4 comments/ 24597 views/ 8 favorites Forget-Me-Not Dahlia By: StellaDevoted An uncomplicated, but compelling man stared at Dahlia. He's put aside his principles, rational behaviour and his plentiful supply of commonsense. They were sweep away the first time she rode past him in the park. He's a little too old to have fallen in love for the first time, but that's exactly what's happened. He can't take his eyes off her. George has seen Dahlia many times whirl past on her bicycle, her dress clutching at her thighs. His strolls had been a once weekly affair, which grew into a daily jaunt. Why this young woman was so enthralling to him, he didn't know, but sure enough he'd anticipate the smile of her rose coloured lips. The smile that transformed her into an alluring subject with unembellished hair. These fleeting glimpses of Dahlia were about to be interrupted. The park they both frequented was woven with paths. Walking along them would reveal a plethora of flowers, and a surround of trees squeezing at an open sky. Just this sight meets the eyes of the pair as they progress through the park to opposite ends. Great anticipation swells in George's stomach as the moment they cross paths draws nearer. Dahlia rides on unaware of the impact she has. She swings around another green corner towards her favourite part of her ride; an old cobbled together bridge with a sheath of lichen, and its wriggling brook beneath. Oh fuck! Were Dahlia's last thoughts before she veered off down the bank towards the brook. Bruised or wet? She decided on bruised. Probably less embarrassing, she thinks. She leans sideways to fall onto Daffodils. Cutting dark sappy cracks in their stalks, and squeezing bright yellow from their trumpet shaped corona, she falls. Crushing petals to ground. George straightens to realise he may have inadvertently injured his love. He abandons his hold on the freshly picked flower, and runs to her. He can see her sprawled out in a patch of Daffodils. He slides to her side, kicking lose rocks aside. His eyes become shackled to her frame, wandering over her, reaching the edge of her thin cotton dress hoicked up on her thigh. He can almost see to the top of her pale olive leg and the slightest line of white cotton knickers. He can see where fine velvety hair starts in the middle of her thigh. Nobody was supposed to see this far, he gratefully mused. I need to touch her to help, George decides. He has to touch her. He starts moving his hand to her waist so he can gently awaken her, as if she were merely asleep. He's slowly losing his sense of decency as his hand stokes across her stomach feeling it jump under his touch. He's worried, but his tantalizing proximity to her is too much to swallow down. Curling his hand around her waist he can feel her shape just beneath a thin cotton layer. Wrought with effort to control himself, and yet being completely unable leaves him shaking with thrill and trepidation. Down here it's secluded; even if someone walked past they wouldn't see, not that there's anyone around this early. George leans down to check her breathing. Heat from her skin lifts her scent. Distinguishing it clearly through the mingling scents of the flowers, he draws in a deep breath of her sweet smelling lotions tangled with feminine sweat. Warm moist breath spreads on his cheek. Unexpectedly she lets out a short moan that ascends and fills his ear. He turns his head to look at her, realising soon she'll open her eyes. He wants to be what she sees. Kissing the crest of her lips, he moves his hands down to her thigh. In her dreamy state she softy pushes her lips into his. Her hands move to touch him. Tucking them beneath his suit coat, and stroking his cotton covered chest. Her eyes snap open awakening her thoughts; her mind suddenly recapturing the accident. Feeling her soft touch become a harsh shove, he collapses backwards with a dejected look upon his face. Appalled, Dahlia jumps up and marches to her bicycle dragging it from a nearby shrub. "HOW COULD YOU?! I could have been… WHILE I'M INJURED! What were you… YOU BASTARD! I CAN'T BELIEVE… I ought to…" Dahlia was seething with anger at the stupefied man on the floor. Her outrage forbid her from coming up with a suitable lengthy verbal tongue-lashing, he so clearly needed. He's stunned. He's not yet fully aware of what he's just done, but by her tone it sounds pretty bad. Where had his principles gone? And still all he was thinking about, throughout her justified yelling, was how she responded to his touch. Dahlia couldn't imagine why he'd taken advantage of her in this way. And yet looking at his hurt face she felt… guilty! Guilty for shouting at him. Why do I feel guilty? Yes he came to my rescue but then he… she thought, pushing the guilt to the back of her mind determined to concentrate on the anger. She was unable to cope with the rushes of emotion any longer. She mounted her bicycle and left him behind, not however before letting out a few more indignant half sentences. Cycling briskly off leaves Dahlia feeling faint. There's a sharp pain in her leg as she strains to push down the pedals. The nature of the encounter has stirred up misguided romantic thoughts in her mind. She never had a stranger kiss her before so softly. Gently. Eagerly. She rode on uneasy about the nascent fantasies in her head, the anger in her heart, and the warm tingle in her stomach. That's great! Some Samaritan you turned out to be, was George's final tormenting thought. Coming to his senses he scrambled after her, only to glimpse her disappearing. His hands brushed though his short brown hair in exasperation. What was he to do now? **************** A daisy in the lapel? Dahlia