His American Fling (9 page)

I looked down at his shoes, not wanting to connect with his eyes.  He was wearing black loafers, nice
Italian
black loafers.  The cost of the shoes must have been more than my semester tuition.  

“Maggie?” He sounded like he had been trying to get my attention.

“Professor?”

“You can leave now.”

“Oh, sure.” I got up and walked out into the corridor.  I looked back into the examination room and he looked up at me.  He gave me a smile.
Oh screw you Professor Adair. Screw you and your gorgeous smile.

*******************
**

Before I left for work, I arranged for eight
Americans from the dorm to be examined at 8:30 that night. I left my sitting room open for them to wait inside for Professor Adair. Most of the other American and summer students who stayed in the dorm were young and unwilling to wait around on a Friday night for a doctor.  They were all going out drinking. In fact, it was the night of the King Street Run. 

The King Street Run was a
rite of passage for many of the students who matriculated through Cambridge University.  Current tradition requires drinking one gallon (eight pints) of beer during the Run. A pint was traditionally ordered in each pub along King Street, but since King Street now has only five pubs, the last three pubs are visited twice. The gallon must be consumed without puking or peeing. The official contest is timed, but most students compete in the King Street Run unofficially and rarely time each other, except to require that the drinking be done by eleven when the pubs closed.  Those who finish are awarded bragging rights, nothing else, just bragging rights. It may seem stupid, but the British take their drinking seriously, in a frivolous way. Completing the Run is indoctrination into the strange world of the English. Upon completion you feel as if you’re not just a tourist, you’re part of Cambridge’s past and future.

I had been invited on the Run, but I hate beer. So I was going along for support and to maybe have a few drinks on the side. When I got off work I dressed for the occasion, taped a note on my door for Professor Adair to let him know the patients would be waiting in my sitting room across the hall, and joined the group of American students at St. Radegund, the smallest pub in Cambridge. It’s located on King Street near the now renovated Lion’s Yard, a small enclosed mall and parking structure.  Normally the run wouldn’t start until around nine, but two of the runners had finals in the morning and wanted as much time as possible to sleep it off.

I walked through the door of the pub at 7:00 pm and laughed as they all yelled from a corner, raising the first of their pints to me in greeting. I ordered a rum and coke, which seemed to be a lot more rum than coke. They finished the first pint, and we took off quickly down the road to the Bun Shop, the second pub on the route. I had another rum and coke while the boys drank their second pint.  We started getting louder and louder, which is almost obligatory on the King Street Run.  Someone bought me a third rum and coke at the third pub, which was a mistake. One drink, I’m humorous; two drinks, I’m loud and funny; three drinks, I’m a pole dancer.

I was feeling the alcohol and knew I’d pass out if I had another. I got up and wished them all well and started to walk back to my dorm. It was only a five minute walk, but I didn’t think I was going to make it. The whole world was wobbly and fuzzy. I got back to my dorm room at 8:30 and fell onto my bed.  I was almost asleep when I was startled by a very loud banging on my door. I went to the door and opened it. It was Professor Adair.

My rum soaked brain engaged. “Oh shit. What did I do now?”

He cocked his head and looked at me sideways.  “Miss McGee, are you drunk?”

“I hope so, otherwise I’m schizophrenic and you’re a hallucination.  What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to examine the people from the dorm. May I ask where I am supposed to go?”

I looked on the door for the sign I had left him, but it was missing. Holding my hand over my eyes, I pointed at the door across the way. He opened it and saw the eight residents having their own party. He looked back at me, nodded and then disappeared into the sitting room. I went back inside my bedroom, took off my shoes, and climbed back in bed. About an hour later I felt a hand on my shoulder trying to wake me.

I opened my eyes and noticed that he had turned on the light. “Oh, it’s you. I made the appointments for you, now what? You want to shag?”  The alcohol had apparently cleared my brain of all extraneous crap like inhibitions and I was left with my primal urges. More than anything, I wanted to jump Campbell Adair and make him beg.

He pulled his hand off of my shoulder as if I had leprosy. “I wanted to let you know that we have a problem.  Half of the people I examined from this building are sick. I’m going to need you to help me. We need to plot out their rooms and investigate possible causes.”

