Randy and the Professor (R)

Randy was overwhelmed when he inherited his maternal grandparents' house. He had been living in an apartment for the past decade trying to scrape enough money together for a down payment on some sort of property but his grandparents' place fell into his lap and he was humbled by their generous gift left in their will.

He was chagrined to realize that he was the one person in the family who probably needed the legacy. His parents were well off and certainly didn't need the additional responsibility of another house. His older brother was a doctor with his own multi-million dollar estate and his sister was married to a successful businessman with their own sprawling place in South County. Randy worked a factory job and drove a ten year old car.

Nobody said it to his face, but Randy knew he was considered the family loser. He barely made it through high school, bored with classes and studying. Sports was his ticket through the four grades but once he was a high school graduate, Sports didn't matter much anymore and he was just another guy forced to make a living.

A football booster did get him an interview at the paper mill and that's where he ended up a week after graduation, carrying rolls of paper to the various machines before working his way up to a machine operator.

Now, ten years later, many of Randy's former classmates were college graduates with impressive jobs, often married and raising children. Until inheriting the house, Randy lived in a three room apartment in downtown Hillsboro with no real relationship happening. He spent his evenings in the local bars with his pals and woke up in the morning with a hangover. Not exactly a life with redeeming values.

Randy's mother told him that the gift of his grandparent's house was a second chance for him. He could get out of the rut of his current life in Hillsboro and enjoy a second start with a new location and a new attitude.

"I'm still just a mill worker, Mom," Randy was quick to point out.

Randy had visited his grandparents' home many times while growing up. IT was located in the countryside of western Blue County and his parents often sent him there in the summer to get him away from trouble hanging around town doing nothing all the time. The house was in good shape, a simple ranch with a front porch and a back patio. The property also featured a pond and a second house, a much smaller one story four room tiny home. His grandmother used to call it the 'carriage house' and his grandfather called it 'the cottage'. It was the original house and his grandparents built the second home about fifty years ago.

Randy never recalled anybody living in the older place and it was used both as a guest house and a play house over the years. Randy had many fond memories of the neat little home but the cottage had fallen into a state of disrepair in recent years. Randy's first priority was investing his money in modernizing the main house instead of being concerned with the cottage although it was rather depressing to see the old place in such disrepair.

It took Randy a few months just to clean out the house of all of his grandparent's personal affects and stuff he didn't want in the house. He had a couple of tag sales and made some runs to the goodwill store after the rest of the family made their claim on any items they wanted.

He took down some of the old lady wallpaper and tried to spruce up the place in other ways and finally, after six months, the home started to feel like his own place instead of him just being a guest at his grandparents' house.

But every time he looked out the kitchen window and saw the old cottage, Randy felt a pang of sadness and regret. He debated whether he should just let the place rot, take out a loan and get the place fixed up, or just sell it as is. He liked his privacy of the property that was set off from the other houses in the area and he wasn't sure if he wanted another neighbor that near his house.

Randy was sitting at his kitchen table reading the sports page one Saturday morning when he heard a car in the driveway outside. He went to the door and saw that it was his mother. She had been dropping in regularly since Randy took over the property. It was her childhood home after all, and her parents' house so she had a legitimate emotional tie to the place but Randy did feel like she was checking up on him more than anything else.

Randy noticed a strange (and well dressed) woman climbing out of the car with his mother and instead of approaching his house the two women began walking toward the cottage which Randy thought was a little strange. He trotted out of the house and caught up with the ladies.

"Good morning, Mom," he called. "What's going on?"

"Oh, hello Randy," his mother replied, sounding overly friendly and cheerful. "This is Professor Pratt from Green College. Remember I told you I was taking a writing class for shits and giggles?"

"Yeah," Randy said with a frown, not sure what a Green College Professor was doing looking at his cottage.

"I told The Professor all about the cottage and she's interested in renting it!" his mother announced.

Randy felt blindsided. His mother was acting as his real estate agent now? Without even telling him?

"Renting it?" Randy asked with confused surprise.

"Yes!" His mother laughed. "I told her she could have it at a reduced rent if she was willing to conduct repairs on the structure."

Randy looked at the Professor feeling slightly annoyed. Why the hell would she want to rent a run down old piece of property like this?

Professor Pratt looked like a combination of a well off well to do woman and a former hippy. She was well dressed wearing an expensive pants suit with plenty of accessories and jewelry but some of the jewelry looked rather Earthly and she wore her hair excessively long for a woman in her late thirties.