thought, as she looked upon this despicable gentleman who had stepped from nowhere. He now stood before her, blocking her path. She'd chanced going back to the park a week later; she sorely missed her excursions. But life, she thought, just wouldn't relent and give her back this fragment of daily pleasure. Somehow she knew deep down that he'd be there. What had she come for? An explanation? Or to confirm that he was as attractive as she remembered. She is now extremely uncomfortable being under his intense inspection. Dahlia did not stare back in fact she avoided it. Unfortunately there were always moments when their eyes seemed to connect, even if it was only by a dotted line. She shifted her field of vision so her peripherals did not include him. He's out of sight, but still in my mind, she reluctantly observed. Dahlia went to push her bicycle past him, without a word, but a couple of happy sideways steps by the maligned gentleman brought him back into view. She realised that he had no intention of letting her go easily. She could see him clearly now in his brown tweed suit jacket and white shirt, which declared his age to be at least late 30's. Shabby jeans, that appeared to have seen a lot of dirt recently, jarred with the jacket. He wore it all however, with a strange enthusiastic energy, unfathomably messy hair, a seductive smile, and of course that unaccountable flower. "Are you all right?" His eyes resting on a large purple bruise he could see appearing from the bottom line of her dress. "You mean after being fondled by a stranger" She snapped. He smiled at this; he liked her spirited retort. He knew it would make it all the more gratifying when finally she submitted to him. He'd decided to pursue her intently and from a close proximity this time. What was the point in going back? "From the moment I saw you, I knew I should like to get to know you. You'll let me, won't you?" She felt there was more implied in his request than just friendly conversation. He was talking like nothing untoward had taken place just a short week ago. She couldn't muster the energy to knock the dumbfounded expression from her face. "Perhaps I could say that my name was George and you might reply that your name is..." Said the gentleman now known to Dahlia as George. "You don't know me". She ignored his introduction and went to move past him. "This is obvious, but I would so much like to". "Well you won't!… Goodbye" "Please! A moment more" Was his much to emotional and untempered response to her rejection. Madness! She thought we have only just met, what is he thinking. But pity rolled from her eyes and onto his rough face. He looked drawn with this different expression of desperation. The confidence of his first words eroded away. She rushed past him brushing the arm of his tweed jacket. The lightest of touches caught the top of her arm. Her head and middle swept round, only to meet the heated stare of a stranger's desire. But still she moved forwards. An unchangeable will moved her on, sliding George's hand the length of her arm. His hand stroking her shivering skin. The look that was there, it said not to leave him. It screamed from his eyes almost audible, she could hear it in his head as she stared through his eyes. Their fingers met, and before a moments thought she had let her fingers arch upwards to catch his. In a second it looked like lovers being torn apart, not strangers parting. She finally turned her head, and a sharp stuttered intake of breath was all she could do to compose herself as she hurried away. She languished in the feeling of being wanted longer than she should have. It was harmful to let such feeling take root, especially when they came from a stranger who would not be returning into her life. He talked so oddly and was a lot older than me, what would people care to say about that. Dahlia thought. She then put it to the back of her mind and strode on concentrating, as she ever did, on the endless grey paths and her green surroundings. It was no good she'd have to stop coming to the park and so cut off this strange man's connection to her. ****************** A year passed and there was no sign of the forward man George. Dahlia's life remained secluded and filled with ennui. Her oppressive life trailed on, as if she were a star with nothing to light, but the darkness around her. But just like a star a meagre amount of little still reaches far away places, and in a far away mind someone was still thinking of her. Dahlia had spent the last year trying to find decent employment. Something that would enable her to find somewhere adequate to live, and start life the way she'd planned. No opportunity came her way and she was left to wonder whether putting of university, in favour of moving away from home, was the wrong choice. After waking one day it was set in her mind that she couldn't conceivably stay here waiting for a career or an interest that sparked her passion. A month later she had reduced her working hours, and moved in with a friend called Eliza and her boyfriend Ted. She'd enrolled in the nearest university. It didn't matter what its reputation was like; she had passion enough to overcome any short falling it had. An enjoyment of the green and floral displays in the park presented Dahlia with a clear idea for the direction she wished her studies to take. Time spent around the green of trees, blossoms of flowers and their industrious arthropods made her, at least for a while, happy. ***************** The breeze sweeps her hair lightly back as she strolls through a university gate into her new surroundings, on a warm orange autumn day. ***************** A week later Dahlia arrived punctually for her