Sugar Hill

I thought for a minute. "You know, it's hard to say, exactly. They were older, they were both incredibly intelligent, which is sexy in my book. And they were both absolutely gorgeous. Both women that I had always thought would be out of my league...but, so it turned out, were not," I said in all honestly.

"Oh, please. Don't sell yourself short, Professor. For many women there is nothing sexier than a teacher, a professional, an authority figure. And when you mix in your good looks and nice guy personae, well..." She let her sentence tail off. "I have a feeling you've learned how to work it pretty well for yourself over the years," she stated with some confidence.

"No. I can't complain,"

"So, no girlfriend du jour? No one waiting for you at home?" she asked with a somewhat expectant tone in her voice. "Surely you have a stable of willing ladies that are happy to keep things on a casual basis."

"Yes, I do," I admitted. "I hate the term that is often associated with that sort of relationship, but, let's just say I have a nice circle of friends. And still find someone new and fascinating every so often." I said this as carefully as I could, not wanting to scare her off. The cognac was warming me up and a nice glow had descended over our end of the bar and the conversation itself.

Nora ran her slender manicured finger around the rim of her snifter, looking like she was trying to pose another question. She asked it in a low silky tone, meant for my ears only.

"So what makes you tick, Professor? What are you into?" There was hesitation as if there might be a third question. "What turns you on?" she asked finally, her beautiful eyes now locking in on mine.

I took a sip of cognac to gird up for an answer that was fraught with possibility and potential. Another door had been opened, and I was going to walk through this one cautiously.

"Wow. That is quite a triumvirate of questions, young lady," I said smiling, letting her know I was not offended in the least and happy to answer.

"What makes me tick? Well, I'm very much enjoying what we're doing right now, to be perfectly honest. I've been admiring you all semester and almost asked you out a few months back - at the most inopportune time." She giggled acknowledgement.

"Yes, your timing was impeccable on that one," she grinned. What a beautiful sexy smile, I thought to myself. I was about to continue when she added. "I would have said yes, you know. If you'd asked at a better time." She lowered her lids and gave me a smile that made my head melt.

"Ha. Well, timing is everything." I hesitated before asking a question. "What about boyfriend?" I said with a little too much vitriol in my question. She smiled.

"What about him?" She looked around like she was searching for him. "Do you see him anywhere? I don't. Three thousand miles away, he is. Plus we're not exclusive, at least not when we're on different coasts. He's had his fun while I've been here."

"And you?" I asked while the asking was good.

"No. I've been a good girl," she said with mock sincerity. "The Art Department is, well, weird. And I only met one fellow that interested me in the slightest and he never asked me out," she said, staring into my eyes to make sure her meaning was not lost. It was not. "He tried, but his timing was terrible," she added with a curt giggle. I melted and decided to return to the questions at hand.

"Let's see, what am I into? That's kind of a general question, but I guess I'm always ready to explore new boundaries, find new limits, try new things. I want to keep life interesting and not get lost in a rut. Engineering is an exacting discipline and the people in it can get lost in deep bottomless silos. I'm always looking to expand my horizons with new experiences." I hesitated and looked into Nora's eyes. "And new people." She smiled and nodded subtly, silently waiting for me to continue.

"And what turns me on? Wow, where do I go with that one?" I pondered the question as Nora waited patiently for an answer. "I think I'll fortify myself with a stiff swig of cognac before I continue," I joked. She giggled and joined me in lifting our glasses.

She was turned slightly toward me on the bar stool, her legs still crossed. I let my eyes wander down her slender body and knew her eyes were watching mine. Once our eyes had re-engaged, hers took a journey down my torso, staring at my crotch for just second before returning. I continued.

"Well, the truth is, many things turn me on, but I think it's the person that turns me on first. I can get turned on by someone I'm attracted to doing the most mundane things - reading a book or stirring a bowl of soup. It's the person, not the action per se."

Nora was smiling and listening intently. Her look told me I was on the right track. I had struck a chord.

