Journal Of A Timid Temptress
JOURNAL OF A TIMID TEMPTRESS
by
DEIRDRE O'DARE
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com
http://www.amberheat.com
Journal Of A Timid Temptress
An Amber Heat Book
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
Copyright © 2007 by Deirdre O'Dare
ISBN 978-1-60272-022-0
Cover Art © 2007 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting
Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
Published in the United States of America
Also by Deirdre O'Dare
Cowboy First Aid
Daring Dreams
Doggone Love
Karola's Hunt
Nellie's Rogue Stallion
Pickup Man
Portrait Of A Cowboy
Randi's Hellacious Adventure
The Taming of Jaelle'n
To Protect and...Seduce?
Treading Dangerous Ground
Dedication
In memory of some unique people who took part in my "special education" and had conspicuous places in my journal of long ago. It is best they remain nameless as many of them are no longer with us to defend themselves or their reputations! Still, I thank you each and every one and perpetuate your memories in the romantic and erotic tales that emerge from the Irish Stew of this author's checkered past.
As always thanks to the wonderful staff of Amber Quill Press. You are all consummate professionals, pleasant and efficient to work with, supportive, encouraging, constantly extending new challenges and helping me meet them. Brightest blessings upon you all.
Chapter 1
Jan 12
Of all the aggravations! Instead of getting my next poli-sci course with one of the established senior profs like I wanted, I'm stuck with some unknown. Apparently he's new because no one seems to know a thing about him. He's not even "doctor" yet, would you believe? Well, I suppose I just have to make the best of it. I need the course since I can't move on to the upper division classes in my major until I have it.
I'm also disappointed in other ways.
Here it is, my fourth semester of college and nothing has changed. Frat boys are just that...still boys. For them, foreplay is little more than saying, "Get in the back seat, babe, and let's do it." I'm no closer to fulfillment than I was the night of the senior prom, playing slap and tickle with Jared Johnston in the back of his old Ford Fairlane.
Sheesh.
Oh, I'm not technically a virgin, but it makes little difference. I might just as well be if the only way I can really get off is with the help of my trusty b.o.b. I came to college to get an education, leaving the stuffy humdrum atmosphere of Small Town, Bible Belt, U.S.A. as far behind me as I could! I might as well have stayed home on the farm. I learned as much about sex from the livestock as I have here.
There has to be more to life than this!
* * * *
Jan 15
Oh, my gods and little kittens! I've been to Mr. Reynard's class...twice now in fact. I have a shivery feeling inside and get wet just thinking about him. What a man like that is doing at this podunk state institution is a question I won't even ask. He is here and fate put me in his class. Now here's a man I can learn from. I just know it. The trick, of course, is to emerge from the morass of faceless names in his grade book and nameless faces tipped up to him in awe as he paces and gestures and lectures with such passion that I am utterly sure it has to run into other areas of his life as well. His first name is Philippe--I love the spelling and the French sound of it. So much sexier than just plain Phillip, you know? I will devise a plan. I will. I must.
* * * *
Jan 21
He is just too gorgeous for words. I can't think about anything else. It's agony to be in class and watch him, unable to touch or tell him how I feel. But I am making progress. I was sitting on the stairs today when he came in for class and he almost tripped over me. Am I invisible? Finally, as if recalled from a distant planet, he did look down with a bit of a smile.
"Oh, hello. Sorry. I'm afraid I wasn't watching my step. You're in my class, aren't you?"
I leaped to my feet, as graceful as a week-old calf I fear, and tried to smile back, while I replied nonchalantly, "Oh yes, I am. I just love it, too. Political Science is the most fascinating subject. I'm sure the way to change the world lies in its discipline, don't you agree?"
He might have looked just a bit startled then, but he recovered quickly. "Miss Wilcox, isn't it?"
I nodded, trying not to appear too awfully eager. "Yes, that's me. But please call me Geri, okay?"
He nodded as gravely as if I had said something utterly profound. "Geri it is, at least when we're just chatting, like now. Was there something you wanted?"
I started, my mind straying to many things I wanted, but was not sure how to ask for.
I tugged at the hem of my top, which wanted to ride up. Big boobs may be considered sexy, but they're hell on clothes. I searched frantically for some cool response and finally had to settle on the mundane. "Not really. I just had a few minutes to fill before class and came in out of the weather. It's really windy today." I smoothed desperately at my hair, which on good days was as untamed as the copper wire it resembled--charged.
"Don't fuss, Geri. Your hair is gorgeous just as it is, so alive and vivid. And dishabille suits you, you know. You're very earthy, natural, the essential female. I hope you don't feel insulted by that. I have a hell of a time being politically correct these days!"
His eyes, as shiny as jet diamonds, seemed to come alive, all black light. Oh, my! I was transfixed. "Er, no. Not at all. I never had a problem with being female. I mean that's how The Lady saw fit to make me after all."
