Journal Of A Timid Temptress Read online

  "Becky," Lindsey began, "I told you you're having a sitter tonight. I'm sure she isn't prepared to take care of two children."

  The little girl turned to me. I almost gasped out loud. If she really was adopted, she had an uncanny resemblance to her adoptive father. The same vividly bright black eyes, the same strong but fine features, the same air of super-charged energy.

  "I'm Becky," she said. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Geri," I said. "I'm...er...one of your father's students. I'm going to keep you company tonight while your mom and dad go to a party."

  She gave a quick, jerky nod, exactly as he did. "I know. I'm not allowed to go to parties at Guy Campbell's. Dad says they might as well be orgies, and he's not ready to expose me to that sort of thing for a few more years. Do you make paper dolls or anything fun? And wouldn't it be easier if I had a friend over so you won't have to entertain me? That way you can study or watch TV or something."

  Oh, she was a sly and clever child. That much was obvious. "I don't mind," I said, carefully not glancing sideways at Lindsey, who'd protested the idea. I may as well make friends with Becky right off, I decided. If she liked me, it couldn't hurt. There was something fetching about her anyway, something that spoke to a heretofore submerged maternal instinct in me. All at once I could see myself in a few years as a mom. It wasn't a scary notion at all.

  "If you're sure, Geri." That was Lindsey, whom I had momentarily almost forgotten.

  "Yes, it's all right," I replied.

  Becky dashed off to phone her friend, who apparently lived nearby.

  Lindsey handed me a card. "This is where we'll be, in case of an emergency. I expect we'll be late getting back. If you get tired, there's a trundle bed in Becky's room--but I guess Stacy will be using it. Well, you can crash on the couch. There's an afghan folded on the back." She looked distracted, anxious. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.

  "Come on, Linds. We're going to be late." A sharp note of impatience sounded in Philippe's voice, a tone I had never heard before.

  Becky flung the door open almost before the soft knock sounded. A small, blonde girl entered. They both hugged Philippe, and Becky kissed him on the cheek. "Have fun, Daddy, but behave yourself."

  "Coming, Phil." Lindsey shrugged, half apologetically. "Have a pleasant evening, girls. Behave yourselves for Geri. Do exactly what she tells you."

  Phil? He is so not a Phil! Oh well, I don't have to even think of him that way.

  * * * *

  They were late getting home, no question about it. I was dozing on the couch with an old movie on the TV. I had the sound turned down until I could barely hear the quaint dialogue, so I heard them coming up the stairs. They were trying to be quiet, but doing a really bad job of it. When they came in, they reminded me of a pair of teens hoping not to wake up their parents, all awkwardness and nervous giggles.

  I could tell right away that Philippe had a good buzz on. He was laughing, swearing under his breath, not quite steady on his feet. When he reached to take Lindsey's coat, she shook off his hand.

  "No, it would be best to run Geri home while the car is still slightly warm. The heater doesn't work worth a damn in that pile of junk."

  "I'll do it," he said, his glance sliding to me as I stood, folding the afghan carefully back in its place.

  "You will do nothing of the sort! You're in no shape to be out on the streets, Phil. I won't have Geri's injury or death or anyone else's on my conscience from letting you drive!"

  He rolled his eyes. "I'm no worse off than you are, Linds. You don't know where she lives, do you?"

  "I'm sure she's capable of directing me," she replied. "Go to bed before you fall on your arse."

  He shrugged, apparently ready to give up the argument. Before he turned away, he gave me a blurry smile. "G'nite, Geri. Thanks. See you in class Monday."

  I followed Lindsey out. The Triumph sat in a spot near the foot of the stairs. She glowered at it. "I'll be so glad when my station wagon is out of the shop. I hate this ridiculous car."

  After we got in, I told her the streets that made the quickest route to my apartment. She drove efficiently, apparently none the worse for whatever liquor she'd consumed. In just a few minutes we were there. When she stretched her arm out, I thought at first that she was handing me my pay. Instead, her hand settled on my shoulder, fingers clenching firmly over my upper arm, digging in, even through my coat. The next thing I knew, she'd tugged until I leaned toward her.