"And another thing that turns me on is turning my lover on, quite honestly. I think that's an age thing - being more interested in giving than receiving. What I love is finding all my lover's sensitive spots, all the little hot buttons. Nothing is more fun than finding a spot on a woman's body that she didn't even know about. I love taking my time, giving massages, exploring slowly." I looked into her deep blue eyes. "I love foreplay,"

I could see Nora shift in her seat ever so subtly, as if this explanation might be turning her on just a little bit. I decided to be blunt. "And I love making a woman come, Nora. Nothing make me happier, nothing turns me on more, than bringing a woman to the heights of pleasure...over and over again." Our eyes locked and we held our gaze, totally oblivious to any other patrons in the bar at that moment. I thought the time had come for the line of questioning to be turned in her direction, but the grand inquisitor was not done yet.

"I see. Very interesting." Her mock tone made it sound like she was interviewing me for a scientific study. But I knew better. She was into this as much as I was and wanted to go a little deeper. "So give me some examples of finding these new spots of sensitivity on your women friends. I'm curious."

"Well, let's see," I said, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts. "I remember one friend who had the most sensitive nipples. But no man had ever played with them or treated them in quite the right way. With a little time and exploration we found that she could orgasm from nipple play alone. To say that was a revelation would be an understatement."

"I would say so. Amazing." She hesitated before continuing, but finally did so as she looked deep into my eyes. "I have very sensitive nipples myself, but I can't say I've ever experienced an orgasm from someone playing with them. It could happen, I have a feeling, under the right conditions. What's your technique, Professor?"

"I actually think it's pretty rare, but it does happen. My technique? Well, I could give away trade secrets, but then I'd have to kill you," I joked.

"You're gonna make me beg?" she asked in a low whisper.

"Maybe. I guess we'll see." She straightened up. "But this is certainly not the place for a proper demonstration," I chided. She didn't respond immediately so I took the door she'd opened and pushed a little. "But I would have guessed that you have very sensitive nipples, Nora," I suggested. "Just a hunch," I said, as I looked down at the skin exposed by her unbuttoned blouse.

She gave a sly smile before responding. "Really." she said, more as a statement than a question. "And how would one come to that conclusion?" she asked.

I let my eyes wander over her body again before replying. "Hard to say, exactly. A sixth sense. You have such beautiful porcelain skin and delicate features. I have a feeling you're super sensitive in a number of place, quite frankly. And, if I'm not mistaken, you have very lovely breasts. I'm quite certain of that." I had taken a flying leap with no net, but she smiled and I saw a flicker of agreement. "You strike me as a woman who is sensitive in many places, in fact."

"You're right on that score, Professor. Tell me about another one of these sensitive spots you discovered on one of your friends." I smiled. She wanted more and I obliged.

"Well, another friend, one of those post docs actually, found she really liked anal play. Not anal sex, per se. But she found she really enjoyed it when..." I caught myself, wanting to make sure I wasn't speaking too loud with a nosy neighbor on the next barstool. I lowered my voice and leaned in closer to her. "She enjoyed it when I licked her ass and probed her bottom. She'd had a negative experience with anal sex and had written it off. But, with a little gentle probing and licking and finding just the right technique, she, well, she learned to love it."

"And do you like licking a woman's bottom, Professor?"

I took a deep breath and replied. "I do. I love it."

Nora was just staring at me now, and it was a look of need and interest. Our faces were inches apart and I got a whiff of her lovely scent. She was loving the tone and direction of this conversation and so was I. I pulled back slightly.

"I could go on," I stated. "Or I could just show you sometime," I said as innocently as I could.

"I think I'd like that class, Professor," she said with a naughty tone in her voice. She smiled and I took this momentary respite as an opening to finally turn the table.

"And what about you, Nora? What turns you on?"

"What? I don't get the "ticking" and "into" questions too?"

"Nope. Going straight for the gut." I took a sip of Remy and repeated the question. "What turns you on, Nora? What gets you off? I would love to know." She took a deep breath.

"Many, many things," she said slowly in reply. "Variety. Surprises." She turned toward me a bit more to continue. "Older men," she stated unequivocally.

"I see," I replied, pondering where to go next. "So, older as in a year older? Ten years older?"

"I don't count the years," she said. "I just go by feel." She hesitated as if she had something to add. "Someone old enough to be my father," she said.

"Aha. Now we're getting somewhere. And you are?" I inquired. She looked at me carefully before responding.

