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  1. Taken from The ABDL MedFet Book 6, here is a little story about the power in dominance, the passion in passiveness and the patience in a patient. Part One “Hiya, Erin!” Charlotte said, putting her purse down in the nurses’ station, having arrived a bit early for her night shift - this to the surprise of her daytime counterpart, Erin. “You’re a bit early. Aren’t you?” Erin said with a smile, finishing her last bit of paperwork for the day and filing it away. “Well, yeah,” Charlotte admitted, sitting next to her. “But I wanted to hear about this hunky new guy in room 77 you were texting me about. Greg, I think you said his name was?” “Greg Townsend,” Erin confirmed, getting out his paperwork to show her. “28, white male, 5’10”, 180 lbs. He was admitted about an hour ago, brought straight from a car accident. Injuries include: bruised ribs and possibly torn stomach muscles … and yes, he’s a hunk.” Charlotte smiled, knowing how easily Erin would go weak in the knees for some of the more handsome patients left in her care. For the next week at least, Charlotte and Erin were going to be seeing very little of each other. They were also going to be seeing very little free time as they would be working 12 hours shifts each day. Normally, a third nurse split the job three ways for them. But that nurse was on vacation and with several other nurses in the wing being pulled away for quarterly training seminars that were taking place that week, Charlotte, Erin and all the others who were still there were going to be there quite a bit - the hospital saving on labor costs by not scheduling extra help for the 7th floor of St. Ignatius Hospital. Presently, Erin was covering 7am to 7pm and Charlotte was taking the other half through the night. But they would switch in a few days to allow for a little bit of human life to be shared between the two of them. Charlotte picked up Greg’s incoming paperwork and read, with wide eyes, about the accident he had survived. “Patient was struck by a female driver who was driving well above the speed limit. Patient had no time to react and when she hit his front bumper, his car went up in the air and landed on its side. His seatbelt kept him strapped to his seat, but it wretched him all over the place. And this was how his ribs became bruise as well as how his stomach muscles may have become possibly torn. Degree of the diastasis of the recti muscles to be determined.” “How did he survive this crash? His HPI reads like a horror movie,” Charlotte exclaimed, continuing to read the detailed a gruesome account. “And is the other driver alright?” “It’s a miracle he’s alive,” Erin said with sincerity. “The other driver is in much worse shape, but she was admitted to the ER at the same time he was brought in. I haven’t heard about her condition since. But I was told she was on her cell phone when the crash happened.” Charlotte scoffed. Oh, did she loathe things like that - accidents caused by the preventable carelessness of others. As a no-nonsense kind of person, she was thusly a no-nonsense kind of nurse. But it was Erin who kept her grounded to remember the human element in their work. Erin, on the other hand, was the overly-caring type. She was also a bit of a worrier. But she had learned from Charlotte to double-check herself while not second-guessing herself. Together, they balanced each other out, making a more complete pairing. Charlotte kept a close eye on Greg that first night, as she would have done for any newly-admitted patient. But despite his vital checks every hour, it wasn’t until the 4am check that he finally stirred awake. “Hello?” Greg said with a groggy voice, the lights in room 77 being kept very dim and only showing Charlotte as a silhouette until she walked up to his bedside. “I assume I’m not dead.” “You would assume correctly,” Charlotte said, Greg seeing her last name on her name tag. “Webb?” he asked, still quite groggy - Charlotte checking all three bags of IV fluid that were hooked up to quickly be changed out for him … an indication that his injuries, and therefore his pain, was severe. “I don’t suppose your first name is …” “…It is,” Charlotte said with a knowing grin, having been asked that same question more times than she could recall. “Charlotte.” “Charlotte Webb,” Greg said with a groggy smile. “My mother named me after the character,” she admitted, recording information on the laptop on her rolling cart. “Well, don’t feel too bad. My father named me after his favorite football player,” Greg said, grimacing a little. “I don’t suppose you could crank up the pain killers.” “Not without permission. But doctors will be in to see you in the morning,” Charlotte answered. “On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 is extreme and 1 is mild or non-existent, what is your current pain?” “I’ve always thought