K8
When the airplane from the connecting flight from New York landed, there was a delegation of six officially representing the College and about two dozen students waiting for the great Moldovan scholar, accompanied by a dozen or so graduate students.
There was Kiki, of course, small, lithe, her beautiful pale breasts on display almost down to the areola in a loose peasant blouse (which looked typically Moldovan even to someone who had no idea how Moldovans dressed) and her well-formed, long legs fully occupying the distance between the floor and the hem of her very short skirt. It should be noted in the interest of accuracy that Moldovan peasants usually do not wear very short skirts with their loose blouses but Kiki's costume was still more or less correct because Moldovan peasant girls traditionally did not wear panties, either. Girls in Moldova today are another story entirely.
The President of the College, handsome and distinguished, used his vantage point to look down Kiki's blouse at every opportunity. The chairman of the philosophy department was nervous --their guest was very controversial and had already started an argument between the hedonists and the stoics on his faculty. The head of the comparative literature program was beaming, proud to be sponsoring Dicae with support from a private foundation, since the National Endowment for the Humanities wouldn't touch a grant application to bring him to the United States, especially during a Republican administration. The head of the communications program was miffed that he was short and couldn't get the same view down Kiki's blouse as the President enjoyed.
In the meantime, the van driver held up a sign that read "Welcome Viku Dicae!" The van driver was just waiting for his chance to help Kiki step into her seat, hoping to look up her skirt.
Finally, the great man came through the concourse into the public waiting area, to the wild cheers of the students! His pictures showed a handsome, intense visage and he looked like a large man. In person, he was not so imposing. He was on the short side, muscular, with good looking but craggy features. He didn't exactly look his age -- he looked like an older man who naturally was younger looking than his real age. He had a big bulge in his pants. It got bigger when he saw Kiki. She was smiling at him and the first thing that he noticed was that mysteriously erotic smile, with the corners of her mouth turned up and her blue eyes flashing! The second thing he noticed was her tits, of course. "Marfa!" he muttered under his breath. "So nice!"
There were handshakes all around but of course Dicae had already noticed Kiki. Who is this gorgeous young thing dressed like a 1950's Ceauลescu era-style fantasy of an eastern Romanian (not Moldovan) peasant girl sexpot? (Kiki got the wrong embroidery on the blouse she got over the internet for the occasion, so the blouse she was exposing herself in wasn't really a Moldovan pattern at all.) She looks like a retro version of Olia Tira, he thought to himself, showing off her long, slim pale sexy bare legs.
Seeing his obvious interest in Kiki, the President introduced her to Doctor Dicae as his official hostess and facilitator, his personal assistant if you will, during the visit. Dicae muttered appreciation, thinking to himself that he would like to facilitate himself right into her at the earliest opportunity. They had tarted her up to play up the Moldovan connection, even if they got the pattern on that stupid but sexy blouse wrong, to make an instant connection! Why? There was only one answer, and that is that they were offering her up as a tasty sexual welcoming gift! He thought
about how
they were going to try hard to keep him satisfied over the next three weeks of his visit, if they had gone to this much trouble. They must be trying to keep him away from their students! Fine with him! She'll do just fine, even if her traditional costume was wrong. (After all, who cared about embroidery patterns, anyway?) He wondered if she was wearing panties.
After retrieving Dicae's baggage for him, the students dispersed and the College's official delegation piled into a van with the impressive shield of the venerable institution painted on the side. After allowing the honored guest to choose his preferred seat, next to the window, Kiki was naturally placed right next to him, with her hip naturally touching his somehow, despite the seatbelt. The van driver got weak in the knees helping her up the step when he saw that Kiki was not wearing panties.
"Bun venit! รmi pare bini! รmi pare bine de cunostinta," Kiki said to him slowly, in very simple Moldovan, once they were settled. To Dicae, the way she talked was barely comprehensible, as if she had marbles in her mouth and was imitating a Bulgarian accent.
Dicae was shocked to hear his native language mangled in such an engaging way! "What! ลtii moldoveneลte?" He asked, in surprise, assuming that she was second generation and had not learned the language correctly.
"รmi pare rau, nu vorbesc romaneลte," she had to admit, because her command of her mother's native language was already starting to fail. "My mother is from your part of the world," she continued in English.
"Cum te cheama?" He wanted to keep going in Moldovan but then realized that Kiki's language skills were not up to it.