House Sharpe 01: Waiting For Rain

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A young man satisfies his thirst for an older professor.
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Dodging a sudden downpour, Elgin Arinze cut across a busy Atlanta street and sprinted toward a bus stop. He tucked a pricey pair of headphones inside the T-shirt he wore with jersey shorts and ratty kicks, having just left from a workout with Hunter, an old friend. While Elgin had moved on to a master's program, his friend's rich father continued to bankroll Hunter's sixth year as an undergrad.

Elgin doubted whether the dude would grow up, much less graduate. Still, Hunter was good people, and a few hours spent with his personal boxing trainer had seemed worth the trip from Elgin's shoebox-sized crib near Georgia Tech, until he'd gotten caught in the rain.

He booked it down the street, but the rain was so heavy that his clothes soon were sagging. Headphones and cellphone both in jeopardy, Elgin veered toward the entrance of a swank hotel. He scrubbed a hand over his cropped black head and rubbed raindrops from his sable eyes, only then noticing that a few other people had run for cover under the hotel awning and now were being shooed away by the valet staff.

Tall and fit, Elgin decided to make good on being mistaken for a basketball player all the damn time. He pulled out his phone and pretended to be an important hotel guest, which got him through the front doors. Wisely, he turned away from the front desk and toward the restaurant. It was too late for lunch and too early for happy hour, making the place blessedly empty.

A cute waiter who looked a lot like Hunter seemed happy to show him to a table, perhaps because Elgin's white tee clung to his walnut abs like a second skin. Grateful for a quiet spot by the windows where he could wait out the downpour, he decided to order food, and was just deciding between an overpriced burger and an overpriced club sandwich when he caught the eye of Dr. Samira Sharpe.

If he was keeping it real, the tight, white dress she wore caught his eye. Dr. Sharpe wasn't checking for him at all while she moved to a seat at the bar.

When she'd been his professor last semester, she'd favored pants suits that had downplayed her figure. Nevertheless, his discerning eye had wandered to her ass all too often, which was one of the reasons he'd skated out of her class with a B-, an upgrade from the C he should have gotten. Fear of his Nigerian father's disapproval—and a visit to her office—had made the difference.

Still wondering why she'd taken pity on him, Elgin admired her overall package. Pushing forty, she had flawless plum skin, hair cut in a curly fro with a mean fade on the sides, and a queenly vibe like Angela Bassett. Aside of being all that, Dr. Sharpe worked a special brand of verve that probably would have come off as obnoxious in a girl his age.

She could do no wrong in that dress. Elgin couldn't stop staring. The fabric nipped and tucked every thick curve her former suits had hidden, as though God himself had poured it on her. He wondered if her breasts, though just small lumps of coal, would fall out of the dress' deep neckline.

Well, if he was keeping it real, he hoped they would.

Elgin slumped in his damp clothes, hoping soggy shorts didn't give away the fact he was turned on. It had been a minute since he'd gotten any ass. He blamed it on chemistry classes and labs; yet, he also wasn't ready to accept that the kittens he met around campus didn't do it for him as much as a cougar like Dr. Sharpe.

His mother would fall the fuck out if he went home with a middle aged lady unlikely to provide the grandchildren Mrs. Arinze so desperately wanted. An only child, he got where his mother was coming from; but, he also was used to getting his way, and had to admit he felt ambivalent about children.

On the other hand, he knew for a fact he liked self-possessed women with a little attitude that suggested, "I've been there, done that, and I'm not impressed with you, young buck." Having a challenge to live up to made him feel cocky in more ways than one.

Grinning, Elgin remembered Dr. Sharpe only taught one class a year, and otherwise was a physician. Technically, she wasn't a faculty member at the moment; and though he didn't know the school rules about fraternizing, he felt easier knowing he wouldn't get in trouble if he bought her a drink.

Hoping to impress her despite looking like a scrub, Elgin affected the same self-importance that had gotten him into the hotel, not wanting to look too eager as he approached. However, a wide smile gave away his interest as soon as she glanced at him.

"Dr. Sharpe? I don't know if you remember me. I'm Elgin Arinze—"

"I remember." Cool and cultured as the pearl studs in her ears, her voice was professorial. She offered her hand in the manner of a business handshake. "How are you, Elgin?"

"Better, since you came in." He took her hand and kissed it, making it clear he didn't want to talk shop, and Dr. Sharpe seemed impressed. "Sitting through the rain by myself was pretty boring. A lady like you has no business being lonely, so I thought I'd come kick some conversation." Elgin flashed his most winning smile as he sat down beside her.