  Off balance, I kept moving until I settled against her. Then abruptly I felt her mouth covering mine. When I opened my lips in a gasp of surprise, her tongue slipped in as if I'd invited it. Her lips were cool and firm, with a lingering taste of margarita. Too shocked to know what to do, I just lolled there and let her kiss me. After a moment, she pulled away. She actually pushed me back upright and then slipped a crisp bill into my nerveless hand.

  "Don't worry, dear. I know all about Phil's little student sweeties. However, this time I can't fault his taste. I think I'd like to get to know you better myself. At any rate, consider this my permission to do whatever you feel moved to do. Just don't expect anything long term. Phil isn't going to stray that far. He knows better."

  What could I say to that? I said nothing, so she went on in an abrupt change of subject.

  "I take it Becky and her friend were no problem?"

  "Er, no. They were fine. We had fun, played games, drew pictures. She's quite artistic, isn't she? Then I made them some cocoa when it was bedtime. I didn't leave a mess, though."

  "Fine. There'll be other times, then. Goodnight, Geri."

  In a complete daze, I got out of the little car. Foggily, I made my way to my apartment. I wasn't sure how I felt about all this. I'd never been kissed by another woman before. I really didn't know if I liked it or not, but I was finally getting a real education. There was no denying that.

  Chapter 2

  Feb 10

  I wasn't sure what to expect on Monday. I was as eager as ever to see him, of course, but wondering a little if he knew that "Linds" had made a move on me. This was a situation I had no clue how to handle. A triangle where both of the...no, it just boggled my mind too much.

  I told myself quite firmly that I was so not attracted to a long-faced, English looking woman who was apparently bi-sexual! Still, if I had to tolerate her to get closer to him, it just might be worth it. What would have happened if he had driven me home? My imagination started to build a delicious scenario that soon had me wet and tingling.

  I almost slipped into one of the restrooms for a few minutes of privacy to get myself off, but if I did that, I might miss Philippe coming up the stairs. Release could wait until I got home and got my vibrator out of the night stand. It's been getting a workout lately.

  At that moment, he came striding jauntily up the stairs. He smiled when he saw me. "None the worse for wear, I see," he observed. "You were probably better off than I was yesterday anyway. Damned tequila--gives me a hell of a hangover."

  He shook his head. "Damn that Guy, too. He mixes drinks twice as strong as they need to be, but somehow they're so delicious I can't quit. I really meant to drive you home. I thought all evening about getting another chance to taste those strawberry lips of yours. What in the world do you use to get that flavor? It's perfect, piquant and so very tempting."

  "Er, lip gloss," I squeaked. "They have it in all sorts of flavors."

  Should I say anything about Lindsey's kissing me? No, that would be gauche. "I had looked forward to that myself," I admitted. I tried to meet his gaze squarely, but could only manage a sidelong glance from the corners of my eyes. Well, maybe the effect would be flirtatious instead of timid. Please.

  "Time to get to class," he said, his brisk tone shattering the moment's sensuous bubble. But, as we turned down the hall, he swatted me lightly on the butt. It was almost that friendly smack ball players give one another, but it wasn't. It was intimate. I was afraid someone would see, but in a way I hoped they did, so the
y'd realize I was special now, definitely the prof's pet.

  * * * *

  Feb 12

  Today he kissed me again, and a bit more... Of course I trundled along after class straight down to his office. It has almost become a routine. He gave me a list of books to get from the library--apparently he's working on his dissertation so he's almost a PhD, just not quite. Then, before I could leave to take care of that errand, he nudged the door shut with one deft, quiet kick.

  "If we're very quiet, no one will know we're here. Albert is off today taking a class on a field trip to visit the state legislature. No one else has any reason even to knock at the door."

  Albert Adams was his office mate, a droll, little chap with bristly red hair and a goatee who taught something, I'm not sure just what, actually, but, of course, it was something in poli-sci. The one time he had been there, he'd peered at me vacantly through glasses that made his eyes look like a goldfish's looking out of its bowl.