"Twenty-four."

I looked up at the ceiling, counted with my fingers and pretended to be adding up figures in my head. When I had completed the complex formula, I smiled. "That works," I said excitedly. She smiled.

"You fit the bill, if that was what you were wondering," she said.

"Excellent," I said. I wanted to keep this line of questioning alive and well. "And what else turns you on, young lady," I added for good measure. "Give me something specific."

"Well," she said, before hesitating, obviously wondering if she should share what she was about to say.

"C'mon. Spill,"

"Well, one thing I really like to do," she said in a low conspiratorial tone, "is worship a man's cock." She pronounced the word "cock" like it had two syllables and the way she said it made my own twitch slightly with arousal.

"I see. Are you a size queen, then?" I asked. She smiled at the term.

"Hardly. I do have my standards. I mean, a guy can be just too small, that's no fun. But he can also be too big, and that's just a novelty. There's a nice middle ground. You might say I have three requirements if you don't want to get kicked out of bed - if you want the royal treatment," she said, giggling.

"I see. And those would be?" I put my elbow on the bar and my chin in my hand, fascinated to learn more from this sexy young lady. Our conversation had an almost matter-of-fact tone to it, like two academics discussing a scholarly topic. It belied the fact that we were talking about cock. It was beginning to turn me on, quite honestly.

"Well, number one is size and shape. He's got be have a nice cock - good length and, maybe even more importantly, nice girth. And," she added for emphasis, "it's just got to be a nice proportion, a nice shape."

"Good to know," I joked. "No tape measure needed, I assume," I said in a jocular manner. She smiled before continuing.

"None needed. Let's just say I know it when I see it," she said provocatively, her eyelids lowered just so. "Or touch it," she added. Now she had me squirming on my barstool. "And turnaround is fair play," she continued. "If men can comment on women's tits, it's only fair for us women to judge the beauty of a man's cock. They're not all alike."

"No, they're not," I agreed. "And number two?" This was fascinating and we were getting into it now. I was beginning to feel like we could talk about anything.

"Second, he's got to be really hard. I mean really hard, Professor." I loved how she was calling me "Professor" - it added a bit of a dominant/submissive tone to our conversation. "I am just not turned on by a semi-hard dick. Unfortunately you can have the first attribute, but fall short in the hardness category. I've seen some pretty big dicks that bend like salami. I know I'm being picky, but you asked," she stated like she was defending herself.

"You'll get no argument from me. I asked for an honest answer and I think I'm getting it." The last thing I had expected earlier in the day was that I would be sitting sipping cognac with Nora and talking about dick rigidity. I was loving this turn of events.

She sighed deeply before continuing. "And the third thing is..." she hesitated before finishing. "Is that a man has to shoot. And by that I mean, he has to have a powerful orgasm. I may be shallow, but I just don't have that much interest in guys that dribble. How many times have I had a gorgeous cock in my hand or mouth, waiting for the explosion and...there's nothing there," she stated emphatically. "The semen just sort of dribbles out."

"I can see you feel strongly about it," I jibed. I wanted to be careful and not make light of something that she obviously felt strongly about. "I've seen that in porn plenty of times. These well-built, macho male porn stars with big cocks and you wait for the money shot and... What? That's it?"

She smiled. "Exactly! You get it. Give me a man with a nice hard cock who brings his cum into this world with some force and...I'm a sucker." She smiled at her own joke and took another sip of cognac. We were both getting to the end of our glass.

It didn't seem wise to propose another round and, while I would have loved to continue the conversation, I wasn't sure what the next move should be. There was the temptation to try to carry this on elsewhere, but I wanted to be careful about not overstepping any boundaries. But, the cognac had loosened my tongue a little and I needed to know where things stood and what we might do about it.

"Well, I have to say this has been a most scholarly and educational conversation. I could suggest we carry out some research," I said with a smile to make sure she knew I was half joking. "Any final words for your fans?" I joked. "Anything else I should know about you?" I didn't expect her to respond.

"I love to kiss. I love to suck cock, as you've probably gathered by now. I love, and I mean love, dirty talk. I also love a man who knows how to use his fingers. And..." she hesitated, taking her last sip cognac. "I am very submissive in the bedroom," she stated, looking me in the eye.