"Alone isn't the same thing as lonely, but it's the thought that counts." Her eyes glided over him, taking in his damp clothes. "Were you out jogging?"

"Worked out at a gym." He sat up straighter under her scrutiny, and was deflated to realize she wasn't checking him out with much enthusiasm. "I was headed home when it started coming down."

"I see," she replied noncommittally.

Looking good didn't make somebody good company, which was exactly why most kittens couldn't hold his attention. Elgin squirmed a little in his seat, feeling his own judgments turned against him, and worrying that he was boring her. "Hopefully, it clears up soon."

She murmured an acknowledgment but said no more, while looking him over again.

Feeling unsure of himself, he turned to signal the waiter at the end of the bar, then asked her, "Can I get you something to drink?"

Dr. Sharpe's perfectly winged eyebrow rose in challenge. "Are you old enough to drink?"

Elgin scowled. "I'm twenty five."

"Impressive." Though sarcastic, she sounded amused, at least. "I already ordered a cocktail. Would you like one?"

"Better not. I have lab soon."

"Curious that you would come to the bar then, and not order anything." Her plum colored lips curved into a smirk. "Just hoping to push up on a lonely, older woman?"

He flushed and sat up straighter in his chair. "Well, I thought about lunch, but I wouldn't want to interrupt you."

"And yet, you already have."

Elgin couldn't tell from her enigmatic smile if she was talking down to him or just teasing. He liked it either way, but wasn't sure what to say. Two steps behind in their verbal chess game, he was stuck at being impressed that Dr. Sharpe indeed was a queen with well-honed moves.

Her almond eyes turned sly. "Are you going to make it up to me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, yeah. Absolutely," he stammered, and picked up the check as soon as the bartender set it down with her drink.

Dr. Sharpe placed her hand over his hand on the tab. "No need. It'll be charged to my room."

"You're staying here? I thought you lived in Virginia Highlands."

"I do, but I'm spending the night."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Elgin watched her sip from a tumbler of what smelled like bourbon on the rocks, and reconsidered the stunning way she looked. "Oh, were you planning to meet somebody? My bad." He blushed, certain cockiness had led him to assume she had nothing better to do than kick it with him.

However, Dr. Sharpe surprised him with a mischievous smile. "In fact, I was planning to meet someone, and I have."

He blinked. "You mean me?"

"You're impressive and clever, I see."

No doubt she was talking down to him that time. Elgin shifted on his bar stool. Calling her a cougar earlier had made him feel like a prize; but, he'd since shown himself to be an inexperienced cub, and that didn't feel so sexy. "No way you knew I'd come in here."

She shrugged smooth, round shoulders. "If not you, someone would have interested me eventually. I like waiting for it to rain. It's a game I play."

"And what happens when it does rain?"

She smiled. "I get wet."

The turn-on Elgin had felt earlier became full blown arousal. He licked his lips, wondering how the gesture he'd tried to make had turned into her putting him in his place and propositioning him at once.

"Looks like you're already wet." She looked him over again, slowly and with smoldering intentions evident in her eyes. "I'd invite you up to my room to dry off, if I thought you knew your way around."

"I've never been to this hotel before."

"I'm not asking for a tour; I'm asking if you know your way around." She crossed her legs, and her calf brushed his.

"Oh, I do! I can show you."

She chuckled at his earnestness. "If only you had the time."

Elgin glanced at a clock over the bar and saw that he only had forty five minutes until lab. "By soon, I didn't mean I had to leave right away. I can be a little late."

"But what I want can't be rushed." She stared at him over the rim of her tumbler.

"Well, can I come back tonight, around eight?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

He chuckled. "May I, Dr. Sharpe?"

He watched her open the bar tab folder and pick up a pen. Elgin worried he was being dismissed, until she slid the folder over in front of him. Peeking out from underneath, he found a card key tucked inside a slip of paper with her phone and room numbers. Elgin pocketed both as smoothly as she'd delivered them.

"Call me Samira." She sucked a piece of ice into her mouth, her tongue toying with it just as she as toying with him. "I'd appreciate it if you dressed to impress, before you come back. Just because you're wet behind the ears doesn't mean you have to look it."

Elgin scrubbed a hand over his chin and laughed, at himself because she was no joke. He measured her with a stare that she returned with interest, and the intelligence in her eyes made him hard.