some of the questions asked of hospital patients were ludicrous. That one right there is my favorite,” Greg said with a slight laugh, then cutting himself off from all further laughter as it only worsened the pain he was feeling. “Put down … 7. But you can write the word excruciating right after that.” “Most people just tell me 10,” Charlotte said, recording his answer. “Most people embellish. They will say whatever they think will get them more drugs,” he replied. “The real pain is mental, not physical.” “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked, his first impression showing him to be more than just a hunky-looking guy. “Well, tomorrow morning, doctors will come in here and tell me that I need to rest up while I am hospitalized and then they put all sorts of sleeping medication in me. And I will, in fact, go to sleep,” Greg said. “But then I will constantly be woken up for a list of various reasons, though I’m supposed to be resting.” Charlotte smiled, laughing at his response. How true it was. “How long have I been here?” he asked. “8 hours,” Charlotte said, still smiling at him. “It’s about 4am.” There certainly was a little something more to him than his handsome jaw line and strong build. Rarely did Charlotte ever take to her patients, but Greg was different. She just wasn’t sure how yet. “The girl who ran into me … is she okay?” he asked, a genuine sense of worry in his voice. He obviously knew how bad the accident had been. “She was admitted to the ER the same time you were brought here,” Charlotte answered honestly. “I don’t know anything more about her.” Greg closed his eyes, a bit of concern coming over him. “How long have I had this IV in my arm?” he asked, seeing his right forearm connected to the bags hanging behind him. “9 hours,” Charlotte replied, finishing her current check on him. “IV was first started for you when you were placed in the ambulance to be brought here.” “Before you leave, I’ve got to tell you something,” he said, stopping Charlotte in her tracks as she turned back to listen to him. “I have a weak stomach. I’m serious about that. I’m not joking about … whatever damage my stomach has at the moment. When this IV is taken out of my arm, I will begin to throw up repeatedly.” “Okay,” Charlotte said, not seeing his statement as being alarming. “I apologize in advance if it’s you who has to clean up after me,” he said with honesty. “It’s not gonna be fun for either of us.” “That’s my job. Now, get some rest,” she said, rolling her cart over to the door but then turning back one more time to say something to him. “I’ll be back in two hours to wake you up again.” Greg smiled, then quickly fell asleep. --------------- The next morning at 7:15am, Erin rushed in for her shift. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Erin apologized, setting her stuff down in the nurses’ station. “Traffic was a nightmare.” “It’s alright. Catch your breath, Sweetie,” Charlotte said, taking a seat next to her. “You were right about our hunky boy in room 77. I can tell already that his physical movements will be scarce for a while. But he has a sense of humor about the situation. Here, come with me for a minute. I want to show you something about him.” They walked down the hallway to his room, cracking the door open and peeking in at him. “He has been laying in the exact same position all night, flat on his back with his arms at his side,” Charlotte said. “Most patients do that, but he is doing it naturally. This position of sleep can lead to back pain, but he is smart enough to know, even when sleeping, that a crick in the back is nothing compared to what else he’s dealing with right now.” “Right,” Erin said, not understanding the point she was getting at. “Flat on the back is known as the soldier position,” Charlotte said, leading Erin back to the nurses’ station. “People who regularly sleep in that position have high expectations but also tend to instinctively protect. That’s why it’s call the soldier position. A soldier would sleep like that so he could get up quickly for battle or whatever, if needed.” Erin still wasn’t sure what point Charlotte was making, but throughout the day shift, she would learn a lot about Greg. And her softer nature would begin to rise to her surfaces, like always. But she would wait until he awoke that morning before bothering him again. Sure enough, he would stir as soon as the sun rose high enough to shine in through the Venetian blinds of room 77. “Good morning, Mr. Townsend. My name is Erin,” Erin said, rolling her cart into his room for an 8am check. Greg looked at her name tag, then smiled. “Your name is Erin Runner,” Greg said, the timbre in his voice almost making her knees wobble. “So, there’s Charlotte Webb at night and Erin Runner during the day.” “For now, at least. She and I will switch shifts in a few days,” Erin said, checking the drip bags and