with Gerry Allen took almost twenty minutes. Long minutes during which, more than once, Emily had heard laughter though the closed door. Gerry had been in Professor Darrieux’s class with her this year, but, unlike the redhead, had excelled in history. Hardly the kind of guy she normally associated with, the straight A student had actually asked her out once. As if she would even be seen with a dweeb like him, much less involved.
Finally, the door opened and Gerry stepped out, with Professor Darrieux right behind him. She handed the three completed files to Norma and said that since it was already nearly lunch time, why didn’t the secretary take off and she would lock up the office when she was done. Having been on the verge of calling to cancel her lunch date, Norma thanked her and, grabbing her jacket, quickly exited the office.
“Well, Miss Barlow, shall we?” Paulette said, waving in the direction of the still open door of the inner office with the file in her hand.
Once they were both inside, two long minutes passed as the older woman sat at the desk and read through Emily’s file. As she waited, Emily brushed her long straight hair off her shoulder and, not for the first time, wondered what it was that Professor Banks saw in the woman waiting to pass judgment on her, William Banks being both her English professor and Paulette’s husband of ten years.
With a short pixie haircut, the twenty year old thought the professor attractive in her way, although she would probably use handsome to describe her rather than beautiful, or even pretty. Still, her features gave her a youthful appearance, one that made her students think her younger than her thirty-eight years. It was hard to judge her figure under the unflattering outfits she wore to class, other than it being slim, almost boyish. For some reason, Emily had taken the older woman’s lack of imagination in dress and demeanor to signify similar shortcomings in bed as well.
“Well, it looks like you’ll be leaving us,” the professor said as she finally looked up from the file.
“That’s the plan,” Emily said with a grin.
“Although I must say, in looking over your final grades, I’m a bit surprised by them,” Paulette remarked as she looked once more at one of the papers in her hand.
“In what way?” Emily asked, curiosity coupled with a touch of caution.
“Their inconsistency,” she clarified.
“I don’t understand,” Emily said, caution turning to concern. “What do you mean, inconsistency?”
“Well, to be honest, having had you in my class twice,” Paulette went on, “I have a pretty good idea of what kind of student you are, and quite frankly, I don’t really see how you got some of these grades.”
“I worked really hard this semester,” Emily quickly pointed out.
“I’ve no doubt that you did,” the older woman said with a knowing smile, “but still, it does make me wonder - well, maybe not so much wonder as make me curious.”
“Curious about what?” Emily asked uneasily.
“Oh, nothing of any real significance,” Paulette said, continuing to smile as she laid the paper back down on the desk, “but since it really isn’t all that important, perhaps you wouldn’t mind answering a little question for me - just to satisfy my curiosity.”
“Sure, why not?” Emily replied, feeling the need to be cautious but at the same time confident that she could lie her way out of any situation if need be.
“So tell me, Emily, and this is just between us, so please do me the courtesy of answering honestly,” Paulette asked. “Other than my husband, how many other professors did you fuck to get the credits you needed to graduate?”
“What?” Emily exclaimed, taken back by the unexpected question but recovering quickly. “I don’t know where you get off making a statement like that, but...”
“Please,” Paulette said, cutting the younger woman off with a wave of her hand. “Like I said, let’s be honest here. That you and my husband were going at it like horny rabbits the first few weeks of the term was hardly a secret - at least not to me. In fact, I even know that you’ve been in my house and have used our guest bedroom for your trysts.”
“I ... I...” Emily stammered, trying to come up with the words to deny it all, only to lose her composure instead. “How could you know...”
“Quite easily, my dear,” Paulette replied, her tone still calm and even. “My husband might come across as brilliant to some of his students, but the truth is that, outside the classroom, he’s the original absent minded professor.”
Remembering a few times that he’d seemed just that, Emily agreed with that assessment.
“Not that you would have any way of knowing, but we had a few break- ins in our neighborhood last year,” Paulette continued. “Kids most likely, but they did cause some concern because they did more damage than thievery. When we consulted a security expert, he convinced us that it wasn’t enough to just reinforce the locks, so in addition we installed a video surveillance system to cover the property. Not up in the bedrooms of course, but the one down in the first floor foyer does cover, if only barely, the living room couch.”
‘Oh shit!’ Emily thought, letting out a small groan as she recalled fucking the fifty-five year old English Professor on that couch the first time they’d done it.
“I can only assume that, in his eagerness to enjoy your charms, my dear William neglected to turn off the security system,” Paulette conjectured. “Your performance on the recording I saw was, shall I say, energetic to say the least.”
As the professor spoke, Emily could just see both the new car and the job at the family firm, most likely, fading away. The affair with her husband had been as brief as it was unmemorable, lasting just long enough to secure her a passing grade in English.
