Favor For The Professor

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2006, 2009

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached.

Abstract: Ray takes out the Professor's big-boned niece and finds her more than
he expected

Ray Franklin was grading badly-written German essays when the Professor called
him into the office.

"Raymondt, I have something to ask you." Professor Morton Dichter had been
teaching at the University for twenty years, but his accent had never
completely disappeared. "My younger brother informs me that my niece now is
attending the University here."

Ray nodded blankly, wondering whether congratulations were expected.
Fortunately, the Professor continued without much pause. "I did not know I had
a niece, but then Kurt and I have not spoken much since I came to this country.
Twenty-five years is a long time..." The Professor's deep voice faded briefly,
then resumed its normal volume. "My brother tells me that Marta -- that is my
niece, you see -- studies computer science but she is too focused on her books
and her assignments. She is not, what do you call it, having her social life.
He has asked because of my position here if I can do something to see that
Marta does more with her time than sits with her face to the computer."

Ray hadn't gotten to be a teaching assistant to the head of the German
department by being slow. He hadn't stayed one by being presumptuous, either.
He settled for tilting his head to one side and inquiring, "And how could I be
of assistance, Professor?"

"Raymondt, I have been observing you in the year and a half that you have been
one of my teaching assistants. You are a young man of quality and character. Of
course, with your name that only makes sense -- you do know that your name
means 'protector'? Well, I wish to ask you a favor. Would you agree to, what is
the term, escort my niece for a few weeks? My brother thinks once she get used
to the idea of being among people that she will naturally open up. I will, of
course, reimburse you for half of your expenses."

That was the Professor for you. Just when he started to sound human and
personal, he had to add that coldly clinical comment about money. Granted, it
saved Ray from raising the issue himself, but it impaled him neatly on an
ethical dilemma. There was probably something in the University policies that
said professors couldn't use their teaching assistants as gigolos, paid or
otherwise. On the other hand, turning down Morton Dichter would probably
eliminate Ray's chances at a plum graduate school. Anyway, how bad could it be
taking a girl around a few times, even if she turned out to be a total dog?

Ray had reasons to rethink his answer to that last question several times over
the next two weeks.

*** *** ***

The first encounter (Ray refused in his mind to call it a "date") was actually
chaperoned by the Professor, who took both students to dinner at the Faculty
Club. He explained over a veal roast and wine that his brother wanted Marta to
spend some more time away from her studies, that the University experience was
meant to be more than the awarding of a degree. Ray listened with half an ear,
inserting comments here and there but devoting the bulk of his attention to
sizing up his new companion. Marta was an inch taller than Ray but otherwise
she was about what he had expected -- brains without looks. She was solid,
broad-shouldered and plain, with streaked brown hair falling artlessly to her
shoulders. Her voice was low and unremarkable, and she wore a drab red dress
that managed to emphasize all of her curves, including the unflattering ones.
However, she ate with a delicate grace that made Ray feel somehow like a
country villager invited to dine with the squire. She also flashed him a look
during her uncle's monologue that said clearly, "Okay, he's forcing us to be
together, let's try not to make it more painful than it has to be."

Away from her uncle, Marta was a different story. The following Tuesday she met
him at Gino's for pizza before seeing the latest chick flick. Ray was in dress
casual, but Marta turned up in flip-flops, ratty jeans and a well-worn t-shirt
that jiggled in several places every time she moved. Her conversation at dinner
was centered around trees, cycles, and other words that sounded like English
but instead meant something else in terms of her computer courses. Ray did his
best to look like he understood every third word. His brief attempts to turn
the conversation to something non-academic were politely ignored. The movie
theatre was better, if only because he didn't have to try and maintain a
conversation and in the relative darkness he could easily avoid the appearance
of staring at her chest or waist. She seemed unimpressed by the movie and they
parted with a handshake, her hand capturing his in a damp but firm grip.