"Really?" I pondered. "You come across as a very self-assured young lady. But, I have to say, I have met more than a few who, similar to you, are in complete control of their everyday environment, but love to surrender control in bed." I looked at her deeply, becoming more attracted to her by the minute.

"That's me," she said. "When I'm ready for sex, I like to relinquish control, provided I trust the man and he knows what he's doing," she stated. Her criteria were clear.

"Any last minute concepts from the Professor?" she asked. She had been pretty forthcoming, I had to respond and I decided to not mince words.

"Well, I do know I meet all your standards, I shoot like I'm still in my twenties, I love to kiss, I am a master with my fingers, and..." I hesitated as our eyes locked in on one another. "And I do love, and I mean love, to eat pussy. For hours."

She smiled in response. I felt I might have ratcheted up the intensity level to unacceptable levels.

"That said," I continued, "I do think we should leave this conversation and one another tonight without pushing the limits. Do you agree?"

"I do," she stated, pushing her glass away, clearly indicating that we were done. I noted a hint of reluctance in her voice, however.

"But, I would like to make a proposal to you," I suggested. She returned a sly smile. Damn, she looked so demure and sexy right then. I so totally wanted to fuck her, but had a sense that waiting was the right thing to do. I would prove myself right.

"When do you leave for California?" I queried. She thought for a second before replying.

"I'm around next week and leave the Tuesday following, I think. Why?"

"Well, if you're not busy next weekend, why don't you let me take you to a little cabin I rent from time to time up in New Hampshire. It's in a little town called Sugar Hill. It's a beautiful quiet place, magnificent views of the White Mountains, huge fireplace. It's just a cabin, but has all the comforts of home. Let me take you up there for the weekend. We'll leave Friday around noon and come back early Sunday." I waited for a response, but added one more comment before giving her a chance to respond. "And we could continue our scholarly research," I suggested with a smile. "One on one." I waited for an answer, but her body language and shy grin told me exactly how she was going to respond.

"I think I'd rather enjoy that, Professor. Thank you. I'll take you up on your offer." My heart skipped a beat. I couldn't believe I would be spending a few nights with this hot young lady before she headed home. It was almost too good to be true. I scanned her body without embarrassment now, knowing that I would very likely become her lover in due time.

"But, on that note, I am going to take my leave and see you...hmm, not sure I will see you again now that our task force meetings are over. This is my final week in the Art Department and promises to be busy. But I will look forward to next weekend."

"Oh, I can guarantee I will too," I added.

"What can I bring?"

"Nothing...I mean, nothing of substance. I'll take care of everything. Bring warm clothes for the North Country. You know, lumberjack stuff," I joked. "The rest will be on me."

"Sounds good. Thanks for the drinks...and the conversation," she added with a sassy grin.

We traded contact info and parted ways with a gentle, innocent kiss; a kiss that belied the sexual tension that had been building for the past hour. Hopefully, that tension would find release in the north woods on a weekend that suddenly seemed very far away.

But the week went by quickly. Nora and I exchanged an email or two, but nothing that reflected the tone of the conversation that we'd had over cognac. I knew I was in for an interesting weekend, no matter how it played out.

When Friday finally came I was right on time to pick up Nora and she was standing outside the house she was sub-letting, waiting for me. The air was clear and cold, but snow was predicted for the following day.

She had dressed very casually for our trip - jeans, low leather work boots, a bulky wool sweater, and a down jacket - but she still looked great. I pinched myself at my good fortune. It almost seemed too good to be true that we were actually heading off to a mountain hideaway for a weekend together and we had, literally, never even touched.

"That's your lumberjack outfit?" I joked. She smiled.

"Actually, no. It's in my bag. I'll do my lumberjack thing when we get where we're going," she replied, with a grin.

The conversation never lagged and the time flew by as we hooked up to I-91 and headed north. We grabbed a quick lunch in Hanover and kept heading north. It was close enough to the solstice that our daylight hours were going to be limited so I did my best to make good time. Nora had never been up to northern New Hampshire, so I was hoping she could enjoy some of the magnificent scenery sunset.