University Blues Ch. 01

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Amateur

Chapter 1

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DISCLAIMER: the following is a work of fiction. It may contain scenes of sexuality, bondage or violence, and is intended for adult readers only. All characters portrayed in this story are adults. This work in not for profit and is intended as entertainment only. Characters in this story are fictional and not based on any person living or dead, and are not meant to infringe on any existing characters in other literatures.

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Tom Brown had started working at Penndale University in the Fall of 2015 after finishing a Masters Degree in History. It had been four years since his graduation until an opening for a full-time non-tenured T.A. position opened. He had been highly recommended by his thesis director, an older teacher on the verge of retirement, for whom he had done some research work, Roxy Carlisle. She had made quite a push on the department head, Curtis Arrowsmith, and so Tom had been given his chance.

He was very grateful for it. It had been a long time coming. Several times during his education, Tom had gotten sidetracked. After high school, he had spent a year abroad living in Malaysia, doing charity work as a member of a global organization called ‘No Borders’, before heading out for college to get his preparatory courses to get into university. He had been inspired during his trip and had chosen History as a major. Upon getting his bachelor’s degree, he had unsuccessfully tried to get a job in his field, ending up working at several places during a four year-hiatus that he would much rather forget. Unsatisfied with his life, he had managed to put enough money away to go back and get his Master’s.

And now, finally, at the age of 34 years old, he was in the system. For two years now, he had been teaching in the classroom under the supervision of his mentor, Dana Foster, a 42-year-old veteran with almost twenty years under her belt at Penndale.

Finally, things were looking up for Tom.

A new semester was rolling in for Fall of 2016, and Tom was hard at work prepping his material. He was finally going to get to teach to his specific field of studies. As one of the teachers had retired last semester, quite hurriedly in fact, an opening for a new class had been created. Dana Foster had pushed her department head to allow her protégé to fill that spot, and given there were no issues with Tom’s performance, he had been given a month to prepare a new class on The History of Contact in Asia – a class where they would discuss the various historical interactions between many countries in the Eastern World with the Western World, mostly during the 18th and 19th centuries. It was Tom’s passion, his Thesis subject and the reason he had gone to Malaysia back then in the first place.

Tom was now checking the student list. Most of them he had never met, which wasn’t very surprising. There were at least thirty teachers in his department, each with their field of humanities, and most students from outside the program only took one class in the field. There were also the regulars, the people studying in history and looking to pursue a career there: given his own hardships getting in, Tom pitied them a bit but he couldn’t – nor wouldn’t talk them out of it. All in all, there would be 22 students attending, mostly women. Their ages ranged from 19 to 22 mostly, though there a few older students out there as well.

The phone rang across the room, at his mentor’s desk. They shared an office for lack of space. He let it ring until it went to voice. The automated message was heard.

– You have reached the office of Dana Foster, extension 156. Leave a message.

– Dana, hi. It’s Randy. Listen, uh… look, it won’t work. I can’t go on. Therapy’s not working for me anymore and… look, it’s over. Sorry.

Tom had listened in, despite himself. Randy and Dana had been together for about ten years. Something had happened between them last March, something that was Randy’s fault, according to Dana, and they had apparently been consulting. Tom didn’t know the details, not that he didn’t care but he minded his own business.

“What a jerk,” Tom mumbled to himself.

How could someone break up over a message on a receiver. Dana would come in, listen to it, and just lose it. How couldn’t she? Tom knew better than to stay in the office for that scene. He wanted to allow Dana her privacy. He gathered his papers and walked out, unsure of his destination.

At around 5’8″, with matted dark hair and a round face, Tom wasn’t bad looking. He was certainly looking better than his hiatus years where stress had made him gain roughly thirty pounds. Since then, he had whittled it down to a reasonable 160 lbs. He didn’t train much but he walked a lot, making the 20-minute trip from his apartment to school every day unless the weather didn’t allow, in which case he took the bus. He didn’t hold a driver’s license although he wanted to check into that, just for convenience. He strutted through the empty halls of the university – students escort araban wouldn’t come in until the next week and headed for the library, a nice quiet place to work.

He passed the counter and sat down at the closest table, unfolding his papers so he could resume his work.

He was interrupted two hours later by a text message which he read immediately.

– In town. Wanna meet?