Over the next week he took her in turn to a basketball game, a physics lecture
by a visiting Nobel prize winner, a comedy movie and a CD release party for a
local rock group. Her clothing decisions varied from not-quite-embarrassing to
just off center; at the basketball game she looked like a frumpy overweight
librarian, but for both the Nobel lecture and the CD party she chose clingy
eye-catching blouses and knee-length skirts that practically forced you to take
all of her curves in at once. Ray wanted to give her some advice, but he
couldn't find any way that wouldn't be either condescending or insulting.
Luckily he had picked his events well and hadn't run into any of his usual
crowd, and his opinion of her didn't seem relevant since they always parted at
her apartment door with the same damp handshake.

On one front, however, Ray felt he was finally giving the Professor some value
for his money -- Marta was starting to open up to him about herself rather than
her coursework. After the CD party, which she appeared to enjoy thoroughly,
they went to a coffee bar for dessert and she told him about growing up in one
of the smaller states on the banks of the Rhine, being unpopular (without
specifying a reason) and deciding that the best way to get out of town was to
excel at school. She then surprised Ray by demonstrating a fondness and wide
knowledge of American poets, from Emily Dickinson to Carl Sandburg. Poetry was
one of Ray's side interests, and he was doubly surprised to find out from Marta
that Professor Dichter was a poet, having been published back in Germany before
he moved to America. Marta for her part was surprised that her uncle's top
teaching assistant wouldn't know that, a comment that Ray chose to take as
flattery.

Their evening ended as usual at her apartment door with Ray prepared for her
clammy handshake, but instead she leaned into him for a quick hug, her arms
pulling him briefly but emphatically against her before she turned and went
inside. Ray drove home in a confused and disturbed mood, and decided by Monday
morning to tell the Professor merely that Marta seemed to be adapting to
college social life. He didn't, however, claim that his escorting services were
finished.

The next week was first trimester exams, so Marta was busy with her computer
programs and Ray was occupied grading papers. He didn't even realize that
Friday had arrived until Marta called him for a change.

"Hi, Ray!" Her voice was breathless, excited, almost girlish. If it weren't for
her accent, he'd have thought the call was from someone else. "There's a goth
group playing at a club downtown tonight, and I don't want to see them by
myself. I wondered if you'd be interested?" Goth wasn't at all Ray's
preference, but he was so amazed to hear this side of Marta that he heard his
agreement and her acceptance before his brain caught up to reality. The
incongruous image of frumpy Marta being excited about dark, moody goth music
broke Ray's concentration for the rest of the afternoon.

He grabbed a quick dinner and drove to Marta's apartment, where she was already
standing outside her door waiting for him. Ray did a double-take to make sure
he had the right apartment -- the woman there was Marta's size and general
shape but that was the only thing familiar about her. Her eyes were heavily
made up with black shadows, and she wore a dress of some stiff but flexible
black material that made her look like a heavyset voluptuous witch. She held
out one hand imperiously, and Ray escorted her to the passenger side of his car
with something more than his usual gentlemanly manners. She took her seat
without so much as a thank-you.

Halfway to the club Marta finally broke her dramatic silence with a low
chuckle. "Oh Ray, you should have seen your face when you saw me! I'm glad you
agreed to take me, I've got some friends in the band but I didn't have a ride.
I think you'll really like this." The comment eased Ray's confusion somewhat,
although he still wondered where this side of Marta came from.

The downtown club was dim and dingy, and smelled vaguely of beer and less
savory intoxicants. Ray paid the cover charges and followed Marta in, noting
her animated greetings to several of the dark-clad figures in the crowd. He
felt distinctly out of place, and was glad of the occasional squeeze of Marta's
hand on his. He followed her lead in getting a club soda at the bar, and they
wandered through the close-packed space until Marta found an empty booth,
urging Ray to scoot in first. He took a long swallow from his drink, and
finally found his own voice. "You said friends of yours -- computer science
majors?" The tone of his voice indicated he found this hard to believe.

