Starting Affairs

Meeting Her Part 2: Starting Affairs

by LolaPaul49

Chapter 0. Preview.

Alec Braxton was a hired gun, he was not looking for love. But he was not a monk either. His past meetings with the two women were occasional and unconventional (oral and anal). Also, anal sex may be fine in a shower, but it is not a good idea in a faculty office.

When fishing it often helps to have several lines in the water at once. Here, on the small campus luck strikes - twice - in a short period.

I am nominating this as "Erotic Couplings" as most of the activity involves a guy and, separately, two women who are figuring some things out. The story follows from Part 1, reading that might be useful. Some critical facts that were cloaked there are exposed below.

The tags used here follow for most parts of the story.

For those who want to go right to the action, in Chapter 2, the new hired gun scores a significant breakthrough with Nancy. Chapters 6 and 8 feature Isabel opening up some new places. Most of the other chapters advance Isabel's story of woe and salvation, which is rather complicated as her marriage has been poisoned and she is pregnant.

Note: the word "chair" has 2 distinct meanings in academia.

A Department Chair is the administrator of a department, he thinks he is the boss in a discipline like English or Chemistry because he has the biggest office. But actually he is a overworked paper pusher since he can't hire or fire or change the pay of any faculty member. In fact, the department chair really has only one power: scheduling. However, since the objective is to impart knowledge to all the precious darlings (students) this is more a case of co-ordinating the desires, skills and preferences of the individual faculty, the number of students anticipated for each course, and the rooms each department is allocated. Put, say, a tax guy in a systems course and everybody loses.

An Endowed Chair is an honor and a pay supplement for a faculty position in an area where the regular salary is simply not enough. The endowment funds are contributed by somebody with too much money, then invested to generate the extra salary and other monies needed. These are usually used to recruit and keep VIP faculty the university could not otherwise afford. Universities are shameless in soliciting rick folks to obtain these funds.

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Chapter 1. Discovering A Name

Late August

In August Dr. Dryden and I were having a friendly discussion of a joint publication we were considering. I had 2 pubs of my own accepted from my dissertation and a couple more with co-authors in advanced stages, but they were not sure things. Some things that didn't work out had turned into paper presentations. The lead time and the hit rate is such that a guy on a schedule like me must always plan ahead.

The research idea was solid. We knew that anything with Dryden's name on it would get published, the issue was how big the project would be. It was given that I would do most of the research and writing, credit would be shared equally, and our names would be listed in alphabetical order. (My name is Alec Braxton.) That is how things were done.

The question was, how much would including Dryden slow down the process (it was inevitable) versus the chance of placing it in a better journal, increasing my future value, with him as a co-author (also inevitable). We had already written one presentation together, it went quickly, but an article would take a lot more from both of us. (Dryden was sharp enough, he would contribute, so it was a genuine joint effort that would help us both.)

I noticed that Dryden's computer had the icon for the university's building entry system, and I asked about it. When anybody entered or left a secure building their RF-chipped ID card chirped and data was recorded. I was surprised to see access to this entire system on his computer, but I guessed it was an "all or nothing" system. I asked why he had it and I didn't.

"Yes, it's there," he replied, "access is available to all administrators, department chairs and higher. Plus anybody in Buildings and Grounds or Security... others. Silly thing, I don't use it."

One thing I get frustrated about is when folks don't answer the question asked. With Dr. Dryden I had to be a bit diplomatic. "But why do you have it? You aren't some foul administrator, are you."

"Oh... that. Well, I confess I am. They just installed it when I got the computer. I was not consulted by the tech minions. Technically I am the Director for the Finance and Accounting Institute. It is worthwhile it just to keep it out of Ober-Chair Bumblurs's grasping hands." (We agreed our chairman was an ass-kissing idiot - his own ass mostly so he was always falling down.) "A Director is deemed equivalent to a Chair, even one with a trivial budget, so I get access to endless worthless details. Hell of a way to run a university, filling computers with useless data. You can be the Director when you get tenure." That would never happen because they could not afford me, there is always more green waiting at the next school. We found ourselves moving on to a pleasant topic, the tall skinny blond work-study coed who could not do her own buttons...

