Newsgroups: salt.sex.stories
From: an182766@anon.penet.fi (Horangi)
Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 04:19:51 UTC
Subject: Dispensation of Grace (m/f)

			Dispensation of Grace
				  by
			       Horangi

	As I was heading into the final stages of finishing up my PhD,
I received - quite unexpectedly - a job offer from a large university
in California that shall remain nameless. It was a very tempting first
position but the appointment was only for one year; I wasn't sure I
wanted it to interrupt my research and it meant having to be separated
for several months from my fiancee, whom I was living with. Still,
after mulling it over carefully I decided I'd be foolish to pass up
the opportunity. My fiancee, who had a good job, stayed behind on the
East Coast while I headed off.

	One of my teaching duties for the spring semester was to take
over the second half of a year-long interdisciplinary course on gender
and sexuality from psychological and anthropological perspectives. A
colleague from the psych department had handled the first semester and
I was set to take the anthropological section. I took the class roll
with me to the first session I was teaching, since I wanted to become
familiar with my students' names as soon as possible. I was especially
struck by a beautiful young woman sitting in the second row. She was
dressed plainly - glasses, hair up in bun, no make-up, jeans and a UC
Santa Barbara sweatshirt, but her exquisite features left no doubt
about her extraordinary beauty. From her face and her name - Grace Kim
- it was clear enough that she was Korean-American. I paused after I
called off her name and our eyes met briefly. Now, *she* is remarkably
attractive, I thought, and then went on to the next name on the list.

				* * *

	The teaching was going well, and I was certainly enjoying
living in California, but I missed being with women generally and my
fiancee specifically. And this longing was not helped by the, to me,
absolutely enormous numbers of gorgeous women who happened to inhabit
campus ("Toto, we're not in New Haven anymore," I often found myself
thinking... ). Regular phone calls to Helen did nothing to alleviate
the problem, either. A typical exchange:

	"Hon, I've just been incredibly horny without you."

	"Well, that's a surprise." Amusement and obvious irony from
the other end of the line. My SO has more than once accused me of
being a satyr. "Actually, I've been feeling kinda on edge today too."

	"Shall we do something about it?"

	"Yeah, hold on, let me get the doctor... " (This was our pet
name for her vibrator.)

	And the two of us would talk as hotly as we could to one
another, describing in very explicit detail what we wanted to do to
one another, trying to see who could make the other come first. After
that, we'd talk a little more, assuring each other how much we missed
and loved one another and then I'd let her, with the three hour time
difference, drift off to sleep.

				* * *

	The university where I was teaching is very close to a big
city that has a substantial red-light district. At some places they
advertise booths where you can speak to "Live Nude Girls!!!!" (What,
did some people want to speak to "Dead Nude Girls!!!!"?) I'd gone in
to the city to run some errands, and when I found myself near the
area, out of a mixture of curiosity and horniness, I went into one of
these establishments.

	"So, what's the procedure here?" I asked the hulking guy who
served as bouncer and dispenser of change to men who were going off to
the video booths.

	"Aw, each booth has a phone and a one way mirror behind a
screen. You just go into a booth, put your money in the slot and the
screen'll lift on your side. You can see the girls, but they can't see
you. The more you tip, the better the show you get."

	"Do I get to see the women before I decide whether I want to
do it or not?"

	"No, sorry, buddy, you pay your money and you take your
chances. But hey - they're all good-looking - we'd lose business if
they were dogs." I was dubious, but figured what the hell, I'd give it
a shot once. At $20 for 12 minutes plus "tips" (and I wasn't sure how
much I'd be expected to lay out), it struck me as a bit expensive, but
fortunately I had just gone to an ATM and had a reasonable amount of
cash on me.

	I went in to the booth area. There was little indication of
whom I'd find in each booth - just a card inserted into the name
plate: "Harley," "Vanity" and "Kitty." The name "Harley" was too
abrasive for me, and who the hell would really want to deal with a
woman named "Vanity," anyway? I decided to go into Kitty's booth.
There was a chair, a phone, a kleenex dispenser, and a waste paper
basket in the small cubicle. A slot for money was installed on the
wall below a screened pane of glass. I inserted a $20 bill and the
screen lifted. To my surprise, I saw an extremely pretty Asian woman
with longish hair in a very sexy white lace bra and panties, reclining
on a cushion. Well, that's a bargain I hadn't counted on. And then I
did a double take. Jesus Fucking Christ. Grace?... She wasn't wearing
any glasses and her hair was down, but it was unmistakably her.

	I immediately felt an intense wave of arousal and panic. Shit,
does she recognize me too? But then I remembered the glass was
mirrored from her side and I felt the pounding in my heart begin to
subside. I was left, though, with incredible horniness, and my cock
immediately sprang to attention. I picked up the phone from the wall
of the booth and reached down to unzip my pants and grab my already
risen erection with the other hand, as I saw Grace move to pick up the
phone on her side.

	"Hi! How are you doing today?" she said. Friendly and relaxed,
a big smile on her face.

	Oh, shit - my voice. She still might be able to recognize
that. Fortunately, I've done a lot of acting and I'm not too bad as a
mimic. I just tried to put myself in the mind of a character I've
played and created a slight difference in my voice, just enough so
that I don't think someone would've been able to tell that it was me.

	"Hi!" I said, trying to sound equally friendly and relaxed,
although my hand holding the phone was trembling wildly. "You are
absolutely gorgeous!" I enthused, saying only what had crossed my mind
every single day I taught her in class. I was trying to be polite and
not really sure what was typical of an encounter like this. I looked
closely at her body through the glass. We were literally only about
two feet from one another, just separated by this one way mirror. Her
skin was flawless and the push-up bra she was wearing suggested that
her breasts were quite a bit larger than I would've suspected from the
sweatshirts and other loose clothing I'd seen her in. They weren't
huge by any means, but she probably was a large B or even a C cup, and
her cleavage looked extremely enticing. I stared down to her navel.
Her stomach was smooth, trim and perfect, and her slim waist led
beautifully to her panty-clad crotch and wonderfully firm, tan legs.
She was much more curvaceous than many Asian women. But what struck me
again was how beautiful her face was. Without the glasses her gorgeous
eyes and high cheekbones were even more striking. "Seriously, you're
one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen." I tried to make the
compliment sound every bit as sincere as I meant it to be.

	"Thank you!" She sounded genuinely flattered. "Would you like
to see more?"

	"Absolutely."

	She tapped on the glass by the money slot. "How about a tip?
Sorry to be mercenary, but... "

	"Huh? Oh yeah, of course." I fumbled in my wallet and then
shoved a $5 bill through the slot. She got up from her reclining
position and came forward on her knees. She reached behind her and
unclasped her bra and then left it like that for a moment, her breasts
springing slightly free and the sides of them coming into view. Then
slowly - very, very slowly, she pulled the bra away from the front of
her breasts. I gasped when I saw them fully revealed. They were
perfection itself. She had firm, gorgeous nipples, which she reached
up to pull on with her thumb and forefinger. I released my cock to
make sure I didn't come too soon. Usually I find it very easy to
maintain control, but my pulse was racing so fast, I thought I would
faint.