"The Lady?"
"The Goddess, the All-Mother. You know."
He nodded, "Oh yes, of course. Well, we'd better run along. Class starts in five minutes."
I scampered at his side, only moving away when we entered the classroom and I had to. Since he didn't assign seats, I slipped into one much closer to the front than I had dared before. I'm sure he glanced my way several times. This is the real start of it all. I have a face and a name--he's aware of me!
* * * *
Feb 4
After class today, I made a point of waiting until the mob cleared. Then I followed him downstairs to the office he shared with another faculty member. He didn't realize I was there, standing in the doorway, until he'd tossed his papers onto the one empty corner of his desk and stopped a moment, staring out the window at the leafless trees in the quad beyond the glass.
I must have made a sound because he whirled to face me, as if startled for an instant.
"Geri, why didn't you say something? I was a million miles away."
"I wanted to ask about the book you mentioned, to be sure I had the title and author correct so I can get it at the library, or maybe order a copy through the bookstore."
He circled the desk, halted to prop a hip against the edge of it, standing hardly a foot from me. "Did you now?" He smiled, a sly, knowing smile.
"Yes, the one about the various kinds of leaders, their political styles..."
He reached out with one hand and tweaked the end of my nose. I blinked, startled by the sudden gesture.
"I'd be willing to bet it's right there in your notes. You take very careful notes. I've watched you."
He had me there. How would I get out of this? My brain scurried in frantic circles. "I wasn't sure of the author's name, the spelling."
"S-m-i-t-h. Nothing unusual or difficult there. Dr. Jason Smith." He tipped his head to one side, looking at me like a chicken searching out a choice grain of corn. "How would you like to make some money?"
I felt the heat in my cheeks and knew I had to be going all sorts of colors. I couldn't help it. Redheads blush easily and I probably turned the exact color of my damned freckles. "I...er...unh."
"Oh, relax! Nothing like that, hon. An honest bit of work, babysitting my daughter Saturday night. Linds and I are invited to a party, one that's almost obligatory, but I don't think a ten-year-old has any business at one of Guy's parties. They've been known to become rather...uninhibited."
"Oh." I felt like a total fool and a naïve one at that. What had I thought, that he was going to proposition me right out?
"Of course if you have a heavy date, I'm sure we could find someone else, but I thought I'd ask."
"I--I think my calendar is open," I said. "I'll put you down, you and..."
"Becky--my daughter's name is Becky. She's adopted by the way, and she likes to tell everyone all about it, so don't be shocked. She thinks being illegitimate is a great joke. I'll never forget when she asked what 'bastard' meant. I thought Linds would have apoplexy, but there's no use trying to keep the facts of life from a child. If they're old enough to ask, they deserve to know. I'll pick you up."
"You know where I live?" That was
such a startling bit of news that my voice rose to a squeak.
"In the Sunnyside Apartments, no? I think half the students who manage to escape from the dorms live there. Out front, at six-thirty. I'll be driving the Triumph."
* * * *
Feb 6
It was a jolt to find out he's apparently married and has a daughter, albeit she was adopted. That took me aback, but once I got over the shock, I decided it didn't make a bit of difference. I wasn't looking for a husband after all, just a bit of education.
The fact he was one of my profs already made the idea of a relationship deliciously wicked and out of bounds. A wife and a child added to the equation simply made it a bit more so.
I saw her today, too. The little green car pulled up by the student center at noon and he slipped out from behind the wheel. She got out of the passenger side, a very tall and very thin woman, pale to the point of seeming almost colorless. He gave her a perfunctory kiss before she took her place behind the wheel and started away. I faded back into the rush of lunch-hungry students. This was not the time to be noticed.
Okay, now she has a name and a face. He calls her Linds--has to be short for something. And her face? Well, it is narrow and long, and somehow seems to me to be English looking. She's the type for tweeds and sensible--no clunky--shoes and her hair just kind of hangs there, an ashy blonde color that does not overpower her pale face at all. What is such a vivid person doing with someone like that, almost like a zombie, a vampire or a ghoul, the walking dead, you know? Gives me the shivers.
I mean most couples look like couples. Take Mom and Dad. No one would ever mistake them for belonging to anyone except each other. They're like twins or something, a matched team, you know? Most of the couples I know are like that. But Philippe and Linds? Oh, well, I won't feel like I'm horning in on some sacred bond there at any rate.
After class, I had to find a reason to follow him down to his office. He was grumbling mildly about the freshman PS-101 tests he had to grade.
Ah-ha, what if I offer to help? Splendid idea!
"If it's not against the rules or something, I'd be glad to help. You probably have one of those sheets you lay over the test paper and just mark the wrong ones, don't you? I don't have to be anywhere for a while, so I'd be delighted to do some of the dull work for you."
He slid a glance at me, one eyebrow lifted in a half-question. It was such a sexy look I was creaming my panties in an instant.