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Faculty are organized in Departments, each with a Chairperson. Usually Accounting and Finance are different departments, but for some reason this school combined them plus they added in Law, Real Estate and Insurance to make one jumbo department. Because it was so large we called our department chairman the Ober-Chair. (This was not a intended as a compliment.) The other departments in Business were Marketing, Economics (which also did statistics) and Management (which really could be 3 departments: Quant, Behavior and HR).

Related departments make up a College or School of Business managed by our venerable Dean, he really is old, but very wise and well respected. A University is made up of one or more Colleges; in addition to the Business College we have Liberal Studies, Communication (including theater), STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics) and Education for our other colleges. There is also the Athletics super-department/mini-college which does not fit into a box. Unlike anybody else, they make real money selling football tickets. Our Athletic Director is considered both a Chair and a Dean with double the paperwork.

All the Deans make up the Academic Council headed by the Provost. The Provost, along with VP for Administration, report to the President.

Unlike a boss at a real job, the Chair and Dean have little power. For instance, pay raises are set using a matrix drawn by the Faculty Senate. Hiring, promotion and firing is done by tenured faculty. Academic matters are the province of each department's tenured faculty committee. The pay for a faculty member is negotiated when they are hired, after that raises follow the matrix - the "bosses" have no power there. Chairs do not even assign offices, that is a tradition based on tenure. Basically, Chairs just do paperwork, attend meetings and answer phone calls.

Note: pay has NOTHING to do with how many students a faculty member sees or how well they teach their students. This is because teaching quality is simply too complex to measure. Such is the nature of "higher education."

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A week after our talk I had to use Dryden's computer to transfer some files. He gets lost easily in any file structure. As long as I was there I looked at the building logs, it was pure curiosity to see how they were organized. I picked the Faculty Athletic Center during a July night.

I am usually ethical and honest, but relative to the average I would have to say my greatest outlier trait - which some academics share - is that I am curious. It is something my high school guidance advisors noted in my confidential file which I wasn't supposed to see.

I was also more resourceful than they expected, so I saw.

On the building log for that night I saw my name with about a dozen others. Next I discovered I could print out the names with times. Once I eliminated who couldn't be in the shower, I was left with one very unexpected female name: campus royalty Dr. Isabel Victor-Brumhuld PhD. She was the right age (low thirties). Her pictures fit the empirical parameters of size and build. The daughter of the campus president, she was also the wife of the greatest campus sports hero (fullback) from around 15 years ago.

The lady wore a lot of hats. She was the building manager for the field house, the acting athletic director, acting head of buildings & grounds, acting campus security supervisor, and university social director. The first two were academic positions, while the others were administrative. Normally, like Ghostbusters, you don't cross the streams; it was something I had never seen for anybody under the age of 60. That probably had to do with her father being the boss.

Her husband was on the faculty. Dr. Jorge Victor, PhD was a Professor of Climate Change with an endowed chair funded by somebody afflicted with too much money and ego. Jorge's super-salary was almost 80% of my pay this year. My future annual raises will be 20% to 30% each year. He will get 4% or thereabouts.

Jorge and his Department of Climate Change was in the School of Communication, not STEM. It is not considered a science. The story was that in 1975 the folks who trained students to read tomorrow's bad guess of a weather report started to add classes about predicting the weather in the distant future. Unlike TV weathermen, who were accountable, if they were wrong about the distant future, who would remember? The courses attracted faculty and students who were not pretty enough to read the weather reports on the radio, so they created a new department of professionally dreary scolds for society. The department tried to leave Communication and join STEM where the average faculty pay is higher, but real science folks were not having it.

In the STEM building lobby the "real science people" expressed themselves by putting oversize reprints of the June 1974 Time magazine article "Another Ice Age?" and the 1975 Newsweek article "The Cooling World" on display. For climate-change high priests those are like crosses to vampires.