	"Uhh... how about turning around so I can see you from
behind?"

	"Okay." She faced away from me and I admired the way her long
black hair cascaded over her back. The whiteness of her panties set
off her lovely skin and emphasized her slender waist and the curve of
her ass. First she pulled the panties tight across her butt and then
drew them into the crack of her ass, before pulling them down
teasingly.

	"Do you like it?" she giggled into the phone.

	"You have the most gorgeous ass I've ever seen. Honestly."

	"Yeah, I guess I've been told it's one of my sexiest
features." She took her panties down most of the way but she didn't
pull them off over her thighs, and now her pussy came into view. This
was too fucking much for me - the knowledge that the demure (I had
thought) woman in my class was unknowingly (in a manner of speaking)
but eagerly exposing her cunt to me...

	"Do you like my pussy? Go ahead, talk to dirty to me. Believe
me, I enjoy hot talk a lot - otherwise I wouldn't be here."

	I hesitated briefly and then started, "Yes, I love the way
your pussy looks. Why don't you go and spread your cunt lips wide
apart for me so I can get a really good look at you?" Being able to
say that to her was somewhat beyond mind-blowing to me. "Show me how
you play with your clit."

	"Mmm, I thought you'd never ask." There was no way I was
imagining it. Grace was visibly wet and the way she moved her fingers
vigorously back and forth over her clit confirmed that she was feeling
every bit as horny as I was. Well, no, I guess that's not possible.
But she did look extremely horny.

	"Do you like having a girl put on a pussy show for you?" Her
tone was very coy, girlish and sexy. (At moments it seemed as though
she was a mind reader - she seemed to know everything I wanted to
hear... although it's probably not hard to learn to play up to a
customer in a situation like this, I guess, and I doubt I was
atypical.)

	"Hell, yes, especially one as pretty as you."

	"So, do Asian women turn you on?"

	"Definitely, especially Korean women. I think they're the most
gorgeous women in the world by far."

	A quizzical looked passed over her face. "How did you know I
was Korean?"

	Oops. Idiot. I recovered quickly. "Well, you just really look
Korean." (This was certainly true.) "I guess I'm right."

	"Would you like to see me play with my toy?" She motioned to a
dildo that was lying at the edge of the cushion. I hadn't even noticed
it before. "Please say yes, I'm just dying to use it... "

	"Oh, come on, you're just saying what you think a customer
wants to hear."

	She grinned. "Well, partly." Her voice suddenly dropped to the
normal tone I had heard in class. "You're right. I am much coyer than
I would be usually." Very kittenish again. "But I am serious. I just
*love* to feel that thing filling me up." The way she arched her
eyebrows and smiled, seemingly to herself, when she drawled out the
word "love" made me think that she might actually have been telling
the truth, as did her suggestion that her obviously self-aware teasing
persona had some real appeal for her as well.

	I inserted another $5 bill into the slot without any
prompting, and she in turn inserted the dildo into her vagina.

	"Mmmph. There. Say nasty things to me." Her toy tugged at her
wet cunt lips as she moved it in and out of herself. The sight was
excruciatingly sexy. "I love knowing that somebody's watching me and
getting hot."

	"Yeah, baby, fuck yourself with that thing. I bet most of the
time you're really sweet and innocent, but you just love coming in
here and being an exhibitionistic little slut, don't you?" (I suppose
this could have sounded like an odd extrapolation to her, but it was
true to me and I wanted to say it). "You love showing off your
gorgeous young body to all sorts of men who get off on you, jerking
off while they look at you?"

	"Umm, yeah, keep talking like that. That's really good."
Tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder, she slid the dildo
deep inside her and held it steadily with her left hand as she worked
her clit rapidly with her right. She brought her fingers up to her
mouth, wetting them and then slid them back down over her tits and
belly to her clitoris. I could see her little bump standing erectly. I
meanwhile was rubbing my cock. Every stroke was sending shivers of
ecstasy through me. Helen had often masturbated for me before, and I
loved to watch her, but the extraordinary circumstances I found myself
in made this the sexiest thing I'd ever witnessed.

	"How about if you try to grip the dildo with your pussy and
play with your tits a bit for me?" I asked.

	"Okay." Both hands went up to cup her breasts. She pulled
lightly at her nipples and cooed, "Ooh."

	I laughed, because the noise was both obviously artificial and
enormously sexy.

	"Did you like that?"

	"Yes, very much."

	"Ooh," she cooed again. "Ooh. It feels so good to play with my
titties," a wonderfully sexy, girlish, playful, erotic tone. She was
staring right at me and I could see her cunt gripping the dildo
tightly. Again, her hand stole down to her clit and she rubbed it
eagerly. Her voice became more throaty again. "Oh, fuck, yeah. This
could make me come really soon."

	"God, watching you is going to make me come too."

	"Yeah, I want to hear you. If you can hold off for a little
bit I'll come with you." I let go of my dick. Would she say anything
like that if she were faking this? She rubbed her clit very quickly
for about thirty more seconds and then said, "There. Oh, yeah. Oh,
that feels so good, that feels so fucking good." I grabbed my cock
again and started pumping once more. Her legs started to shake almost
imperceptibly and she closed her eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm going to come."
Her face contorted in a look of ecstasy.

	"Yeah, Kitty, I'm coming too." I grabbed a kleenex and began
to spurt, watching in awe as the contractions of her orgasm slowly
expelled the dildo which had been lodged inside of her. Holy shit. If
that had been faked, that was the best acting job I'd ever seen in all
my years involved in theater. Unbefuckinglievable. So this was
Grace...

	"Mmm. Boy, I can really come quick if it's been a couple of
days," she murmured more to herself than to me. Then, more loudly, "I
was planning to hold off for most of my shift, but there's something
about your voice and the things that you were saying that really got
me going."

	"I take it that was unusual, then?" I asked, somewhat
surprised.

	"Well, a little. I only started working here a little while
ago, and I guess I'm still not entirely comfortable with letting go
fully. Usually I don't heat up so fast... I mean, the thought of my
job is sexy to me, but I haven't come every time I work, if that's
what you mean, even though I wind up being asked to play with myself
for most of the shift, it seems like."

	"Just started, huh? How are you finding work like this?"

	"Oh, it's okay, really. The money is good, and it's pretty
interesting. Some of the customers are jerks, but most are polite and
respectful and make me feel - I don't know - special. I didn't have a
lot of confidence when I was younger and this helps a lot, in kind of
an odd way. It was always so important to me to be a "good girl" in
front of other people that sometimes I wouldn't act the way I really
wanted to."