"In a suit, I think you'd look a little like Boris Kodjoe."

He scoffed.

"I said a little," Dr. Sharpe joked, while signaling the bartender for a menu.

Grinning, Elgin stood up, then leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Enjoy your dinner."

"I will." She winked at him. "I'm starving."

: : : : : : : : :

Though he had until eight o'clock, Elgin returned to the hotel half an hour early, and hurried through the front entrance. A white tuxedo shirt dressed up his inky jeans, so that he looked clean and mean yet relaxed. However, he felt ready to jump out of his skin with joy at the prospect of spending the night with Dr. Sharpe.

"Samira," he reminded himself, breathing her name, but it didn't pack the same punch that Dr. Sharpe had in his fantasies during lab that afternoon.

Inside the hotel, he took the elevator to the seventh floor, excited by that afternoon's turn of events. Tall and traditionally handsome as he was, nervous anticipation was not a pleasure that came into Elgin's life often, and he savored it all the way to her door. He forgot the key card in his pocket and knocked.

When she answered wearing a smile and a fragile, pale blue chemise, he forgot himself again and greeted her with, "Dang, Dr. Sharpe, you look fine."

She laughed as she let him in. "Samira. At this point, there's no need for formalities."

"Then maybe I should come clean about a fantasy I had where you made me earn the use of your first name." He walked into the front room of her cozy hotel suite, and took in a lamp that spotlighted a bottle of champagne and a fruit and cheese tray, before turning to her.

Leaning against the door's white painted wood, Dr. Sharpe was mesmerizingly dark. The lamp's warm, yellow light cast a sheen over her plum skin that reminded him of velvet. Elgin felt feverish with a need to touch her.

However, she raised a brow as soon as he took a step in her direction. "I thought you wanted to earn your way."

He grinned. "Hope I don't have pull off a feat like Hercules to get next to you."

"You don't look like you could endure that much." Beneath sooty lashes, her eyes were sassy.

"You haven't seen me with my clothes off yet. Don't let the baby face fool you. I'm full grown," Elgin announced with bass in his voice.

Just a few feet apart, electricity charged the space between them while she undressed him with her eyes. He grinned at her love of scrutinizing him, and almost felt as though he were being inspected. Even with clothes on, Elgin felt naked—or maybe vulnerable was the right word for it. The experience was uncomfortable and thrilling at the same time.

The only way he knew how to make it through life as a Black man was to go hard. A hidden pocket of hope cracked open in his chest at the prospect of Dr. Sharpe showing him another way, if only for a night. He wasn't getting soft—hell to the no—but Elgin felt himself yielding, the longer she looked at him.

Nervous suddenly, he cast his eyes down to her nipples. Under her slip, their shape hinted they were pierced.

"Barbells," she teased. "Show me, and I'll show you."

Elgin quickly stripped off his shirt and undershirt, then his pants after she glanced down at them. He undressed so fast that he had no idea what to do after he was naked.

Rotating her finger, Dr. Sharpe prompted him to show her the goods, which he did with a crooked smile. When he faced her again, she beckoned him, then pointed to the ground.

"On your knees, please."

Dick twitching, he got on the floor on all fours, crawled to her, and sat back on his haunches. From below, she looked ethereal while she hiked up the hem of her ice blue slip that rose and rose like a stage curtain, building anticipation. Underneath, she wasn't wearing any panties, and the ripe scent of wet pussy ricocheted through Elgin's nose and throat with each breath.

He wanted to taste, but he didn't; steeping in his longing was a delicious little torture.

She asked, "What are you thinking?"

"About this one time, at band camp..." When she laughed, joy burst inside him to have given her that pleasure, and he cracked open a little more. "I think you've got me under your spell, Dr. Sharpe. Where do you want me to start earning that first name?"

"I like a man who can work his way up from the bottom."

After she put her foot on his chest, he held it there. His mouth made a wet trail up the inside of her leg. Elgin's chest swelled when she giggled over the pucker of his lips on her thigh. As his attentions neared her mound, she clasped the back of his head, urging his eyes to meet hers.

"Stick your nose in it."

He rubbed the tip and bridge of his nose against her clit. Soon his forehead pressed to her pelvis, he was so damn eager to please her. Spit coated his hungry tongue, which soon hung out like a dog's, since he felt like one. Over eager, he took the liberty of licking her.