The lobby also has pictures of the Calatrava in Milwaukee at full sail, the ISS, and "Patriot" the American Magic wind-powered hydrofoil at speed. Science folks may not explain gravity, quarks, or whether light is a particle or a wave. But they know what science is and isn't. Broadcast majors reading the weather reports don't do calculus so they are not scientists.

(When you name a department "Climate Change," you are positing that the logical alternative hypotheses of climate non-change or a climate pattern/cycle will not be considered; you start with your pre-determined result. Since there is no alternative you cannot prove one over the other; this voodoo-science is TERRIBLE non-science or great nonsense, on the same level as a university department of "Reading Tea Leaves." Science starts when theory suggests a choice between two hypotheses, where one says "no effect outside the pattern" while the other is what you have a theory about that you are trying to support. In my line, the proof is when you make or save money or reduce expected risk. But shiny new things like climate change attract money from donors who have more money than sense and like to spend it on bright objects that let them tell themselves they are doing good with their carbon-generating dollars. Also, it draws popular student-athletes - like fullbacks and cheerleaders - who have crappy study habits but lobby non-stop for good grades. That in turn makes the so-called scientists holding academic positions intellectual prostitutes who don't belong at a university. Or so I believe.)

I recalled a news article from late July and checked. It seemed that a few days after I had my wonderfully satisfying dirty anal shower sex in the dark with hot and horny Isabel who connected with my "Last Tango In Paris" references, Dr. Jorge Victor had returned from a 9-month visit at some university in Chile. The position included a long visit to a base in Northern Antarctica where he did some research, slaving away putting in 4-hour days. There he might have looked for signs of world-wide climate change, because everyone knows, you can see that stuff in Antarctica.

I pictured him in this football outfit and parka questioning the penguins as his research and noting their responses on a clipboard made of ice, that might reveal more truth than whatever he actually did. As it happened, this mental image turned out to be prescient.

Now that I knew the facts, I wished good luck to the couple. I put the matter out of my mind, which had other important things to do. After all, unlike faculty whores looking at climate, my job is to expand the envelope of human knowledge by pushing back the bounds of ignorance one theory-refining validated fact at a time.

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Chapter 2. Breakthrough With Nancy

Thursday September 24, 2020

You can't start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart

This gun's for hire

Even if we're just dancing in the dark

--by Bruce Springsteen

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For me, the good news for September was that I had finally got my cock into Nancy's juicy pussy for a mutual very good time. In fact, she was quite blown away at how good a time she had. I had her long list of worthless townie boyfriends to thank for setting a uniform low standard for my cock to exceed.

(Nancy mentioned that I was never going to be her 'best ever' pussy eater. Nancy went both ways and her lady friends exercised an unfair advantage at such tasks. But she did say I was great... for a guy.)

Nancy is one if these girls who has to have "a guy" at all times so she can feel worthwhile. He does not have to be a lover (he wanted to be but wasn't there yet) or even exclusive, but must serve as a guy she could name when she needed an excuse for her folks. She had exhausted most of her local prospects until this guy, Getty, moved back in August and the two connected.

Getty was a townie who had been gone for a time. Nancy knew of him but he left high school "for a state facility" and had just returned after living in another state where things were "too hot." What else does one need to know?

On the second or third time we got together, which was also the second or third time we had oral sex, Nancy explained that I could not be her "guy." I was important faculty while she was staff. Plus we were in different departments, so the sucking and licking pleasures we did for each other had to stay top secret. I reluctantly agreed to her rules.

The credit for my finally nailing Nancy's pussy actually rests on the unnatural advertising accident known as Thursday Night Football, plus Getty's messed up priorities.

When Thursday night football games started, Nancy had a petty fight with her Getty about football versus friendly time on Thursday nights after her last class of the week. She really needed friendly time on Thursday!

