Independent Study

I've never been the type of girl to have a crush. Back in high school, when all of my friends were talking about the various boys of the week, I was talking about my favorite books or newest sci-fi. Sure, my friends shared some of my interests, but we never connected on that level. I guess I just never got into the wistful longing after an unobtainable target, hoping that he would, maybe this time, see my cute new skirt as we passed each other in the hall. According to my friends, they rarely did.

That was back in high school. My friends and I have all since moved on, most to universities scattered throughout the country. The one thing that changed was the fact that my friends were now able to act on their impulses. I was constantly being told about their latest hookups, boyfriends, and flings. "C'mon, Lauren, you need to get out more," they'd say to me. "You don't know what you're missing!"

I suppose all of that is true, in a sense. While I've always been called "pretty," I've been told that I don't "take advantage of it," as my friends say. I try to look neat and feminine, but I've never gone overboard with slutty outfits or heavy makeup. The "problem," however, is that I, apparently, have a beautiful body. I've never really thought of myself as sexy or gorgeous – I usually settle for "cute"- but apparently that goes against the opinion of most everyone I've ever met. From the few guys bold (and crude) enough to talk openly with me, heard that I'm best described as "thick." I thought for the longest time that this was just a polite way to say "fat," but I've been assured that, no, it's not. I'm an average height, about five feet, four inches or so. I'm not going to share my weight, but I have enough to create this idea of "thickness" without coming off as fat. I'd say I have curves in all the right places. That's the part that my friends hate me for – my curves. While I think nothing of it (in fact, it's embarrassing to even talk about), I do get a lot of attention for my breasts, as well as my hourglass shape. I've always been a bit self conscious about the attention – especially from guys- which is probably why I never dress in a way that flaunts my curves, something my friends consider a grave offense to femininity.

So, yeah, I've never been the type of girl who would usually have a crush, and that's part of the reason why I've been so flustered and confused. Not only is this my first major crush (if you could even call it that), but this crush was on someone a bit older than me, and way out of my league. As bad as it might be, I had a crush on one of my professors. Not only that, but a woman professor.

Now I know there's nothing wrong with that, per se, but for me, the feeling is entirely new. In high school, I largely ignored guys. They seemed so immature, so rough. I figured that that was only a temporary feeling, brought on by the company of guys around me. It wasn't until I met Professor Fiona Key that I considered the alternative – maybe I just never will have an interest in guys? If accepting that meant living a life filled with women like Professor Key, then I was all in.

A life full of Professor Key... these were the type of thoughts that got me daydreaming while I sat in her lecture. Lucky for me, I'm a good student; had this been any other class, I would have been doodling on the side of my notes, not paying any attention at all. I sat in my cramped seat in the corner (I was much too shy to sit front and center) watching Professor Key speak. Her voice was both melodic and powerful, soothing and commanding. It flowed into my mind and calmed me, captivated me as I watched her slowly pace in the front of the room, extolling the works of Thoreau and Emerson. She was wearing a low cut black button up shirt, with a dark red tank top underneath, unfortunately covering up what would have been a tasteful but beautiful amount of cleavage. She had a firm, tight body – she must wok out, I figured – and her dark jeans clung to her toned legs. "Turn around, please..." I thought, then immediately blushed at the idea. Then, almost as if she heard me, Professor Key turned to write something on the board, giving me a full view of her perfectly shaped behind. I inhaled, curling my lips in, then blushed again, immediately looking down to my notes – or rather, an empty page with hearts drawn in the border. I've been doing this since the very first day of class, almost a month and a half ago, and every day I tell myself that this will be the day I go up and at least introduce myself. Every day, and I always chicken out. I would say something today, I told myself. Yes, sure. I have to – I'm running out of chances!

Almost as if being toyed with by the universe, the students around me got up and started to head out. Had I lost track of time that much? I looked at my phone, confirming that it was the end of class, then looked ahead, staring at Professor Key. Do it, I thought. I slowly stood up, trying to allow as many people as possible to exit the room before approaching her. As I stood up, a few students walked up to Professor Key to ask some questions, and I allowed them to go ahead of me. I stared down at my shoes, listening to Professor Key's beautiful voice in the background, answering their questions. "Yes?" I heard her say. "Hello?"