"Yes, Kellie's into OS design, Greg, the drummer, does something involving
parallel architectures and Nina is an AI geek. You'd like Greg, he's a
heads-down focused kind of worker like you." She squeezed his hand as if to
take the sting out of that last remark. At that moment, the club lights dimmed
and the band came out on stage. They looked like outcasts from a George Romero
movie, but when the music started it was evident even to Ray's ears that they
could play. Nina, the lead singer, was especially eye-catching. There was
nothing particularly revealing about her outfit -- a torn shirt and dark jeans
-- but she moved with a sinuous electricity and her voice had a husk that
insisted on your attention. He couldn't quite understand the words of the song,
but if he closed his eyes he could feel it pulsing in his blood.

"...drink?"

Ray shook his head. The song was over and he'd missed Marta talking to him. She
waved her hand in front of his face and repeated herself. "I said, can you get
me another drink?" Ray apologized for his inattention, and squeezed out between
the booth and Marta's backside as she moved to give him room. He sucked in his
breath, feeling the stirrings of an erection he hadn't been aware of as he slid
past.

When he got back to the booth with her club soda and his Tom Collins, Marta was
conversing animatedly with the lead singer, and Ray took a moment to contrast
the picture with the frumpy reserved girl he'd had that first dinner with. It
was hard to put the two in the same universe, much less the same person. Nina
looked up and saw Ray, and burst into giggles as he slid into the booth
opposite the two. "What's the joke," he asked between curiosity and annoyance.
"Oh nothing, just ... girl talk" was Nina's reply. Up close the singer was even
more of a contradiction than on stage. There wasn't anything about her
appearance that Ray could single out, and yet there was a definite aura about
her -- and Ray didn't even believe in such things. He decided to change the
focus of the conversation, smiling to Nina and complimenting her on her stage
presence and the band's musical chops. She thanked him gravely, then slipped
away quickly to get ready for the next set.

"I just wish I'd been able to make out the words," he added after Nina was
safely out of earshot. That brought a loud hoot from Marta. "Don't let my uncle
hear you saying that," she admonished him. When Ray looked at her in
bewilderment, she smiled and leaned forward to speak over the club noise. Ray
couldn't help looking down the front of her dress and wondering whether those
mounds were being supported by a bra as Marta's voice curled into his ear. "You
really weren't paying attention to the words -- they were in low German and I
thought you were understanding them. That's from one of my uncle's poems, I
adapted it for the group. I've written several songs for them."

He lifted his attention to Marta's face at this new revelation. Her hand snaked
across the top of the booth to squeeze his. "Raymond... I'd be very happy to
read you his poems. And if you're *very* nice to me, well... Nina told me she
thinks you're cute." Marta rolled her thumb in the center of Ray's palm, and he
felt a wave of heat wash across his forehead. Thoughts of the Professor
vanished from his mind, and he spent the rest of the concert in a warmly fuzzy
anticipatory haze.

*** *** ***

Ray let Marta drive his car back to her apartment; the last Tom Collins had
pushed him past his normal limit and he needed her help to get the seat belt
fastened across his lap. They arrived at her front door, but a damp handshake
was not in the cards for this night. Marta opened the door and helped Ray keep
from tripping over the threshold while she turned on the lights. The inside was
a cocoon of plush, soft surfaces -- velours, thick carpet, padded fabrics on
the walls, and everywhere the sheen of silk. Marta settled Ray into the deeply
cushioned sofa and brushed her lips across his forehead, then wandered off
toward the back of the apartment. Music started up; Ray recognized the voice of
Lotte Lenya from the Threepenny Opera and he floated along with those familiar
lyrics until Marta returned.

She came out of the bedroom in a clinging black silk robe, the lines of a panty
girdle clearly visible at her waist and below her thighs; but above that no
lines, only large swaying curves. Her hair was pulled back caressing the tops
of her shoulders. Ray gaped, and managed to summon up a whistle. Marta smiled
at that, dark brown eyes twinkling above neat white teeth, and she moved
forward to climb up into his lap.