  Anyway, Philippe closed the door, sealing us into the private sanctuary of his office. A shiver coursed over me, an agony of wondering what he intended to do, and how quickly he would begin to do it.

  I was wearing a skirt today instead of my usual jeans. I think most of them were in the laundry hamper actually. The hem was almost to my knees so I'd decided I didn't need nylons. I abhor panty hose anyway. They never did invent a pair that fits a buxom woman properly, especially a tall, buxom woman. I always end up feeling strangled by them and usually rubbed raw in some spot or another where they bind.

  Does any of this matter?

  Well, of course. Why else would I share it?

  Oh, I suppose I am heightening the suspense also. A fine literary technique I learned my senior year at Maizeville Central High from my English teacher, who confessed to me privately that he wanted to write drama. Not very privately, of course, since high school teachers are deathly scared of being caught in a compromising situation with a student. I suppose it would go badly for a prof as well, but at least I'm now of age!

  Anyway, Philippe closed the door and turned toward me. I think I met him halfway from where we'd been, perhaps three strides apart. I melted into his arms. I always thought that was a stupid phrase when I read it in a book, but, wow, there is no other way to say it. I mean that was just how I felt--melting like butter into a hot biscuit!

  Pressed against him from chest to knees, I could feel his cock stir against my stomach. Then his mouth came down over mine and thoughts flew out the window to be replaced by pure sensation. Did I mention this man can really kiss? He made love to my mouth, is what he did, and I melted some more. I tried to copy what he was doing with his tongue and lips, and I guess I did it right because his breathing quickened and his cock got harder fast.

  Then he turned, still holding me, and pushed me up against his desk. Miraculously it was almost clear. He tucked one hand down under my butt, lifted just a little and slid me onto the front of the desk. I still had my arms loosely around his neck. He put his forehead against mine, so our eyelashes were almost tangling. Then he kissed the tip of my nose.

  For an instant that distracted me from what his hands were doing, so the next thing I knew they were both under my skirt, which had bunched up and pushed back when I sat on the desk. He nudged my knees apart and that pushed my skirt still higher.

  His fingertips teased along the inside of my bare thigh, marching in baby steps from my knee toward my throbbing pussy. Oh. Oh! One finger traced along the silky surface of my moist panties, right over my slit from front to back and then back to front. He found my clit through the thin fabric and began to circle it slowly. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. I started shaking so hard my heels began to drum against the front of the desk.

  "Sssshhhh. We don't want anyone to know we're here, right?"

  "I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it. Here, I'll kick my shoes off."

  "No, I'll take them." He took one hand from my leg and slipped off my shoes, first one and then the other. He set them on the floor with hardly a sound. Meanwhile, the other hand stayed busy. If I had melted before, I think I was vaporizing now. I buried my face against his shoulder to muffle the little sounds I couldn't help making.

  "No, you can't come yet," he said as I drew in a desperate gasp and surged against his stroking hand. He backed off and I almost wept. My pussy did weep.

  "Please," I whispered. "Please don't stop. I'll die. I'm so close!"

  I could only describe his chuckle as diabolical. "Control, dear girl. You need to learn control. Tantric practice will allow you to go all night at the very brink until the optimum sensation and the maximum pleasure is achieved."

  With that, he drew back, tugged my skirt down from around my waist and then sniffed at the hand that had been playing with me. He nodded as if to himself. The words he murmured sounded the same way. "Lovely, warm, womanly scent. Of course, one so responsive would be."

  I sat there not sure whether to scream, curse or weep. I was still shaking fiercely. If he didn't finish this for me, I'd have to head for the nearest restroom to relieve myself. I was stretched tighter than a guitar string, the high one. Talk about frustration!

  "Aren't you going to..."

  "Not now, sweetheart. That will give you something to look forward to. I have to be at a department meeting in about fifteen minutes. I'll leave the office unlocked. Just put the books on my desk." With that he shut his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on some kind of a breathing exercise, a yoga thing or something, as if I was nowhere around.

