A Lot Like Electra (closed)

Foot in Mouth?



“I’m sorry,” Anne whispered looking up into my eyes. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

I found myself smitten by her innocent beauty. Especially her bright blue eyes, which looked just like her mother’s, my first love for whom I still carried a small torch after three decades. I don’t know how long we stood like that, her gazing up at me while I studied her eyes.

Then better sense took hold. I had already placed my hands on hers. Now I slowly, gently, almost hesitantly, unwrapped her arms from behind my neck.

“That’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything bad,” I whispered, not trusting my full voice to conceal my desire. I kept her hands in mine a moment, between us, as our eyes stay focused on each other. Then, trying to just say something nice, or perhaps from subconscious need, I added, “Besides, if I was to get in trouble, it would be worth it for a lovely, smart young lady like you.”

My eyes went wide as I realized how that sounded. “I mean... I was just trying to say something nice... a compliment to make you feel better.”

I let go of her hands and turned toward my desk. I forced an uncomfortable laugh. “I guess it was my turn to say the wrong thing.”

Anne

“Besides, if I was to get in trouble, it would be worth it for a lovely, smart young lady like you.”

I don't really hear anything he says after that. The words 'it would be worth it' bounce around in my head like an echo. I am frozen in place as he turns towards his desk. I am not thinking clearly. I want this man. I want him to kiss me and touch me just like he did last night in my masturbation fantasy.

"I don't mind Professor Gustavsen. Do... do you really think I'm lovely and smart? No one has ever said anything like that to me, not a man anyway."

Evasion



“Do you really think I’m ‘lovely’ and ‘smart’?” Anne asked. “No one has ever said anything like that to me, not a man anyway.”

I had trapped myself. Telling her the truth, that I found her almost irresistibly beautiful, or anything even suggesting that she attracted me, would make my earlier gaffe all the worse. On the other hand, to now say anything else would seem suspicious at best and hurt her feelings at worst. I tried to redirect the subject. “I find that hard to believe. Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Anne

I blushed at his question.

"No. I've never really had a boyfriend. There was this one guy that I thought liked me. We dated a few times but all he wanted was..."

I knew I was wandering into dangerous territory but my mouth just kept on talking.

"Once he got it he dumped me like a hot potato."

Why did I say that? My face turned even redder. I had just told Professor Gustavsen that I let a boy have sex with me. I needed to explain myself.

"I'm not really that kind of a girl, Professor Gustavsen. I don't sleep around. Not with just anyone. It would have to be somebody special. It would have to be somebody like you."

Did I really just say that? OMG. This was a disaster.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean I want to sleep with you. Not unless you..."

I had dug the hole so deep I couldn't recover. I just put my hands over my mouth and quit talking.

Opportunity



“I’m so sorry,” Anne babbled in embarrassed frustration. “I didn’t mean I want to sleep with you. Not unless you....”

She instantly clamped her hand over her own mouth, accenting and confirming her faux pas.

Sudden heat burned in Chris’s loins, and his penis began to stir, at his realization that he could have this woman — the attractive and nubile eighteen year old daughter of the high school sweetheart who’d ultimately dumped him — if he wanted her. He glanced at the closed office door, tempted to seize the moment while she remained emotionally off balance. Then he thought better of it.

He took a calming breath. He knew his face had flushed, albeit surely not as much as hers. “You know, it’s dinner time again. I get sick of restaurants and carry-out, but it usually seems such a waste of time to cook for just one person. What do you say to us going and getting a couple big steaks and taking them to my place to grill? I think if we’re going to be working together, then we need to make sure... um... that we know each other well enough that we have no misunderstandings between us.”

He wanted to give her time to think about what she had just admitted. He wanted to give her, when the time came, an opportunity to retract it. He wanted to give himself a chance to decide what he would do if she didn’t retract it.