“You’re not serious? You want me to get up and be Watson to your Sherlock Holmes?  Prof, it’s Friday night. Please, can’t you stop being an anal retentive asshole for just one
night? I mean, come on, when you laugh or smile, you could melt any girl’s heart.”  I stood up on the bed and put my arms around his neck. “Sorry doc, I’m not doing anything tonight unless it involves you getting naked.”

He looked like he was going to pass out.  I took off my top and watched as he backed half way across the room away from me, still staring at my bare breasts. He did nothing; he was frozen in place. 

Frustrated, I collapsed back down on the bed and rolled over on my side. “Okay, run home--pretend you don’t want it. Pretend your attraction is due to sunspots or a result of artificial sweetener.  Whatever gets you through the night.  I’ll see you in the morning. Go home and whack off.”

I heard some stumbling from the middle of the room. Turning back over I saw the Prof hopping on one leg trying to get his shoes and socks off. He dropped his trousers, took off his shirt and pulled his boxers off. I yanked my panties down and kicked them off. He was so
tall; I was hoping he would fit on the bed. Scooping me up, he slipped into the bed next to me.

Within minutes, his hands had covered
every inch of my body and his mouth was close behind. I loved the smell of his hair, his soap, his body. Our mouths were open and tongues entwined. His full-fledged erection pushed up against me, making me ache for it. I think all my blood rushed to my groin, causing a congestion that only a really good orgasm could release. 

He pulled back and looked at me, “Cor, you have a gorgeous body.” His lips turned up at the corners and his eyes were limp with desire.

“So do you. Now, can we get back to the sucking and kissing?  I’m a little frustrated from all the false starts.”

Professor Adair laughed. It was a gorgeous laugh, full and heavy, just like man’s laugh should be. He rolled me over on my back and dragged his open mouth down my chest and across to my right breast, kissing, licking and flicking his tongue against my nipple, his breath warm against my cool skin. Seconds later, my nipple was in his warm, wet, mouth being sucked slow
ly and hard. Reaching down between my legs, he fingered and rubbed me until I was wet and frustrated. I stopped moving so I could concentrate on the fire that was starting to build in my groin. He continued down my body, licking and kissing and nuzzling my round abdomen, running his free hand through the hair that grew curly and reddish blonde on my mound. Spreading the folds to my sex, his head disappeared and that hot, liquid tongue of his found just the right spot to drive me crazy.  This man knew a woman’s anatomy. His tongue teased, his lips sucked, his fingers explored around and inside, my G-spot coming to life under his touch. I couldn’t stop responding, even if I wanted to, letting out a deep breath and a moan when he once again began the quick sucking and licking, hard and steady against my clit. The tingling started and I cried out. All I could do was feel this incredible wave start from his tongue and rush through my clit, my vagina, my abdomen, my breasts, and up to my scalp. I grabbed onto the sheets, screamed out and hung on until the waves of the massive orgasm passed.

Campbell
climbed up, felt between my legs and guided himself inside, stopping as if he was just savoring the feel of our bodies together.  I moved my hips and he grabbed them to stop the movement. He was still for several seconds and, when he did move, it was slow and sensual.  Eyes closed, he concentrated on the sexual, erotic feel of our dance. When the speed picked up, he opened his eyes and looked down into mine. I felt connected to him from my head to my toes. We were a single organism moving in a pleasurable dance. Slipping his hands around my back, he picked up my hips. I wrapped my right leg around him, making it easier for him to penetrate deeper. Low whispery sounds fell from his lips as he picked up the speed of his hips plowing into me. I could tell he was coming, his thrusts were shorter, but more powerful. He stopped and growled, his voice low, like the grunt of a large animal. I quickly took over and picked up the rhythm as he continued to moan and wince as his pulsating pleasure turned to discomfort.  He grabbed my hips to stop me from moving. We were quiet.  After a minute or two, he kissed my lips and then slowly pulled out of me, holding his breath the whole time.  When we disconnected he let out his breath and began to breathe again.