beginning to record the information. “Before you ask, just right down my pain as a 6 … with a side note of slowly getting better,” Greg said, trying to sit up but thinking better of the position shift when he felt pain from the movement. “Oh, no. Not yet,” Erin said, easing him back into a laying position. “Soon enough, though.” “I hear there are doctors coming to visit me some time this morning?” he asked, returning to his relax on the mattress. “Yes. They should be here by now. But they’re not always punctual,” Erin stated, then cryptically interrogating him. “Charlotte told me to look into the condition of the lady who hit you. Though, I can’t give you any details, I can tell you that she made it. She’s alive.” Greg sighed softly, closing his eyes - as if a sense of relief had overtaken him. Getting a bit bolder, she walked up alongside him. “Is there anyone you’d like me contact for you? Perhaps parents or relatives … or a girlfriend?” Erin asked with a sweet tone. “Well, you’re gonna have some trouble, there,” he replied with a smile. “Both of my parents passed away. My brother lives in New Mexico. And, if I have a girlfriend, it’s news to me.” Erin shared a smile with him, then going back to her paperwork at the rolling cart. “You have a very pleasant way about you, Erin Runner,” Greg said with a deep timbre that made her shudder and then smile back at him sweetly with raised shoulders of shyness. “Not everybody finds value in simply being nice. That’s a quality I hope you never lose.” “Greg Townsend?” a doctor said, walking into his room. “That would be me … or what’s left of me,” Greg said with a jocular tone, the doctor smiling and shaking hands with him. “As it turns out, you’ll be happy to know there’s more left of you than what we believed when you were admitted last night,” the doctor said. “We no longer believe you to have any muscular diastasis.” “And once I get my hands on a medical dictionary for translation, I’m sure that’s gonna mean a whole lot more to me than at the moment,” Greg said, the doctor laughing at the response. “You have no torn muscles anywhere,” the doctor restated, putting it into layman’s terms. “But you are more than likely in a great deal of pain. Essentially, you have internal bruising. And we are going to monitor you for a few days to make sure that everything inside you is working properly. I’d really like to see you up and walking around in a day’s time. That may not be possible, but here’s some incentive: until you can stand up and walk, you will be peeing in a bottle and relieving yourself in a bed pan. And you’ll return to solid food at dinner today.” “Well, Doc. You have given me all the incentive you’ll need to,” Greg said with a small laugh - anything more being too painful. “My time and my healing are for sale, but my dignity is not. I will be up on my feet before this day is over.” “That’s what I like to hear,” the doctor replied. Erin stood there, listening to Greg and that doctor speak - then feeling sympathy for Greg as the doctor had him sit up. She could tell by the look on his face that he was in tremendous pain. Then she thought about how concerned he was for the well-being of the cellphone-using lady who slammed into him and almost killed him. Charlotte was right about him. There was more than met the eye and it truly shocked Erin that he didn’t have a girlfriend. How was that even possible? He seemed like such a great guy, of what she knew of him. For this reason, she exercised caution in pursuing her curiosities about him. But seeing the doctor pushing in on Greg’s stomach and testing Greg’s limits of pain, Erin grew a soft spot in her heart for him. So, by the time the doctor stopped torturing him and left the room, she was already in a mode of I’m gonna take good care of you now. And with her added traits of worry, she slipped right into the same groove as always, wanting nothing but to make him become pain-free. Before easing Greg back down onto the mattress, Erin massaged the center point on his right shoulder blade while placing a cool right hand on his abdomen. Reaching under his hospital gown to touch his abdomen, she caught a glorious quick view of his endowment. And Wow! was all she could think of it. Trying to show no reaction to what she caught a glimpse of, Erin finally eased him down on the mattress. Then she massaged the very middle of his right foot, at a specific point which lessened the pain in his stomach area and his diaphragm. She wandered if it would be rude of her to tell him that she was also single and available but thought better of saying anything. “Breathe,” she said very quietly - almost in a whisper. “I am,” Greg said softly. Shyly, she smiled - a bit too embarrassed to reveal she was telling herself to breathe, not him. And she was even more too embarrassed to say why she was flustered to the point of needing to remind herself