	"Do you ever think about someone who knows you coming in here,
then?"

	She rolled her eyes. "Oh god, I *hope* that doesn't happen. I
mean, in some ways I'm petrified of it - I'd be so, so embarrassed.
That's my only fear about working here. But I'm from southern Cal, and
I don't really expect to see anybody I know up here. If my dad ever
found out, I think he'd have a heart attack on the spot - he's so
conservative and traditional. He didn't even like the idea of me
transferring to a school away from home."

	"You're a student, then?"

	"Yeah, I'm going for a degree in sociology and women's
studies."

	"Women's studies? I'm kind of surprised."

	"Why? Because I'm working here?"

	"Well, frankly, yeah... " I started, and then interrupted
myself. "No, no, I guess it makes sense. I mean, I suppose one of the
main points of feminism is that you get to define who you are,
including your own sexuality. Sex-positive feminism, right?"

	She laughed. "Oh yeah, right, sex-positive feminist, that's
me. Me and Susie Bright... well, I guess there's something to that. But
mostly I'm doing this for one reason: I'm just saving money to buy a
car and this is the best way for me to make a lot of money fast. I'm
not going to be a prostitute, that's for sure - way too dangerous...
But in some ways I guess I'm also an experimenter and a pretty
adventurous person - or at least that's who I want to be... who I'm
working to be; I want to experience a lot of things in life, even -
maybe even especially - stuff that's kind of, I don't know, on the
fringe. In my fantasies I'm a total slut and totally insatiable, but
believe me, I'm not like that *at all* in my 'real life'.

	"Actually, I've only had one boyfriend. We were together for
almost a year and a half and then broke up - we were fighting a lot.
I've never slept with anyone else, just in my fantasies... I actually
don't even go out very much, since I'm trying to concentrate on
school. But, to be honest, I get pretty fucking horny sometimes - it's
like my hormones are completely out of control. This has been a good
outlet for me, actually."

	I have to admit that I found her not only beautiful, but
really impressive in the way she seemed to have her act together. I
also liked the way she seemed both very open and very private. I
slipped another $20 through the slot for her as a tip just before time
ran out. "Hey! What was that for?!"

	"Oh, I just wanted to say thank you for an amazing
experience."

	"Hey, thanks. That really wasn't necessary, but it is very
much appreciated."

	"You'll be here again next Thursday?"

	"Yeah."

	"Okay, I'll certainly try and make it back here."

	"Great! What's your name, by the way?"

	I froze. "Uh... Mark," I lied. Damn! I hope that hesitation
didn't sound stupid. I kicked myself mentally. "And yours, it's not
really Kitty, is it?"

	"No, you're right, that's just the name I use here."

	"Do you mind if I ask your real name?"

	"Actually, I'd prefer not to reveal it, if you don't mind.
Sorry, but I just feel better that way."

	"No, that makes perfect sense. I understand." The screen
quickly descended again and my time was up.

	On the way out, I stopped again to talk to the man up front.
"So the women really don't see into the other side of the booth at
all?" My experiences with one-way mirrors had led me to believe
they're not that foolproof if you're close enough.

	"Yeah, definitely," he seemed to understand just what I was
asking. "We did a really good job makin' 'em to make sure they were
really one-way."

	I walked out rather shaken - it was easily the most powerful
erotic experience I'd ever had in my life.

				* * *

	For the next few days I had difficulty concentrating - and
with class preparations to do and a dissertation to complete, that was
*not* a good thing. I saw Grace in class on Monday and Wednesday, but
there was certainly no flash of recognition from her that suggested
she might have known I'd been in to see her. She was once more dressed
simply: jeans and a button-down shirt, a necklace with a small cross.
Again she had on glasses and her hair was tied back. Finally, I began
to make some progress in banishing the distracting thoughts, although
when Thursday morning rolled around again I woke up very early,
awaiting the encounter I'd have later in the day.

				* * *

	I slid into the booth again, trembling with anticipation.

	"Hi, Kitty?"

	"Mark, is that you?" A big grin was on her face. "I was hoping
that you'd come in. I have to be honest that I thought about our
conversation a few times this week when I'd play with myself before
going to bed."

	I'm ordinarily a very skeptical person, and I would be very
suspicious of anything a woman said in a situation like this, but she
definitely seemed sincere. The fact that she remembered and even said
my name before I had begun to speak beyond saying hello convinced me.
"How'd you know it was me so fast?"

	"Oh, you just have a distinctively sexy voice," she smiled.
Oh-oh. Was the change I was trying to effect so noticeable that she
could pick it out that easily? "What would you like to do this week?"

	"Oh, just more of the same... but let's take it a little
further. I kept picturing your body all week long. I don't know... I
just want you to enjoy the encounter as much as I do - I really get
off on that. Um, why don't you tell me a little more about what you
like sexually and touch yourself the way you like best and we'll take
it from there." I slipped some money through the slot.

	"Okay," she slipped off the (very, very cute) polka dot
panties she had on this time and moved her right hand down over her
vulva. "Well, I like a lot of foreplay and stuff. I'm really into
touching and being touched for a long time before. Oh, and lots of
french kissing. I'm pretty oral. My boyfriend used to give really good
head, and I loved to suck on him for a long time too before taking him
inside me. He was a pretty good lover - uninhibited and open, and I
felt like I learned a lot from him. Too bad he could be such a jerk
outside of bed sometimes." She frowned and shook her head from side to
side as though she was recalling something. "Hearing about him doesn't
bother you at all, does it?"

	"No, not at all. Should it?"

	"I don't know. It just felt kind of odd to mention him; I
haven't done that before here... I mean, don't you think it's a little
weird to talk about a lover, when I'm naked and playing with myself
for you?"

	"Hey, Kitty," I said laughing, "I'm in a long-distance
relationship myself at the moment. Does that bother you?"

	"No," she laughed too. "Does your girlfriend know you're
here?"

	"No." Now it was my turn to frown and shake my head from side
to side. "I've just been feeling horny and lonely without her - I
don't want to cheat on her. I mean, no contact that is."

	"I understand." Forget that this woman was a sex goddess to
me; there was something about her that I just really liked. I hadn't
spoken to her much in class yet, but she seemed very bright and
pleasant there as well. I felt this bizarre mixture of closeness and
distance from her: the utter intimacy of her masturbating openly in
front of me and our talking like this sincerely, on one hand, and the
fundamental dishonesty of our, at least theoretically, anonymous
identities.

	"So, what else do you like? What's the wildest thing you've
done?"

	"Oh, I screwed him once in a department store dressing room.
That was fun." She hesitated briefly, looking very unsure of herself,
"And once when I was fourteen I... " she stopped.

	"You?... "

	"No, never mind. I'd feel too weird talking about it."

