My freshman year of college, I worked in the history department office. The usual grunt office work. Only a few weeks into the semester, there was a reorganization of departments. After the dust settled our department office was increased by one professor. He was forced to move his office to our floor of the building.
Delivering mail one day, I saw that his office door was open. Cool! I can get rid of that huge stack of his mail. No one had seen him yet, and he had moved in two weeks ago! Full of curiosity, I hustled back to the office to snag his mail. Grabbing it up, I flew right back to his office, praying the whole way he would be in. The whole department had heard of his rants and fits for having to move his office, and we had read his letter, on the sly, to the department head. Any one who could string words together like that, I was interested in meeting.
Rounding the corner, I saw that the office door was still open! Maybe he would be in this time. Still empty. Oh well, I will just drop his mail on his desk. Threading my way between the stacks of books, boxes, files, and general debris, I made my way to his desk. Dropping the mail on his overflowing desk, I turned to go, knocking over a pile of books. Shit! Kneeling quickly to stack them back up before he came back in. On my hands and knees trying to fish several books that were hiding under a chair, I heard a throat clear behind me! Desperate to get out of the compromising position quickly, I knocked over yet another stack of books! Turning around I saw the elusive prof. Black curly hair, dark liquid brown eyes, wide smile that reached his eyes, and oh yeah, a really nice bulge in his jeans. Just that quick I was in lust. Still embarrassed that I was making his office an even bigger mess, but oh my!
"Who's daughter are you?"
"Huh?" (I think quickly on my feet, don't I?)
"Your dad works in the department, which one is he?"
"Umm, no I am a student worker."
"How old are you?"
"18" (When I was 18, you couldn't tell by looking at me. On a good day, I could maybe pass for 15, maybe. If the room was dim, and you were drunk, had lost your glasses, and were horny and just didn't care.)
"No, really who is your dad?"
Pointing to my chest, I said very clearly, "18, student, father is I don't know where. Look me up, the name is Hon-ko, Biki, you will find me under freshman." Now THAT was a very true statement!
Finally believing that I was a student we chatted about nothing much, and then I needed to run to class.
Over several weeks the flirting increased in both the amount and the intensity. I had 'known' a few men, oh so much better than the boys I usually dated. Then a day came that I was really unhappy, and was not interested in flirting. Was working on autopilot that day, and truly wasn't there. He stopped me with a hand on my arm. The first time he touched me was in concern. Tried to get me to talk to him. I shut him down, no way was I going back to the office crying. He badgered me into letting him take me to supper. I was just planning on blowing him off, and not showing up, I needed to be alone with my despair. Getting out of class, there he was. He knew I was not going to show, and he was concerned!
On the drive to the diner, he tried to pry out of me what was bothering me. I couldn't tell you later anything about that meal, I was lost deep within myself. The next thing I noticed was he was holding the car door open, and wanted me to get out. Out? When had I gotten in? We were at his apartment, he led me in and shut the door. As soon as the door closed he pulled me into a hug, and the dam broke open and days of tears flowed out. He just listened and held me. After I ran out of tears, he started talking, trying to help me deal with what was bothering me. (evil mother) Hours later feeling so much better, he dropped me off at my dorm.
That night changed our relationship. Before what we talked about was mostly superficial, with large doses of sexual tension. Now, our conversations ranged near and far, topics big and small. We would raise our voices, wave our hands around, it was a meeting of the minds. We continued having dinner once a week at the diner, talking until we were hoarse. And then, one week, he moved the weekly dinner to Friday. I shook off a date, and met him for dinner. For the first time we went to a restaurant, one with table cloths! During the dinner I noticed an underlying nervousness in him. We couldn't linger for hours at a restaurant like the diner, and I was sorry our evening was going to come to an early end. Very off handedly, he asked me back to his apartment, which I had not been back to since that one night. Not wanting the evening to end so early I agreed.
He was so nervous that when he made himself a Jack Daniels and coke, he offered me one. I accepted the Jack, but on the rocks. Whatever, so he drank like a girl, oh wait! Not like this girl. After gulping down his drink, he fluttered into silence. Sitting there wondering what was going on in his head, quietly sipping my drink. He finally gathered his courage and asked, "We talk about a lot of things, but you never mention having a boyfriend."
"Don't have one."
"Haven't found anyone you want to date?"
"I date. Just no one special."
It was at that moment it dawned on me what he was trying to say. Now I had a hard and fast rule. Never date a friend. Dates are numerous and fleeting, but great friends are to precious to waste on the alter of lust. Wondering what having sex with someone I could talk to, liked talking to, I broke my cardinal rule. I stood up, put my glass down, and leaned in and kissed him.
"That was what you were getting at, right?"
His breath shuddered out of him, "Oh yeah. You are not, I mean, have you....."
"You won't be the first. Kiss me." I straddled him, the weeks of sexual tension had both of us wanting this.