I sat on the long, hard wooden bench, waiting for what seemed like an eternity because I had arrived so early. The footsteps of other students, rushing late to class, echoed through the old building. Occasionally someone would walk past, but for the most part I was alone, this hallway of faculty offices mostly empty on this Friday afternoon.
I was nervous, squirming uncomfortably in the new outfit I'd picked out especially for this interview. I had actually paid a visit to the mall, breaking my meager college student piggy bank for a new blouse, skirt, and even a new fragrance. It wasn't just that this interview was important to me - it was also my desire to prove myself opposite my competition. But I'll get back to that.
I glanced at my watch, and then, doubting, up at the large clock on the wall. 2:18. Still a while before my appointment at 2:30. I didn't know if the professor was in his office or not, but being so early, I dared not knock. It was an honor to get the chance to have this interview, and I didn't want to do anything to screw up my chances. So I just waited, remembering what had brought me to this point.
There was just one week left in the semester when Professor Davis finally made the announcement, the one I'd been waiting for. Each spring, he picked from amongst his students a choice few who he'd let battle for the chance to be his teaching assistant the following year. None of us really knew what was involved in his decision-making process, but the most competitive amongst us just knew we had to be the best.
Danielle and I had been at it all year, as you might remember from my earlier stories, but those battles had been erotic in nature - this one brought us back to our the familiar academic turf on which we'd been competing for longer than either of us could remember. Strangely enough, even though we'd now been intimate - pleasuring each other as we competed for my boyfriend's attentions - we were no closer than we'd ever been. The battle for the better grade, the not-so-subtle efforts to sabotage each other, were just as cutthroat as they had been in 9th grade English class or on the high school track team.
Anyway, needless to say, the irony of the situation being perfect, Danielle and I ended up in the same section of his class, and we ended up being named, that day, as the two finalists for his TA position for the following year. There would be interviews the following week, he announced to the applause of our classmates, Danielle and I glaring at each other from across the lecture hall.
Cool it, Amber, I had to tell myself, as I felt my heart rate rise. Just thinking about her got me riled up, and I needed to regain my composure before my interview began. 2:23, a quick glance at the clock confirmed. I stood up, walked a few feet to the drinking fountain, and swallowed a big gulp of water which did nothing to solve my dry mouth. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I thought as I returned to my seat. It would be fine.
A muffled sound interrupted my attempted meditation as I sat down again on the bench. It was different from those noises coming from elsewhere in the building, this one clearly came from inside his office. So he was there, after all. Probably finishing up another meeting, or returning some phone calls? But I hadn't heard any other voices. Perhaps he was just grading, or - heaven forbid, scrutinizing my transcript or resume, preparing to grill me on one of the rare weak points of my educational career.
Even though it was none of my business, focusing on the sounds eminating from his office seemed a nice respite from listening to my own heart pounding nervously in my chest, so I focused my energy on trying to figure out what it was he was doing, isolating and analyzing each noise as a way of killing time. But they were odd, unexpected sounds. This was not a one-sided phone conversation, not the opening and closing of a file cabinet; this was something distinctly more interesting.
Voices, when I could hear them, were hushed, breathless. Then, hmm, the occasional noise which could best be described as a slurp. Was he scarfing down a late lunch? But no, it was different, it was almost... no, couldn't be. The more I listened, the more I thought I was hearing sex on the other side of the door. And as soon as that idea entered my mind, of course, I could think of nothing else. I had no clue who his partner could be, and it was none of my business, but I could suddenly picture the professor in this scenario.
All semester, I'd been so focused on my work, on my competition with Danielle, and on the prestige of winning the TA-ship, I'd been able to ignore just how hot this professor really was. He was in his mid-40s, yes, but he was tall, dark, and handsome - not to mention athletic. And now, when I should have been preparing my answers to imagined interview questions, I was instead envisioning him enjoying a quick, midday sexual encounter, naughtily misusing his office.
My curiousity soon got the best of me. With just a few minutes before my interview was supposed to start and the sensuous noises only continuing from inside his office, I stood up and tiptoed to his door. As I stepped closer, I could hear the activity more clearly; as I pressed my ear against the thick wooden door, I finally made out his words - there was no doubt at this point, he was encouraging someone who was sucking his cock.