Laying his head on my chest, he closed his eyes. I stroked his hair and rubbed his ear in calming circular motions. Within minutes I heard the steady breathing of sleep. I stopped
petting him and let the cool night seeping in from the open windows and the warmth of his body bathe me. I soon fell asleep too.

During the night he pulled on my arm to make me climb under the covers.  I turned on my side and he spooned me, kissing the back of my head and wrapping his arm around my breasts as we fell back into our slumber. I felt safe.

I woke up to his hands brushing my breasts and his lips kissing my neck. He slipped down lower behind me and lifted my leg, penetrating me from behind, his hand playing between my legs. We made love until we both came together, his hands doing the same magic as his tongue the night before. When he pulled out, I turned around to face him. We kissed for several minutes and then Campbell pulled me so that our bodies were locked together. We took a short nap and then I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door. I looked at the clock, it was 8:39 am, but it was Saturday and it should have been my day off.

I cleared my throat and yelled, “Just a minute.”  I jumped up, put on a robe and opened the door ever so slightly so my visitor
couldn’t see inside. It was Jim Barton, one of the younger of the students who were here for a six week course. “Yes, Jim?”

“That doctor last night said that if anyone started having trouble breathing to let you know and you’d get a hold of him. Well, my roommate, David, is wheezing pretty badly.”

I heard a rustle behind me and knew that Professor Adair was on his feet getting dressed. He pulled the door open, standing just in his trousers. “What room are you in?”

Jim was obviously shocked by the Professor’s sudden appearance in just his trousers, but I figured I wasn’t 17 and had certainly earned the right to a little action. Jim motioned to the stairs. “203.”

“I’ll be up in just a minute,” Professor Adair said with some urgency.

He closed the door and grabbed a wash cloth off the sink. After washing up at the little sink, he used my toothbrush
without my permission and put on his polo top, socks and shoes. Smiling at me, he grabbed his stethoscope and said, “I’ll be back.” Then he took off for the second floor. 

My head was throbbing,
so I took some pain killers. A shower was in order so I grabbed my clothes and toiletries and made my way to the bathroom. When I returned, Professor Adair was standing in the middle of the room looking around.

“Good, I need for you to help me.  I have a list of the people who are showing similar symptoms to each other. I want you to help me plot out their location within the building. Do you know if any of the other buildings have lodgers who are sick?”

I shrugged and when I spoke, my voice was raspy, “I’m just responsible for my dorm.  They house the Americans in this building because it’s the largest dorm and there are typically more Americans here during the summer than any other nationality.” 

We spent the next ten minutes drafting a floor plan and plotting the people who were ill and assigning a number to the severity of their symptoms. It was clear that we had a problem from the map in front of us.

The people with the most severe problems had bedrooms right next to the main bathrooms which were directly above and below each other. The people who were not sick were the furthest away from the bathrooms.  We saw the pattern and immediately raced into the bathroom next door to look for something that might be responsible for respiratory problems.

“We either have a bacterial, viral, or fungal agent here.” His eyes narrowed as he focused on the problem.  Bending over, he stared down at the floor.

“Prof?  What are you looking for?” I asked.

He stood up and grinned at me.  Grabbing me around my waist, he pinned me up against the cool tiled wall, nibbling my earlobe. “I think at this point you can call me Campbell.”

I combed his hair back with my fingers. “What are you looking for, Campbell?”

“I’m looking for black mold or something that could be harboring a lot of bacteria or virus.”

I looked around, but all I saw was white tile from the early twentieth century. I saw nothing with my untrained eyes. “I don’t see any black mold. What else could harbor bacteria or viruses?”

“A pocket of sewage, organic material, even inorganic material.”

“Well, let’s go up to the second floor. Maybe it’s flowing down from up there,” I suggested.

After scouring the bathroom for almost an hour, we could see nothing on the second floor either. I still wasn’t sure what we were looking for, but Campbell was inspecting and taking samples of everything he could swab. I carried things for him and, in general, explained to the nosey Americans what he was doing. I wasn’t too worried about the Americans getting worked up; they were all leaving in the morning
, and I would have three weeks to myself until school was in session.