I have been described in many ways, but there is one that sticks out in my mind: voodoo punanny. I never meant for this to become my reputation in college, but things happen in your life that shape who you are and why you like certain things. The funny thing is, I have never found anyone who could "keep up" with me sexually- well until I stayed late in class one night.
I was a history major in my junior year, about 20 years old, and was struggling in my Russian history course. This course happened to be taught by the Dean, Dr. Drake Harper. Now this was a man that had everything a girl could want. He stood proud at 6 feet tall with piercing blue eyes, jet black hair with just a touch of gray peppered throughout, and a body any girl would want to taste from head to toe. I would assume he was in his 30's. There was so much sexual tension in the room during that class it was almost unbearable. Sometimes I had to slip to the bathroom during the break to take care of business just so I could concentrate on the lecture.
There I sat, smoothing my long chestnut hair behind my ears.
"Get a hold of yourself, Lola. It's never going to happen and you know it."
I splashed my face with cool water and looked into the mirror at my brown eyes. They were so dark at this point that you couldn't tell the difference between the pupil and the iris. I stood back from the mirror and looked at my 5'7" body. I adjusted my 36 C's so they popped up just enough and gave me the perfect amount of cleavage to show in my button-up blouse. I slimed my hands down my 24 inch waist and over my skirt that covered my 34 inch hips. I was no super model, but I had enough curves to get noticed. I had no idea how well I was going to get noticed tonight.
I returned to the classroom and Dr. Harper was already in mid-sentence and glared at me for interrupting his train of thought. I sheepishly sat down and began to take notes, but I could hardly concentrate. I could only hear every other word that was coming out of his mouth. I began to run my pen over my lips slowly, barely letting my tongue touch the tip of the cap and sucking on it briefly. Then he looked in my direction and focused on my mouth. For a brief moment he stopped his speech and narrowed those baby blues. He shook himself loose and went on, speaking for another 30 minutes before dismissing class.
"Dr. Harper, may I have a word with you? It's about my grade. I..."
He cut me off, "I really don't have time tonight." He was avoiding eye contact and seemed preoccupied shuffling his papers.
"Sir, you just let class out 45 minutes early. With all due respect, I think this would only take a minute, then we can both get home...."
"I said no, and I mean no. Now good night."
"Dr. Harper? If I've done something wrong, please let me know. I..."
"Fine. My office. Ten minutes. If you're late, I leave." He walked out of the room still avoiding my eyes. I slowly left the classroom and walked to his office in the corner of the fifth floor. I knocked and the door opened slightly.
"Dr. Harper?" He was sitting at his desk in his plush leather chair with his head in one hand, and a fountain pen in another, probably grading our midterm assignment.
"Yes, Lola. Make it quick."
I sat down in the guest chair across from him. I began to speak and realized he was still scribbling away at the page on his desk. I tried to brush it off, but it became apparent that he wasn't even listening to me. He was responding with yeah's and uh-huh's.
"Harper you could at least look at me when I'm talking to you."
"What did you call me?"
"I...I'm sorry...."
He stood and walked around the mahogany desk to a plaque hanging on the wall behind me. He came up behind me, rested one palm on the back of my chair and shoved the certificate in my face.
"What does this say?"
"I...it says you're a doctor, Dr. Harper. Why don't I just come back later...you seem like you're having a bad day, and it's late. I'm sure the custodians are ready to lock up. Geeze, it's almost midnight..." I rose from my chair and walked to the door.
"Good idea. Good night," he barked.
I walked to the doorway and turned around. He was in the same position; one hand holding his head, one writing feverishly.
"I pay $8000 a semester for this damn school! You're the Dean, which means I'm paying your salary, so you're going to make some time for me!" I slammed the door behind me and marched back up to Harper's desk. I plopped my books down.
