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We arrive on campus that evening at 6:45. Not having a car has its drawbacks and taking the bus is one of them, so I was grateful for Lucas picking me up after work. Thankful for casual dress Friday, I am still dressed in blue jeans, a black cotton top, and black sneakers. We make our way across campus quickly and head to a large two story building. Once inside, Lucas led me to an auditorium.
A good number of students are already seated so I take a seat in the third to last row. Lucas continues down the stage and up on the podium. While he sets up his laptop and notes, I scan the rest of the auditorium. The room is about half full but I count about 50 students and another group trickles in as I am counting.
One he finished setting up, Lucas walks to the microphone.
“Good evening everyone. I hope you are not too tired tonight. Let’s finish up last week’s discussion questions before we begin talking about assimilation.”
Most of his questions, being rhetorical in nature, seem designed to make his students think, question and encourage friendly debate as opposed to having one right answer. I am amazed at how patient and challenging he is with his students. He has the ability to hear them out completely without interrupting and shows a great deal of respect for each opinion even as he counters a couple points of view. His voice is so even and composed, that when disagreements flare, he is able to resolve them without offending either party.
Once the lecture for the night begins I understand why he wanted to bring me here. He begins with a slideshow. He shows Native American children taken from their families and put into “boarding schools”. Each of the slides shows two pictures. The first is on arrival at the schools and the other is taken sometime after. The time between each set of photos varied. Some of the pictures are months apart while others are only weeks apart. In all, the changes are heartbreaking. Each set shows the physical difference in clothes and hair but it’s the face that shows real change in each photo. I look into the eyes of each photo and can see the change. The spirit literally looks as if it has been broken.
The last photo is mesmerizing. It is one of two young women. The left side of the slide shows both girls standing outside a modest building. Their hair is long and loose down their backs. Their dresses are simple, but they are covered in beautiful handmade jewelry. The girl on the right is younger and shy. She doesn’t look into the camera but instead looks down at the dirt. The older girl on the left is stunning. She is not only striking in her appearance. Her gaze is such a contrast to the other girl. Her gaze makes the photo. She looks so confident and stares into the camera as if she had dared the photographer to take that picture. The picture on the right shows both girls again. The older is sitting in a chair with the same girl standing next to her. They are both wearing very uncomfortable looking dresses and have simple crosses around their necks and their hair is pulled into high buns. The girl standing looks broken. There is no other way to describe it. Her eyes are empty shells. There are dark circles under them and her cheeks are drawn. She looks a decade older. According to the photograph, the pictures had only been taken 3 months apart. The older girl in the chair has the same dark circles under her eyes and the drawn in face but the fire in her gaze is still there. She is still daring the person taking that picture. She şirinevler escort has not been broken. I am drawn to this photograph. I have to know her story. I want to know how she was able to hold on to spirit while the other girl was so desperately broken. I want to know her secret.
I think back to my last relationship. I recall the months after David and that haunted look I wore for so long that my friends thought I was a danger to myself. David was a like a breath of fresh air that came right after one of the hardest times of my life. He became my life support when I felt like I was barely holding on. He became my reason for leaving. When he left, he took what I thought was my will to live.
I surprise myself as I mentally relive those events. The last time I dwelled on them was a little over a year ago. I curled up in bed for two days. Not to say that I felt nothing now. The ache was there for what I lost, but it is duller now. Tonight I am able to think about everything that happened without that sickening stomach twisting feeling that made my lungs so tight it hurt to breathe. I’m not sure if it is due to the time that has passed or from more recent events involving a very sexy professor I had impure thoughts about every time I look at him. I smile at those thoughts.
What also surprises me is how comfortable I have become in his presence. I no longer had to focus on breathing in his presence. I craved his presence and that scared me. With that fear, however, came a reassurance that he would not intentionally hurt me. I had never been spoken but I knew it deep down in my soul. The apprehension was gone, but I had to wonder if my attachment to him had anything to do with the dreams. What if I had never had them? Would I have had the same reaction upon meeting Lucas or would I have dismissed him as another client?
I mentally kick myself for letting my mind wander and focus on the lecture again. The stories are heartbreaking and, as I listen to Lucas’ lecture and the student’s questions afterward, my mind wanders again. This time it goes back to that last picture of the stronger woman. A part of me needs to know her story and knows that her story needs to be known.
An hour later, I sit and wait until the last of the students head out of the lecture hall then make my way down to the stage. I watch Lucas shut down his laptop and disconnect it from the projector and I am distracted by his physical presence again. He is only wearing a button down shirt and a pair of jeans but at that moment, he is the sexiest man alive. Then, as if he feels me watching, Lucas looks up just as I reach the stage.
“Hey.” I smile and climb the steps up to the stage.
Lucas smiles back. “What did you think?”
“Very impressive but I regret to tell you I did not take notes.”
He laughs. “I was only hoping to inspire you tonight, not turn you into a panicked student madly copying down notes.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, you students did not look panicked to me.”
I help him pack up the rest of his notes while he packs up his laptop.
“Well, I guess I owe you dinner for dragging you down here.” Lucas says as we leave the auditorium.
It’s late but somehow, we find a restaurant open just off campus. The place is a hole in the wall but the food is amazing. After dinner we sit and talk. I confess my obsession with the last photo and that girl’s story.
“My degree is in Library Science and Research, but my minor şirinevler elit escort was in English Creative Writing. I always wanted to be a writer. I used to write all the time.”
“Do you write now?”
I shrug. “I haven’t written anything in about five years.” I confess. Lucas looks at me patiently as if accepting that if I want to tell him more I will. It is this silent acceptance that makes me smile.