"Oh, I'm sure it's all right. Most of the senior profs have teaching assistants to help them. You aren't on the payroll, but I'd appreciate it no end if you'd help. Otherwise, I'll be stuck here all afternoon. "
Being stuck with him for the afternoon sounded heavenly to me. In a few minutes I was sitting there at his desk with the template, happily marking away. He seemed to have gotten a real dud class of freshmen. There were only a couple of papers that had almost all right answers.
It was hard to keep my attention on the work with him so close. First he leaned over my shoulder to get a pen. A few minutes later, he was back, opening the drawer in front of me so his hand was almost in my lap. At least every five or ten minutes, he had to come back and get something or leave something on the desk, although he was supposedly working on an essay test for our class that one of the department clerks would input to the computer later.
Before the afternoon was over, he had put his hand on my shoulder at least twice and once leaned so close his breath ruffled my hair. I shivered for five minutes after that. Finally, I knew I had to go or I'd miss my next class. Not that it really mattered, but I do try to have good attendance. I stood and stretched to work the kinks out of my back.
"I don't know how to thank you," he said, appearing right beside me without warning. Reflexively, I started to back up even though I didn't want to. The habit of letting people have their space is hard to break.
"Oh, it's quite all right. Really." My voice sounded high and breathless. I realized there was no where to go, even if I did try to move. My back was almost against the wall and he was right there. I knew my gaze was darting around, looking everywhere but right at him. He was just so close.
He laughed then, a low, suggestive chuckle. "What's wrong, Geri? Are you nervous?" He reached out, putting his hand against my face, his fingers sliding along my jaw until his palm cupped my cheek. His thumb brushed lazily across my lips. There was not one cell in my body that didn't react to his touch. I felt like I'd grabbed a live wire.
"I know you aren't afraid. We're alone, of course, but someone could come in any time. That's exciting, isn't it?"
He edged closer, one knee sliding smoothly between my legs, until I was almost straddling his thigh. His heat burned me through his slacks and my jeans. My pussy clenched and released, spilling more moisture. I had to rub against him, just a little bit. I couldn't help myself.
"I'd appreciate your help any time you're available. I'm sure we can come up with some way I can reward your efforts. Don't you think?"
I nodded, dizzy with an ache of overpowering lust. I wanted that hand, not only on my face, but squeezing my tits, fondling my ass, toying with my clit. "Uhhhmmmm, yes, I'm sure we can."
He leaned forward and down, first nuzzled under my ear and then shifted to bring his mouth to mine. When his tongue traced along the edges of my lips, I almost melted into a puddle right there on the floor. Oh, but he knew how to kiss! His lips explored mine in leisurely licks and nips, tasting, testing, and teasing. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could barely hold myself up. Oh, mercy, this was what I had been looking for, wanting, needing...
Abruptly, he straightened and pulled away. He slipped his leg from between mine and took two steps back until he hit the desk. When I glanced down, I could see the outline of his cock, half erect inside the soft flannel of his slacks. Then I heard footsteps in the hall. I whirled away and grabbed my things, not really stopping to be sure I got them all. The steps went on by, but I didn't dare look at the door to see who it was.
"Don't forget Saturday night," he said as I staggered for the door. "I'll pick you up around six-thirty."
How could I forget? The mere idea of being alone with him in the confines of the little green Triumph lit my fires. Oh, I could almost come just thinking about it! I guess I mumbled something affirmative before I fled.
* * * *
Feb 8
I stayed inside until I saw the car pull up. I wasn't going to be caught standing out there waiting as if I was impatient--even though, of course, I was. This time of year it still gets dark early, and it was already dusk, but the parking lot out front is lit bright as day with the overhead lights, so there was no missing the little green car. I picked up my purse and slipped into my coat before I walked out nonchalantly.
He reached across and opened the door for me. He looked different, not dressed in the normal prof uniform I was used to, but the effect was still perfect. He wore rumpled chinos and a black turtleneck with a jean-cut jacket over it. Yummy.
I settled into the passenger seat, clutching my purse to keep my hands from shaking. I was almost impelled to chatter, but bit my tongue. It didn't take long to reach the complex where they lived, just a bit larger and nicer than the student housing I was in. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but the outside was very prosaic.
He seemed a bit preoccupied, so I continued to stay silent. We stamped up the stairs to the tiny porch, where he opened the door. There she was--Linds. Wearing a gosh-awful purple-and-gold caftan type thing that hung on her lean frame and washed out her paleness even more.
"Linds, this is the girl I was telling you about, Geri Wilcox. We're fortunate she agreed to sit tonight on rather short notice."
She held out her hand. "Hello, Geri. I'm Lindsey. It's so nice to meet you. I like to make all of Phil's students welcome to our home, and I really appreciate your help tonight."
Just then a small whirlwind erupted into the room. "Dad, Mom, can Stacy spend the night?"