Anne

I was so excited. Professor Gustavsen asked me to dinner again, only this time at his house - just the two of us. I was about to reply when it occurred to me that maybe I gave him the wrong impression about what I would let him do to me. Would he expect me to have sex with him? Was that why he asked me over to his place? No, he wasn't like that. It would just be dinner.

"Um... thank you for the invitation Professor Gustavsen. I would be delighted and of course it will give us more time to talk about my assignment. I need to run back to the dorm and take a shower. Could you pick me up there?"

He told me that it would be a casual dinner and that I should dress informally. I rushed back to my dorm room and stripped off my clothes. I was about to hop in the shower when I changed my mind and took out the pages from mom's dairy I had copied. I was completely naked when I got on the bed and read from the next entry.

Oh diary, what happened tonight is beyond words. My body is still trembling with excitement. After the movies Chris said he wanted to take me someplace special. We still had over an hour before curfew so I said yes. He pulled off on a dirt road parking in a clearing in the trees, then put down the convertible top and suggested we get in the back seat to enjoy the spectacular view of the night sky. He put his arm around me and pulled me close. Our lips met, our tongues mingled. His hand moved to my breast and gently massaged it. It wasn’t long before my top and bra were gone. He kissed and sucked my swollen nipples sending ripples of pleasure through my body. His hand slipped under the waistband of my shorts and into my panties. No boy had ever touched me there but I didn’t care. I wanted him to. I felt his fingers slide through the curls covering my crevice. It was already wet with desire. He opened my folds and then touched the special place that gives me so much pleasure. The pressure in my belly was so intense that it scared me. Then he pushed a finger into me. I thought I was going to die. He pumped it in and out. I could barely breathe. His mouth was still on my nipple teasing it with his tongue and raking his teeth across the hard tip. When he moved his finger back to my pleasure button my entire being erupted in an explosion of ecstasy. Nothing comes close to describing what I was experiencing. It seemed to go on forever. I was gasping for air when he finally pulled his finger away.

I knew there was more about her pleasuring him with her hand but I never got there. I was mimicking his actions with my own finger. My own climax hit just as I was reading about hers. It took me a few minutes to cool down. I looked at the time and realized I had better hurry and headed to the bathroom.

After showering I picked out my sexiest pair of panties and slipped them on. I felt a little naughty but knew that Professor Gustavsen wouldn't be able to see them under my clothes. Then I pulled on a pair of designer jeans that fit snugly around my hips and butt. I might not have boobs like mom but I do have a nice butt. I thought for a long time about which top I was going to wear and finally picked one that used to belong to mom when she was about my age. I decided not to wear a bra underneath.

I applied some light make-up, brushed my hair and looked into the mirror. The girl looking back at me looked ready for her date with Professor Gustavsen. I knew it wasn't a real date but I pretended like it was one. I ran down to meet him in his car. He pushed open the door and I slid into the passenger's seat.

"Hi Professor Gustavsen. Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner."

Preparations



I had taken the opportunity, while Anne went home to shower, to shop for the steaks. I found two 1½ inch-thick Porterhouses to my liking, together with a basket of medium Portobello mushrooms. I opted against the prepared deli salads I usually got for myself, and went for the ingredients of a Caesar, complete with anchovies and fresh Parmesan. My only shortcuts were the baked beans from the delicatessen and bottles of Lawry’s “Signature Steakhouse” 30-Minute Marinade.

I walked into the liquor department more from habit than design. When Anne’s mother Courtney and I had gone to college together, the drinking age was 18, but that didn’t apply now to Anne. I almost left without getting anything. Then I though about it and picked out two bottles of a simple Merlot. Given the other indiscretion I might possibly pursue tonight, a few underage sips of wine seemed like nothing. Ironically, for the latter, not the former, could I face arrest.

I saw Anne had dressed casually when I picked her up, jeans and a loose blue top. Somehow, however, I found her more attractive, even sexier, than the night before. The first reason for this occurred to me almost immediately. She had either inherited the blouse she wore from her mother, or Courtney had had one very much like it.

