Night had passed slowly for Amber; she had been too excited to sleep. When the alarm went off, she headed for the shower. She let the warm water beat on her back, relaxing her tense muscles. She couldn't help feeling like a kid again. She had always loved English classes and now to be taking a creative writing class, she could hardly contain her excitement.
Slipping out of the shower she dressed quickly, nothing fancy just a black miniskirt, white blouse and her black knee high boots. She tossed her hair up in a bun while she put her make-up on. She decided her hair didn't look so bad that way. Maybe she'd wear it in a bun more often. Grabbing her keys off the end table, she picked up her backpack and headed out the door.
Amber found her way to Room 107, no problem. She took a seat in the front row, so she'd have a clear view of the blackboard. The room began to fill up rather quickly. When the clock over the door reached 9:30 the teacher entered the room. He was very handsome, tall with dark hair. He reached the front of the class and everyone settled down. He introduced himself as Professor Michael Stansman. He started at the end row and began passing papers back. After five rows, he was standing right in front of Amber. She noticed he was not wearing a wedding ring. She smiled up at him when he handed her the papers. He smiled back before heading to the next row. He had a beautiful smile, soft looking lips, and straight white teeth. Amber was feeling a little flushed. The rest of the class hour passed with Professor Stansman explaining the syllabus and his expectations. Amber was trying her best to hear all the words coming out of his mouth but instead she found herself focusing on his mouth and the way it moved as he spoke.
The two-hour class flew by and when he released them for the day, Amber was sad. She reluctantly picked up her books and put them inside her backpack. Professor Stansman was standing behind his desk, shifting his papers. Amber slowed her pace hoping to be able to walk out with him but soon realized the he had another class coming in. Disappointed she stood up and bent over slowly to pick up her backpack, knowing that the skirt she wore was short when she bent over, but not too short. She lingered for a moment then stood back up. When she looked over she saw his eyes quickly jump from her then back to his papers.
Amber smiled and said, "Good-bye, Professor, see you next week."
"Oh, yes, see you next class," he stammered a bit.
Amber's week passed by so slowly, she couldn't get Professor Stansman, Michael, off her mind. The night before creative writing was to meet again she sat down to get her homework started. The first assignment made her laugh; he wanted them to write about what it would be like to be a tree. The syllabus stated it only needed to be a couple paragraphs long. She thought about it and decided to become a cherry tree. After, crumpling about seven sheets of paper she felt she had a good start.
My blossoms have come in to full bloom and the light breeze of the spring air tantalizes me. The robin returns to the nest she has made in my arms. I cradle her lovingly. My roots are buried deep in the moist earth, holding me firmly. I stand erect toward the center of a park. Our park is partially secluded by the larger elms that guard its perimeter. The shelter brings people out to enjoy the serenity of the area. I love the position I hold within our park. I can see everything from my location.
It's getting late and a young couple makes their way into our sanctuary. He leads her by the hand to the ornately carved cement bench next to me. I hear him whisper to her, but am unable to distinguish the words being exchanged. She giggles and I see the color of her face change to a pink slightly darker than my blossoms. He scoots over and embraces her. She lifts her face up to him and he kisses her passionately. I see her relax in his arms. He begins to unbutton her shirt, I hear her sigh. He guides her down onto the ground at my feet. I can see her young breasts, firm and attentive. He positions himself over her and again whispers to her. I strain to hear the words being exchanged between them but cannot. She gasps as he unites with her. I wave my arms above them my blossoms blanketing the young lovers. I love spring.
Amber giggled devilishly when she read it back. She put the paper in her folder and left to meet her friend, Tasha, at Big Ed's Saloon. Tasha was waiting at the bar when Amber arrived. She walked over and sat next to her friend.
"Hey you," Tasha said turning on her chair to face Amber.
"Excuse me," Amber raised her hand to grab the attention of the bartender. "Can I get a Jack and Coke, please?"
The bartender nodded at her and set about fixing her drink.
"So did you get your assignment done?" Tasha questioned then she took a long gulp of her drink.
"Oh, yeah," Amber laughed, "Professor Stansman is going to love it," the sarcasm evident in her voice.
"What did you do, Amber?"
"What me... nothing," she smirked. The bartender set the drink in front of Amber and she winked at him as she lifted it.
Tasha gave her a sidewise glance then let out a laugh, "You are so bad."
"It's good to be bad," Amber downed the first drink and motioned again for the bartender.
Amber arrived a few minutes early for class, hoping her professor would already be there, but she had no such luck. She took her place at the front of the class and settled into her seat. She'd decided to spice it up a little today. She'd chosen her pink and black plaid miniskirt, garter style black stockings, and a pink tank top which was just low enough that when she leaned over to write something on her paper, her cleavage could be glimpsed. She was pleased with the look when she'd inspected herself in the mirror this morning. The other students made their way in to their seats and right on time, he appeared. He wore a light blue polo and black slacks. He began class from behind his desk but soon was standing in front of it, legs crossed. Amber noticed as he stood there lecturing that his blue shirt really brought out the blue in his eyes. Every time he looked in her direction, she made a point of smiling, or shifting in her seat. Her skirt would ride up from time to time exposing the skin of her thigh where the stockings stopped. She caught him looking at her a couple of times, which caused him to quickly shift his gaze. Right before he dismissed the class, he instructed them to pass their homework forward. Amber turned in her chair to get the papers from behind her, allowing her skirt to ride up even higher. When he reached her row, she leaned forward a little and handed the papers up to him, a seductive smile on her face.
"Thanks," he said, taking the papers.
"My pleasure," she responded softly.
He quickly went to the next row but occasionally she caught him looking back at her while he waited for the papers. As the class began to empty, Amber performed last week's ritual of bending over to get her bag. As she left the class, she stopped at the door and said, "See you next week, Professor, and hope you enjoy my story."
Once again it was Sunday night and Amber pulled out her English folder to see what her latest assignment was. 'Describe in detail a fond childhood memory,' she read and immediately she knew the perfect memory.
My fondest childhood memory was of this boy Mark that I was dating in ninth grade. We had been dating for about 9 months. He was sweet and fun to be around. I was his first girlfriend and he was my first boyfriend. All these feelings were new and it was exciting to be 14 and in love. We had been going together longer than any of our friends who were going steady.
One day my best friends Beth, Chris, Jackie and I were talking about how far we had all gone. Beth had let Sam put his hand up her shirt. Chris had let John touch her breast without her bra. Jackie had not let Eddie do anything but kiss her. Then all eyes were on me. I cleared my throat and informed them that Mark had sucked on my breast. They all gasped in shock. I told them how nice it was to feel the warm breath on my nipples. I described how hard my nipples got when he would run his tongue gently over them. Then I had a great idea.
"Let's play a little game," I challenged the group, "Let's see who has the nerve to perform certain tasks."
"Like what," Beth asked, smiling.
"We will decide what the task will be and when we meet the following week, we will exchange the details, and see who actually completed it," I instructed to the eager looking group, except for Jackie.
"How do we make sure no one is lying," Chris smirked looking at Jackie.
"Hey, I don't lie," Jackie snapped back.