“Oh, don’t worry, my dear,” Paulette said, the calm of her voice contrasting markedly with the look of panic on Emily’s face. “Like I said, my question was only to satisfy my curiosity. You’re not the first, and most definitely won’t be the last, student who’s improved her grades by spreading her legs. That it was my husband between those legs is irrelevant for the purpose of our discussion. No, I’m just curious how many others of my colleagues you also entertained.”
As deep a hole as she knew she was in, Emily couldn’t think of anything she could do other than what was most unlike her - tell the truth. She was about to do so when Paulette again held up her hand.
“No, don’t tell me,” she said, amusement now in her tone. “Let me try to guess, based on your grades.”
With that, she again picked up the grade sheet from her file and studied it once more.
“Hmm, if I had to hazard a guess, I think I’d say that, with the probable exception of Professor McGonagall, you slept with all of your male professors,” she said after a long moment’s consideration.
“Well...” Emily started to say, wondering if she should tell the whole truth or just go with the professor’s conclusion. She took too long to decide, allowing the older woman to infer what had been unsaid.
“Not Professor McGonagall too?” Paulette said with surprise, catching the implication in that single word as the image of the seventy-two year old Mathematician filled her mind.
“Well, not really,” Emily quickly clarified, deciding she didn’t want anyone, even Paulette, thinking she’d slept with the old man. “I just gave him a hand job.”
“Well, I guess that explains the D then,” Paulette mused, a small grin barely perceptible at the corner of her mouth. “Everyone else involved gave you at least a B. Still, if only barely, it’s a passing math grade.”
Emily wasn’t so stupid that she wanted any of her professors to give her an A, that would’ve set off too many alarm bells. Better to have her record show just enough to graduate. Not that she didn’t think that even just a blow job from her would’ve been worth at least an A, which was all she had given both her Physics and Sociology professors. Both thankfully seemed willing to settle for a lot less in exchange for their cooperation.
“Did you really mean what you said before?” Emily asked, her mind shifting back into self-preservation mode. “About this just being between us - that you’re not going to tell anyone else about it?”
“Emily, whatever else you have heard people say about me, the one thing I’m sure you haven’t heard is that I am a liar,” Paulette said with a much more visible smile. “Besides, this is North Brighton, not Walker College, although I’m sure that even there this sort of thing occasionally happens. No, the general rule here has always been, don’t rock the boat.”
Emily let out an audible sigh of relief.
“So you can take your grades, however you earned them, and set out on whatever your next step in life is,” Paulette said as she picked up a pen and turned her attention to the comments section at the bottom of the sheet where it called for the signature of the reviewing officer.
‘Un-fuckin-lievable,’ Emily thought as she digested what she’d just heard, unable to imagine herself being so calm after learning that some bimbo half her age had screwed her husband.
“Oh dear, that’s not good,” Paulette unexpectedly said as she noticed an entry in the comments section from Emily’s previous review that she’d overlooked before.
“Is there something the matter?” Emily asked, not liking the look on the professor’s face.
“It seems that perhaps you should’ve given Professor McGonagall at least a blow job after all,” Paulette said as she laid down the paper. “Or, failing that, paid a bit more attention in his class.”
“What are you talking about?” Emily asked.
“Well, you do have enough credits to earn your associate’s,” the French woman replied, “but state law requires that you also have an GPA of at least 2.0 to graduate. There’s a notation from your last review that said you really needed to show marked improvement to bring your average up. But based on the number of classes you’ve taken and your grades, it looks like you might have just fallen a bit short.”
“No, that can’t be right,” Emily protested. “I went over that twice - with a calculator.”
“Are you sure you didn’t have it set to round the numbers off?” Paulette asked.
“I ... I don’t know.”
Taking a blank sheet of paper from the other side of the desk, Paulette quickly did the math longhand, moving much too fast for Emily to follow. Then she turned the paper around and showed it to the redhead. Sure enough, the number at the bottom was just under 2.0.
“It’s not fair,” Emily said as she leaned forward to look at it.
“I’m afraid it gets worse,” Paulette added.
With that, Emily looked up.
“In order for you to bring your GPA up to the minimum level, you’d actually have to not only take two additional classes, but get at least a B in each of them.”
“God, I am so fucked,” Emily said in exasperation as she dropped back against the chair, abandoning the decorum you were expected to maintain when meeting a member of the faculty.
A heavy silence filled the room, during which Paulette rose from behind the desk and came around to the front, sitting down on the forward edge. She waited until Emily looked up and acknowledged her presence to start talking again.
“It might not be too late to do something,” Paulette offered, her tone now a bit more sympathetic. “A slight change in just one of your grades, even just a small uptick, would probably make up the difference.”
It took another long moment for Emily to realize what it was that the woman in front of her was suggesting.
“You mean go back and see if I could get one of the professors to change it?” Emily asked, seeing a glimmer of hope.