The air conditioning in my condominium lobby confirmed the other sexy aspect of Anne’s outfit. She wore no bra under the thin loose top. I quickly looked away from the two sharp points her nipples lifted in the fabric.

We took the elevator to my unit and made it inside. I set the groceries on the kitchen island.

“I need to set up the steak and `shrooms to marinade,” I told her. “You might enjoy waiting out on the terrace. In the meantime, can I get you anything to drink?”

His place was spectacular. I loved the balcony and the stylish way everything was decorated. When he asked me if i wanted something to drink I wasn't sure how to reply. I decided to leave it to him.

"I love your place. It's so beautiful. I'll have whatever you're having if that's okay."

Spoils



“The spoils of my life of litigious avarice before I became an educator,” I say about my condominium with a sweep of my hand. I pull one of the bottles of Merlot from the sack and, winking, smile playfully at Anne. “This would be my first choice with steak, but I’m not sure it’s something you should have. Maybe I need to call your mom and get her permission.”

I had maybe two glasses of wine in my life but I was not about to look like a complete idiot in front of Professor Gustavsen.

"Sure. That would be great. And no, you don't have to call mom. She wouldn't care if I had a few glasses of wine with someone she knows."

I took the glass and headed out to the balcony while he prepared the meal. I finished the first glass and felt a light buzz. I went back into the kitchen and asked if I could have a refill. By the time dinner was ready I had consumed most of the second glass. I felt elated and a little giddy. I came back inside.

"Is dinner almost ready? I'm really hungry."

Did I slur my words? I didn't know, and I didn't care. It was the first time in my life I had ever been high and it felt great.

Red Wine and Red Meat



By the time I finish preparing dinner, we have emptied the first bottle of wine. I think you may have had more than me but I, foolishly, had not paid that close of attention. I’m not accustomed to hosting 18 year olds.

A round table with four chairs occupies the space to the left of the balcony. I set your plates to give you the best view. Then I return to the kitchen for the second bottle of Merlot.

“I cooked your steak on the rare side of medium-rare,” I tell you as I work the corkscrew in. “I hope that’s alright. I consider it a crime against nature and good taste to cook a steak more than that. Personally, I like my meat so rare it still twitches when you bite into it.”

Anne

"...Personally, I like my meat so rare it still twitches when you bite into it.”

The ways he said it and the look in his eyes sends shivers through my body. Did he mean it as a sexual connotation? It doesn't matter. That's the way I heard it and that's the way my body reacts. I feel my nipples swell and moisture gather in the crevice between my legs.

"Um, yes... I like my meat that way too."

It takes me a moment to realize that what I have just said could also be interpreted in a sexual manner. I turn red with embarrassment and quickly try to explain what I meant but the wine has gone to my head and I'm not thinking straight.

"I mean my steak, not..."

This is not going well. Profession Gustavsen is staring at me with a curious expression on his face. I have backed myself into a corner and I don't know how to get out. I feel tears welling in my eyes. Words begin pouring out of my mouth.

"I'm so sorry. You must think I'm some kind of slut but I'm not. I had a little too much to drink and being with you makes me feel things that know I shouldn't feel and that makes me say stupid things I don't mean but I really do mean them because..."

Tears are running down my cheeks. He is still looking at me waiting for me to finish. I know I have already said too much but the wine won't let me shut up.

"...because of what I read in mom's diary. She described in detail how you used to kiss her and touch her and... and all the other things you did to her and I wanted to be her and get kissed and touched like that and I wanted it to be with you... I want it to be with you."

I put my hands to my face and begin sobbing like a baby.

Red Meat and Tears



“I want it to be with you,” Anne confesses about the thoughts of physical romance inspired by her mother’s diary. She breaks down crying, dropping her face into here hands.

