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Teacher's Pet

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Two girls walked side by side down the halls of the department, each
surveying the typed pages in their hands.

"What did Professor Goldman say about yours?" The blonde asked her
friend.

"He said my theoretical development needed grounding… what in the hell 
does that mean?"

"That's prof talk. He means it's crap."

"Thanks," the brunette replied sarcastically.

"Hey, don't snap at me. That's what happens when you analyze Oscar 
Wilde at three in the morning after you get back from a keg party."

The brunette sighed. "I think this calls for drastic actions."

"Oh no, what idiotic idea is roaming around your head now?"

"Nothing too sinful," the brunette smiled and inched up her mini 
skirt, "Just thinking I would visit Professor Goldman in his office 
and work out something… if you know what I mean. I'm sure we can 
arrange a mutually satisfying agreement to get me an A, maybe an A+ if 
he's really depraved. Can't be any worse than my Chem prof and at 
least Goldman is cute."

The blonde girl froze on the spot and stared at her friend. Suddenly 
she burst out laughing, gasping for breath and leaning against the 
wall for support.

"Oh. My. God," the blonde gasped between snorts. "I *really* don't 
think that plan is going to work."

The brunette looked hurt. She ran her hands over her mini skirt and 
tight blouse, making a face at her friend. "I got the goods!" she 
snarled.

"Don't think you have the goods that really matter."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Oh, you're hopeless," the blonde sighed. "I'm his T.A. and let's 
just say I *know* you won't get anywhere with him."

"Married, is he?"

"In a manner of speaking." The blonde looked down at her watch. "The 
timing is right. I can show you why I always stick around late and 
let you draw your own conclusions. Besides, the look on your face 
will be priceless when you finally get a clue."

The blonde grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her down the hall 
towards Professor Goldman's office. It was early evening, everyone 
had already gone home, leaving the halls deserted. There was a corner 
she frequented, right outside his office. If his door was open, you 
could look in without being seen. She stopped beside the wall and 
pointed into the office. The door marked "Dr. Myron Goldman, PhD. - 
English Department" was open just enough to see in.

There was Dr. Goldman, perched on his desk staring adoringly at a 
large man leaning against the desk between the doctor's open legs. 
The larger man had one palm resting on Goldman's thigh and the other 
hand was hidden within the folds of the doctor's jacket, caressing his 
torso. Their voices drifted out into the hallway.

"How was your day, L.T.?"

Dr. Goldman laughed, his face lighting. "Same old, same old."

"Poor baby…" the larger man murmured, leaning forward and nuzzling the 
Myron's neck, "Maybe I can liven things up for ya, huh?"

"Zeke…" Myron gasped, his breathing catching. "Not here."

The larger man, Zeke apparently, moved from attacking his prey's neck 
to his ear, suckling gently.

"Zeke…" Myron moaned, his hands moving around to knead the other's ass 
cheeks, pulling him forward.

Suddenly, Zeke moved in for a kiss, lips crushing and tongue questing 
in the wet warmth. The two men moved together, absorbed in their own 
little world, before the crushing need for oxygen finally separated 
them. Gasping for breath, Myron's eyes were glazed and dilated, and 
he distractedly licked his lips. Zeke was grinning wickedly and moved 
his had up to ruffle Myron's hair.

"Stop that," Myron huffed, batting away the hand.

"What?" Zeke asked innocently, sliding his palm from thigh to crotch, 
squeezing rhythmically.

"You do this to me on purpose…" he hissed, pushing his hips, moving 
into the large hand.

"Yeah, I do…" Zeke agreed, smiling wickedly, "…and you love it."

"Neanderthal…" Myron quipped, closing his eyes to simply enjoy the 
feel of his lover.

"Using big words again, Professor. Tsk, tsk. I'm just a poor working 
*stiff* who doesn't have such a *large* vocabulary."

"Don't you dare complain about being stiff…" Myron warned, "…or 
inadequate."

"Of course not, L.T." Zeke leered at Myron. "Come on, we should be 
getting home. I have night shift and I wanna spend some quality time 
with you before I take off."

Zeke started to separate their bodies, but stopped with Myron's grip 
became iron tough. "I thought you said the night shifts would cut 
back with this last promotion. I miss you."

"They will, I promise and I miss you, too." Zeke kissed Myron 
quickly, drawing away successfully this time. "I'm just covering for 
another detective since we got hit hard by the flu last week."

Myron sighed and jumped off the desk, laying his jacket over his front 
arm to act as a shield on the way out to the car. "Oh the life of 
cop's wife. Sacrifice. Sacrifice. Sacrifice."

"Stop complaining." Zeke smiled indulgently. "If you're nice I'll 
wake you up for a welcome home present when I'm off."

"Oh yeah," Myron drawled on his way out the door, "Will you wear your 
uniform?"

Zeke watched as Myron locked his office and drew the other man to his 
side, wrapping his arm around his waist. "For you, baby, anything."

Their footsteps echoed down the hall and the girls managed to sneak a 
quick glance around the corner, catching Zeke's hand drifting down to 
grab Dr. Goldman's bottom. They each held their breath until they were 
sure the couple was gone.

"Well, there goes my A+," complained the brunette quietly. "The cute 
ones are always gay."

"Yeah," the blonde answered dreamily. "But aren't they perfect 
together?"

"Says you. The big one seems possessive, so I'm not stupid enough to 
try anything with Dr. Goldman, even if I knew he was open to the 
possibility."

"So what are you gonna do about your D- then?"

"Nothing," the brunette answered. "Drop his class and major in 
chemistry. What about you, teacher's pet?"

"Oh, I don't think I'm the one who gets to pet the teacher," she 
laughed. "I'll just end up doing the same as usual, waiting around Dr. 
Goldman's office when his boyfriend comes to pick him up everyday. 
You know sometimes they can get pretty frisky for old guys…"

"Impressive. Dr. Goldman must be in his late thirties at least, but 
the big guy was pretty hot for someone old enough to be my Dad. I 
wonder why he calls Dr. Goldman, L.T.?"

"I have no idea, but that seems to be what he always calls him." The 
blonde shrugged. "Maybe it means something to them. Something 
special."

End.

 

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