to breathe. His endowment! Oh, my. It would be a momentary vision that would remain in her mind’s eye for quite some time to come. And the massages worked, his pain lessening to a tolerable degree. Greg closed his eyes and fell asleep fairly quickly. But she would remain there by his side for a short while longer, studying the expressions on his face and wondering if he was dreaming. Doing her rounds, she finally had to admit to herself that she was smitten over him. Unlike so many of the other patients who were understandably miserable, Greg was not - though he had just as much right to be. Aside from the fact that he was a good-looking guy who obviously found importance in his appearance, when not in a hospital bed, he also seemed to have a positive-outlook on a negative situation. His heart was in a good place and his head was in a good place, despite where he was and why he was there. There were no red flags she could see. Greg went in and out of sleep all that afternoon. Erin kept checking on him constantly. When not checking on him or the other patients, she busied herself with text message after text message to Charlotte who was probably sleeping - telling her about how intriguing he was and also how well hung he was. By the time the dinner hour arrived, Greg was ready for some sort of sustenance and Erin was ready to dig a bit deeper into who he was - readying herself to open up to him - should all red flags remain at bay. “Be honest with me, Erin,” Greg said, leaning the bed upward to cheat so he wouldn’t have to hold himself up while eating. “Does that doctor really consider broth and Jello to be solid food?” Erin laughed aloud while tucking a napkin into the front of his hospital gown collar. His outlook certainly was a refreshing one for her to hear. He wasn’t really complaining like the other patients - instead, making light of that which needed it. “You’re completely overlooking the fact that he also thinks it’s actual food!” Erin added, sliding his dinner table over the bed and inadvertently trapping his arms underneath it. “Well, now it feels like a torturous tool used in interrogations,” Greg said with a monotone quality in his voice that broke Erin into hysterical laughter. In all honesty, Greg was happy to be able to put anything in his stomach, no matter how unappetizing the food may have seemed. “Where were you on the night of …?” Greg asked with a mocking interrogation tone until Erin cut him off by slipping a spoonful of broth into his mouth and holding the spoon there as he swallowed. “Oh, I’ve got better questions than that when I interrogate someone,” Erin said with a devilish grin and a playful tone, thoroughly enjoying the rapport they were building with each other. “Okay,” Greg, opening his mouth wide for the next spoonful. “How do you not have a girlfriend?” Erin asked, putting another spoonful of broth in his mouth and then using the tip of the spoon to scoop up the minor dribble on his lower lip - then feeding that to him as well. “And I want a real answer or I’ll break out the rice pudding next.” “I have no idea,” he responded after swallowing, his tone showing his honesty. “I guess I just haven’t met the right one yet.” “Have you ever been married?” Erin asked, feeding him another spoonful of broth, then switching over to the Jello. “Nope. Engaged, yes. But never married,” he admitted. “And why didn’t you get married?” she inquired, dipping the spoon into the red Jello and feeding him the first heaping spoonful of it. “Because engagement showed us exactly what engagement was supposed to show us,” he answered honestly again. “And what’s that?” she asked, really getting into this conversation. “That we weren’t meant to be married to each other,” he answered, trying not to laugh as laughter would have been painful for him just then. “How did you get into nursing?” Erin played very coy, returning to feeding him the broth and taking her time in deciding if she was going to tell him anything about herself. But the more intriguing thought in her mind was about what would be fun to actually tell him. She could be cryptic. She was in control and she could clearly see why Charlotte always leaned in the direction of dominating men. There was very satisfying fun in it. But Charlotte’s problem had always been about respecting boundaries. And she would quickly go from appearing as dominant to becoming domineering. Erin had no intention of disregarding her submissive nature. Instead, she would attempt a bit of topping from the bottom. But Greg’s reaction to this was her current primary concern. “I’ve always liked reading books about women who changed the world in some way and left a mark in their fields of work, like Florence Nightingale,” she said with a lowered tone, saucy to say the least as she fed him yet another spoonful of the broth. “She was a pioneer in the nursing field in the late 19th