Julian & Sabina

I heaved a deep sigh as I rounded the large blue spruce at the bottom of Dean Garlow's long gravel driveway. His annual Labor Day faculty party had become somewhat of a tradition over the years and I felt an obligation to attend, even though I'd be seeing more than enough of the party attendees as the academic year got into full swing. While I wasn't particularly a social animal, I knew it was good form to attend, have a few drinks, laugh at a few of the same old jokes and make the rounds. Only then would I feel comfortable excusing myself early with some feeble excuse about a deadline or an important phone call. .

There were sometimes new faces -- a new tenure track associate professor or a new grad research assistant. But budget cuts at the university had trickled down to all the schools and the psychology department was no exception. Attrition was gradually taking its toll and we, along with everyone else, were being forced to do more with less.

We had, however, managed one new hire this year and I expected this afternoon's festivities would give us all an opportunity to meet, greet and assess the new blood. Hopefully this year's addition wouldn't get completely shit-faced like the young Korean TA had last year. That had not been a good way to start a new year with colleagues. It had, however, made for a good source of jokes for the entire year.

I made my entrance, played nice to the host and his wife, and then sidled up to the bar for reinforcements. With glass in hand, ice tinkling, I was now ready to admit summer was over and another scholastic semester was about to descend. I made the rounds of the usual faces and settled into my role as one of the elderly, if 55 could qualify as such, statesmen of our department. We were fortunate to have an excellent group and our national reputation had been established years earlier. It did give us some hiring power when bringing in new faculty members. I had not been on this year's search committee, but I had heard we'd brought in a rather bright light and I always enjoyed meeting the newer generation as they entered life in the academy.

I noticed the new female hire before I actually met her. She was standing with the dean and his wife, facing away from me, and I was first struck by her posture: straight and true, square shoulders and legs together in a very proper cocktail party pose. Both hands held what, I assumed, was a glass of Chardonnay, and her demeanor screamed proper and well-schooled in the social graces. As straight as her posture was, however, her ass did seem to have a mind of its own -- projecting out with just a hint of curvy impertinence. She was cloaked in a dress of a deep aubergine hue and had on sensible shoes. I was immediately intrigued.

I continued to circulate, knowing that we'd cross paths at some point. It was a little later - I was standing in a clique of colleagues - when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Harold Brown smiling like a jackal.

"Julian. I want you to meet our new clinical colleague -- Sabina Moore." I eyed Sabina with a polite smile as Harold turned to Sabina to continue the introduction. "Sabina, this is Julian Fellows, our social psych guru," Harold smiled.

Guru was not how I would characterize myself; but if Harold wanted to think that, I wasn't going to try and dissuade him. I had carved out a nice niche for myself and enjoyed my academic reputation and standing. And at 6'-2" I also cut a noticeable swath through a department that seemed to be dominated by short overweight males with little or no hair. My full head of dark brown hair was finally graying and I liked that it began to give me an air of gravitas. My first, and only, marriage had ended years ago, yet I clung to being single and enjoyed it immensely. Many in the academic community took my marital status as a sign of closet homosexuality. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but I liked to keep them guessing.

I shook Sabina's hand and noticed a nice firm grip -- an important factor in a first impression. She had a very pleasant smile and an intense gaze. She appeared rather formal, but this was her coming out party and she looked practiced in making a good first impression while still being on guard. Harold faded into the crowd; his work done for the time being.

Our conversation was cursory and polite. I was impressed, I must say. She managed to present her academic background with an air of sophistication and confidence. Sabina had just graduated from the UCLA program, had studied under some well-known colleagues, and penned a dissertation that had brought her some renown in our small circle. I pegged her at about 30 and saw no evidence of a wedding ring.

Our department had grayed to the point where tweed sport coats and wide wale corduroys had begun to grow rather tiresome. It was going to be refreshing to have new blood in the program; especially an attractive member of the opposite sex. Females were well-represented in our department, but nobody would ever think that beauty had been criteria in the hiring process. Maybe that had finally changed.