“Exactly,” Paulette said, “but having said that, I also have to say that it might not be as easy as it sounds. If the rest of your professors are anything like my husband, they disappeared the minute they submitted their final grades. You’d be lucky to find even Professor McGonagall still on campus.”
From the look that filled Emily’s face, it was clear that a more intimate contact with the aged teacher, even to deliver her from disaster, was not a prospect she found appealing. Having sat downwind of the old man at a few functions, Paulette couldn’t say she blamed her. She waited a long minute for the girl to think about it some more, then offered what might be another option.
“You know, Emily, from what I saw on those surveillance videos, I’d have to say that you’re pretty good at sucking cock,” she said in a natural, even tone. “But tell me, have you ever had any practice at eating pussy?”
“God, I thought she wanted me to get down on my knees right there in the office and start licking her,” Emily said to the blonde haired girl sitting opposite her in the burger shop.
“What did you say?” Carolyn Marinelli asked, totally enthralled by her friend’s story.
Everyone knew Carolyn and Emily had been like sisters ever since grade school. In fact, they were actually even closer, sharing things that Emily couldn’t imagine doing so with either of her sisters. Topping the list would be the night of the junior prom when both girls lost their virginity in a shared motel room, neither of their dates being able to afford a private room. Even with twin beds, both couples had only been a few feet apart and couldn’t help but intimately observe the other in the act.
“I didn’t say anything; I was totally dumbfounded,” Emily replied.
She then went on to say that Professor Darrieux had clarified what she was proposing. As tempting as it might have been to have the desperate student service her right there and then, that wasn’t really her style. Quickies had their place, she said, but she usually preferred to take her time with another woman in a comfortable, relaxing atmosphere. So if Emily wanted to avail herself of the option, all she had to do was show up at her home at eight o’clock tonight. The offer was good until then.
“If you do decide yes,” Paulette had said as she ushered Emily out of the office, “then come ready to play. I’m not one overly impressed by looks alone, no matter how hot your body might be. You’re really going to have to work for that grade.”
“Wow,” Carolyn said. “So have you decided yet what you’re going to do?”
“Not yet,” Emily replied, glancing at the time on her phone, “but I still have a few hours to make up my mind.”
“I still can’t believe she has video of you screwing her husband,” Carolyn added. “What do you think she’s going to do with it?”
“Not an immediate problem,” Emily said, trying to focus on the one at hand, “but I got the impression that she really doesn’t care if her husband beds other women, even if they’re students.”
“Well, not if she does the same thing,” Carolyn pointed out, which made sense to the redhead.
There was a pause, then Carolyn asked another question.
“Do you think she set this whole thing up, you know, to get you in bed with her?”
“I did wonder about that a little bit while I was walking off campus,” Emily said, “especially since she sent the secretary off to lunch, leaving us alone. But then I started to think about how many things would have to all come together for us to get to that point: Professor Nelson’s car trouble, my going to the bathroom at just that moment, the fact that my GPA was just under the line, or even that I might be able to find one of those other professors. No, I think she was taking advantage of a situation that just fell into her lap.”
“I guess you’re right,” Carolyn now agreed. “Besides, if she just wanted to blackmail you into bed, she does have that video of you and her husband. What more would she need, especially if, as you said, you got the impression that she doesn’t care that her husband screws around?”
“Carolyn, can I ask you something?” Emily said changing the direction of their talk.
“Of course,” she replied.
“I know everyone assumes we tell each other everything,” Emily said as a preface, “but we both know that’s not really true. I mean, there are a few things that we’ve kept to ourselves, right?”
Carolyn nodded, agreeing that some things you couldn’t share, even with your best friend. At least under normal circumstances.
“Have you ever done it?” Emily asked. “With another girl I mean.”
Carolyn didn’t need the clarification; she knew what Emily was asking. The fact that she didn’t immediately say no was an answer in itself.
“Oh God, I never imagined,” Emily gushed. “Who was it?”
Carolyn paused, causing Emily to think that the other girl might be someone they both knew, one that was still definitely in the closet and deserving of privacy. In actuality, Carolyn had no problem sharing the name, because the girl in question had come out quite publicly at their high school graduation. Not that it had been that big a secret beforehand.
“Abigail Forest.”
“You’re fucking kidding,” Emily said much too loudly, drawing the stares of a few patrons at other tables.
Carolyn waited until onlooker interest faded, then quietly confirmed her statement. Abigail Forest was the proverbial poster child for teenage dykes, looking more like a jock than most of the guys on the various varsity teams.
“What was it like?” Emily asked, now speaking in a much quieter tone.
Carolyn leaned inward so that her voice wouldn’t carry either.
“Well, I’m not going to get into the how or why of it,” she said, “and I’m definitely not going to say that if I wanted to be in a relationship with another girl, Abby would be what I would look for - I mean, she was more of a guy than half the guys I went out with senior year.”