	"Okay... " My curiosity was certainly aroused, but I let it
go. It gave me a strong erotic jolt to think that she was going to
reveal something particularly uncomfortable to me that she might not
have shared with others before. I felt my cock stiffen even more.

	"Oh, my ex and I would watch porn movies together sometimes."

	"Yeah?"

	"Yeah, and we'd fantasize about fucking some of the women
there together. Mmm, that was really good." As if to indicate that
was indeed the case, she started rubbing herself a little more firmly.

	"So, you're attracted to other women?"

	"Oh, definitely, I fantasize about it from time to time. I'm
just afraid to take the initiative. If a woman I found attractive came
on to me, I'd certainly reciprocate, though."

	"Tell me what you 'd want to do."

	"Mostly I'd just want to kiss for a really long time, while we
touched each other's breasts. I'd really like to have a woman go down
on me. I just bet it would feel really soft and different from a guy.
No stubble to worry about it. And I'd love to lick a woman too, really
bury my face between her legs... "

	"What kind of women do you like best?"

	"Blondes, mostly. Pretty ones, athletic looking, the women I
see in the gym. Sometimes other Asian women, especially if they have
some sense of style - punkish haircuts or cool piercings, maybe. I
guess it's because I want to dress like that, but I know I'd get a
really hard time from my parents if I did, and it's not worth the
hassle... I think about our getting wet and rubbing our pussies
together. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to take a strap-on
and fuck another woman with it." Her hand continued to work idly in
her pussy as she was talking. "Thinking about it and telling you about
it is getting me turned on. A lot of guys who come in here are just
kind of quiet and breathe hard, even if they're nice. This is a lot
hotter."

	We continued talking in this vein and she started posing for
me as she had the previous week. As I got close to coming, she kept
inching closer and closer to the glass until she was touching it. Her
tits were soon flush up against the pane, mashed flat against it in an
odd but extremely sexy way, her face only an inch away. The small
cross on the necklace I'd noticed in class before pressed right
between her cleavage. Again cradling the phone between her chin and
shoulder, she put her hands up on the glass in an attitude of mock-
submission, and said, "I want you to come all over my face."

	Hearing that was more than I could bear. I stood up so that my
cock was pointing right over her cheeks and shot off all over the
glass in several hot jets. My sperm was literally just a centimeter or
so from her face. I grabbed one of the kleenex that were kept in the
booth for just such a purpose and after admiring the sight for a few
more moments began to wipe the cum off.

	"Boy, it'd be nice to watch you come," she sighed.

				* * *

	Excerpts from our conversation the following Thursday:

	"I want you to be the director, making a movie of me with a
whole bunch of men, filming me sucking all these guys off and then
fucking them. I like the idea of being gang-banged, especially 'cause
even though it would look like I was serving all these guys, like a
totally submissive slut, I'd be the one who was really in control. And
I want it to be all sorts of guys, and I'd get to choose them: Have
one be a black athlete - that'd really piss off my Dad,"she laughed,
"oh, and make one of them be Japanese - if he even knew I had a
fantasy of being with a really good-looking Japanese guy, he'd
probably disown me... "

	I had her imagine that she was on all fours, one guy's dick
bobbing in front of her face, another moving in and out of her pussy,
while she reached up and jacked off some others, including one well
hung Italian porn star she had mentioned thinking was really sexy. All
the while (and here I modified her suggestion slightly) I would be
making a video of her for myself and my fiancee. I asked her to
imagine that we were auditioning her to see whether she would be worth
taking home for us to share... (yeah, right, like there would be any
question.)

	"Yeah, imagine how that big Italian cock would feel in your
hand, Kitty, and that gorgeous guy's huge black dick in your mouth."

	Her eyes went wide when I said that. "God, that sounds so
totally *nasty*... Mmm."

	"Yeah, put on a good show so that my fiancee and I will think
about having you join the two of us in bed."

	"I know how to convince you I'm hot enough for you - I want
them to come all over me at once - feel the hot sticky come running
all over my body. On my tits and face."

	"Do you really like that?"

	"Definitely, I think it looks very sexy."

	"Okay, all these guys are about to come - think about all that
hot sperm landing on your body... "

	"God, I'm ccc - -" she never finished the sentence. Only a low
moan. As I heard Grace explode in orgasm, I allowed myself to come too
with a gasp. I felt spent.

	"Mmmm."

	"Wow. That was amazing... I never expected to feel something
like that in here. I mean I've been having fun with you, but... " A
bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. "Give me a second to get my
breath back." I studied her gorgeous body in its post-orgasmic flush.
She then moved her hand back down to her dripping pussy and her still
fully engorged labia and clit. "Okay, now tell me how they all fuck me
in the ass, one by one, especially Rocco... "

				* * *

	Before I left the booth that night, I slipped an envelope
through the slot with a twenty and some instructions of what I wanted
her to bring in for our next meeting in the booth. After a lot of
thinking it over, I had decided to give her my phone number as well,
and just wrote that she could give me a ring if she ever felt like
calling. I made it clear that I'd be willing to pay, too, and that way
she could avoid having the owners take a cut of what she earned. I
knew this might have been a little risky, but I hadn't given my phone
number to my students and had never been called at home by any of
them, so I had no expectation that she would match seven random digits
to me.

				* * *

	Helen came out for a long weekend. We had a great time
together, and most of it we wound up spending in bed. I was extremely
relieved to find that fantasies of Grace didn't intrude while we were
together... well, except briefly: sometimes we'll share a fantasy
about having a threesome with another woman while we're making love,
too, and I have to admit Grace was certainly the one I envisioned to
round out our menage a trois.

				* * *

	"I brought in what you asked me to, " she said after a few
minutes. Grace reached down beside her and pulled out a cucumber,
banana, a carrot, and a coke bottle from a paper bag. "So you'd like
to see me fuck myself with these things, would you? You're certainly a
naughty boy." She didn't say anything about my having written down my
phone number.

	"Oh, fantastic - you did bring the stuff in. Yes, I'd love to
see you fuck yourself with those things."

	"Say please," she teased.

	"Please."

	"No, make it 'pretty please.' "

	"Pretty please."

	"Pretty please with sugar on top."

	"All right, pretty please with sugar on top," I said, trying
to sound annoyed and amused and fully aware of our game-playing.

	"Okay. Mmmmm... " A groan escaped her lips as she slid the
coke bottle up into her cunt. She grasped it firmly around the base and
pushed it in and out of herself - slowly at first and then more
rapidly. The whole time she was staring right at where she thought I
would be through the glass and licking her lips. "Mmmmmm. Feels very
good," she said in a sultry voice.

	We experimented with each of the items I had asked her to
bring in. Grace wasn't impressed with the banana, "Well, I can see how
it might look sexy and all, but it's too squishy. It's not very good."

	"Mmm, but I bet it's be nice to lick out of you."