Dr. Sharpe smacked the back of his head, then pushed him away. "Did I say you could?"

Elgin tried to look apologetic, but he wasn't. After her foot on his chest pushed him to the floor, he fell on his back, half laughing and half catching his breath.

She pulled off her nightgown and threw it in his face, then grinned while he sniffed her garment. His stomach tensed into a plank after she stepped on him.

"Those gym visits are paying off. You're in good shape."

Her approval went through him like warm cane syrup. "You have no idea how much I can endure."

"We'll see about that. Stay," she commanded, pressing her foot to his throat, and then she stepped over his head. Moments later, she returned with his belt which she looped around his neck. With a good yank, she urged him to a sitting position.

Eyes on his, Dr. Sharpe widened her stance and fingered herself. "Look at me, and don't speak until you're spoken to."

Elgin tried, but the gushy, sticky sound of her playing with her pussy was hot to death. His gaze dropped from her face to her crotch.

She slapped him, her fingers rubbing pungent juice on his face. "Eyes on me, or you won't get a taste." Her manicured fingertips crowded his nostrils with her scent. "Disobey me again, and all you'll get tonight is the smell of what you want and can't have, unless I say so. Got it?"

The prospect of denial shot through him in a hot arrow of arousal and tension, making him wonder if he was a masochist. "Yes, Dr. Sharpe."

She resumed touching herself, and stirred up her juice until it dripped down her thigh in a mix with sweat. "I'm so close," she announced, though he could tell as much from the way her legs trembled. "I could use a thick dick right now."

Elgin whined like a puppy. His dick was rigid and throbbing.

"Would you like to lick my thighs?"

"Please."

She invited him with a nod.

Watching her had made Elgin parched like a motherfucker, and he eagerly lapped at her moist skin, but only tasted a hint of the tartness that had pooled between her lips.

"Only up to the hairs," she instructed him. "Your nose should just brush me. Lick the seams around the outside, and get a good whiff, pet."

Elgin drew in a big, delirious breath that went straight to his head. He reeled on his knees, especially after she turned and presented him with her ass.

He understood then how desire really worked. Longing drove his tongue deep into her, like he used to kiss past girlfriends after time apart. He wasn't pleasuring a hole but her, satisfying a need of hers, enjoying the taste and feel of her. Elgin saw her fingers massaging her clit, and felt her legs shake when she came.

He trembled too, after sitting back on his haunches and waiting for her next instructions.

Sexy eyed with contentment, Dr. Sharpe patted his head, then pulled him by his makeshift leash to the bed. There, she sat down, flopped on her back, and spread her legs. "Clean me up, please. Do it thoroughly, and I'll let you make a mess of me next."

Elgin applied himself to lapping up every bit of custard from between her thighs. The flavor reminded him of Sunday dinner desserts that his mother used to leave on the table for company, and that he'd been forbidden to touch. He tasted spicy cobblers, nut cookies, and lightly salted tomatoes. Her cleaned pussy was a pitted fruit that Elgin tried to climb inside, like that boy who lived in a giant peach.

Dr. Sharpe pulled his leash and scooted back on the bed, allowing him to climb over her. "Good boy," she murmured. "That was exactly what I wanted." She removed the belt from around his neck, and stroked her fingers across the red marks on his throat.

Elgin's eyes drifted shut, while her soft, cool fingers played against his pounding jugular. His heart pounded harder, after she drew him down to her breast and rubbed the back of his head. He doubted heroin was more potent than her approval.

"What would you like, pet? I'm open to suggestions."

He laughed. "I don't know anymore. I came in expecting something like this, but didn't realize I'd feel some type of way about it. Call me a little bit overwhelmed right now."

"Don't over think it. Be a boy toy. Enjoy it." She smiled. "If you're game, I wouldn't mind test driving that pretty stick of yours."

"Let me oil up the engine."

Elgin kissed a path back down to her belly to make that mess she'd mentioned. It didn't take her long to get wet again; yet, he took his time arousing her, wanting her to feel like jelly when he pushed in. When she was ready, Dr. Sharpe reached for the nightstand, then handed him a condom. After Elgin put it on, he gingerly slid home.

Usually, he fucked like he had something to prove. That seemed to be what girls wanted—big Black cock on a platter, with a side of beefcake. Elgin couldn't deny that at times, he'd played the hype to his advantage. After all, being young was mostly a popularity contest. Maybe that was why he liked older women. They were over the bullshit, and just kept it real.

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