Chapter 8

When Wedge opened the door of her office and saw Lucy lying that way across the top of her desk, he thought, Well, well, that looks like a woman who's just been fucked silly.

His erection returned full-force; god, he wanted to fuck her himself! But he knew he would fuck her later; it was best to wait. He walked to the far side of her desk and sat in her chair, gazing down at the panting woman for a minute before brushing the hair out of her eyes. He watched one eyeball find him, and then her iris hardened.

"You son of a bitch!" she exclaimed, after a moment. "You tricked me."

"You loved it," he said.

"You're a silly man," she said. "You're a presumptuous ass!"

"You've obviously been fucked half-mad," he said. "That would tend to indicate that you found the experience, ahh, stimulating."

"Who was it?"

He chortled.

His obvious pleasure with himself made her see red. The ass! "Who?" she demanded, her face grim.

"You can't make me tell you-hysteria does not move me."

"I'm not hysterical!" she said between clenched teeth.

"No, but you're threatening to become that way and I'm merely warning you that it won't do you any good."

"You don't intend to tell me whom I've just had intercourse with?" she asked, disbelieving.

"You don't have to worry, he'll be discreet."

"I want to know!"

"What difference does it make?"

"What difference does it make?" she repeated after him. "Whom one has sex with makes a lot of difference."

"Not at this point. You were well-fucked. That's all that should matter to you."

"You're a creep," she said. "Why don't you get out of here?"

She stood, holding a hand between her legs, and walked around to his side of the desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out some tissues with which she wiped away evidence of her spending. From the grimly broken expression on her face, he knew that she was near tears.

"It was one of your colleagues," he said.

"Not for long," she said. "Because this whole thing is off. I'm sending in my resignation at once. I've had enough shit from you to last a lifetime."

"You haven't had much of anything from me," he said. "I haven't even deigned to fuck you."

"Deigned."

"That's right," he said.

His use of language infuriated her; everything about him infuriated her. Besides, he had fucked her, although she realized that he meant he hadn't fucked her in the cunt. But she didn't want to remind him of that and she didn't want to get into a quibble over semantics. "Well, that's your tough luck," she said, as she began to dress, rapidly pulling on her panties and then her skirt. "You missed your opportunity."

"Think about it," he said.

"About what? Having sex with you?"

"No, about your job. Don't be rash. I'll expect you to show up in my office at seven-thirty Wednesday morning."

"You're an ass," she said, and those were her parting words as she left him sitting behind her desk.

He knew she would show up, however. He had no doubt whatsoever. He knew that she had been damned turned-on, that her anonymous lover had gotten to her more than she cared to admit, surely more than she would admit to him, and quite probably more than she would admit to herself.

Late Wednesday afternoon Professor Lucretia Slade was once again seated behind her desk in Hurlburd Hall, her feet propped up on a corner of the desk like a man as she bounced a pencil on its eraser, staring blankly. She bounced her pencil quite nervously. She knew all too well what to expect. She was on to Wedge's strategy. She knew he was wearing her away bit-by-bit. Sucking his cock again this morning hadn't made that much difference to her-after what she'd been through, what did it mean to suck his cock one more time? And now she knew that he was going to come blindfold her again. She had already had sex anonymously once, and so it would not be new, nor that traumatic. Yes, he was eroding her will to resist, her very character. The point with erosion of one's self, the way to fight it, was simply to call a halt now. Bouncing her pencil, she summoned whatever willpower and determination she still possessed.

The phone rang. She answered it almost with relief, only to hear Wedge's voice crackle over the receiver. She looked at her watch; it was four-thirty all right, but she had expected him to come by.

"You wore a dress today, so you're going to have to strip. I'll be there in five minutes and I expect you to be lying across your desk just like you did last Monday, your ass high in the air. Your blindfold is in the rear of your top desk drawer."

Click. When the dead receiver began buzzing, her blood raced. She had expected him to come by so she could argue with him. She was confused. What should her own strategy be? She had to trick him somehow.

When they came, she recognized Wedge's footsteps. It was funny, the things she had begun to notice. The past two days, she had looked very carefully at hands; whenever she saw a colleague, her eyes would go to his hands.

Wedge opened the door on a sight, lovely to behold, of exquisitely exposed femininity. If anything, she was a bit more exposed than she had been two days before, the increased spread of her crotch due, he realized, to the high heels she was wearing. The white V of her legs was wider, her cuntlips tighter, her wrinkled, pink-red inner lips slightly parted-this much, he could see from the door. When he approached her, he immediately sniffed the deep musk, the scent of excitement. Her salivating pussy seemed to suck at his fingers, anxious to have its warmth invaded. Within a minute, his slowly slithering fingers had wrested a moan from her-involuntary, he was sure.

Privy to the most intimate tremors of her throbbing cunt, Wedge withdrew his hand and wiped his slickened fingers on his handkerchief. This was all of the evidence he needed: her high state of preparedness was a sure sign that her cunt dominated her mind. But it is nice to have a touch of insurance, and for insurance he knelt and affixed his lips to the gushing morsel. He sucked and tongued her puffs and folds until she moaned unabashedly, her whole lower body quivering, and then he stood, wiped his chin on his handkerchief, and exited without saying a word.