Tom smiled. The text was from his best friend, a man he had met overseas in Malaysia, another worker for the ‘No Borders’ project who had stayed on as a permanent fixture.

– Sure. Where? When?

– 2night. Starbucks. 12th & Crescent. 8 sharp.

– C U there.

What a pleasant surprise, Tom told himself. He hadn’t seen Porter Blair – he still couldn’t believe someone would call their child ‘Porter’! – in three years now, not since Christmas 2013 when Porter had come back to visit his family and had dropped by Tom’s flat unexpectedly. What news would the globe-trotter have for him today? His last visit had certainly been eventful.

As he came back to his office, Tom entered to a seated Dana, staring at her phone. Tom had forgotten about the voice mail. He played it cool, as if he hadn’t heard. She probably felt humiliated enough.

– Hi Dana.

– Oh. Hi Tom. What’s up?

– Nothing. Just dropping off my stuff before heading home. You?

She didn’t answer immediately. When she hesitated, Tom took the cue to inquire.

– Are you okay?

– Yeah. Sure. I guess.

– Work-related?

– Oh no! Work is great.

Given her unease, Tom couldn’t help but feel for his mentor. At 42 years old, she was still a fox, to use the appropriate slang. She was a mother of one, a boy about nine years old. She certainly didn’t look her age. Her brownish hair was short right above her neckline, her eyes matched in color although they were paler than usual today. She had obviously cried earlier and then wiped the tears away. How one man could no longer desire such a person – smart, witty, knowledgeable and so caring – was beyond Tom’s understanding.

Not knowing what to add, Tom dropped his papers and checked his e-mail as he sat down. Dana talked behind him, and Tom was uncertain if she was merely speaking out loud or if she was talking to him directly.

– It’s always the same thing. I try and I try… and look what it gets me.

Tom, still uneasy, didn’t answer. Dana spoke up and talked shop, apparently needing to talk – perhaps to take her mind off her turmoil.

– So. How’s the planning going?

– Good. Good.

Tom took a moment to explain which texts he was now including in the course plan, and the various historical moments he was intending to focus on. Dana didn’t provide any additional insights, as she just listened and nodded. In itself, this was a clear sign that she wasn’t in a good place. Troubled as he was, Tom didn’t feel close enough to her, given their professional mentor-student relationship, to poke her for information about her stress.

– Well, she said, you have some good ideas, so…

– I should head out.

Tom rose. He felt like Dana didn’t want him to go, but he didn’t feel like staying. The situation was much too awkward. Even as he picked up his last items before heading out, she spoke once more.

– Listen Tom…

– Yes?

He stopped, waiting to see if she would spill the beans. Instead, she went another direction, something less expected.

– You enjoy working with me?

– Of course! he replied without hesitation. I adore it. You’re the best mentor I could ever hope for.

– Thanks. I needed to hear it.

Tom couldn’t simply walk out on her. He didn’t move but he stared comfortingly at her.

– Look, Dana. I can tell you’re not feeling well. Do you want to talk about it? Maybe… I don’t know. Get coffee or something?

The meeting with Porter wasn’t until a few more hours. Tom had plenty of time. Dana looked back, smiling, a tear almost forming in her eye but she kept it cool.

– That is so sweet, Tom. Thank you. Rain check? I do have work to do.

– Anytime, Dana. Anytime. I mean it.

– I know. You’re a heck of a guy. Anyway.

– All right. Take care.

– You too.

Not wanting to make this more of a scene, Tom walked out of the office and headed back home, walking the twenty-minutes. All the while, he kept thinking of Dana’s smile – how sincere and wonderful it had felt. Tom was glad to have been able to highlight her idea with some positive feedback.

Getting in, Tom checked his messages. His mom wanted some news about his classes. He would call her over the weekend, when he didn’t have plans. He headed to his bedroom to change from his ‘teaching uniform’ – really clean dark pants and a colored shirt, this one being a light blue checked motif – and into jeans and a t-shirt. He took out the cold spaghetti from yesterday and reheated it in the microwave. The sauce he had made from scratch, adding araban escort bayan in tons of hot peppers for that extra kick. He then sat down to read the news on Facebook and check out a few of his favorite Cosplayers’ feeds, to see their new costumes and other shenanigans.