	"Yeah," she grinned, "but still, I wouldn't want to get a
yeast infection or something from some tiny bit that gets stuck in
there... "

	The carrot, for some reason, wasn't that appealing either. God
only knows why it would look more freakish than the other items, but
it did. I'd always been curious to see a woman with one, and now my
curiosity was satisfied. After Grace had fucked herself with it for
fifteen not terribly enthusiastic seconds, she took it out of her
pussy (which was quite wet, however) and stuck it in her mouth, "Eh,
what's up, doc?"

	I burst into such laughter it caused me to release my grip on
my dick and my hard-on even momentarily subsided. "Oh, man, Kitty... "
And then I suddenly felt sobered. "You know, you really are someone
special."

	"Why do you sound so serious all of a sudden?"

	"No, forget about it - I... I just think you're a really cool
person."

	"Thanks, Mark," And then she looked serious, as well. "I know
I've never seen your face, but I really like you too... " The mood
became bizarrely - and I do mean bizarrely, considering that she had
just had a carrot inserted in her vagina - somber for a moment, but
then Grace brightened up and said, "Hey, let's try the cucumber too,
okay?"

	The cucumber appealed to her considerably more. "My god," she
gasped, "that feels incredibly good - I never would have expected it -
I'll have to try this at home. The coolness of it feels really
awesome." She plunged it in and out of her cunt for several minutes,
as the two of us got considerably more and more worked up. Grace came
first, while I held off and then once again she kneeled so close to
the window that it seemed as though I was coming on her glorious tits.

				* * *

	At the end of our session each week, I took to slipping
envelopes with $20 and some particular erotic instructions for Grace
through the slot. She told me that she liked getting these notes. They
were sort of an erotic surprise each week that she looked forward to.
One week I wrote that the thought of her attending her classes while
not wearing her panties was very sexy to me. I asked her to do it and
report back to me. Sure enough, the following Monday Grace came to
class in a knee-length skirt, unlike the jeans she usually wore. The
skirt itself was nothing at all revealing and wouldn't have been
noteworthy to anyone else, but I was absolutely certain that she
wasn't wearing panties. The thought of her sitting in front of me in
"Grace mode" like that and knowing that I might maybe, maybe, maybe if
she somehow shifted the right way catch a glimpse of her bare thighs
and the gorgeous short straight wisps of her pubic hair was very
powerful. It was a very idiotic move on my part. I have never had so
much trouble leading a class in my life and at a couple of moments I
had to mentally will the bulge I felt rising in my pants back down.
I'd like to think my distraction wasn't evident to my students,
however.

	The following Thursday I asked Grace how it went, without any
further leading questions. She told me how sexy she had felt going
around campus without panties, and the charge she got from it. Her
exhibitionism was discreet and clearly intended to excite her - and me
- alone. She didn't say anything about reactions from any of her
teachers or anybody else, for that matter. I felt relieved about that,
although part of me wondered whether I was hoping for her to mention
me as Michael, not as Mark.

				* * *

	I had just finished eating dinner when the phone rang.

	"Uh, Mark? Hi, it's me, Kitty."

	"Kitty?!... " I immediately shifted to my "Mark" voice.

	"Yeah, I called to talk... Just talk, not sexily I mean. I'm
not in the mood... Do you mind? "

	"No, no, of course, that's fine."

	"You know, I realized you're the only person I can talk to
about this stuff. Nobody else really knows." Grace had just had a
fight with her parents and was feeling upset. She also told me that
she had been very lonely since she'd transferred to college up here;
she admitted that she was prone to depression and had been seeing a
therapist on campus, too. "I don't have very many friends around,
actually. My roommate is a nurse and works evening shifts and stays
over at her boyfriend's a lot, so I hardly ever see her. I suppose I
could talk to some of the other women that work the booths, but I
don't really have that much rapport with them... You know, it's good
that I haven't seen you, I think it lets me feel like I can open up to
you more. I still haven't even told my therapist about my job - I
guess I'm still trying to feel more comfortable around her. And I
realize you're a customer, but I also feel like I can trust you, and
that we both know that we're just having fun - some sort of mutually
beneficial game-playing with each other."

	"Yeah, I suppose that's true... "

	"Doing this kind of work really has been a little weird for
me... To be honest, sometimes I get kind of paranoid about it. I mean,
I keep asking myself is this really me? God, if the nuns from my high
school only knew... "

	"Catholic high school, huh?"

	"Oh, yeah... And plenty of sin and guilt too. I wish I could
let go of it all. It was just my frigging luck that my halmoni - my
grandmother - converted to Catholicism when all her friends were
becoming Presbyterian or something... I can't stop myself from being
kind of worried about getting caught and always having a past. I've
even done things like make sure that our phone is only listed in my
roommate's name and I'm not even allowing the university to give out
my number or address just in case somebody tracked me there.

	"And it's just like this whole big identity crisis thing, you
know? I guess most of the guys who go in think I'm this pretty Asian
fantasy boy toy - which is all right, I guess, since it's such a
simple stereotype. I mean it can definitely be irritating, but at
least I feel completely aware of it and can play off of it and use it
to my advantage. I just sort of pose and that's it... But you,
sometimes you must think I'm this total Nympho Slut from Outer Space.
You'd be so shocked if you saw me normally... "

	"No, I don't think so at all. Why are you worried about that?"

	"I guess I'm wondering how you see me... whether you think I'm
just some cheap tramp in the sex industry. I guess deep down I realize
you don't, but I'm still bothered by it a little bit. I sort of think
well, you might think the booth is very nice, but you could never take
someone like me home to meet your mother... "

	"Oh, no. You're definitely someone I can relate to... and
hell, would be *proud* to be with. I've always gotten the sense of a
bright, sexy woman who is very real and genuine. Believe me, it's true
that I can tell that you're just playing a fantasy game." (I wondered
if that was partly the case because I did in fact see her regularly in
a completely different guise.) "And certainly, talking like this gives
me a much better sense of who you are... And, anyway, what about me?
You'd probably be surprised to see me in 'daily life,' too."

	"No, not really. Maybe it's just that it's obviously more
acceptable for a man to have a wild private, sexual side and then a
straight public image." She paused for a moment. She was clearly
feeling very pensive. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing this job mostly
because I need to rebel against how strict my mom and dad were with me
and also to thumb my nose at some of my relatives who are kind of
hypocritical, you know?"

	"Huh? What do you mean?"

	"Oh, a couple of summers ago, I was back in Seoul staying with
my aunt and they really were kind of mean, giving me a hard time
because I speak Korean like an eight year old and because my boyfriend
wasn't Korean. My family doesn't have a huge amount of money and I
found that one of my cousins is a prostitute, and it was, like, this
big hush hush family secret. No, make that a family tragedy. But the
thing was she was the only one who really was nice to me. She's a
really good woman. I guess I'm trying to feel some sort of solidarity
with her, as well."