The Professor barely gave Randy a glance as she was busy scoping out the exterior of the cottage. "Can we go inside?" She asked his mother.

"Oh, of course, Sylvia!" Randy's mother said happily.

"It's unlocked," Randy let him know.

He had been inside he place several times himself for sentimental nostalgic reasons, remembering the time he and his older brother used the structure as a fort and clubhouse and, in earlier years, as a playhouse with his older sister.

The Professor opened the squeaky door and stepped into the cottage. There was a main living room, a kitchen behind it, a bedroom to the right, and a bathroom behind that.

There were a few old couches, a ratty arm chair and a table in the living room. The kitchen was empty except for a long piece of plywood set on a couple of saw horses and the bedroom had a mattress on the floor. Randy was pretty sure his older brother had 'entertained' a girl or two in there during his high school years long ago. The wallpaper on the walls was faded and peeling in places and the paint was chipping and cracked.

But despite the obvious disrepair, the cottage still maintained its quaintness in the woodwork, the bay window, and the intimate smallness of the interior. The Professor didn't have much to say as she walked through the space and Randy was hoping she would hate it but the longer the remained in the space the more taken he knew the visitor was with it and that was not good news for him.

Randy tried to make a comment or observation from time to time but it was obvious that the Professor wasn't even listening to him, acting as if he wasn't even there as she conversed with his mother, remarking how much she loved the little house and would be thrilled to be able to move in.

Randy wasn't very excited about the prospect of renting the place out to an uppity Professor from Green College, especially if she couldn't even be bothered to be polite or friendly to him, her potential landlord. He assumed that his mother had told the Professor his whole story – that he was the family loser who barely made it out of high school and was only living in his grandparents' house because they had felt sorry for the poor soul and willed it to him out of the goodness of their heart.

"So, how much of a reduced rent are we talking?" Randy asked his mom.

"Oh, I'd say a hundred dollars a month," his mother replied.

"So, maybe five hundred a month?" Randy was guessing.

"No, dear, I meant the rent would be one hundred a month," his mother laughed.

"Ma, no offense, but are you crazy?" Randy wanted to know looking at her with disbelief.

"Do you know how much money it's going to take to get this place looking the way it needs to?" The Professor spoke to him for the first time.

"Well, you'll be responsible for the utilities then," Randy replied.

"Fine," the Professor remarked snidely.

Annoyed, Randy left the cottage and his mother followed, leaving the Professor behind inside.

"Oh, Randy, don't be that way," his mother protested. "I thought it was a win win for everybody. Now we can get the cottage fixed up and looking the way it was meant to."

"That woman is obviously a bitch, Mom," Randy complained.

"Well, she is set in her ways and she definitely knows what she wants," his mother agreed.

"How in the hell did this all come about?" Randy wanted to know. "You just offered our cottage to a perfect stranger?"

"I told you, she's my Professor," her mother explained. "We went out for coffee one day and I was telling her about myself and our family and the cottage came up in the course of the conversation, that's all."

"What? She came out and said she'd rent it?" Randy frowned. "She doesn't look homeless to me."

"She's living with another woman colleague off campus," his mother said.

"Is she gay or something?" Randy wondered.

"I don't think so," his mother replied, although she seemed to stop and think about it for a moment. "No, she just said she wanted her own place so she could write in peace. Don't you think this would make for a wonderful writing cottage?"

"Whatever, Mom, you obviously made this decision without my input or consensus so I guess it really doesn't matter what I think," he grumbled.

"Oh, don't be that way," his mother pouted. "You're isolating way too much out here anyway. It will do you good to have somebody around."

"Wasn't there a twenty-year old coed in your class, Ma?" Randy asked. "I'd rather have someone like that here."

"Oh, hush," his mother groaned. "I don't expect you to marry the woman. Just have a neighbor."

"She doesn't strike me as the neighborly type, Mom," Randy pointed out. "You sure an upscale educated broad like her wants talk to a commoner like me?"

"Don't talk about yourself like that, Randy," his mother insisted.

"Well," Randy sighed, knowing there was no point in talking to his mother about the situation any further since the decision was made without his consent. "If Professor Stick-up-her-ass is gun-ho enough to move in and fix up the place then I guess I'm okay with it."

"Thank you, Dear," his mother said with approval.

"Even though you realize she's so far out of my league that it isn't even funny," he added.

"It will be fine," his mother assured him.

Professor Tight Ass came out of the cottage and once again ignored Randy as she gave her attention to his mother.