By 7:45, he was at Starbucks. Porter Blair came in five minutes later. Older by three years, Porter was way too slim for his own good. His blonde hair looked dirty, but it was just an esthetic choice. He was Vegan, a lifestyle that seemed difficult to reconcile with him being abroad all the time. He smiled way across the room, walking up to the counter and ordering first. They hugged as Porter came to the table and sat down.

– Look at you, mister teacher!

– T.A., Tom corrected.

– Same diff. Wow. Look at us. Together again – at long last. Like a PPV event or somethin’.

– I don’t think people would pay to see us chat.

– True. True.

Tom had selected a room in the far corner, away from most of the customers. He had done so because he knew what kind of conversation he might have with his old friend. On this, Porter didn’t disappoint.

– Hey, see the waitress over there?

– Which one? There are three of them?

– The one with the cute glasses and ponytail.

– Sure.

– I’m gonna get her number later.

– Why don’t you get it now? Tom joked.

Porter laughed, and they exchanged a few pleasantries. Porter began to regale his friend with tales of his trips abroad. They varied greatly in content, from working outside a mine in China to care for workers injured in a cave-in, to a good-will visit to Thailand to deliver blankets as well as a vaccination campaign against some such disease, Porter didn’t really remember. As per his habit, every place that Porter visited was punctuated by an encounter with a lovely young local, sometimes more than one.

– While I was in Japan, helping out at the relief centre after the Earthquake, I wound up visiting this Karaoke bar. There was this gorgeous girl, maybe 23, not sure. There were these booths which people went to sing in a private setting. I had booked one with two other volunteers. Well, this girl, Suki, she comes in, all sexy-like in her trademarked maid outfit, and I just know: damn! I gotta have her.

– Did you?

– Oh oh! Not at first. She played it cool. I respect that. I kept ordering from only her that night, and I wooed her so bad.

– How’s your Japanese?

– Better than yours.

The men both laughed before Porter resumed.

– So I get down on my knees, you know, all serious-like, and I start begging her to let me date her. Well, she tells me she has a boyfriend. Now, that doesn’t deter me one bit.

– Were the other two in the room with you?

– Heck yeah. I tell her that I’ll commit hara-kiri if she doesn’t show me her panties. This actually makes her laugh.

– You have a way with ladies.

– Laugh all you want. She did. They were ‘Hello Kitties’. No sooner has her skirt been lifted up that I push in and plant a kiss right there, on the Kitty. She jumps, of course, so I grab her ass and start licking and eating her through the cloth. Now, she’s all woh! I’m waiting for her to stay stop. She doesn’t, so I go on. Next thing I know, her panties are off and I’m munching her sweet pie.

– You’re making it up.

– I’m not. I swear!

Tom could actually believe it. Porter seemed to have a way with women. He struck out as often as he tried, perhaps more, but he tried often.

– Next thing I know, she’s squirting all over my face as she’s fondling her breasts. I look up and see the bliss on her face. I pull away to give her time to breathe, and I thank her – you know, for the privilege. Well, she’s hot and bothered by then. So, you know, she returns the favor.

– She blew you in the karaoke booth.

– Swear to God. Not just that, but the others guys watching, well, by then, they’re horny as fuck so they drop their trous. I get them to move in. She’s sucking on my cock and jerking them off. Amazing.

– Now that, you’re making up!

Porter smiled. Tom could never tell which part of his stories were true, but he knew they were all loosely based on actual experiences. Sometimes, he just got the exact events confused.

– Anyway, he says to end the storytelling time, it was a blast. Then, I took the plane and came here.

– What brings you to town anyway?

– Well, a week off, for one thing. Plus, I gotta do something about my papers, make sure I’m still an American citizen and all. I’m away for a long time and bureaucracy hates that.

He smiled wickedly at Tom.

– Now, wadda ya say we head out on the town and find some way to amuse ourselves.

– I don’t know, Tom honestly replied suddenly thinking of Dana’s situation.

– What do you mean, you don’t know? I’m offering you the chance to party, find a girl, have some fun. You’re not into that anymore?

– Well, escort araban I am but…

Porter smirked.

– How long has it been?

The answer was blunt.

– Since the last time you came.

– Holy shit! he exclaimed, then toned his voice down. Three years. Ouch. How do you sleep at night?

– I masturbate. Look, I’m not into dating right now.