century. Her dedication to patient care got her nicknamed The Lady with the Lamp because she made rounds at night …… and this had never been done before.” Greg swallowed the broth and immediately received another helping of it. She was certainly taking charge of the situation … and of the talk. “Her example of care would forever change the way hospitals treated patients. Most consider her to be the founder of modern nursing,” Erin continued, leaning the bowl towards her as she scooped up more of the broth and fed it to him - Greg not resisting her at all. It seemed he suddenly had a bit of intrigue in her too … or so she was being led to believe. Finishing the last few spoonfuls of broth, she returned to the red Jello, only making him eat half of it. “That’s a really wonderful role model to have,” he said with a smile and authentic tone. “And nursing is noble work.” “It can also be messy work,” Erin laughed, picking up his dinner tray. “What you ate won’t take too long to digest right through you. So, when you get the slightest indication that you need to complete the digestion, please buzz me right away. Do you feel strong enough to take the painful trip to the toilet or do you want to use a bed pan?” “I’ll take the trip to the toilet,” he said with certainty, Erin smiling at the fearful look that momentarily crossed over his irises. --------------- At 7pm, Charlotte arrived for her shift, quite promptly after having awakened and read the string of texts she had been sent. Erin went right into talking to her about Greg, explaining how he was bruised internally but not damaged otherwise. And in the interest of time, she explained he had eaten his first meal at dinner. Charlotte knew what that meant and they both prepared for his forthcoming distress call. A few minutes later, his buzzer sounded and they moved quickly to his room, Erin explaining how flirting had become a common tone with him … and how he was playful about it all. “Okay, Mr. Townsend,” Charlotte said, entering his room and raising his bed to a sitting position as Erin helped him swing his over the side of the bed. “Just remember to keep breathing. It’ll be okay.” “Do most people make it to the toilet in time when they do this?” Greg asked, pain encouraging him to lean over and panic being evident in his tone. “Just be honest with me.” “It may seem like a surprise to you at the moment, but the answer is yes. Most everyone makes it to the toilet the first time,” Charlotte said with calmness, she and Erin helping him stand to his feet. “What may seem like urgency to you is actually anything but that.” “It doesn’t seem possible,” Greg said, going dizzy from being on his feet for the first time in 24 hours. “When you get there, you’ll be amazed how nothing will happen at first,” Erin said calmly, her voice softening in an attempt to ease his nerves. “It will be when you relax that everything begins.” He clung to both of them as they guided his sliding steps in the direction of the bathroom. “Thank goodness they put the bathroom on the other end of the room,” Greg said with jocular nature, seeing how far he still had to walk and wondering why his backside hadn’t let loose yet - for how urgent the need to release felt just then. “A few more steps. That’s it,” Erin said softly, encouraging him with a nurturing tone - Greg beginning to sweat from the whole ordeal. Well, he was either sweating or had just acquired a fever. He suddenly couldn’t tell. And with a dizziness to him that just wouldn’t quit, he likely wouldn’t find out until after all operations had finished. “Okay, just take your time and sit calmly,” Charlotte said as they got to the bathroom, Greg indeed making it to the toilet and sitting - then suddenly waiting for what he expected to have been immediate. “Would you like privacy?” Erin asked quietly. “No. It’s okay,” Greg said with grimace. “There’s no performance anxiety. There’s just currently a strange pad lock on the backdoor.” Charlotte and Erin joined him in a laugh. “A lot of people start to cry and fuss when they get to the toilet the first time,” Charlotte said, chuckling a little at the thought. “I guess I should laugh about that. But I sometimes have to walk out of the room to prevent them from seeing me smiling at their dilemma.” “Well, if you think about it, it’s a grown adult who suddenly can’t act like an adult … for understandable reasons, but still … I can see why that would strike anyone as funny,” Greg said, then freezing in his sitting position on the toilet. “You wanna hear something more funny, stick around a few more seconds. Okay … here it comes.” Greg found the relief his body ached for, never once blushing with embarrassment as that would have taken too much energy to do. But with the evacuation complete, he was much more relaxed - despite the fact that it was Erin who tended to the toilet paper conclusion for him. Then