  I bounced off the desk, stuffed my feet into my shoes and hauled ass out of there! I knew of a ladies room right around the corner. I hit it before I went on to the library. My hand doesn't have the magic of his, but it got the job done. For about half an hour I was furious with him, but I can't stay mad long. I'm learning. Wasn't that what I wanted?

  * * * *

  Feb 15

  Valentine's Day was a disappointment, but the next day more than made up for it! I only saw him in class on Friday. He thanked me sweetly for getting the books. Then he said very gently that he didn't have time for us today, but that Saturday was coming. And Becky was going to need a sitter again. Of course I jumped at the chance, even though I wasn't sure another encounter with Linds would work for me right now. Perhaps this time he would drive me home instead. I lived on that hope until this evening.

  He came after me in the Triumph again. I love how he looks in jeans and a sweater or sweatshirt. I go all moist and melty just looking at him. He reached over and squeezed my knee while I was fastening the seat belt.

  "I can't decide if you look better in tight jeans or a short skirt. A skirt has the advantage of accessibility, though."

  That took me right back to Wednesday and had me all hot and bothered in an instant. He meant for that to happen, of course. Too soon we reached their apartment.

  Again we climbed the stairs in silence. The drapes were drawn in the living room so it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Then I saw Linds and almost swallowed my tongue!

  She wore a shiny black garter belt with fishnet hose, high black boots, a bustier with a cut-out for each breast and black fingerless gloves that extended above her elbows. I gasped. Surely she would not dress like this in front of Becky! Actually, although on the thin side, in this costume she wasn't too bad. Black was her color, no question about that.

  "I thought, I...where's Becky?" I probably looked like a fish thrown out of its tank, my mouth flapping soundlessly in shock. For the moment, I didn't care. This was just too weird!

  "Becky is spending the weekend with a friend." That came from Philippe. "Linds and I decided we both wanted to get to know you a bit better, so we set up a casual party for three. I think you'll enjoy it."

  He had come up behind me after shutting the door. Now he put his hands on my shoulders, as if to steady me, or perhaps keep me from bolting.

  Linds smiled. "We've discovered we both enjoy some games, but not necessarily
only between the two of us. I'm bi, as you may have guessed by now, and Phil...well, Phil just loves sex in any shape, color, size or flavor, don't you, dear?"

  You're getting an education. You're getting an education.

  I repeated that in my head like a mantra as I struggled to come to terms with this totally unexpected development. A ménage a trois. I am going to be part of a ménage a trois! Now that will be education with a capital "E."

  With his hands still on my shoulders, Philippe propelled me through the doorway he'd headed for last weekend, down a hall and into what was obviously the master bedroom. Although it was a good bit larger than my matchbox-sized room, it was still dominated by a huge four-poster bed. That bed looked like it belonged in a medieval castle! Had to be at least a king size. The posts looked like they had been whole trees in their last incarnation, too.

  Looking closer, I saw the posts and the headboard were studded with rings and hooks, all sorts of hardware. The metal was dark so it blended into the dark wood unless you really looked. Well, I looked so hard my eyes nearly popped out.

  I mean I'd heard about this sort of thing, whispers and glimpses in the type of magazines hidden behind the counter in the news stands. Some of the frat boys collected them and figured a girl would get turned on looking at the pictures with them. In your dreams, dudes. They really don't get it. But that's beside the point.

  Linds had followed us down the hall. Now she circled around us to the foot of the bed, stooped to pull open a drawer, and reached in. From it, she extracted a handful of cords, a couple of pairs of handcuffs, and some other things I could not see clearly enough to figure out at the moment.

  As my shock began to fade, I came back to the immediate with a jolt. Philippe had drawn me closer against him. Now he bent to nibble my neck from behind as he began to unbutton the front of my shirt. For a moment, the fact Linds was standing there watching us bothered me. Then I told myself it was her choice to do so, and after a few more seconds, I was too far gone to care.