"I think this might just work out, Debbie," the Professor said with enthusiasm. "And I have free reign to do what I want, correct?"

"Of course," his mother said pleasantly.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Randy asked with concern.

"Its okay, Randy," his mother assured him. "Let Sylvia and I work out the details to this little agreement."

"Get it in writing, Mom," Randy warned as the two women started for the car. "We don't want any issues or problems down the road."

"Yes, dear," his mother replied but he could tell she wasn't even listening to him.

Professor Snot barely even looked at him as she got in the car and Randy wanted to flip her the bird. What a stuck up prissy bitch of a woman. She was going to be his new neighbor?

A few days later, a truck pulled up to the cottage and the interior was tripped of all the junk inside. The next day a cleaning company arrived and conducted a floor to ceiling wall to wall cleaning, scrubbing, soaking, disinfecting and general white wash of every square inch of the interior. Randy could smell the cleaning detergent from his house. He called his mother several times for updates and details on the agreement she reached with Professor Stuck up but his mother brushed him off and told him not to worry about it because she was taking care of everything.

"Did you talk to a lawyer?" Randy asked.

"Yes dear."

"Did you get it in writing?"

"Yes dear."

"Am I going to see a monthly rent check?"

"Yes dear."

A few days later, a painting contractor arrived and painted the entire interior of the house and painted the outside pink.

"Pink?" Randy groaned, rushing out to talk to the painter. "Are you sure she said pink?"

"Yep," the contractor replied.

The cottage had been white with green shutters for as long as Randy could remember and now it was pink with blue shutters. It looked like a damn giant doll house!

"Well, there goes the neighborhood," Randy grumbled to himself when the house was done.

A week later, a moving van appeared in the driveway and a few hours later the long empty cottage actually looked like a home for the first time in Randy's memory. There was furniture and appliances and books and pictures and curtains on the windows.

He was standing in the doorway of the cottage admiring the new look cottage when Professor Pratt arrived, pulling into the driveway in a late model BMW.

"Figures," Randy mumbled to himself, glancing at his ten year old pick up truck parked in his section of the driveway.

"I had the locks changed," Professor Uptight said to him. "Your mother has a spare. I don't believe there's any reason you need to be over here."

She walked by him and closed the door in his face. He would have laughed if it didn't feel so insulting.

Professor Stuck Up was living in the cottage now but during the next few weeks Randy hardly saw the woman and it was pretty obvious that she wanted nothing to do with him. She was clearly a snob with an attitude. On the rare occasions they actually conversed, Professor Pratt used big words and looked down her nose to him, hardly giving him the time of day whenever their paths crossed in the shared driveway. She expected him to call her "Professor Pratt" and not Sylvia which he found egotistical on her part. He wasn't her student for Christ sakes but she treated him more like the hired help than the landlord.

Randy was happy to leave her alone and let The Queen do her own thing. He realized that she saw him as nothing more than uneducated white trash and he wasn't going to argue with her. What was the point?

Randy was happy to see the improvements she made in the cottage. He'd sneak peeks through the windows when she wasn't around. In addition to the work done before she moved in, "The Prof" (as Randy began calling her to himself) had torn up the old linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom. She had only been a tenant for a few months but she was really turning the place around. She put up a new white picket fence and planted new flowers around the cottage. Randy was pretty sure his grandmother would approve of the new look.

If only the Prof was as cheerful as the cottage now looked. But she continued to be an annoyance to Randy just by the way she ignored him! He'd say hello to her in the driveway and she'd barely look at him. The only time she did seem to speak to him was to make a complaint (his truck was in the way, his stereo was on too loud, some friend visiting late at night work her up, etc.).

"Did I do something to offend you?" Randy asked The Prof one day when she went out of her way to avoid him when they were standing by the mailboxes getting their respective mail.

"No, I just don't talk to guys like you," she replied coldly.

"Guys like me?" He was already insulted.

"I like men who are smart and intelligent and well read and can stimulate my mind. I want to talk about poetry and the classics, not the Red Sox and your favorite beer." She gave him a long look. "So why don't you go back to your pick up truck and tune in your country station and cruise for babes outside the mall."

She took her mail and headed for her college while Randy watched her leave with his jaw hanging open. What a close-minded, narrow viewed, tight-assed, stuck up b-i-t-c-h he thought to himself as he shook his head and walked slowly back to his house.