he was helped to his feet, carefully guided back to his bed. “So,” Greg said with a breathy whisper, sitting down on the side of his bed and swinging his legs up onto it before leaning back and sighing - then looking at Erin. “Where do you wanna go on our second date?” Charlotte laughed a bit harder, changing out his drip bags and giving him some medication to drift him off to sleep. --------------- At 2am, as Charlotte made her rounds for patient checks, he awoke. “You’re one of the lightest sleepers I’ve ever met,” Charlotte said quietly, recording his information and walking up alongside his bed. “Well, I have a tendency to talk in my sleep. I didn’t want give away any secrets if we suddenly struck up a conversation,” Greg said with a small laugh, his condition already having shown real improvement. “So, why did you become a nurse?” “The pay,” Charlotte stated frankly, then laughing at her bluntness. “But I’m also a bit of a sadist.” “Really? Well, giving needle shots might satisfy that craving for you, I guess,” Greg said with a grin. “Nursing hardly seems like a career for sadistic purposes, though.” “Well, it depends on how you look at it. Maybe even more than sadism is how I enjoy being needed by my patients,” Charlotte said, checking his drip bags. “That certainly is different than sadism,” he replied. “More maternal, in instinct than anything.” “Not really,” Charlotte said. “In truth, there’s not a maternal bone in my body. But the control factor is quite satisfying.” “I know what you mean, there. Every relationship I’ve been in always put me in a mindset where I thoroughly enjoyed melting her senses … babying her insides, so to speak,” Greg admitted. “So you play Daddy with you girlfriends?” she asked, raising her eyebrows with surprise. “Who’s playing?” Greg said with a devilish grin. “Get some sleep, Mr. Townsend,” Charlotte said, chuckling to herself as she left his room. --------------- At 7am, Erin arrived with as much promptness as Charlotte had the evening prior. And when Charlotte updated him about her talk with Greg, Erin’s eyes grew big and wide - her heart beginning to beat faster. “I don’t suppose that what he said means what I want it to mean,” Erin stated grimly but still with excitement. “Well there’s one way to find out. And I’ll even help you, to start,” Charlotte said matter-of-factly - Erin looking at her with confusion as to what she meant. “Remember that episode of Grey’s Anatomy when the nurses decide to see who was the more hardcore nurse among them?” “Do you mean the one when they wore diapers and took no breaks?” Erin asked, not recognizing the importance of the elephant-in-the-room suggestion Charlotte was making. “Yeah. I have an idea I wanna run past you,” Charlotte said, smiling at how Erin still hadn’t pieced it together yet. “I’ll stick around to help you bathe him in bed this morning. But there’s a little more I wanna do as well. And I know you’re really gonna enjoy it.” Continue on to Part Two
  2. Taken from the book: Tame & Wild (ABDL BedTime Stories), here is a story about the completion of want as a college schoolgirl goes straight to the head of her class. ---------------------------- How to Write a Love Letter - Katie finished writing the tenth sentence on the tiny chalkboard on the wall. She set the chalk back on the ledge and slapped her hands together twice, clapping the residue from her fingertips as she stepped back to look at her work. She smiled warmly, but with a sly upward turn to the corners of her mouth. Everything had worked out exactly as she wanted it to. And she stood in the middle of her professor’s office – exactly where she wanted to be. Her professor was an extremely attractive guy, with a clean-shaven, well-kept look. He was the right mixture of charm and success. The laws of attraction took hold and beginning on the second day of classes, she always sat in the front row, center seat – dressed head to toe as the schoolgirl dream she hoped that passed through his mind at night. In reality, practically every female student wanted him in a way that she only whispered to her pillow at night. Katie was one of many admirers, but at present, she was the only one standing in his office. And before she tucked her tail between her legs from rejection, she would have her turn to woo the sexy writing teacher with her prose. The advanced composition class he taught met three times a week – Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 1:10 – 2:30 pm. And it was her final class each of those days. She was called to his office on this particular Friday afternoon for a simple infraction of repeated tardiness – or so he said. Oh my, how she enjoyed being late. Her tardiness was deliberate, in order to get his attention. She would average being ten minutes late, so her entrance would stop him from teaching and make him watch her as she took graceful steps