"Oh!" I gasped, not realizing that she was talking to me, the other students having vanished. I immediately started to blush – not a good start. "Um, yeah, sorry. I just had a question."

"Sure, what is it?"

Shit. I didn't have anything prepared. I felt my face blush deeper, and Professor Key must have noticed this, since she started to smile slightly. God, I looked like such a fool! "When... when are your office hours?"

"That's all on the syllabus," she replied coolly.

"I lost mine."

"Well, I posted it online. Unless you don't have internet, too?" She said with a light laugh. Was she teasing me?

"I... no, I do. I have internet. I love the internet." Oh god, shut up now. Turn around and walk away.

Professor Key let out a giggle that almost brought me to my knees. "Tomorrow, from four to five thirty. I sometimes stay longer, since I just head home afterwards. Why?"

"Oh, I just need some help," I responded quickly.

"You?" She tilted her head slightly, as if examining me for lies. Was I that obvious? "Surprising. You're doing good in my class."

"Well."

"What's that?"

"Well. I'm doing well." Oh god, did I just correct my English professor? It's become such second nature with my friends that I just forgot who I was dealing with! Upon realizing this, I blushed a deep red, then looked down.

"That's right," Professor Key said, her voice a bit lower. "You're doing very well."

"S-sorry," I stammered as I picked up my bag. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." Without even looking her in the eye, I turned to leave, and quickly left the room. I could swear that I heard her giggling behind me.

***

"God, you got it bad, huh?" Dale sat on the edge of my bed, flipping through an old magazine as I lay on my bed, my arm over my eyes, emptying my problems on him. We met in one of my composition classes, and quickly became good friends. He was outspoken, caring, and very, very gay – all of which I loved about him. He was the only one I've been honest with about Professor Key.

"I don't know what to do. It's driving me nuts!" I groaned, sitting up.

"Well, just go to see her in her office tomorrow. What's the harm in that? Just make sure you have a question or something."

"But she knows that I don't need help!"

"How does she know that?'

"She told me"

"Wait a second," he said as he turned to face me, setting the magazine down. "HOW big is your class?"

"I don't know, like, fifty people or so?" What was he asking this for?

"And she knows you're doing good?" I let that one slide.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, think about it. How many professors here even know how many students they have, let alone how ONE individual is doing?"

"So what are you saying?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, it's like, she was paying attention to you, too. She knows you're smart, and you, like, never speak, right? So you caught her attention somehow."

He was right, I've never had a professor before even know my name, let alone comment on my progress. It was a bit of a stretch, but the very thought filled my heart with such warmth that I could feel myself blush.

"Wow, yeah, and if you blush like that, she's gonna love you."

"Stop!" I playfully smacked at his arm. "So, what should I do?"

"Well, like I already said. Go see her tomorrow. But maybe wear something, I don't know... nice? Hot? You got great tits, you should show them off. Sure she'd like that."

For the first time ever, a comment like that didn't embarrass me. Maybe he was right? Maybe that was just what I needed to grab her attention? "Like what?"

"You have that cute, low cut t-shirt I made you buy last month. Remember it? The light blue one? Maybe that and a denim skirt... nothing fancy, but still hot. Besides, it's starting to get cool out, might be your last chance to wear a skirt for a while."

"Yeah, that's... that's not a bad idea. I think I might try it."

"Good. Just text me tomorrow night, let me know how it goes. Unless you're busy, that is," he said with a snarky smile, which earned him another slap on the arm.

***

I stood at the end of the long hallway, looking down the rows of closed office doors. I looked at my phone – 5:15. While I wore exactly what Dale suggested, I still stressed over my looks for about forty minutes, making me arrive much later than I originally intended. I breathed heavily, walking down the hall, counting the doors until Professor Key's. My heart was pounding; I didn't expect much from the meeting, but this was a big step for me either way. I stopped in front of her door, seeing it ajar. Slowly, I leaned forward, peeking in to see if she was there. To both my delight and terror, she was – her thin frame lounging in her chair as she clicked through her computer. Was she looking at pictures? I stepped closer, peering through the door. When I saw the pictures she was looking at, I held in a gasp. Women. She was browsing images of women. Nothing pornographic, but instead they were all tasteful images of woman in lingerie, a few in some more casual clothes, all very beautiful.

I lightly knocked on the door. My heart was almost pounding out of my chest when she turned around. "Come in," she said calmly.