	Grace was even more complex than I had thought. I once again
found myself impressed by the way she was so carefully trying to
establish full control over her own life and be who she wanted to be.

	Towards the end of the phone call, she blurted out abruptly.
"It's just not fair that you get to see me and I never see you. What
do you look like, anyway?"

	I was somewhat surprised given what she had said earlier, but
I had prepared myself for just such a question in the weeks before,
since I figured it might be forthcoming eventually. "Well, do you
really even want to know? You were just saying earlier that it made it
easier for you to open up to me. And doesn't it make it more exciting
for you when I visit you in the booth to be able to attach whatever
image you want to me? Look, I am considered attractive - honestly - if
that's what you want to hear. How's that?"

	She sounded thoughtful. "Well, I guess you're right... How
about just a little more?"

	"Um, brown hair and green eyes."

	"That sounds nice. I love green eyes."

				* * *

	I took to analyzing our relationship ever more closely. I was
slipping into an erotic obsession, and I was afraid that it would get
out of hand, if it hadn't already - I was spending a considerably
larger part of my salary than I cared to admit on being able to meet
up with Grace in the booth. I wondered too whether at the base of our
relationship lay some sort of power struggle, at least from my side. I
had money, the ability to see her though she couldn't see me, and -
most importantly - the knowledge of who she "really" was. But this
knowledge was trapping me; it was what was making her irresistibly
attractive as well. I was able to see her double life, and although I
viewed Grace/Kitty holistically, as I told her, deep down I could also
see that I was falling heavily for the way in which she was being
portrayed to me alternately as virgin and whore. Being able to view
both sides co-existing within her was tremendously arousing. And
though I was sure enough that she genuinely liked me, I wasn't deluded
enough to think that there weren't primarily monetary incentives
behind it. The irony of our studying issues like sex, power,
economics, and the engendered gaze in class was hardly lost on me.

	There were some other peculiar ironies involved: I knew her
real name, but she thought she was only telling me a false one.
Conversely, she thought I was telling her my true name, but she was
getting a false one. In a sense we were both being very unsafe in this
very safe sex we were engaged in. In her job, she was running the risk
that sooner or later someone - besides me - would come in that
recognized her. And I was taking a risk that she would discover that
"Mark" was none other than her instructor and there was no way of
knowing what that could lead to, for better or worse.

				* * *

	I picked the phone up on the third ring. It was about time for
Helen and me to have our long Saturday night call. "Hi," I said
enthusiastically, expecting it to be her.

	"Hi, Mark. It's me again, Kitty."

	"Hey - nice to hear from you... How are you doing?" Again,
nonchalant in manner, though I felt anything but, deep inside.

	"Ummm, I don't know. I was just feeling kind of lonely and
very horny, and I was thinking about talking to you... If you were
here, I swear to god, I'd jump your bones in a second."

	"That sounds nice... "

	"No. Seriously, Mark. I mean... it's hard for me to ask
this... but, really, if you were willing to spring for a motel, I'd
come meet you. Right now?... Are you busy? I just realized today that
it's been exactly one year since I got laid, and that's way too long.
I think with you I could still feel anonymous and that there'd be no
strings attached, so I'd feel comfortable." She seemed to be slurring
her speech slightly. I wondered if maybe she'd been drinking and that
had given her the courage to call.

	I felt like I had just been hit by a truck. What to do? On the
one hand this seemed like exactly what I'd been dreaming of, and
yet... There was Helen, of course; I really didn't want to screw up
our relationship. But I realized that was only a pretext - I was
distressed to see that I'd be perfectly willing to cheat on her. I was
much more worried about what would happen if I showed up and she
discovered that I was her anthro teacher - her desire to remain
anonymous was more than apparent, and there was little question that
things would get messy. I wanted to be able to keep this relationship
going as long as I could, and I was afraid, considering what she said,
that finding out who I was would put an end to it right there. And I
was also uneasy about the sort of trouble I could get into if I was
screwing around with a student - any student. I mulled her offer over,
and then finally - cursing myself the whole time - said, "Look, Kitty,
believe me, I'd love to make love to you... " That sounded too serious
and I corrected myself, trying to sound far more light-hearted than I
felt. "... No, believe me, I'd love to have obscenely kinky sex with
you, but I just don't think it's a good idea. I will give you the best
phone fucking of your life though, if you want, right now."

	She sighed. "No, you're right... I can't even believe I got up
the guts to just ask you that. It probably wouldn't have been a good
idea... " Her voice trailed off. "Anyway, I've got a porn movie on,
and my dildo, and a cucumber here with me... "

	"Oh, so you've already started without me, eh?"

	"Umm, yeah," she said, sounding sheepish for the first time in
all our conversations.

	"Okay, how about first tell me a little bit about what you're
wearing?"

	"Let's see. A UCLA t-shirt and white bikini panties. I like
this pair a lot, 'cause they're kinda satiny. They've got a slight wet
spot just at my pussy, you know, since I've been hot for a while."

	"Mmm. sounds great. And I like the idea of you in something
more `natural' than what I'm used to seeing you in... What's going on
on the screen?"

	"Well, there's these two really sexy women with one guy. The
guy is fucking one of them doggy style while she eats out the other
woman."

	"Why don't you imagine you're joining them - or that you're
the woman in the middle. Would you like to lick the other woman's
pussy?"

	"Uh-huh."

	"Okay, imagine you've got her face buried between her very
soft thighs. Lick all around her and think about the wetness of her
cunt. Try to picture how good she feels when she gets your cute little
tongue on her clit. I heard her say how sexy she thinks you are -
she's never been with an Asian woman before , but has always wanted to
be. Now, think about that guy's hands holding you down wile he fucks
you. He's got his nice firm hands on your waist and he slides his cock
in and out of your pussy. You're already very, very wet, aren't you?"

	"Yes."

	"Try and get on all fours if you can. Slip your panties off to
one side and then slide the cucumber into your cunthole. Imagine that
it's his cock. Can you do that for me?"

	"Okay. Hold on a sec. Uhhhh, there... it's in. That feels
good."

	"Now slide it slowly - that's his big hard-on fucking you,
filling you up."

	"Yeah, I'm watching him and imagining he's in me. He's got an
awesome body. I'd love to run my hands all over his chest."

	"Yeah, imagine how it feels - and then imagine running your
hands all over that woman's tits. She's got great tits, doesn't she?"

	"Uh-huh, she's got great fucking tits. I'd love to suck on
them. Mmm, imagine squeezing them is making my cunt even wetter... "

	"Good, now imagine that you're rubbing your titties right up
against hers. You can feel your nipples press against each other...
and that guy is still right behind you pounding in and out of your
horny little pussy."

	"Have the woman turn so that we're in a 69 while he's fucking
me... "

	"Okay, she goes beneath you and you can tell that her tongue
is alternating between your clit and his shaft while he's sliding in
and out of you. Meanwhile you keep lapping at her pretty blond pussy.
Can you feel her boobs pressing into your tummy?"