Emily nodded her head in agreement, visualizing the athletic, ponytailed brunette.
“But, as God is my witness, that girl gave me the most phenomenal head that I’ve ever had in my life - before or since.”
“Wow,” was Emily’s only reply.
At seven fifty that evening, Emily found herself standing just down the street from the Banks’ house. She’d been there for a half hour, trying to make up her mind. Part of her, she had to admit, was greatly intrigued by the idea of being with another woman, especially since Carolyn’s revelation about Abigail. The other half, however, wasn’t totally sure that was a line she wanted to cross. Her decision would’ve been far simpler, she knew, if the professor had indeed wanted to do it right there in the office. She’d long ago lost track of how many guys she’d gone down on at clubs and such, all of which had been spur of the moment. Prolonged deliberations weren’t her forte at all.
‘Time to choose,’ Emily told herself as the alarm on her phone went off at five minutes to. She had set it so as not to become too lost in thought to keep track of time.
She took a deep breath and again considered her options.
“Oh fuck it,” she abruptly said aloud. “If I don’t like it, I just won’t do it again.”
With that, she quickly headed down the block, turning into the walk leading into the old Colonial she had visited months before.
Ten seconds after she’d rung the doorbell, the front door swung open, leading Emily to wonder if Paulette had been just behind it. She had on a simple, dark blue dressing gown, one that covered from her neck to a few inches above her ankles. Looking down at the shorter woman, only five four to her own five foot nine, Paulette paused to also take in what the girl was wearing before speaking. The expression on her face said that she was disappointed that, beneath her open windbreaker, Emily was still wearing the same simple jeans and sleeveless button down top that she had been wearing in the office earlier.
“I know you couldn’t have had a problem finding the place,” she said, “so I was beginning to wonder if perhaps you’d managed to catch up with Professor McGonagall after all.”
The shudder that went though her at that thought told Emily that she had definitely made the right decision.
“Well, are you coming in?” the French woman asked as she stepped aside to allow her passage.
As she did so, Paulette closed the door behind the two of them. Remembering something else that Carolyn had wondered about during their late lunch discussion, Emily inquired if Professor Banks was at home.
“No, it’s just us girls,” Paulette laughed as she took Emily’s jacket and hung it up on a coat rack. “William left for our cabin upstate this afternoon, a fishing trip with a few of his buddies. Trust me, I have no intention of sharing you with anyone.”
Emily remembered the English professor mentioning the cabin more than once, and how much he loved getting away to it. In fact, before they’d ended their short affair, he’d suggested that she join him for a weekend there. Thankfully, he couldn’t come up with a way to explain her presence there and the idea was abandoned. She could put up with the middle aged lover for an hour or two, but two whole days together would’ve definitely been too much.
Paulette led her into the living room and offered a seat on the couch, the one she was quite familiar with. When she saw the young woman hesitate, Paulette let out another small laugh.
“Don’t worry, I disconnected the video recorder,” she said. “The hard drive is in that cabinet over there if you’d like to check and make sure.”
“No, I’ll take your word for it,” Emily replied, thinking that not knowing if she would check or not would prevent Paulette from lying about it.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Paulette said. “I’m sure we’ll have much more fun if we trust each other.”
As Emily took a seat on the couch, Paulette stepped over to a small standing bar, picking up two small tumblers with a golden yellow concoction in each.
“I made us a drink just before you got here,” she said as she turned around with them. “Would you like one?”
“Sure, why not?” Emily said.
With all else that was going on today, the fact that she was still a few months from legal drinking age didn’t seem all that important.
“Just go easy with it,” Paulette said as she handed one of the glasses to Emily. “They’re called Volcano Sunrises and while they might be small, they still carry quite a kick.”
Unable to resist a challenge, Emily brought the glass to her lips and took a more than healthy swallow.
“Whoa, you weren’t kidding,” she sputtered as the force of the drink hit her.
“I warned you,” Paulette grinned. “But the nice thing about them is that it really doesn’t take much to get you into a really relaxed state.”
As Paulette took a more careful sip of her own drink, Emily did so too, finding the powerful beverage easier to handle in smaller amounts.
“So, shall we chat a little while we get a bit more relaxed?” Paulette asked as she sat down on the other end of the couch.
“Sure, what should we chat about?” Emily asked in response.
“Well, I’m sure you have some questions,” Paulette replied, “why don’t we start with them.”
“Are you a lesbian?” Emily asked right off.
“No, I’m not a lesbian,” Paulette said, again taking a small sip of her drink. “I do like pussy, but I also like a hard cock. So I guess that makes me bisexual.”
“Do you and your husband fool around a lot?” came question two.
Anastasia
- 03.12.2022
- 16
- 0