“Oh, Anne!” I get up, gather her in my arms, and hold her tight, cradling her head against my chest. A tingling surge runs along my spine, and I realize I’m falling in love. I cannot remember when I last wanted a woman this much but, under these circumstances, it would feel like taking advantage. “I’ll tell you what. Let me get you a glass of water, we’ll finish dinner, then we can talk about it, alright?”

Anne

My head is spinning both from the wine and from being in his arms. What he said makes sense but I don't want to let him go. We finally disentangle and I sit down to eat. I don't say much. All I can think about is what will happen after dinner. Is he disappointed with me? Have I completely blown it? Will he still offer me the internship? When he takes away the plates I look up at him and smile shyly. I try to think of something to say.

"I guess I'm not used to drinking. I know I said some things that were inappropriate. I just wasn't thinking. I hope you're not too upset with me."

Conversation Starter



“I’m not upset at all; it’s good to express what you’re feeling,” I assure her and finish clearing the table.

“Red wine,” I explain as I return her refilled water glass to her with two tablets of ibuprofen. “If you don’t need these now, you will soon.”

I move toward the living room and invite her to join me as I point to the large, L-shaped, sectional sofa.

“Come over here and get comfortable. It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

Anne

I take a seat facing the window and turn to look at Professor Gustavsen who is sitting near me only facing towards the wall. Our knees are practically touching. I am nervous about what he is going to say. He doesn't seem mad but certainly he is going to lecture me abut my behavior. I decide to say something I have been worried about before we get started.

"Please don't tell mom that I read her diary. She would kill me. And don't tell her what I said at the table about liking you either. It was the wine. I feel better now but I am a little drowsy. So you were going to say something?"

Classic


“‘It was the wine,’” Chris quoted Anne as he joined her on the L-shaped sectional. He could have dropped the subject, taken her back to her dorm, and avoided — or at least delayed — the opportunity now before him and the difficult choice it created. In part, his pedagogic habits decided the issue. “Did you learn any Classics in high school? There’s a famous phrase: ‘In vino veritas.’ Do you know what that means?”

Anne

I didn't take Latin or study the classics but I have a pretty good idea what he is saying. Vino has to be wine - it certainly is in Spanish - and veritas must have something to do with truth or verify. He is telling me that I told the truth when I said I wanted him to do the things he had done with mom to me. He of course is right. I do want those things.

"You think that the wine made me say things I might not say but they are still the valid. You think I was telling you the truth about what I, um, want you to do to me."

I feel my face flush. I know I shouldn't say any more but I can't help myself.

"You're right Professor Gustavsen. I do want... you know... what I said."

I look up at him wondering how he is going to react.

"Life Is What Happens to You While You're Busy Making Other Plans"


“You’re right Professor Gustavsen,” Anne admitted. “I do want... you know... what I said.”

He wanted it, too. He did not want, however, to take advantage of this young woman, especially given that she’d had at least a half bottle of red wine earlier that evening. He had already decided what he would do. He would confess his own desires, then suggest he take her back to her dorm for the night so they could both sleep on it. They could meet for dinner again tomorrow and, if she still felt the same, they could discuss how their relationship might develop. It all made perfect sense.

Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers with a gentle but heartfelt kiss.

Anne

His lips are so soft and warm and gentle and inviting. It is just like mom had described in her diary. Then it occurs to me. He likes me. He finds me desirable. Otherwise he wouldn't kiss me, would he? I fall against him and kiss him back gently parting my lips. I lift my arm and slide my hand to the back of his neck.

The excitement of the kiss fills me with longing. I want him to touch me the way he touched mom. I want to feel his hands on my breasts and his fingers between my legs. I want to experience the incredible orgasms she described.

My body is trembling with anticipation. My nipples are swollen with desire. I can feel the excitement of his kiss bubbling between my legs. I lose myself in the moment and melt into his arms.