I tried to make an initial assessment of Sabina as we talked. One of my strengths has always been an ability to read people; it's probably why I went into psychology in the first place. The key for me is always the eyes. Sabina had large deep blue eyes that went well with her pale delicate complexion. She was not afraid of eye contact and had a steely gaze that communicated confidence and control. Her wire-rimmed glasses added a nice touch of authority with intelligence. I adjusted my own as I drank her in visually. She had full lips that looked soft and so kissable. I made a mental note.

She must have been of Nordic descent; her bearing certainly had a noble, aristocratic air. Her face was strong, distinctive and very pretty in an angular sort of way. Her skin looked smooth and soft and the long line of her neck was accentuated by her hair style; pinned up in a rather loose manner. For some of us of the male persuasion, however, exposing a beautiful neck can be an even stronger draw. Overall she was a very attractive woman who, while not trying to hide her beauty, was doing what she could to downplay it.

I couldn't tell too much about her body from the dress and wrap that she was wearing. It seemed she might be trying to cover up a rather generous bust. I kept my eyes above the shoulders, however, and resisted any urge to gaze southward. I hoped there would be opportunity for that at a later date.

Sabina was animated, yet polite, in our conversation. She spoke directly, with a northern Midwest accent barely in evidence. I smiled and conversed for a few more minutes until we were interrupted by others eager to meet our newest faculty member. But we had exchanged enough information to know that we had some common interests and that we might continue our conversation at a later date. Perhaps there could be some collegial collaboration in our future. There was one thing that was undeniable, however: I found her quite attractive and felt the slightest hint of interest in return.

I finally realized that I had spoken to everyone I wanted to and decided it was time to depart. I thanked our host and hostess and made my way for the exit. I surveyed the room one last time as I reached the door. Sabina stood in the midst of a gaggle of middle-aged male faculty who looked to be doing their best to impress. Sabina appeared to be clutching the same glass of Chardonnay. I grinned and turned for the long walk back down the driveway; a bit more bounce in my step than when I'd arrived. .

I continued to see Sabina around campus over the next month or so. She integrated into the faculty very easily and my colleagues all seemed to be quite taken with her. We had a few passing conversations here and there, polite nods at other times, but no real discourse of any consequence. She appeared to maintain her scholarly role and was always dressed in an almost librarian-like manner.

I recall one day, however, when I caught only a fleeting glance of Sabina, but one that stuck in my head for some time. I was sitting in the main lobby lounge of our building, talking to a grad student, facing in, when over the student's shoulder I saw Sabina striding through the lobby, walking with a purpose. I could only steal a glance or two as she strode by; I couldn't convey my interest elsewhere while talking to someone else.

But what I noticed that particular day was the bounce of Sabina's bust as she walked by. Perhaps she was wearing a thinner bra than she might normally, or maybe it was the heels that transferred more force up into her upper body with each stride. But the effect of it all was that her breasts, while still cloaked in more than one layer, were bouncing in a controlled, but very sensual manner -- as if her bra was doing its best to contain the roiling flesh below. Naturally busty was the thought that came to mind. I smiled, while pretending it was the student's comment that had brought me joy. I filed that image away.

It was mid November when I received an email from Sabina explaining a publishing opportunity she'd come across and wondering whether it might be something we could collaborate on. It was a subject which straddled our particular fields and one she felt held wonderful opportunities for both of us. I agreed to meet her for coffee to discuss it.

It was really the first time we had a scholarly discussion and I was quite impressed, as I knew I would be, with her maturity and her grasp of the subject. This was going to have to be an effort that she led and that I would add support. She knew that having me co-author such a paper would lend some credence to this pursuit and, perhaps, open a few doors still closed to her. I agreed to work with her.

Her look had softened a bit over the first few months, but I could see that she still had her guard up and was still working to downplay her looks and keep her body well-covered. But I did get her to smile and laugh at my dry sense of humor and I began to feel that this collaboration would be an excellent avenue for getting to know her better.