Was he really that pathetic? That shallow? That transparent? That uninteresting? That unworthy? He felt like shit and collapsed into his living room chair of his suddenly lonely house. Was that going to be the wrap on him for the rest of his life? Working a factory job and hanging around the bars every night picking up drunken one night stands with no real conversation or interaction?

It occurred to him that everybody had been right. He should have tried harder in high school, gotten better grades and looked beyond next week's football, basketball or baseball game. Now he was twenty-years old and some snot faced know-it-all-of a snobby college professor was putting him in his place. Sure she was a prissy snob but she did hit the nail on the head: why would a brainy woman like her want to give a loser like Randy the time of day?

He glanced up at his grandparent's bookshelf full of countless old books and classics that he left in the house because they looked good. He laughed out loud when he realized that he really left them there so visitors would think he was smart. He sighed knowing he hadn't read a book since high school and even then it was by bribe. He slowly stood and walked to the wall sized bookcase, letting his finger trace along the various titles before he settled on The Red Badge of Courage which seemed to ring a bell from some English class though he was sure he never read it.


Sylvia spent her Saturday ripping out the ancient shower stall to save a few bucks when the plumber showed up on Monday morning. She wanted to repaint the bathroom purple and figured it would be better to do it on Sunday with no shower in the way.

So without a shower, the pond was her only hope of getting clean unless she wanted a cold sponge bath from the kitchen sink or walk across the driveway to her dipshit neighbor's house and ask him if she could borrow his shower for fifteen minutes but she didn't see that as an option considering she didn't even like the guy.

Sylvia was smelly and sweaty from her long day's work but she waited until almost midnight before tip toeing out to the pond for a cleansing dip. The last thing she wanted was to be seen by the guy living in the main house. She had a feeling her adult student Debbie hoped they could become friends as neighbors but he was an uneducated bore with nothing in common with her, an English Professor with a Master's Degree in Creative Writing. Once she had the cottage fixed up she would begin her second novel in earnest. Her first book, Danielle in Love with a modest printing received promising reviews in the tight literary community.
The main house looked dark and she assumed Randy was probably passed out by now so she snuck across the back lawn and slipped out of her filthy clothes with relish. Her body barely made a splash as she dove into the cool pond and the water felt wonderful against her overheated body, hot from a long day of working on the cottage. Her ultimate plan was to try to buy her the cottage once she had it up to snuff and then maybe they could work a deal out about joint use of the pond.
Sylvia hadn't seen much of Randy lately, not that she really wanted or needed to. She had her circle of friends at the college and she was dating Jack Wallace although he was on the Faculty at Yale nearly two hours away and they didn't get together as much as she would like. She was pretty sure the bastard was having an affair with one of his graduate students anyway.
Sylvia was enjoying the warm night air upon her skin and she flexed muscles that were sore from the work she had put in on the cottage. In the moonlight, tiny fireflies sparkled like twinkling Christmas lights over the still water and the sounds of chirping insects singing their night songs added nuance to the full moon that hung from the black sky. The light from the summer moon spotlighted her cool beauty as she raised her arms to let her long black tresses free from the braid that had held them captive all day long.
Her hair, thick and full crimped from the braid, reached her middle back heavy against her shoulders. She lifted the hair with her hands, running them through the thick locks to pull out the last of the braid. Her silky pale skin seemed to glow against her hair's inky backdrop. Sylvia was not the typical beauty but she caused men to look twice (mostly because of her attitude and presence). She had style as much as she had looks and when she smiled (which happened very rarely) her true beauty revealed her rich brown eyes sparkling warm and her full lips curved showing white even teeth.
She was tall with a lithe form that was curved in all the places that pleased featuring long legs that looked delicate rounded into full hips, a slender waist and full firm breasts that sat high upon her chest still holding steady in her late thirties. Now, in the midst of the small clearing that surrounded the pond, she looked like a nymph.
Sylvia could feel the chilly difference between her skin temperature and that of the water. She shivered and she felt her nipples harden into stiff pink points. She took a deep breath and dove into the water where the bottom dropped off to be deep enough that it was well over her head. It was a dark watery world of delight. Sylvia could almost feel her body open up and suck in the coolness as it washed away the dirt and grit from her body. Swimming underwater, she made it to the other side of the pond before coming up for a breath.

Randy had been sitting on the back porch nursing a drink in the still and quiet late night wondering about his life especially since the arrival of the prissy Professor who made him feel even more worthless. It had been nearly a year since his last relationship fell apart and the presence of The Prof only made him realize all the more how lonely and pathetic he really was. He didn't go out as much as he used to because he didn't want to fall into The Prof's stereotype of him as a factory worker hanging around the bars every night but all it really accomplished was him being the lonely guy out in the sticks of West County.

