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I look at her straight in the eyes and answer, "Yes, that would be acceptable. What about tomorrow? after the morning class?" Immediately after saying this it hits me: tomorrow is the discussion on Reductionism.
Her tension disappears. "Uh, sure! I'm dancing at the game tomorrow night, so my time's kinda limited, but that'd be bitchin'! OOHH, sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful...."
"It's okay,” I say, smiling slightly. I pause a moment, then ask, “Hey, what do you prefer to be called?"
Distracted, she turns to look out the door, giving me a profile view of her exquisite form. I can’t help but notice the cut of the shorts on the side goes all the way to the waist, and from where I sit, the cut of the midriff gives an almost completely clear view of the bottom of her bare breasts. She turns her head, catching me trying (and failing) to be discreet about inspecting her tits, then says innocently, "Well, some of the guys call me 'Squeeze.' That’s okay."
My smile widens. "Alright, Squeeze; I'll see you tomorrow." After she turns, I watch her tight ass as it disappears out my office door. Once again, the lines of her thong push out through the shorts, and the color difference of her smooth skin screams through the wispy thin material.
I settle back in the chair, smiling about the growing tingle in my crotch.
© 2000 by Willie B.
ver. 20010101
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