In Vino Veritas



I lean forward and press my lips to hers with a gentle but heartfelt kiss. Anne responds immediately, placing her left hand gently on the back of my neck and parting her lips invitingly. I caress them with my tongue then slip it into her mouth playfully. My left hand settles on her hip.

She kisses with the awkward passion of an enthusiastic beginner. I have no doubt making love with her would become a wonderful adventure of discovery. My manhood starts to tingle and swell.

All the time, however, I have doubts. What if she’s just drunk? What if she regrets it in the morning? She could claim sexual harassment, even rape. How could I face my dean? How could I face Anne’s mother?

But how do I stop this now without hurting her feelings and, selfishly, missing an opportunity for a new and exciting relationship? I have an idea. Slowly breaking the kiss, I ask, “Would you like some more wine?”

Anne

“Would you like some more wine?”

No, I think to myself. I want you to kiss me and touch and make me feel the things mom felt when she was with you. Maybe he's uncomfortable with doing that to me. Who am I kidding? I'm just a student. He doesn't really want to be with me. This is awful.

"If you want we can have more wine, but, um, I wish we could kiss some more. I understand if you don't want to Professor Gustavsen. I know I'm just a student. You must get that a lot from other students. I'm sorry. Maybe you should just take me home."

Once again I feel the tears in my eyes and realize what a fool I have been to think he might be attracted to a girl like me.

Truth Be Told



As the tears well up again in Anne’s eyes, I realize, coming as it did in the middle of our first kiss, she perceived my offer of another glass of wine as some sort of dodge.

“It’s not like that at all,” I assure her. “I’ll tell you the truth. I love what’s happening between us. I just didn’t want it to go too far too fast. You’re right. It’s not unheard of for students to become infatuated with professors. If that’s what this is....”

I hesitate. I really had not considered what I would do then, even if I could distinguish it from true love. I want Anne on so many levels — some sublime, some questionable, some purely prurient — that if she continues to express desire for me for any reason, I know I’ll probably succumb to her advances. For as many reasons, I need to make sure she goes into a relationship with me with full volition.

“To tell you the truth, I was trying to get you to drink more wine so you’d fall asleep. Not to take advantage of you, but rather so nothing would happen tonight and you’d be able to fully consider your feelings about me... about all of this... in the full light of morning. I don’t want you doing anything tonight that you’ll regret later.”

Anne

"To tell you the truth, I was trying to get you to drink more wine so you’d fall asleep."

That's when I realize how sleepy I am. I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open. The wine did have its affect on me. I lean my head against his chest and hear him say something about not taking advantage of me but it really doesn't register.

"Mmmmmmm... whatever you want Professor," I say in a barely audible voice. "I'm just a little sleepy now."

I slide down on the couch and rest my head in his lap. I am vaguely aware of something inside his pants pressing against the side of my face but it doesn't really register. I pull my feet onto the couch. I rest a hand on his thigh right near my face. I feel like I am living in a dream where I am vaguely aware of my surroundings but detached from reality.

Let’s Both Just Sleep on it Tonight



Courtney, Anne’s mother, could always hold her liquor, but apparently did not pass this trait to her daughter. I wait until Anne’s breathing indicates she sleeps deeply, then take the blanket laying at the end of the couch and fold it into a pillow to replace my thigh under her head. I slowly slip out from under her. She stirs but does not wake. I love red wine.

I retrieve a light comforter and cover her. Before retiring to my bedroom, I take her shoes. I do not want her waking up in the middle of the night and deciding to walk home through the dark city streets.

Moving silently, I go to my bedroom, the one off the foyer with the great view. Hiding her shoes on the top shelf in my closet, I doubt she can even reach that high, I then go to the dresser and take out a pair of loose running shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in. Once I’ve changed, I get into bed.

Sleep does not come easily, despite the wine. I want Anne. I think I may have already fallen in love with her. The complexities of such a relationship both concern and intrigue me. I fall asleep, however, still convinced the “pros” outweigh the “cons.”