– Man, who said anything about dating. You need to get laid. It’s settled. I’m taking over now. Captain Blair to the rescue.

Tom smiled at his friend’s intentions and attempt at humor. To be fair, Tom’s sexual life was currently limited to masturbating to cosplayer porn. He followed one unique cosplayer from Germany who was such an amazing person, beautiful, smart, sexy as hell. He adored everything she did, even following her paid site – the only one for which he did so. It sort of made him feel they had a relationship, but it was virtual, and mostly unreal. He had chatted with her a few times and she had masturbated for him on camera (she had recorded a personal video when he had joined up for her paid site, she didn’t do it live), but so had dozens of other guys.

Tom hadn’t been with anyone in three years, not since Porter had taken him out to a bar and got him laid with a wonderful young woman whom he had never seen again after that. He didn’t even remember her name – only her naked body. Again, it sort of made him feel shameful, but that’s what they both wanted that night.

And before that, well, that was another story Tom didn’t want to reminisce on.

– So, you better get your game on, Porter insisted.

It did take some convincing, but Tom agreed. He wasn’t desperate for sex but he did want to spend some time with his friend, and it was clear that Porter would be on the prowl. At the very least, Tom would spend a nice evening with a friend until Porter hooked up with someone and left him hanging. He didn’t mind.

They dropped by Tom’s apartment where they chatted for it, opening beers. Around 10:30, they headed out. Since Porter was familiar with the city, having visited before, he dragged Tom a dancing club called ‘The Marquis’. It wasn’t Tom’s usual scene, as he preferred jazz and blues bars, but he didn’t mind the ambiance either. Loud music was banging across the place, thumping with its steady electronic rhythm. Both guys wandered to the bar where they ordered more beers. It was hard to chat due to the noise level. Then again, they weren’t here for conversation. Porter dragged his friend to the dance floor when they joined the throng of people wasting their evening away, lost in the sheer exhilaration of the dance.

A few years ago, Tom wouldn’t have been in a good enough shape to sustain the movements for too long. Today, he could hold his own, even though he wasn’t anywhere near many of the dancers. They were gorgeous, all of them, basking in the surreal light of the flashing pulses, bright reds, greens and blues. While Tom shuffled about by himself, Porter kept twerking into others’ personal space, not aggressive but drawing out attention. He didn’t get much in terms of reaction, at least not at first. Eventually, he wound up dancing arm-in-arm with a petite brunette, and they ended up French-kissing on the main dance floor. Tom watched with amazement his friends’ smooth pickup skills. Porter was handsome despite his disheveled look, and it showed in how he performed with women.

Eventually, he dragged his new lady friend towards his best friend, and introduced them.

– Tina, Tom. Tom, Tina.

– Hey. You’re cute too.

Obviously, Tina was a bit off from drinking too much. Tom cast a glance at Porter who reassured him he would not take advantage of the girl until she sobered up a bit. All the while, Tina was taking in Tom’s appearance, so he returned the favor. She was barely five feet, darker skinned, possibly of Mexican origin, with brown hair below her shoulders. She wore a red tube top which one could easily pull down and thus expose her breasts – if one had a dirty mind. She was in form-fitting jeans, and Porter had one hand on her butt. She didn’t mind.

– We need to find a date for my friend, Porter told Tina. Can you help?

– Well, I could handle you both, she laughed through her haze.

– My friend’s not into that, Porter replied even as Tom laughed.

Tina seemed to consider the plight; the fact she was inebriated certainly didn’t help. Still, she glanced around the room.

– I have a few friends who might be interested, but I can’t see them. They were at the bar and I lost track.

– We can go check.

The trio moved away from the dance floor; getting to the bar, Tina spotted her friends – or rather, just the one. The girl in question was seated and enjoying some kind of fruity drink, playing with the tip of the straw with her pursed lips. Her hair was blonde, though it seemed not to be her natural color, with strands of red. She was taller than her friend by a margin. She wore a one-piece green dress that highlight her satin skin. Her eyes, however, stood out more than the rest from the lingering Asian feature. She was obviously metis – Caucasian and Asian.

– Myri! Tina called her out.

The girl turned around and received a hug and gentle peck on the cheek from her friend.

– Tina. Hi.

– Where’s the rest of the gang? Tina inquired.

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