	"Yes, they're really soft... "

	"Good, and you know what? I'm right there in the room with
you, jerking off wildly as you put on this great show for me, watching
you with this girl and guy. I'm going to come over towards you so you
can suck on my dick - "

	"Yes - "

	"Yeah, I'm right there. I'm reaching down and playing with
your nipples while you run your tongue over the head of my dick."

	"Oh, god, I want to feel your cock in my mouth so bad, Mark...
"

	"Are you still fucking yourself with the cucumber?"

	"Not really. I'm just leaving it in there to fill me up, while
I rub my clitty."

	"Okay, just give it a few hard fast strokes, and then go back
to playing with your clit." Deep moans from the phone receiver. "Now
stick you're tongue out and pretend you're licking me. Let me hear you
moan some more."

	"God, yes. I really am a nasty little slut, aren't I, fucking
myself with this cucumber and masturbating over the phone with a guy
I've never even seen before?"

	"Yes, Gr - Kitty" (Shit - I've really got to be more careful.
Fortunately the slip wasn't noticeable... or at least there was no
reaction from Grace). "I can tell you love being just like a little
bitch in heat."

	"Oh, fuck, say that again."

	"Yes, you nasty little girl, I can tell you love being a
little bitch in heat - being incredibly dirty and nasty on the phone -
"

	"Yeah. Jesus, my clit feels like it's on fire. I'd love to
feel your tongue on it."

	"Yeah, wet your fingers with some of your saliva and then
imagine it's me licking you... "

	She interrupted me with a low shriek. "Oh, god, Mark, I'm
going to come... " I came with her.

	We were silent for several seconds. I have no idea what was
running through her head. Hell, I couldn't even *begin* to describe
what was running through mine.

	Finally, Grace spoke again. "Wow, thanks. Man, talking like
that is *really* sexy." She sounded relaxed and happy, but there was
also a tinge of sadness in her voice.

	"Yeah, it is... " We spoke for quite a while longer, having
thrown off whatever melancholy lay upon us and chatted in a friendly
way. I told her I'd be in to see her in the booth on Thursday.

	As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. It was Helen. "Hi,
hon - I've been trying to call, but your phone's been busy for a long
time. Who were you talking to?"

				* * *

	The only time I ever saw Grace on campus outside of class was
at one point right near the end of the semester. I had stopped in for
a caffeine fix at the student union to get me through my mid-afternoon
down-time. She saw me first. "Oh, hi, professor. I was actually just
about to do some studying for our class." She motioned to the course
reader she was holding.

	I guess it's my acting experience, but I still found it
possible to retain my composure and act normally around her in class.
"Oh, man. Please don't call me professor - I don't even have my Ph.D.
yet. Michael will do... "

	"Nice day, huh?

	"Yeah." I grabbed a can of Coke from the refrigerated bin.

	"Hmm - I'd been thinking I'd get a cappucino, but it's so hot
I think I'll get a Coke instead, too." I noted that she reached for a
bottle instead of a can. A bottle? Perfectly natural and there was
nothing objectionable to it, but...

	"Bye. See you in class tomorrow." Jesus, she certainly looked
like a typical - if gorgeous - student as she walked around campus.
The thought of watching her sliding the coke bottle in and out of her
gorgeous pussy just a few weeks before was still emblazoned in my
brain.

				* * *

	The school year was almost at an end. I racked my brains
trying to figure out some way to keep up my "relationship" with Grace.
Could I reveal myself? I just knew that would be too risky. And I was
petrified of harming my relationship with Helen, which was certainly
still fine. I felt the promise of ecstasy and agony. It was all too
easy to imagine falling in love with Grace and fucking myself up
completely in the process.

				* * *

	"I brought in something special. And this is for me, not for
you, so don't worry about tipping today. Hold on a quick second."
Grace set the phone beside her. Reaching down below her cushion, she
pulled up a Benetton bag and proceeded to remove some clothing from
it. I watched as she hurriedly slipped on what looked like a high
school uniform: white blouse, plaid skirt, and knee socks. She then
quickly slipped her hair back into a pony tail.

	"Wow, you look absolutely fanta - "

	"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned." Grace interrupted me
before I could even blurt out the rest of my compliment. I figured out
immediately what she was up to. But Jesus H. Christ, what did I know
about what went on in a confessional?

	"I came to the confession booth, father, because I've been
having impure thoughts."

	"What sort of impure thoughts, my child?"

	"All I can think about are boys' bodies. I want to run my
hands all over them. I imagine having all the good-looking boys from
school lined up naked so I can look at them all over, especially their
penises. I wonder what it would be like to feel one of them put his
thing in my vagina. I like the idea of taking off my clothes for them
and having them watch me too. I would walk back and forth naked in
front of them and I wonder if they would think I'm sexy, and if seeing
me naked would make them get erections. I've never seen what a boy's
penis looks like when it gets hard, father, but I want to. I wonder if
I could make them want to touch themselves."

	"My dear child," I put on my best pompous voice, "I'm sure
that if he were confronted with a girl as lovely as you in that
situation, even the pope would find himself busily stroking his
infallible cock."

	Grace giggled, and I started to lose it too, but she soon
snapped back into a more serious fantasy mode. "But, father, are these
feelings natural or am I a bad girl for having them?"

	I couldn't actually tell whether she wanted reassurance or to
hear that she was a sinner. Maybe a mixture of both. I held on for a
moment before responding.

	"And, I've got something else to confess too, father, I... I
like to watch you, when you're delivering your sermon. I watch you as
you stand up in front of everyone and I find myself thinking about...
about... I think about going underneath the pulpit and taking you in
my mouth while you talk to everyone. I imagine bobbing my head up and
down on your cock, working on you frantically, my saliva trickling
down your thighs. My head would be under your robe and I'd be tickling
your balls as I suck on you. I'd even slide a finger into your ass and
the whole time you'd be preaching... I'd be able to feel your hips
start to move back and forth 'cause I'd make you feel so good and I'd
get all wet, and I'd feel my juices on my panties. And the whole
congregation would be out there listening to you talk about how we
shouldn't be sinful, but they wouldn't know what was going on. If the
pulpit disappeared, everybody would see me and know what a horny
little cocksucking slut I am and how you're a sinner too, and the
thought makes me work on you even harder. I would start to fingerfuck
myself" (and with this she inserted two fingers inside her panties)
"and I'd imagine it was your cock moving in and out of my tight little
cunthole.

	"You know what, father? I wish there was no wall in this
confession booth so that you could just reach through and touch me.
And I want to touch you too, father. I would love to make you feel
good with my body. I know you can't see me on the other side,"
(though, of course, she knew I could see her with incredible clarity),
"but try to imagine how wet you make me." And now she started to
recline and her skirt bunched up around her thighs. She spread her
legs and I watched as her hand rubbed busily beneath her panties. She
lifted her ass slightly from the couch and with one hand she started
to inch her skimpy white cotton briefs slowly down over her thighs,
wriggling a bit until she had pulled one leg free. She was clearly
very, very wet.

