Author's note: This is my very first attempt ever at writing anything like this, so any constructive criticism is welcome. If there's enough interest, I have plans for two sequels, but I'd like to get enough positive interest to make it worthwhile first! Hope you enjoy.
*
Let me tell you about Miss Aphrodite. That wasn't her real name, of course, just a nickname someone at college had given her. One of the classics nerds, probably -- most likely one of the classics nerds in
my
nerdy classics class, in fact. Still, nobody could deny it was fitting.
The first day of second-year classics at college, which took place barely a week after my nineteenth birthday, was an interesting one. There was a new teacher, everybody knew that. Ill-informed guesses as to what she would be like formed the bulk of conversation amongst her prospective students; one of the guys from the other class had sidled up to me in English and whispered, 'I've heard she's so old, she was there when all this Roman stuff happened!' before dashing off without so much as a citation as to his sources. The first class she taught was to be mine.
Everyone was in before she arrived, which was unusual for us. The classics students had garnered something of a reputation amongst the rest of the college for a complete inability to be punctual; it was an accurate reputation, at least. As we were soon to find out, her apparent ability to make an entire class on time without ever having met them was kind of consistent with the rest of her: unlike anything we'd ever come across.
I sidled into my usual seat --facing away from the door -- from last year, taking stock of who had dropped out and who had joined in the interim between terms. No real surprises, just a couple of leavers -- who for the most part had shoulders like gorillas and brains to match, belonging more in the gym than the ancient history department -- and a few transfers from the other class. I waved one of the latter category over to sit opposite me, recognising him from my philosophy class. Mike, I think.
'Hey, Dan,' he said simply, settling in the seat across from me. 'Seen the new teacher yet?' It was a predictable opener; she had proved herself to be immensely popular as a topic of conversation without any of us ever having met her.
'Nope,' I responded. 'Nobody has, far as I know.'
'Tom told me she's an amputee.'
I laughed at that. 'Yeah, well, he was trying to tell me she's over two thousand years old.'
'Full of bullshit?' Mike grinned.
'Full of bullshit,' I agreed.
The door opened behind me. There was a sudden hush in the room, although a few female voices carried on chattering without a care in the world. Mike's face instantly changed, his expression moving through amused to awestruck to astonished in an almost alarming display of facial agility.
'What?' I said, oblivious to the gazes of every male in the room instantly shifting to the open door. 'What is -- oh.'
I swivelled in my seat to see what Mike had been so awestricken by, and immediately experienced the same reaction. In the open door was... Well, Tom was full of more bullshit than we could ever have imagined. The nickname 'Miss Aphrodite' was probably coined in the first couple of seconds its creator saw her, and for good reason. If first impressions counted, she was into the billions.
Black hair, drawn into a spiky ponytail at the back and hanging down to her chin at the front, framed a heart-shaped face with perfect skin and deep blue eyes that every male (and lesbian) in the room had got lost in the moment she walked in -- although only momentarily, since the unexpected beauty of her face drew the gaze at first glance, but the rest of the glances were almost certain to head (when they thought she wasn't looking) at the round, firm breasts under the tight black shirt she wore. She was one of those rare women who were both slim and curvy, one of those teachers that your dad hoped you would have trouble with so he had an excuse to join the queue to talk to her on parents' evening. Furthermore, a tight skirt only highlighted the bottom half of what was indubitably the greatest body (to the point that the Aphrodite rule was introduced in debates over who was the sexiest lecturer: it just wasn't fair to pit any normal person against her) anyone in the room had ever been within fifty feet of. A pair of boots left a sizable length of smooth calf and thigh exposed to the world, the vision soaked up by everyone in the room. Even some of the straight girls perked up.
I didn't believe in love at first sight, but if I did, I would probably have thought I was in love.
'Whoa,' I heard fifteen male voices, fresh out of adolescence, breath in unison.
'Hello,' she said. The first word she'd spoken to us, and it was perfect in its simplicity. A soft mezzo voice with just a hint of vibrato to it. Probably a singer, I thought. It was tinged with nervousness, though, hinting that perhaps she was not as experienced -- at least at teaching -- as most of us had been expecting.
'How old d'you reckon she is?' Mike whispered across the table to me. 'Only a couple of years older than us, right?'
I nodded in agreement, suddenly conscious that I was staring. No wonder she was nervous with an entire roomful of students mentally undressing her. She really shouldn't have been allowed to teach, or at least put in charge of some five-year-olds who didn't have the faintest idea of how perfect the soft curve outlined from neck to breasts to flat stomach was, or what was to be found where her long legs met under that skirt, where her hips swayed as she walked.
The lesson began much as everyone expected, which is to say she introduced herself and said something about Ancient Rome probably, but nobody listened. As it turns out, having teachers who can reasonably be compared to the goddess of lust is a bad thing for productivity. I drifted in and out of focus on the subject matter, having already read up on everything I'd need to know. It was lucky really. I wouldn't need to listen for the first couple of weeks or so, and that left me free to daydream. Hearing my name tacked to the end of a question, I glanced up from the naked woman I'd been absently doodling on my pad and gave a quick answer. She flashed a genuine smile in my direction with apparent relief that somebody, at least, was able to function in her presence (in areas other than the crotch). That said, though, I was under her spell as much as any other in the room. It wasn't just me wondering how those long, soft fingers or those perfectly shaped lips would feel wrapped around my cock, but my imagination was definitely working overtime.
I shifted in my seat, trying to conceal a growing bulge in my lap. A quick glance around the room told me that the other guys were doing the same, posed as they were in awkward cross-legged poses. Not only that, but I noticed with surprise that several of the girls had adopted similarly guarded positions, their cheeks slightly flushed and lips parted in tell-tale signs of arousal. The air in the classroom took on a hazy charge of sex and desire, a frisson of the promise of pleasure passing between everyone in the room. There was no way she could fail to notice this.
Maybe she was even feeling it too
, some naïve part of my brain whispered.
'..Dan?'
Shit. She was asking me something.
I looked up, staring intently at the board to avoid getting my gaze caught in her body. 'Sorry, what?'
She cleared her throat.
Fuck me, even that's sexy!
It was such an innocent noise, but somehow to my lust-addled brain it carried the promise of a wet tongue and soft lips sliding over... oh, fuck, she's talking to me again.
'I was just saying, could you fill in the blanks here?' She gestured to a line on the board. 'Gaius Julius Caesar'... and the rest was obscured by the roundness of her breasts.