Randy heard the door to the cottage slam and he watched The Prof walk by as he sat in the shadows. He almost called out "Nice evening for a walk" but he decided not to startle her or put her on the spot since she'd probably blow him off anyway. So he watched her walk to the edge of the pond. He thought maybe she was going to have a cigarette or was out for some fresh air so he was surprised when she started taking off her clothes.

The Prof's back was to him and he got a nice view of her round ass in the moonlight. It had been a pleasant surprise when she turned to organize her clothes on the bank and he was able to see the rest of her glorious naked flesh painted with the white glow of the moon shining off her hair and resting upon her skin making it look like silk. It had stolen his breath seeing her slender body that way and he hadn't been able to keep his eyes from sweeping over her, from the blue black of her hair to the sleekly curved thighs and then back up. His eyes had paused upon the fine black pelt that covered her womanhood and the taut peaks of her breasts and then to her face just as she turned to dive into the water.
Her dive had broken Randy's spell leaving him breathless and staring at the place she'd just been as if it had been a dream. She had to be at least ten years older than him but he was impressed with her lovely body.

It occurred to him that he finally had her at the disadvantage for the first time since she moved in. The Prof had been aloof and antisocial since her arrival but now that she was naked in the pond, the advantage went to him. Randy took a swallow of his (fifth?) beer and made the walk to the pond where The Prof was now dunking herself under the water. Swimming underwater, she made it to the other side of the pond before coming up for a breath.

"Nice dive," Randy remarked.
Sylvia shrieked and swallowed water, coughing furiously as she turned to face the man who had intruded upon her middle of the night bath. Randy stood next to her clothes while leaning against a tree that grew close to the edge of the pond. She wiped the water out of her eyes and drew in a deep breath as she stared at him.
"What do you want?" The Prof asked while she treaded water.
"Nothing." He smiled, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight.
"Very funny," She grumbled. "Now do you want to get out of here so I can finish my bath?" She moved a little closer to the side of the pond that had her clothes.
Randy's foot nudged her dirty clothes out of the way before he bent over and picked up the small pile of clean clothes she'd brought with her. He lifted the fancy white silk pajama pants she'd brought to change into after cleaning off the dirt.

"Leave my stuff alone," she ordered, staring at his hands that were holding her clothing.

She found the bottom of the pond with her feet, tipping her head back to get her hair back out of her face.

"Why are you taking a bath in the pond?" Randy asked.

"I've been working on gutting the bathroom and I was filthy and I don't have a shower," she said slowly as if explaining to a two year old. "Now, since I've answered your question would you drop my clothes and leave me alone?"

Randy took a couple steps forward which brought him to the edge of the pond. He was amused to have the upper hand on The Prof stuck in his swimming hole.
"But you're trespassing, Professor," he grinned. "Don't you think there should be some penalty or cost for you using my property without my say?" He held the clothes up and over the water, acting as if he would drop them in.
"Stop that," she hissed.

With a sigh, Sylvia knew she had two choices. She could play his silly childish game or she could walk out of the water and take her clothes from his hands, exposing herself more than she already had. Neither choice was much to her liking. Being the stubborn woman that she was, Sylvia sucked in her breath and started from the water.

"I don't feel up to playing your games tonight so I'm going to get my clothing from you and then, if you want, you can call the cops and have me arrested for trespassing," she announced.
Randy seemed startled by her actions but his lips twisting in a crooked grin that made him all the more handsome. His green eyes riveted upon her body as she emerged from the water. The moon made the drops on her skin luminous. Every step exposed more of her glorious body until she stood before him naked as the day she was born, her hand held out for her clothing, her nipples hard from the night air.
"Give me my clothes," she ordered, feeling a strange heat in her stomach from the way his eyes devoured her body. Her voice was husky and weird sounding to her ears.
"What, these?" He held them out of her reach.
"Damn it," she hissed. "Why are you being such a prick?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Randy said nonchalantly but he couldn't take his eyes off of her and he was stunned to realized that the woman that he absolutely loathed was also the one he desired more than any woman he could remember wanting in his life.
"You are an immature little turd," Sylvia said suddenly, her eyes cold and furious.

"I'm not the one who's naked," he pointed out.

"Fuck you," she said tartly, starting to walk past him, willing to walk nude to the cottage.