I pushed the door open, smiling nervously at her. "Hey there."

"Lauren," she smiled at me. "Good, I was hoping you'd come." She turned to her computer, minimizing her screen. "Sorry about that, just doing a little shopping." My heart sank. Of course that was all she was doing. "Though you sure took your sweet time," she laughed. "Was going to head out soon. Just waiting on you."

"Oh, I didn't mean to make you wait," I said softly.

"Wasn't a bother. I kept myself busy. Plus, you said you were coming in today, so I thought I'd wait around. Not many people actually come in. Please, take a seat."

I pulled the chair out in front of her desk and sat down, smoothing my skirt out as I did so. I crossed my legs, but immediately felt awkward.

"So, what's up? How can I help you? Something tells me that this is about more than just a question."

"Well, sort of," I said, already nervous. I couldn't be too obvious, even when every fiber of my being wanted to scream out for her attention. "Like you said, I'm doing good in your class." I could see her smirk at my mistake, but she said nothing. "In fact, I really enjoy what you teach. And your manner of teaching." And you, I wanted to scream. "So, I was wondering if you ever did any sort of, I don't know, independent study with students? I know not every professor does it, but I was just curious how you felt."

She smiled, nodding to herself as she leaned back a bit, rocking in her chair. Her firm breasts, curved out beautifully from her slender frame. She brought a hand up to her face, two delicate, perfectly manicured fingers playing with her auburn hair. "Well," she said, "it's not something that I've done before." My heart sank, which must have shown on my face, as she quickly went on. "But that doesn't mean I'm against it! In fact, if I were to help out any student in an independent study, I would love it to be you. You seem very smart and intuitive."

"Thank you." I was beaming as I watched her talk, her dark eyeliner highlighting her green eyes as they pierced mine.

"And you have an adorable smile. Who would want to pass that up?"

I inhaled sharply. Was she flirting with me? This is it, this is what I was hoping for. "Oh, thank you," I said weakly.

"Tell you what, talking about this is going to take more than ten minutes, so why don't we head out, maybe get some coffee or something? My apartment is just about a block away, if you'd like to talk there? I have most of my papers there anyway."

"Yes, I would love that!" I stood up from my chair, watching as her eyes gazed over me, stopping a split second longer on my chest. I need to remember to thank Dale for the suggestion. She stood up and pushed her chair in, then reached over to turn her computer off. As she bent over, I couldn't help but stare at her firm ass in her tight jeans. The top of a black thong peeked out as she bent over, which made my entire body tense up. She turned around, grabbed her light jacket, and smiled.

***

We started walking down the sidewalk, the cool breeze of mid-fall blowing our hair back as we walked, sending chills up my bare legs.

"Bit cool for a skirt, isn't it?" She asked.

"Probably."

"You look great in it, though."

"Really? Thanks!" I said, a bit too eager.

"So, Lauren, be honest with me. This is about more than just an independent study, isn't it?"

I stopped walking, frozen in fear. "What do you mean?" I managed to squeak out.

"Oh, lighten up!" She walked over and gently rubbed my arm, soothing my tense body. "But please, don't think I'm oblivious. I don't mind, of course. Rather flattered, actually."

"What do you mean?" I asked as I started to walk.

"Independent study? Lauren, please. We both know that our university only allows seniors to do independent studies. So why are you really here?"

I looked over my shoulder, all around the empty sidewalk. Be bold, I thought. Say it. "Because, well..."

"Go on, tell me. I think I already know."

"Well, I... I really like you, Professor Key."

"Fiona. Please, call me Fiona. And I like you too, Lauren. I've taken great interest in your... success."

I blushed as she stepped closer.

"So if I were to say we skip coffee and go to my apartment to, say, look at papers, what would you say?"

"Yes, please!" I said, almost too excitedly.

"I thought so," Fiona replied with a giggle.

***

I stepped into Fiona's apartment and was immediately taken by how clean it was, as well as how fresh it smelled. There was a strong, but not overpowering, smell from a scented candle, something seasonal – pumpkin? I was always horrible at guessing. My heart was beating out of control as I heard Fiona close the door behind us.

