Cory was a bright, young Irish teacher who, for whatever reason was plunged in the deep end with the crazy bunch that resided in my English group. We were a little collective of students who had been allowed to read and learn together because we were being held back by the mainstream tutorials. There was only five of us, three girls and two guys. I don’t know if there was something in the water that year but we were crazy about the language. I partied hard at weekends with Gemma and Aisha but during the week I absorbed myself in English. Cory helped us. He steered us in the right direction when we got stuck. He gave us help and advice, making sure we used the college resources to their best. He was clever and he was also hot.
I had only had a couple of experiences with guys, three if you count my blow job in the library. Shortly after that, I went out with this one guy and after succumbing to his smooth talk, we did it in his car and then back at his house. It was OK, but I didn’t like the way he thought I was his property. He got angry if another guy looked at me. I knew pretty quickly that he wasn’t my type and I went back to Gemma and her unequivocal affection. I asked her to forgive me for straying, but she said there was nothing to forgive. She knew I was bisexual and accepted it. She was and is my closest friend. We remained lovers until I went to uni and then inevitably we found other people. Even now I’m with Laura, she is always there for me. That’s true friendship.
Anyway back to the story. Cory like I said was a bit hot. He had mousy hair, which always was kind of straggly and he had a permanent stubble as if he had missed a day’s shave. He was perfect. Masculine without being macho and good-looking without trying. The first time I saw him, I think I went a bit gooey.
One day he came and sat next to me on the sofa where I was reading by a drinks machine. I got a gorgeous whiff of his body spray and I wanted to leap on him. I didn’t obviously but I suddenly found it hard to concentrate. He asked me if I was OK and while I was more than happy, I didn’t want him to just wander off. There was an article about a ship that had run aground. I had to make something up quickly, to retain his attention.
“Yeah Cory, I’m glad you’re here. What’s the difference between floundered and foundered?” I asked. I knew full well what the difference was, but it was the best I could come up with. He looked at me quizzically and I wonder even now if I’d been rumbled.
“Foundered means sunk or stuck on the rocks. Floundered means it was just in trouble.”
“Ah OK, that makes sense now,” I said, looking into his kind green eyes.
He looked at me and smiled. His eyes roved downwards, pausing briefly on my boobs, which were squashed inside my yellow pullover and then settled on my legs. I was in tights and my shortest denim skirt. He looked me in the eyes again and apart from actually saying, ‘I want to fuck you,’ his face told me everything. I had butterflies and I think he was getting a wood on, but he was carrying a sheaf of papers, which strategically hid the vital part.
“OK Danielle. I better be seeing if I can be of any use somewhere else.”
“OK Cory. Thanks for clarifying the vocabulary.”
I looked up at him as he got to his feet. I pulled my pullover by the hem, which made my boobs more obvious, as if they had swelled under my top. He coughed awkwardly and wandered off taking with him my sweetest smile and memories of the best bit of cleavage he would see all day.
Because Cory was young, but a few years older than me and because he was my tutor I felt very naughty contemplating my teenage desires. I so wanted to feel his hands on my bum. I craved to look down on his tussled hair as she sucked my breasts. I knew it was not going to happen, but the thought that it just might…well it made me wet. I wasn’t a virgin now. I had knowledge of boys and girls and I loved to tease. When I was 16 walking to school in my uniform, I hated it when blokes whistled at me. I couldn’t help it if my bum made my skirt that bit shorter. Was it my fault that my shirt didn’t quite fit because my boobs had exploded since my Mum paid for it? Now though, being 18, I was different. I didn’t have a uniform anymore but I could dress just as teasingly - if not more so. Whereas the uniform had guidelines - sort of, at college you could wear what you liked. Well almost.
When I dressed for college on that late spring morning, with the sun bleaching my curtains, I thought solely of Cory. We had a one on one session in the morning. It was to go through the essay I had submitted. I had written about the changing styles in female magazines between 1958 and 2008. It was a bit saucy to be honest. I had dwelled a little on the sexy images in monthlies like Cosmopolitan and Vogue. I hoped he liked it. I wanted to impress him.
So there I was ready for college. Showered and sassy. I had on my skimpiest white panties and my most up-pushing bra. My dress was short, but not too short. It was decent but still enough to make the male car drivers sound their horns as I walked the half mile to college. My white knee socks were mid thigh being only five feet three, but I turned them down so they came to just above my knee. My hair was fluffy and blew gently in the breeze.
“Wow baby! You look hot!” Said Gemma in our tutor group that morning.
“Thank you! I got my essay debrief with Cor…Mr Flaherty.”
“Hmmm…you smell good too!” Said Gemma, as she nuzzled my ear at the back of the class.
“Do you think he’ll notice me?” I asked.
“Notice you! He’ll be drooling baby!” Said Gemma.
“Ha ha good!”
I gave Gemma a kiss on the cheek and I went to see Cory in his little office at the far end of college. I gave myself a last minute check in the girls’ room, to make sure my socks were exactly level and to make sure I had just the right amount of boobabge on show. I knocked on his door and waited. There was the gentle ‘come in’ from his smooth Irish voice and I turned the handle.
“Good morning Danielle! I was…”
He looked at my legs as he spoke and his voice just tailed off as he gradually measured me with his eyes.
“Morning Sir.