"Wait," Randy said, feeling guilty all of a sudden. "You can use the pond for as long as you need to and I won't bother you again."
"Are you sure?" She took a step back toward him and tried to reach behind his back to grab her clothes.

She felt her body brush up against his and she felt the hard muscled strength of him against her softness and they both felt that desire this time.
"Professor, I'm taller and stronger than you," Randy said with a strange note to his voice. "Do you really think you can wrestle these away from me?"
Sylvia thought about just giving him a good swift kick in the balls and then taking her clothes and leaving him with that to remember her by but it just didn't seem like the best idea. She could just imagine neighbor relations then.

"I get the use of the pond every night until my new shower is put in?" She wanted to know.

"Sure," he said easily.

"And no more spying from you, is that a deal?"

"Ah, that's no fun," he grinned.

She stuck out her hand to shake in agreement and his eyes went from her hand and then to her body before meeting her eyes.
"Why don't we kiss on it instead?" he asked hopefully.
"Is it a deal or not, damn it?"
"It's a deal. Gee, Professor, there's no need to get snippy."
"Fine, now give me my clothes."
"Kiss first, clothes second."
"I'm not kissing you without any clothes on," she said, alarmed by the very thought.
Randy smiled innocently while noticing the fire raging in her brown eyes, a fire he felt raging somewhere too but it certainly wasn't his eyes.

"You're a bastard," she said. "Fucking asshole."

The curse that came from her lips had him looking at her in shock. "Temper, temper, Professor," he said.
"You know what you can do with your temper," she hissed.
"Do you like standing in front of me naked?" He wanted to know. "'Cause you sure are doing a lot of it. Not that I'm complaining mind you."
"I'm standing here naked because you're a fuck head immature bastard," she said, stomping her foot with annoyance.
Randy cleared his throat as her breasts moved with her stomp, jiggling and bouncing her tits most temptingly. If looks could kill, he'd be dead now. Her look of disgusted anger threatened to roast him in the fires of Hell.
Suddenly possessed, Randy stepped forward, his hand coming up to rest upon her curved waist just above her finely shaped butt and he pulled her towards his body until she was flushed against it. He tipped his head down but she stopped him as she pushed against his body with her hands.
"What are you doing?" She demanded.
"I'm going to kiss you," he replied openly.
Sylvia's hand balled into a fist and she hit him hard in the jaw. "You are an insufferable asshole."
Randy staggered back cursing and holding his mouth. "Jesus Christ!"
"I'm not some naive stupid little high school twat, you asshole," Sylvia told him.
Her anger made her vision turn red and she felt her temper boil over.

"This I realize," Randy muttered.

She looked at him with shock not quite believing she had actually socked him. Suddenly, feeling the same sense of possessed wanting he had, Sylvia stepped into him and she pressed her body against his, the water that still clung to her skin wetting his clothing. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his strong neck and pulled until she could reach his mouth with her lips. Randy felt the anger in her kiss even as her tongue swiped over his lips and then sunk into his mouth. Heat engulfed him with a lightning like jab. His arms wrapped around her, dropping her clothes to the ground as his hands roamed over her back and down over the supple curve of her rear, his palms cupping their warm weight to draw her even closer.
He took over the kiss, changing the angle of his head and rubbing her lips with his own, twining his tongue with hers until he heard her moan. Her hands tangled in his hair, rubbing against his scalp before trailing around his ears and down to grab his shoulders, holding on as he mesmerized her with the intensity of the kiss.
Sylvia felt lost in the pleasure of his hands as they roamed her body with intimate precision. She was lost in her own sensual haze of desire and the need his lips made her feel. The buttons of his shirt pressed into her breasts, the rough fabric of his jeans irritating her legs until he reached down, lifting one long muscled naked thigh and bringing it up against his hip.
She felt the hard bulge under those jeans throb against her snatch and she gasped at the rush of pleasure it brought her. Being nude in the arms of a fully clothed man was a naughty pleasure and she liked it. One of Randy's hands roamed up her back, gathering a handful of her wet hair in his fist. He used it to pull her head back further, his lips slipping from hers and finding her throat. She felt the sharp nip of his teeth, the heat of his tongue and the softness of his lips as he tasted her flesh. Her legs grew weak and shaky from the desire that boiled through her.
Randy reached down and lifted her in his arms, holding her high against his chest not wanting to deny himself of her taste for even the few seconds it took to carry her to the soft grasses a few feet from the pond. He settled her gently there and followed her down, his body coming to rest against hers and his mouth once more finding hers.
Their lips met and their tongues danced together, his hands tangled in her hair before slipping down and over her shoulders. Sylvia felt her breath catch an instant before his hand cupped her breast, his fingers sliding over the hardened point and sending tugging pulls to her womb. His palm calloused and roughened from the hard work he did daily was wonderfully gentle against her skin as he squeezed and caressed her flesh until she arched under him.
Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, yanking them apart. She pushed the material off of his shoulders and down his arms, wishing the light were better so she could see the muscled length of him better. Instead, she used her hands while her fingers exploring down the thick column of his neck, across his wide shoulders and rugged chest, her nails flicking against his flat male nipples making them harden and causing him to gasp.
Sylvia knocked him backwards and she rolled onto his hard chest as her mouth found his throat. She nibbled upon his hard skin and bit the curve where his neck met his shoulder laughing when she heard his moan. Moving down his body, she used her mouth and tongue to taste his skin, enjoying the masculine taste of sweat and soap that scented his body. He smelled of spice and something earthy that made her inhale deeply.
She gasped herself when she reached his stomach, her fingers playing along his abs, her lips skipping along his hard muscled flesh stopped only by the waistband of his jeans. She looked up at him and saw his eyes upon her, half closed and dark with passion.
Her fingers made short work of the unfastening of his jeans, pulling loose the button and unzipping them easily. Her hand reached inside and felt the hard length of his shaft under the soft material of his boxers. Smiling up at him, she reached inside the opening in the front of his boxers, her soft palm grazing the heated skin of his cock.
"Are you really going to touch a commoner?" Randy asked semi-sarcastically
"You're the one who started this," Sylvia said, her voice a husky moan.