"Ray, you've been a lovely and well-behaved gentleman for this past few weeks.
Of course, we both know my uncle and my lack of looks have a lot to do with
that." She chuckled, and squirmed her full bottom from side to side over Ray's
trapped erection. "But you've been nicer than you had to be, and I've seen
where your eyes have gone when you think I'm not looking. I think you're sweet,
and Nina agrees with me."

That was her second odd reference to the singer, and Ray would have asked about
it had Marta not opened the top of her robe, presenting him with two large,
dark-nippled breasts that begged for his attention. He was more than willing to
do just that, giving either side equal open-mouthed attention and lifting his
hands to caress the outsides of her heavy curves. He suckled, drawing as much
of the sweet-scented flesh into his mouth as possible. Marta leaned into him
and clasped her hands behind his head, and with his mouth full Ray couldn't do
anything to warn Marta about the rapidly increasing urgency in his lap. She
hugged him into her cleavage as he exploded in his pants, his face ruddy from
embarrassment and shortness of breath, and she didn't release him until his
body ceased to shake and quiver.

"You're embarrassed," she observed before kissing him thoroughly. "Don't be,
that was the sweetest compliment you could possibly give me." She shifted atop
him, removing her robe and wrapping it around his eyes. "Now be a good boy and
don't move or talk or peek, and we'll get ourselves cleaned up for a lovely
time together!"

Ray wasn't inclined to argue as he felt Marta's soft hands remove his shoes,
undo his belt and fly and drag his slacks down off his legs. The soggy cotton
of his briefs followed suit once he lifted his hips off the sofa cushion. The
fuzzy material of the sofa tickled his bottom, and he was acutely aware of the
feel of semen drying on his skin. The apartment was cool, but not enough to
make him shiver.

Something orchestral, Brahms perhaps, was on the music system and it
effectively masked any sounds Marta might be making despite his best efforts to
listen. After what seemed a long time (and to a half-naked and blindfolded Ray,
any time seemed long) Ray's hearing was further muffled by the heft of Marta's
breasts pressed around his ears from behind. Her fingers deftly unfastened the
buttons of his shirt and she pressed him forward just enough to remove that
last garment before lacing her hands across his chest and playing with his
nipples. His erection, which had never gone completely away, sprang back to
life as Marta's fingertips danced and teased their way down over his stomach,
tantalizing near his waistline.

A damp, slick hand clasped his erection, another set of fingers rolled his
testicles. Even as his legs stiffened in a wave of lust Ray could work out
there were too many hands for one person.

"Marta has good taste." The voice was familiar... the singer from the band?
"Yes, I'm Nina, and you're my treat. You can thank Marta for that later. Or
maybe she'll thank you." The hand around his shaft led his cockhead into the
caress of damp folds of flesh, and he moaned as the woman twisted herself down
onto him until her thighs were comfortably snuggled against his legs. For an
unknowable time Ray felt the effects of four hands plucking, teasing and
stroking his body while Nina did things with her inner muscles that he had only
read about in cheap porn magazines. She started slowly and picked up her tempo
gradually, playing her own kind of physical music until she dug her fingernails
into his underarms and shrieked out her climax, pulling Ray into a simultaneous
explosion that left him drained and dizzy. Not too drained, as he discovered
when she began moving again, and her second act pulled the curtain down over
Ray's senses.

Ray's dreams were busy, fragmentary, and vaguely erotic. He woke in
semidarkness with Marta's hand curled around his shaft, her breasts pressed
into his back. She was breathing slowly and deeply, and her occasional wriggle
made the material of her panty girdle brush lightly against his ass. Nina was
nowhere in evidence. Ray wondered how to detach himself enough to get to the
bathroom, but that problem went away when Marta woke up. She stirred against
him and spoke sleepily. "Mmm, Ray, you were wonderful but I need to get some
sleep -- are you okay to drive now, or can I put you up on the sofa?"