to her seat. Each day, she would add a new little touch to her schoolgirl look. From that perfect make-up to those braided pigtails to the right color of checkered skirt (yanked just a bit higher each try) to the earrings to the partially unbutton dress shirt, her schoolgirl outfit was primed to take her straight to head of his class. Today’s touches included white stocking and a pink checkered skirt, a last minute purchase that morning. Standing in his office, Katie folded her hands behind her back, perusing the books on the shelves and trying not to think of him too much before he got there. The weekly assignment was always to submit a paper to him after each Friday’s class, demonstrating some of the writing techniques they had discussed in class that week. In this particular week, she had submitted her paper to him after the Wednesday calls, hoping it would produce the meet she wanted. She took the opportunity to use what she learned in writing him a letter – straight from the heart. And she held nothing back. This was her first semester in college and as a new freshman, she was becoming engrossed in the freedoms she had never known before now. Dorm life was eye-opening and so were the weekend parties. But Katie always walked a straight line when it came to class work. She took everything seriously and pursued what she wanted with a passion. That’s why the day she first walked into his class, she fell seriously in love with him. And that’s why she did all that she needed to in order to wind up in his office today. She sat down in the cushioned chair behind his desk, taking a moment to sit crossed-legged before parting her thighs and stretching her legs out to rest her ankles on the edge of the desk. This meeting wasn’t about academics, but rather the completion of an urge she simply couldn’t control anymore and didn’t want to. And if the lust in her heart was anything like what he could feel for her, then all the competition she went through to get here would’ve been well worth the effort. All she needed to do was invest in the wiles which fueled her passion to begin with. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, leaving just enough of a glimpse of her cleavage and the lacey edges of her white bra to make him want to see more. Feeling the backside of her legs, she checked to make certain she hadn’t missed any hairs. In her purse, she had every possible thing needed for every possible direction her time with him may have gone. She pealed her pink skirt up, pulling out the waistband of her white cotton panties, to make certain of her smoothness all over. Her tiny fingertips reached inside her panties and crossed over a peach she had taken quite some time. Heaving her chest and arching her lower back, she traced the outer lips of her labia, teasing her waking arousal before concentrating on her hood. She leaned her head back against the cushion chair as she closed her eyes and let out the first many small whimpers of enjoyment. Yeah, it was a lot of work being a girl, but it was worth it all. She was a girl and he was a guy she liked. Her imagination ran wild. And she saw herself as his lover, his soul mate, his wife … even his BabyGirl (but that would be a revelation of the future, not of the moment.) And they way that she saw it, there was only one thing that stood between the present and the life to follow … she simply needed to tell him how she felt. Recognizing that she could be crushed in a single instant with a single breath of air, she knew that the first impression needed to be lasting. And as the office door opened, she leaped up onto his desk, sitting up and stretching her legs out. It was the fantasy she dreamed and the fantasy she had merely to begin making the rest of her life. The power needed was in her hands and in her heart. Every little advancement in life or good fortune Katie had found came from a bit of hard work and determination –made harder, from time to time, by the natural competition she often encountered from other girls. She accepted that life would always make her work harder than others to get those things which many rarely had to lift a finger to acquire. But she had long since gotten over the hurt of that. Instead, she channeled that hurt into determination. That’s why she basked in the victory she had all ready won by being in her professor’s office. And sitting on the top of his desk as he entered the room, she was ready to let her wiles do the talking. She would not feel guilty for having won the competitions of life nor would she feel bad for what she had to do to get where she was now. Her professor shut the door behind him and stopped dead in his tracks, seeing her sprawled out on his desk with crossed legs, a heaving chest and a twinkle in her eye which showed the lust in her thoughts. “We need to talk, Katie,
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