The paper was due in late January, so we worked on it, on and off, over the intervening months. Most of our communications were via email, with occasional sit-downs over coffee to discuss more intricate details. As the deadline approached we were in good shape. But a final editing and aesthetic consolidation of our material was necessary, so we agreed to meet one Saturday afternoon in my office.

Sabina arrived on time and dressed a little more casually than a normal working school day. And while she wore a bulky sweater that did little to display her mysterious upper body, she did wear jeans - a pair that fit as tightly as is womanly possible. She looked damned good in them as well. Our meeting required us to both view the monitor on my computer, so I let her sit in my chair as I pulled up a side chair. It was collegial and professional, but I loved sitting so close to her and taking in her wonderful fresh scent. She smelled as if she'd just emerged from the shower and I suddenly found myself imagining the water running down her body as she soaped herself generously. I slapped myself out of my erotic stupor to get back to the matter at hand.

At one point she leaned back in my chair to reach around and away from me for a file. I allowed my gaze to quickly look down in her lap. Her denim-clad legs were slightly spread and I could clearly see the tight vee of her pussy tucked between her slender thighs. She had gorgeous hips and for the first time since we'd met, I felt a stirring deep down inside. I returned my eyes to the screen long before she could see, or feel, my gaze on her womanly attributes.

We finally finished all we'd set out to do and both leaned back in our chairs to savor the progress that had been made and to relax for a few minutes. I didn't want her to leave; I was enjoying her proximity. And she showed no signs of needing to bolt the premises. I rolled my chair back on its castors so I could take in her full form. She seemed quite comfortable under my gaze, and I noticed her looking me up and down as well. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was some sort of intangible and very subtle attraction -- going both ways.

She laughed easily at my jokes and, for the first time, our conversation veered off into matters unrelated to academia and our impending presentation. Sabina had an easy and engaging style and we fell into a patter about life that gave me a little insight into my young colleague. I couldn't help but begin to ponder the possibilities of traveling with this young lady. And as we began to talk about Chicago and our upcoming journey, I could tell that she was excited -- certainly about the academic possibilities -- but I was getting the impression she was looking forward to spending some time with me as well. This was all unspoken and could have very well been fantastic conjecture on my part. But I didn't think so. There was an unmistakable connection beginning to develop.

Our Saturday meeting ended on a polite and scholarly note and a handshake that lingered just a little longer than it needed to. Within a week Sabina had followed through on all the last minute revisions and had submitted our paper. It was almost six weeks later when she wrote me an email to say our paper had been accepted and we would have the opportunity, should we choose, to present it at a symposium in Chicago. It wasn't a conference I needed to attend, but I knew what it would do for Sabina's academic standing, so I agreed to accompany her for a three day jaunt. I've always loved Chicago, especially in the late spring, and this would give us a wonderful opportunity to get to know one another better.

I let Sabina deal with the finishing touches and final arrangements for the symposium; I made the travel arrangements. We would fly Boston Logan to O'Hare and stay for two nights. Our presentation would be the afternoon of the second day and we'd fly out the next morning. I booked two rooms at the Sofitel, a very nice modern hotel in downtown and smiled inwardly at the thought of spending this time with Sabina.

In the days leading up to the conference we conferred several times on logistics and details. I could sense a little nervousness on her part, but she was basically very much in control. I certainly knew there was an underlying excitement and I liked that she felt comfortable enough to take this project on together. We flew out on a Wednesday afternoon and took a taxi to our hotel. The Sofitel is a tall modern structure near the Water Tower and is very well situated near the Magnificent Mile and Grant Park. Chicago is a great town, one of my favorites, and I'll take any excuse to return.

Sabina had friends she needed to visit that first evening, so we really didn't spend any time together. I wandered the Loop and visited Millennium Park, dined alone on deep dish pizza and got to bed early. We met for breakfast the next morning in the hotel and discussed the finishing touches on our talk. With all our papers and laptop in hand we headed off for the University.

Sabina looked very professional in a dark blue pants suit, her hair up in a tight bun; glasses perched carefully on her pert nose. She looked to be wound a little tighter than normal, but I had no doubt things would go well and she'd heave a huge sigh of relief once we were done.