Confused by the abrupt dismissal, and more than a little annoyed, Ray allowed
that he had slept enough to be street legal but would need to find his clothes.
"I'll take care of that, hon, you just catch up on your rest. I guess we really
wore you out." She was right on that score -- Ray's body felt like he'd run a
marathon and then kept the judges' daughters busy for the afterparty. He felt
himself gingerly; nothing seemed to be broken, but everything from his groin
outward ached. The feeling was not unpleasant, but it was tinged with
frustration; Ray had the definite sense that he'd missed some of the action.

The lights in the apartment came up, enough to see by and not enough to make
his eyes hurt. Marta stood in front of him holding his slacks and shirt and a
pair of purple panties. "Hon, you really can't wear those briefs again. I hope
you don't mind wearing something of Nina's." Ray wasn't at all pleased with the
idea of panties, but he didn't want to go bare under his slacks either. He
stood and slid the silky sheath up his legs, tugging the waistband up. At least
he didn't have a roommate to see this. Before Marta gave him the rest of his
clothes she hugged him tight and kissed him deeply, one hand caressing the
backside of the panties. "I know you're disappointed, but I promise I'll make
it up to you." A twinkle came into her eyes as she continued, "You just keep
those around, and I'll let you redeem them next time."

And with that Ray found himself out in the parking lot, getting into his car,
driving home. The sensation of the panties around his groin kept him alert for
the drive. If that was a bum's rush, it was certainly the most interesting one
he'd ever been given. It was a very confused Ray, still wearing Nina's panties,
who fell into bed and into sleep as the sun rose.

*** *** ***

Thanksgiving came and went, and Ray found himself frequently accompanying Marta
to lectures and movies. The professor hadn't said anything about terminating
their arrangement, and Ray hadn't taken the initiative to mention it. The scene
inside Marta's apartment was not repeated although she was much more
affectionate than before in saying goodbye. After each of these kind-of dates,
while relieving his unfulfilled arousal, Ray would say to himself that the
panties were a silly idea and he should just forget about it. But each time
Marta asked him out, he wound up wearing the cool caress of nylon under his
slacks.

Outside of seeing Marta, Ray was kept busy with his teaching assistant duties
and work on his master's thesis. He put his frustrations to good use by
completing almost a hundred pages before homecoming weekend arrived. Neither
Ray nor Marta were football fans, so they arranged to attend a theatre arts
festival a few hours out of town. Ray had always thought Shakespeare boring,
but one of the festival entries was a crossbreed of Romeo and Juliet and Taming
of the Shrew, set in modern times and done in rap. It was totally bizarre, but
amazingly it made sense. The real revelation to him was a troupe performing a
setting of the Parsifal tale written in the thirteenth century. With Professor
Dichter as his mentor, Ray was of course well-read in classical German
literature, but this was a completely different animal.

The two of them went to a small cafe after the last performances and spent
hours talking about what they'd seen, finally being chased out by the cafe's
owner who wanted to close. By that time it was too late to be driving back to
the campus, and Marta suggested they stay with some friends of hers near the
festival site. Ray, yawning, thought it a good idea and followed Marta's
directions to find their house.

Marta's friends were a pair of older women, perhaps in their early fifties, and
they greeted her like a long-absent daughter with plenty of hugs and giggling.
Ray's reception was more guarded but still friendly, with overtones of "any
friend of Marta's...". The two insisted that the younger couple join them for a
nightcap, and they fluffed up the bedding in the guest room before calling it a
night. Marta pulled out a book and waved Ray to join her on the bed, and they
snuggled while she read him her uncle's poetry. It was good, but Ray was tired,
so Marta suggested that he use the bathroom first.