The first two Thursdays she gave in to his priorities and let him have his way in front of the TV, watching the game like it was worth money to them. The first Thursday included his team, so she was never going to avoid it. The second was a divisional opponent that he "really had to see," because he would have to bet when they played his team twice later this fall. In each case they watched together and got to second base at halftime when they "muted" the broadcast. Having just the two of them without Getty's buds made Nancy feel supportive, domestic and comfortable, even if she knew that the feeling was not returned. She thought it was what she deserved.

The third Thursday night, when the game had nothing special besides two aging quarterbacks, Getty told Nancy an hour before kickoff that his friends were going to be there watching with them. (Translation: no second base fun at halftime.) She kept silent when he suggested she wear a short skirt while serving "their friends" beer and snacks. (She hated all his rude friends.) Nancy finally left when Getty told Nancy she could lend him some money and hurry to the store to buy some beer for the guys. He said that he forgot and almost sounded sorry. She left, but it wasn't a beer run. She implied that she would watch the game with her dad. But she couldn't do that either.

Nancy knew I don't watch TV commercials with a little football and comments from ancient all-pro jocks sprinkled in. As an excuse to get in the door she mentioned some questions about something we were working on together. Talking turned into her wanting some friendly contact, first an arm around the shoulder, then she got topless for an embrace, inviting my oral appreciation of her sensitive breasts.

I appreciated very well.

It seemed I had a way with her nipples and they really needed some up-close and personal attention after her long week of teaching.

I firmly believe that if a woman reveals her marvelous wonders to a man, the man must show good taste. I told her they both tasted very good, maybe the right one was sweeter. After the chuckles I gave her the cuddles and the nipple nibbles she craved, getting her panties delightfully damp in the process. Once that started, if I was a gentleman there was only one way it could end, she didn't deserve to wear damp panties. She giggled and let me lick that problem.

We had done mutual oral sex with her staying in bed after, she figured that was safe because she had taken the edge off and swallowed with the BJ, plus it was nicer to stay warm and cuddly in my bed, especially as the weather got colder. She trusted me not to fuck her without a specific request. I am very trustworthy. It happened more than once because I was so trustworthy. But she had avoided going further because I was a faculty member and she could not avoid me in the halls if things went bad in any way, as they usually did with the townie boyfriends that she felt she deserved.

Oral sex was something that was hard to do badly. Nancy had endured some really bad fucking, and even worse things, so lately oral was all she allowed.

We had been doing the oral-sex overnights with naked good feelings and trust infrequently for more than 8 months - before I was hired. But we didn't do it that Thursday night. Instead, when it got late she asked to borrow one of my t-shirts, stripped naked before me, turned around casually while bending over (to show me her damp slit), put on the too-short t-shirt, climbed into my bed and asked to "please" cuddle some more. She knew that I don't wear anything to bed when I am at home. Still, I did not push her to go farther, so we just cuddled. I pleasured her nipples (I lifted the t-shirt hem to get them - Nancy is clever enough to know I would) and eventually we fell asleep that way, with the t-shirt rolled up so it covering her from her neck to the top of her tits.

I am VERY trustworthy, even when naked.

Sleeping with a guy without any sex first (it was always blow jobs with me) was something she didn't think was possible for any guy until she met me.

We both knew this was a test to see if I would take advantage, she had to see if I was really different from all her low-life guys, or if I was the same basic character with a much better vocabulary.

I had been expecting something like this, I knew her pussy was lonely, it had been empty for too long. Despite my erection (which she discovered and handled) I just cuddled and petted and nibbled above the waist as requested. Mind over body. We slept without even oral sex. (When she made the offer, she was really too tired so I declined.)

Proving myself trustworthy overnight, when I was tempted and had full nuts, finally paid off. I scored in extra innings, or overtime.

During the night she shed the t-shirt so we could cuddle skin-on-skin, she even woke me with her nipples to let me know. I appreciated her nipples some more. Eventually she settled while cradling my erect cock and balls between her tits, with her head resting on my belly. She was bad and tempting me to be bad as a townie boyfriend. I made appreciative noises, ran my hands over her back, and we cuddled some more. It was a pleasure for both of us.