While she played, teasing him with soft touches, he kicked off the tennis shoes and then wiggled out of his jeans without disrupting her hand. She gladly tugged down the boxers and his cock sprang loose standing proudly in front of her eyes. He groaned as she retook him in her hand, stroking along his length with a sure touch that had his blood rushing through his veins and his heart racing. She brought him to the verge of coming before changing her motions and letting his pulse calm.
"Is that why they call you The Professor?" He gasped. "You sure know what you're doing."
"You'd better believe it pal." She studied him for a long moment. "Do you read at all?" She asked.

The question caught him off guard. "You mean besides the sports page?"

"Do you have a book in your house?"

"A few," he revealed. "I'm not totally illiterate, you know."

"Would you be willing to read more?" She wanted to know.

"You mean with you?" He asked hopefully.
"I think you'll need to investigate my library," she said as she moved down his body.

Randy gasped as her warm mouth engulfed the tip of his cock, sucking gently and he heard a warm gurgle. Then the heat of her mouth moved, taking more of his cock until he could feel the back of her throat. Her tongue was a wild wet caress around his shaft, her lips creating a suction that had his head falling back in pleasure.

Sylvia moved her hand to his balls and she squeezed gently, tickling them with her nails until she felt his hand tangle in her wet hair yanking her up until his cock fell from her mouth with a popping noise.
His mouth was hot on hers, his kiss rough and full of passionate need. Randy thrust his tongue into her mouth, his hands hard and hot on her body. He pulled her to him until her breast was at his mouth and finding her nipple he sucked it between his lips, pulling on it with his teeth and laving it with his tongue until she squirmed against him.

Randy rolled on top of her, putting her under him and her thighs spread, his hips resting in the soft cradle between. His cock pushed into the soft wet cleft of her educated pussy.

"What do you like to read?" He asked, moving his hips and thrusting slowly until he sank into her depths.
"I...mmm...just about everything," Sylvia replied as her hips started to move, tilting up to take as much of him as she could.

"I could read everything," he replied.
His mouth found hers again, his tongue thrusting inside and mimicking the movement of his cock in her wet love canal.

"Would you read to me?" She groaned, breaking from the kiss.
"All night long," he vowed.
Sylvia grabbed his hips with her hands, her nails digging in enough for him to feel. "If you'd like," she panted, "I could read to you too."
"Naked?" He asked.