"Please, Lauren, sit down, get comfortable." She pointed to a short, dark blue loveseat pressed up against the wall, opposite her television. I walked over and sat down, my legs close together, my hands on my lap. Fiona walked towards me, smiling as she stood over me. "I said comfortable." She sat next to me and leaned back against a pillow. "Not all stiff."

"Sorry," I said, blushing, looking down at my hands. "I can't help it, you... well, you put me on edge. In a good way, don't worry!"

"Yeah?" She said as she sat up, scooting closer to me. Instinctively I pulled back, then relaxed a bit, scooting closer. "Well, I don't want you to be nervous. I want you to relax." She scooted closer, her last words lingering in my ears, her breath flowing over my neck. She draped an arm over the back of the loveseat, behind my back. "You know, Lauren, I've had my eye on you since the first day of class. So beautiful, yet so... innocent. A lovely combo." She let out a devilish giggle. "I can't tell you how many times thoughts of you have kept me up at night."

I was almost in shock. Here was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, saying to me so easily what I have been only dreaming to say to her. Fiona's confidence, her attitude, they were overpowering.

"To finally have you here, and to know you want it too, well..." She leaned closer, gently kissing my neck, right below my ear. "It's perfect," she whispered.

Her kiss sent a jolt of energy through my body, sending goosebumps along my arms and legs. She moved closer to me, her thigh brushed up against mine, as she started to kiss along my jaw line. I started to breathe heavily, unable to speak. I just sank down into the loveseat as she kissed the top of my chest.

"And these," she smiled, biting her lower lip as she rested her chin on my breasts, "god, Lauren, you have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen." She tilted her head down to kiss the top of my breasts slowly, one then the other, as her right hand moved to my waist, her thumb hooking under the bottom of my shirt.

"Professor K-"

"Fiona," she said, shaking her head at me. "Call me professor again, and I'll have to punish you," she said with a wink. She slid her other hand around my waist, and began to pull my shirt up. I raised my arms, helping her to remove my shirt. When it was off, she tossed it behind her, then sat back on her legs, looking at me. I felt very exposed in just my tight fitting, light pink bra and started to blush, wrapping my arms across my chest. "Ah ah," she said, grabbing my arms and gently pushing them to my sides. "None of that allowed. It's just us here, relax."

I nodded, smiling sheepishly, goosebumps still covering my body. She scooted closer, her knee wedged between my legs, resting between my thighs, as she reached back to unhook my bra, all the while kissing along my neck. I tilted my head back, my long dark hair draping over her hands as she finished sliding my bra off, allowing my full breasts to fall free.

"Oh, Lauren," Fiona said, sitting back to look at me, "they're more beautiful than I imagined!" She leaned closer to me, pinning my back on the loveseat as she climbed on top of me, her delicate yet strong hands grasping for my full breasts, which were heaving from my heavy, excited breathing. "It seems you're enjoying yourself," she said to me as her finger playfully flicked over my already erect nipple. I nodded, closing my eyes as she wrapped her mouth around my right breast, her tongue running fast circles around my nipple. I gasped, spreading my legs a bit, an intense jolt of pleasure shooting through my body. She possessively grabbed my other breast with her hand, kneading it expertly, rolling my nipple between her fingers.

I looked down at her, her face pressed to my breasts, her auburn hair draping down over my skin. I reached forward, gently sliding my fingers through her silky hair, something I could only dream of doing hours ago. It was like water running through my fingers. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, her enticing green eyes hiding behind her dark eyeliner, pulling me in, encouraging me. I gasped, spreading my legs a bit as she wedged her knee higher.

Fiona sat up, her mouth coming off of my breast. She reached down and peeled off her shirt, dropping it behind her, revealing her black bra. She then undid her bra, exposing her smaller, yet perfectly shaped, firm breasts. "Not as good as yours, I'm afraid," she said with a laugh.

"No, they're... you're beautiful. You're perfect."

She reached down and unzipped her jeans, then stood up off of the loveseat, bending over, wiggling her hips as she slid her tight jeans down her thighs, revealing her matching black thong. Fiona sat back next to me, smiling, her warm thighs pressed between my own. She grabbed my hand, then brought it to her thong-clad pussy, gently placing my palm over it. "Feel what you've done to me," she said. I could. I could feel the heat radiating from her, feel her thong already soaked with her juices. I looked at her, my eyes wide, scared, yet excited, my heart pounding.