With a deep chuckle, Lucy stood and whipped off her blindfold. She was going to win this round! She would confront her demon lover, not only would she find out who he was, but she would tell him that she hadn't enjoyed it very much and that he most assuredly could not do it again. She chortled to herself, blood racing in her veins; slightly dizzy, she took several deep breaths. And then she heard the approach of footsteps, beginning faintly from midway down the hall and becoming louder as heels hit the linoleum of the empty hallway, step after measured step. And when they were just outside her office, it hit her: it wasn't the same man! She could tell that this was a rather heavy man. A dozen questions and/or problems posed themselves in her mind at once. Her mind reeled, spinning like a merry-go-round. She didn't have time to put on her dress. He was now closer to her door than she was and she couldn't get to it and lock it. If she challenged him when he entered, he would be the one to assume innocence. How would she explain herself? How could she explain being naked? Could she tell him what had made the juice of her sexual arousal gush onto her thighs? How could she get out of this with the least embarrassment?

II not me, Miss Slade, whom did you expect? Which of our colleagues were you waiting for? If not me, Miss Slade, why not me? I'll have to speak to the tenure committee about this.

Her last conscious thought was of his hands. This time the hands were thick and chubby, the fingers short and he did not grip her hips so tightly. Her last fully conscious thought occurred in that moment just before he penetrated her, in that moment just before the wailing half-mad animal within was unleashed; she did not fully pass out until her orgasm hit her.

Wedge had been sitting at her desk a full five minutes before she revived herself enough to remove her blindfold, and then he saw that she had broken a fingernail clawing at her desk. She refused to look at him. She looked all around him, eyes furtively darting here and there, and she seemed to have no impulse to speak. When she stepped around the desk for the tissues, he reached out, caressed her cheek, then held her chin to make her look at him, and when he looked in her eyes he saw what he expected.

"I want to watch you and Samantha make love tonight," he said.

She did a double-take, and then when she was sure she had heard him properly, she said, "No chance."

"Why?"

"No chance. That's all there is to it."

"I am telling you that I am going to watch the two of you together tonight. You don't have much choice in the matter."

"No chance." She had fitted her tits into her bra and now fastened it before looking around, still dazed, for her panties, finding them under her dress. She lifted a leg, unsteadily, to step in.

"Then tell me why."

"We're not seeing each other anymore."

"Why did you break up?"

"We didn't exactly break up. We're just not seeing each other."

"Let me guess," he said. "You enjoy having a man put it to you so much that you've sworn off ladies, forevermore? Is that it?"

"Wedge," she said, with an annoyed moaning sigh, "you're an unmitigated fool."

"She found a better-tasting pussy?"

"And a creep! And a bore!" she yelled. "Now let me alone."

"Then isn't it about time you saw her again?"

"She's mad at me. She thinks I have a boyfriend."

"A-hah!" he said. "So Samantha is afraid that your enjoyment of having a man put it to you will be so great that you will swear off the ladies."

"Samantha would state it a bit more subtly, and with a bit more psychological insight, but she might think something similar to that." She pulled her dress over her head, and turned to Wedge to have him zip her up.

"Call her up, tell her you've been wrong, that a man would never be able to do it for you, that you'll die if you don't see her."

"Wouldn't that just titillate you, though? Jesus, all male chauvinist pigs fantasize about what women do together."

"I thought we'd cured you of using that term too loosely," he said.

"Whoops," she said, obviously not meaning it, "it slipped out by accident."

"Can you blame us for fantasizing about it?" he asked. "Don't you think that what you do together is beautiful?"

"Of course it is."

"Well then, I've been educating you recently. You owe me a return favor."

"I wouldn't call it education-you're fucking me over, you're going to ruin me yet if I give you half a chance. But that doesn't matter as far as our argument goes. The point is that there is no reason to drag Samantha into this. I owe that to her."

"You're not dragging her into anything-you are going to make love to her, that's all."

"Sure, I'll tell her to have a beautiful orgasm, just for dear old Wedge, is that it?"

"Whatever turns her on," he said, smirking.

"Not that-harbor no illusions; that would not turn her on, believe me."

"She hates men that much?"

"Yes."

"So the very thought of your becoming involved with a man does disturb her."

"I told you as much."

"And she puts you down for it."

"Yes," she said, smiling slightly. "Has she ever had a proper fuck."

"I would guess not."

"That girl needs to be taught a lesson, I'd say," Wedge said.

"Undoubtedly," Lucy said. "But you're not the man to do it."

"I could do it," he said, quite simply.

"Not through me," she said.

"Well, that might be sort of hard to explain to Samantha," he said. "But I'm going to come over tonight and watch you. You won't have to breathe a word about that to her."

"No you're not," she said.

"Think about it," he said. "Doesn't her holier-than-thou, her, uh, more liberated-than-thou attitude get to you?"

"A little bit, I suppose," Lucy said, trying to he or at least to minimize.

"Then she deserves to have someone--me--watch her beautiful orgasms," he said.

"Your logic is specious," she said.

"I'll be by about eight," he said. "Have Samantha come shortly thereafter, and that will give us time to figure out our geometry, how to give me a hiding place with a view."

"No," she said.

"Eight o'clock," he said, getting up and leaving her, giving her a broad grin from the door.