The talk went as expected. We had our act together in terms of sharing the presentation and I could see the admiring glances from the male attendees as we developed our thesis. I've always found I get a huge charge out of public speaking and it's always followed by a rush of adrenalin or testosterone or something I've never identified. All I know is I almost always feel sexually charged after a successful speaking engagement. I may have to do a little personal research into that phenomenon.

In any case our presentation was excellent and afterwards we engaged in a very lively question and answer period. I saw relief and good feelings wash over Sabina's face as we concluded our talk and left the dais. We gave each other a high five and traded big smiles.

We had been invited to a small reception in the late afternoon, but decided to decline. I was looking forward to some down time and I think Sabina was as well. We took a cab back to the hotel and decided to freshen up for a bit and meet for dinner at seven. I showered, shaved, and answered a few emails, then headed down to the hotel restaurant. I was a few minutes early, so I decided that rather than hang out at the bar; I'd take a seat at our table and take the opportunity to order a celebratory bottle of champagne. A nice Veuve caught my eye and I asked that a bottle be brought as soon as my guest arrived.

It was only a few minutes later that I looked up to see Sabina sashaying across the dining room floor. My eyes widened noticeably as I took in this vision of loveliness suddenly headed for my table. Gone were the layers of clothing and the tight hair style. Her glasses had been replaced with what I assumed were contacts. She was dressed in a form-fitting cocktail dress -- a sort of deep turquoise color -- with a plunging neckline. Her hair was loose and down, bouncing as she walked. And her excellent posture seemed even more pronounced as she strode confidently on a pair of very high heels. She surely noticed the involuntary grin that spread across my face.

"What happened to Associate Professor Moore? Did you leave her in the room?" I asked incredulously, standing to pull out her chair.

She smiled at my indirect compliment and shook her napkin onto her lap as she sat down.

"Why thank you, Julian," she smiled at my gentlemanly ways. "Well, she'd had enough academia for one day, for two semesters actually, and she sent me down to have some fun," she replied.

"Well I noticed fun is on the menu, so you're in luck," I said. I trailed my finger down the menu. "Ahh, yes, here it is -- Filet of Fun served with baby carrots and fingerling potatoes."

"I think I'd rather have fun for dessert," she replied with a subtle grin.

The champagne arrived on cue and Sabina smiled at me appreciatively.

"Ohhh, I love champagne. Thank you. It makes me do crazy things sometimes, though. I should warn you."

"Well I'll have to order another bottle, then," I countered.

The waitress poured us each a glass and I raised mine for a toast.

"To a successful day, a great presentation and a newfound collaboration partner," I stated with a warm smile in Sabina's direction.

"And to a night in Chicago," Sabina replied, clinking my glass and returning my gaze.

We each took a sip and I eyed her, deciding to speak directly.

"Sabina, you look absolutely stunning, I have to say. Why have you been hiding yourself for the entire academic year? Inquiring minds want to know."

"Well, Julian, I think you know the answer to that question. If I paraded around showing these off, do you think anyone in the academic arena would take me seriously?" she pondered.

She was, of course, referring to the magnificent breasts and deep cleavage which I was now trying not to stare at, but without much success. The dress was cut low over the upper slope of her breasts and cut down to a point that a deep crevice loomed in invitation to anyone who might take a gander. Her skin looked soft and supple. I looked for a moment and then returned my gaze to her eyes, where I stayed.

"Uuuhhh." Rarely was I at a loss for words. This, however, was one of those times.

"Case closed," she said, putting down her glass. "Listen my breasts, if I may speak candidly, are a blessing and a curse. They serve me well at certain times, believe me. But I can't tell you the number of times in the past when I've been trying to have an intelligent discussion with a male colleague and I can't even get them to look me in the eye. They don't even hear what I'm saying half the time. So I decided to make a clean start this year and to downplay my assets and let my intellect speak for itself." She paused and looked at me. "Does that make sense to you, Julian?"