"Sure," she laughed.
Tingles of pleasure started rushing from that spot where they were joined, growing in strength until her hips jerked and her body shuddered under his. Soft cries of pleasure came from her lips, urging him on. He ran his hands down her side and to her hips, slipping them under her butt and holding her still while he plunged inside. He could feel the first contractions of the spongy inner walls of her pussy squeezing his cock, milking it until he groaned and thick streams of creamy come spurting deep inside of her as he came with a shuddering roar of pleasure.
Sylvia's body tightened as the first hot wash of pleasure flooded her. They came hard and fast, prickly tingly waves that had her crying out and clutching him to her even tighter. His body jerked under her hands and his cock pulsed and then seemed to swell before she felt him come, the heat of his ejaculate sending another wave through her.
A few minutes passed and she relaxed under him, her hands stroking his sweaty back, tangling in his damp hair. He finally managed to find the strength to roll off of her, lying next to her, his hand finding her own.
"Wow, Professor," he sighed, feeling her turn towards him.
Sylvia laughed, shaking her head at his play. "I have no idea why I did any of this." She snuggled up next to him, feeling him shift his arm so she could lay her head on his shoulder and he could pull her close.
"Maybe you wanted to," he said, kissing her damp head.
"We have nothing in common," she said, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in her ear.
Randy was silent a moment, his fingers sliding up and down her soft arm. "You know," he said finally, lifting his head to look down at her. "What you are doing to the cottage looks fantastic."
Sylvia smiled, kissing his chest. "Thank you."

"My grandmother would be pleased."

"That's nice,"
"You know, I could spare some time and come over and help out some," he offered. "That is if you'd want some help."

He felt his cheeks turning red under her suspicious stare, getting more so the longer she didn't say anything.
"You know how to use a hammer?" She finally asked.
His hand landed with a resounding smack on her ass. She squealed, jerking towards him.
"What do you think I was doing when I wasn't reading?" He asked, idly rubbing her reddened butt.

"Football," she guessed.

He chucked. "Well, that too," he admitted. "But I also lived in shop class."
"So what do you say, Professor? You want the help or not?"
She reached up and kissed him. "I'd love the help, Randy. Thank you."
"Okay," he said. "And you can use my shower instead of the pond if you'd like."

"I appreciate that," she replied.

Randy gently put her back on the grass as he got to his feet and started gathering up their clothes. He wadded them all into a big pile and thrust it out at her, giving her no choice but to grab the bundle or have it fall all over her. As soon as she had it, he bent over and picked her up from the ground, holding her easily in his arms.
"What are you doing? Are you nuts?" She almost fumbled the bundle of clothing as she felt the world drop out from under her.
"I'm taking you to bed!"

He started walking towards his house, making his way easily across the short yard.
"I can't spend the night with you," Sylvia stated firmly.

He stopped, staring down at her like she'd lost her mind "Oh, don't be like that," he pleaded. "You have to come with me."
"Why?" She asked daringly as he started walking again.
"Don't worry, Professor," he said with a slow smile. "I'll come up with something."

Later, after making love to her again, they lay in his bed cuddled together staring at the moon outside the window.

"I'll have an affair with you if that's what you want but we can't date," Sylvia told him.

"Ah, I'm not part of your in-crowd," Randy realized.

"Will you still read to me?" She asked.

"Sure," he agreed. "All you want."

Randy helped her work on the cottage fix up and when they were done she would come to his house and he would read to her from whatever book she gave him, often times nude on the bed or in the bathtub.

Randy kept a low profile when Sylvia's college associates stopped by for visits and he was a little hurt when Sylvia never bothered to introduce him if he was in the driveway or standing around the yard. He was still the guy from the factory and he knew she would be embarrassed if her friends knew she was sleeping with him.

Some of the guys at work asked why he never came out for drinks anymore but Randy didn't offer much of an excuse. If they suspected that maybe he had a broad on the side they didn't say anything.

Randy's mother stopped by one Saturday afternoon and found Randy inside the cottage helping 'the tenant' strip and sand the living room floor.

"Oh, this place is looking great," she told her son Randy and his secret lover.

If Randy's mom suspected her son was having an affair with her Professor she didn't let on.


Two years had passed since that memorable night at the pond. Sylvia had moved into the house with Randy and she used the cottage as her writing place. Randy had quit his factory job and was a full time student at Green College. He also helped Sylvia with her research and he read to her every night, often nude in bed.

Randy still kept a low profile when it came Sylvia's college circle, but she went with him to all of his family gatherings and she didn't mind hanging out with him at The Bullpen Tavern in Hillsboro after taking in a ball game at Beano Field. His friends were shocked at first when Randy began making appearances with a college professor on his arm but they adjusted quickly and accepted her into the clique.

Randy was thirty now and Sylvia just turning forty-one but her colleagues at the college noticed that she was much more laid back, easy going, and young at heart in recent times.

"It's because of a cottage beside a pond," was all Sylvia had to say when friends would comment about her changed behavior and attitude.