When I look into Lucas’ eyes, I see everything I need to see. He knows there is more to the story. He also knows I will tell it only when I am ready to.
We stare at each other until the atmosphere changes. The reflection of my sorrow in his eyes turns protective, then to something else that I am not quite ready to admit that I recognize. The air is thick and breathing becomes a bit more of a labor. Beads of sweat pop up on my chest and a tingling sensation starts in the center of my chest and radiates out to my arms and neck. God! If the man can do this to me with a look, I won’t survive anything more passionate than his gaze.
As much as I feel excited by the feelings Lucas inspires within me, I am absolutely terrified at the same time. I am afraid of how much I want him. It has been so long since I have truly wanted something that I am not sure what to say, how to act or what to think.
The restaurant is closing and we are the last ones to leave. We find ourselves walking slower than usual to his car and I swear Lucas is driving under the speed limit all the way back to my apartment. I am reluctant for the night to be over.
I watch him as he drives and my relief flitters away to be replaced by another emotion. And this emotion is much more primitive.
The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up over his shoulders and I study his forearm. The hairs are smooth and fine on his arms and I wonder if the rest of hair on his body is similar.
My heart beats a little faster as I undress him in my mind only to be interrupted by the car coming to a stop. I didn’t realize we have reached the apartment. I mentally sigh and tuck the fantasy to the back of my mind to entertain later. Lucas surprises me by getting out of the Jeep and coming around to my side to open my door.
He walks with me upstairs to my apartment. I pause outside my door, turn and give him a hug.
“Thanks for tonight.”
I pull back, look up into his eyes and stop. There is no denying the unmistakable passion there. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as my hands slid down from his shoulders to rest on his chest. His heart is beating as fast as mine under my palm. The heat from his body radiates from under the shirt. My hands are trembling and a tickling sweat begins in my chest.
I reach one hand up and around the back of his neck. I play with the hair on the nape of his neck and study his mouth. He lowers his head slowly until our foreheads touch. I close my eyes for a moment and inhale his scent. When I do, I feel his lips brush mine. My pulse is racing. As much as I have wanted this to happen, I am terrified of where it will end. Will I be able to control myself? Do I want to? I push aside these thoughts and tilt my head up touching my lips more firmly to his. I kiss him back with a desperation that surprises me.
Once Lucas realizes I am kissing him in return, he pulls me tighter into his arms. I moan, opening my mouth, and he slips his tongue inside as our kiss deepens. I can barely breathe. I don’t care. Neither şirinevler escort one of us is in control. All that matters is the taste and feel of him as I bring my other arm around to claw at his back. His hands are running up and down my back. One of his hands snakes its way up the front and underneath my shirt to cup and message my breast through my bra. My body aches. I have wanted a connection like this for so long that it hurts. A door opening down the halls jars us back to reality. One of my neighbors passes and heads for the stairs. She doesn’t even notice us. Once the hallway is clear again, I laugh. Lucas smiles too. We are still holding onto each other.
“You’d better go.” I say. My breath is coming in soft short gasps.
“You say that like you might change your mind.” Lucas teases, brushing his lips against mine.
“That’s exactly why you should go.” I grin as I contemplate changing my mind.
He kisses me softly.
“What are you doing after work tomorrow?” he asks nibbling at my lips.
“I’m having dinner with Matt and Emily.” I reply automatically then add “Want to join us?”
Lucas looks down at me. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t be.” I assure him, kissing him. “Emily’s husband will be there. I want you to come.” It surprises me that I mean it.
He smiles and kisses me back. “Okay.”
I tell him when and where we usually meet since it’s so close to work. He says he will meet us there. We embrace a while longer until the kisses start to deepen again. It takes all my willpower to physically get myself into my apartment without dragging him inside with me but I manage… barely. He grins and winks as I close the door.
I lean against the wall for five minutes while my breathing slows then decide to take a shower before going to bed which is something I usually don’t do. Tonight, I need something calming to soothe my nerves. Unfortunately, the water running down my body reminds me of Lucas’ warm hands so my shower does not last very long.
I crawl into bed naked and pull the sheets up over my body. I close my eyes and think about Lucas. I think of his mouth, his hands, his breath, his smell. Just the memory has me aroused in a way I have not felt in a long time. The sensations are similar to what I feel in my dreams. My hands slide up my hips and onto my stomach. I circle my navel with my index finger. My other hand travels to my breast. I cup it first, remembering how his hands felt on them. I reach up and pull the sheet off. My body is tingling and aroused. Pinching my nipple between my finger and thumb with one hand, I spread my legs and play with my curls with the other hand.
When my hand touches my clit, I lift my head and close my eyes. I see Lucas’s face as I rub my clit gently at first then with more enthusiasm as my thoughts go back to our parting in the hallway. I imagine his fingers where mine are and his mouth on my nipple. Breathing in shallow gasps, I slide a finger into my pussy. Slowly and deeply, I stroke myself. I wonder what he would feel like inside me and stroke faster. I am moaning in earnest now and a light sheen of sweat has broken out over my skin. The sheets fall off the bed as my body writhes with excitement. I don’t expect it so soon. My pussy begins to contract, squeezing my fingers and causing my body to jerk. I cry out, arching my back and continue stroking, giving into my orgasm.
It’s a long time before I calm down. Usually when I masturbate, I feel frustrated and hornier than when I started. Tonight, I feel sedated. It feels like my body has had enough and it is content, knowing more and better is to come. I’ve never felt like this before and it is terrifying. My eyelids are heavy and sleep comes before I can process the rest of my worries.
I do not dream that night.
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