	"Now, child, you have to learn to master these impulses."

	"But I get so, so horny, father. My pussy gets so itchy. What
should I do? I don't want to touch myself because I know it's bad, but
I just can't help it." She continued to rub herself very vigorously as
she spoke. Her pubic hairs were slick and matted.

	"I don't think saying a hundred "hail Marys" would be
sufficient for you. Perhaps, child, you need a spanking. Yes, I think
you will have to come to my office and bend over my knee. That seems
to be the only way to rid you of such vile, evil thoughts."

	A sly smile came briefly to Grace's lips and passed. "Oh no,
father, please don't do that."

	"Yes, Kitty, I think I'm just going to have to paddle your
cute little behind. I'm going to spank you until your bum cheeks turn
bright red."

	"But, father, what would you say if you knew I had something
even worse to confess? I've been doing a naughty thing. I've been
working at a peep show parlor, because I want to save money to buy a
car and... and... and... just because I wanted to see what it was
like. Is this really, really such a bad thing?" At this point some
other emotion appeared on Grace's face. Something more than a fun
fantasy scenario was going on here.

	Things were getting close to home, and I thought we'd had
enough of the hellfire and brimstone approach. Maybe I should switch
into something that came a little more naturally to me. "Kitty, now,
you must know that God *will* love you no matter what you do."

	Grace's tone of voice switched too. She suddenly got serious
and all the coyness evaporated. "Damn - I know. Why does society want
to fuck us up like this? I mean I must seem like I let go, by being
here and the way I talk to you, but even so, there's still this tiny
little nagging voice I can't get rid of that comes up every once in a
while... "

	"Yeah, you'd think that sexual expression would be the most
natural thing in the world, given biology, but it's one of the most
socially constrained... " There was a lot I wanted to say, but I
checked myself and trailed off. I was already sounding too academic. I
quickly donned my priestly fantasy voice again and intoned, "God gave
you sexuality as a sacrament, my dear child. Be fruitful and multiply,
the bible tells us. So go out and fuck like a bunny rabbit. But be
sure to use a condom."

	Grace smiled. "Spoken like a true priest... " But then a
change to seriousness again. "You still approve of me, father, even if
I work here?"

	"Yes, my child, I do."

	And yet another change in the tone of her voice, something
hard to describe, something that gave the impression of distance. I
got the sense she wasn't really even talking to me any more. "And
promise me you'll love me, aboji, no matter what I do?"

	Aboji? Hmm... maybe I was beginning to understand just a
little bit more. "Yes, darling, I'll always love you, no matter
what."

				* * *

	A few nights later. The phone rang and suddenly the scene
shifted. At last, at last:

	I tugged Grace's hips down over me and begin to lick her cunt
eagerly, as I squeezed and caressed her outrageously sexy butt. The
scent of her lubricated pussy filled my nostrils and I felt
transported to another realm. It felt so great to be in a 69 with her
finally, and the way her tongue was swirling around my prick was
sending me into ecstasy. She was kissing and sucking on it eagerly,
hungrily, lovingly. One hand was following her mouth gently up and
down on my shaft and the other was lightly tickling and scratching my
balls. Grace moved her mouth away from me and whispered, "I think I'm
falling in love with you." And I was feeling a sense of complete
surrender to her in return. We moved our bodies around so that the
head of my cock was positioned right at the entrance to her wet, open
vagina.

	Suddenly, there was a frantic knocking on the door and I heard
Helen's voice, sounding oddly disembodied. She was sobbing
hysterically. "Michael, Michael, are you in there?"

	I awoke from my dream with a start, my heart pounding. It was
several hours before I could fall back to sleep.

				* * *

	Tuesday afternoon the week exams were ending Grace came by my
office to get her final paper back; her hair was down and for the
first time I had seen her on campus she wasn't wearing glasses. "Hi,
Michael?" She could tell I was surprised by the way she looked.

	"I almost didn't recognize you. Did you just get contacts?"

	"Well, you know, summer time. Just a new look, I guess. I'm
heading back home to LA tomorrow for the summer."

	Tomorrow? Jesus, no - "Kitty" hadn't given "Mark" any sort of
warning about that. I controlled my feeling of heartbreak and said,
"Hey, you did a great job on your paper. I really enjoyed reading it."
I wasn't lying; she had written a very interesting piece, solid A
work.

	"Oh, I'm glad you liked it. I was kind of panicky about it for
a while. I came by your office once to see about getting an extension,
but you weren't here. I had even thought about getting your home
number from the secretary of the anthro department and then I decided
it just wasn't worth bugging you at home." My heart skipped a beat
when I realized the implications of what that would have meant. "So I
just managed to get everything together, and it all seemed to work."
She looked down for a moment and focused on the shirt I was wearing -
a new paisley thing I had just bought earlier that week. "Hey, that's
a great shirt - it goes really well with green eyes like yours."

	"Oh... thanks." I was more than a little startled - again.

	"But anyway, have a great summer and good luck with your
career. And thank you... " There was a studied pause. She continued
smiling, but the smile underwent an odd transformation so that it
seemed to be the same smile that had been devastating me for the last
several weeks in the booth. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks. And
then she fixed her gaze on me with what can only be described as a
*penetrating* stare and went on, "... thank you for the most
provocative class I've *ever* had." She paused for a few moments, as
her face grew redder, and she shifted her weight nervously from one
foot to the other. "Well... um... so long." She hastily turned to
leave.

	What the fuck!? She really *does* know... How long?... She
wasn't just displacing Mark onto me, her green-eyed instructor, was
she? No, no, that didn't make sense. Was this really intended as a
come-on from her as Grace to me as Michael?... My mind was in a whirl.
I watched as she walked quickly out the door of my office. Was she
hoping I'd take the initiative and come after her? After ten seconds
of hesitation in which I frantically ran through what I should say, it
suddenly dawned on me that I had no way of tracking her down if I
didn't find her now. I jumped up, knocking my chair over. To hell with
the consequences - with Helen, with the job, with what Grace might say
to me if she actually didn't know I was Mark.

	I darted out the door after her, but she had already
disappeared down one of the corridors. Which way had she gone out,
dammit??? Taking a gamble, I ran out the front exit. No Grace. I
shouted out her name loudly, almost maniacally, and several people
turned around to stare at me. In desperation I sprinted around the
building, once, twice, and then out to the plaza, but she was nowhere
to be found.

Copyright (c) 1996 by Horangi. All rights reserved. This story may be
reproduced or disseminated as long as the entire story, including
byline and copyright notice, is left intact and entirely unchanged
from beginning to end.