When he came out, Marta was still on the bed but had stripped down to her large
white bra and panty girdle. She giggled at him, saying "Surely you're not going
to come to bed wearing jeans!" Ray turned toward the bathroom, but that seemed
even more silly all things considered. Instead he stood with his back to Marta,
unbuckling his belt and letting the jeans down. The thin purple panties were
stretched tautly across his bottom, and in front they clearly framed his
budding erection as he turned around. "Is that for me?" Marta cooed, and
wiggled her fingers inviting Ray up to the bed.

The mattress was high enough that Ray's crotch was at the same level as Marta's
thighs, and she grabbed his ass to rub his lingerie-covered shaft into the
gusset of her panty girdle. "I'm so glad you wore these for me, Ray, it tells
me you're thinking about me!" Wrapping her legs around his, she slid her hands
up his chest and pulled his head down to meet hers for a long, engrossing kiss.
His chest was pressed against the crinkles and texture of her heavy bra, and
she led his hands around behind so that he could busy himself removing that
garment. When the catches popped apart, he rubbed the lines out of her back
before pulling himself away bringing the bra with him. Marta smiled and held
her arms out, her breasts falling unsupported, large russet areolas framing
thick nipples. Ray licked his lips unconsciously, and Marta grinned to see
that. He practically fell forward into her cleavage, leaving no inch of skin
untouched or unkissed. Marta enjoyed that almost as much as the feeling of his
erection sliding against the gusset of her panties, and she almost regretted
having to push his face away from her body.

"Ray," she said softly, "would you help me off with these?"

In other circumstances the look on Ray's face would have been funny. He
resembled nothing so much as a puppy about to be given a big juicy doggy snack.
Marta slid down to stand next to the bed, and helped Ray to tug and pull the
heavily elastic material down over her ample ass. He held the garment for her
as she pulled first one foot and then the other out.

If Marta thought she was leading this dance, she found Ray capable of
surprising her. He pressed his face unprompted between her cheeks and slithered
his tongue out to tease her dangling nether lips. She moaned in appreciation
and leaned forward to rest her torso on the bed, spreading her thighs for him.
His face jiggled against her bottom, then vanished to be replaced by a very
different part of his body. Marta sighed and rocked from side to side in
anticipation, and Ray didn't disappoint. He entered her slowly, with great
focus and determination, his hands deftly stroking her hips and teasing around
her waist to get their bodies together at the most effective angle. He was, she
thought, a very thoughtful lover. Not sudden, hard and fast, but deliberately
paced with a good sense of how her inner fires were slowly rising. She
recognized the moment and the need when he softly kissed her in the middle of
her back, tickling her sides and asking her to turn over.

The bed squeaked as she rolled, and Ray quickly slid his cock through her wet
channel, holding her open with one hand as he pushed his length fully inside
her. Marta's legs wouldn't go over his shoulders, but together they managed to
find a position that was comfortable for her as he slapped his thighs into her.
He leaned forward and played with her breasts drawing coos of delight as his
face turned red with effort and arousal. Marta returned the favor, teasing her
fingernails up and down his sides as he huffed and puffed atop her until his
eyes rolled and he clutched at her sides, his hips jerking as he spilled what
must have been three months of pent-up desire into her.

It was good for him, that much was obvious, and he was still shaking between
her legs when Marta reached down to find her hidden clit, giving herself that
little extra she needed to go over the edge herself. The sound Ray made when
she came was merely icing on her cake.

Later, after showing Ray how she liked to be cleaned both in and out of the
tub, Marta lay in bed with him sprawled inside her arms and legs. She stroked
his back and teased his bottom, smiling as he weakly jerked his body against
her. He was sensitive there; she would enjoy teaching him. Nina was very
special to her, of course, but Marta wanted a good man -- between her legs and
in all the other ways.

She hoped her uncle wouldn't mind when his prize student became hers instead.

/END/

Endnote: Written for the Fall 2006 issue of Journal of Desire,
/~JournalofDesire/v3n2/.