first plant science lecture. Without looking around she made quickly for the middle seats. Here it would be unlikely she'd be called on for questions, but it was close enough to catch the finer details. A few other students were milling around. Dumping her bag, she rooted around for paper. She half ignores the low unified mumble of the surrounding students bustling to their seats, until amongst them she perceives a deeper more familiar voice, making its way up to her. It echoes past her up turned bum and her face still buried in her bag. She circles into her chair only to be looking directly at a well presented man, with a silly adornment, stood at the front of the lecture hall conversing with a gangly female student. Student and professor parted. Turning he headed for the podium causing his suit coat to billow open. A fresh flower twisted in the buttonhole of his lapel. George! The lecturer! The professor! My stranger! Dahlia tried to hide the increasing panic on her face. Red blood fizzed up into her skin. She wriggled lower in her chair. Her mind a jumble of incoherent escape plans. The double doors clicked shut, and slowly the chairs in the lecture hall warmed, except for Dahlia's, which was already melting under the heat from her embarrassment. The lecture started in due course. Dahlia's eyes scrutinised George or the professor, as she should call him, from behind her thick wavy brown hair. She brushed more of the waves in front of her face. Now she suddenly wished she'd gone for that daring haircut she'd persuaded herself was silly, instead she'd kept it the same as it was a year ago. Dahlia wrote nothing for the thumping in her ears was much too loud to hear anything. But as time went on, two minutes…five minutes…ten…fifteen… It gave her hope that she may go unnoticed in the expanse of students. Her tactic of looking at the desk in front whenever his eyes swept the room worked well. She thought she perceived that he lingered his gaze longer over the area where she was seated, but she brushed it off as paranoia. She calmed slowly, his thick voice began to flow past her heartbeats and rested gently on her mind. Dahlia felt an uncertain daze fill her. George's words were relaxing. Her skin still warm from panic now seemed to run with an electric touch. There was something interesting, indulgent, stimulating about being in the same space as him once again. Unknowingly her fingers creep across her thighs until her fingertips brushed together on her lap. Dahlia was drawn out of the concoction of desire and fantasy by the gnarly elbow of her neighbour. A man with a black thatch of hair and darting eyes, who would jab her every time he jostled in his chair. She pulled herself up in her seat to drag herself away from this nitwit. In the silence of the hall the creak of her chair screamed out and her invisibility was shattered as his eyes shot to her, now straight backed, still and breathless in her seat. She grabbed at the hope of him being forgetful. The delicate flutter of graphite heavy pages collapsing on the floor persuaded her she was ill informed of George's memory. "Y YOU!" He yelled and stammered at the same time. He tripped forwards a few steps. Staring fixedly at her all the while. Rashness pushed him to her. However he quickly stopped short remembering his position. Looking around he seemed confused as to what to do. He met her eyes with a punishingly desperate stare; his eyes locked on her as he slowly stepped back. It was only a seconds worth of interruption, but it had aroused the room from their deeply sombre scrawlings. Cherry red blood fired up within her heart. Splurging forward through her flesh it spread like fire on her skin, and burned into the air bringing with it complete embarrassment. Anxiousness built within her bones waiting to see what his next reaction would be. No! No, no, no, breathe; this isn't the time to get a reputation. People aren't going to understand why the professor would cry out to me. I don't understand why he does! Seeing him retreat, relenting to the situation, she breathed slightly. He too was a deep shade of crimson. His thoughts dashing about within his head. He stooped to pick up the pages. It gave him time to avert his face, time to think… what was going on? It's her, can she really be here? He glanced up, still scrambling for the pages. Yes… she's bloody here! Dahlia felt her agitation hush a little as the professor took away his fervent watch on her. Instead looking to his fallen scripts. Dahlia then noticed a straight haired blonde girl two seats over from her who had an excessively florid complexion. Caused, most obviously, by the occupants of the surrounding seats who stared at her, believing her to be the eye catcher. If this weren't more proof of her plain looks, she'd need no more evidence. As George stood again his concern over the current situation slowly started to give way to something else. An irrational smile crept onto his face as a new realisation changed his frame of mind. For the moment, he couldn't talk to her, touch her or make her his. But this new realisation was just as comforting. He'd found her again. He was once again standing at the podium reshuffling his papers tying to continue with the lecture as best he could. His papers crinkled, unwilling to lie down in his sweaty hands. He managed to retrace his last words and continue the lecture. But he no longer strode around the front of the room as he had done before, full of zeal for his plant physiology lecture. Instead he stood, with his hands grasping tightly onto the podium. Everytime he looked up he saw her and the rest of his lecture was rather fragmented, as his thoughts turned to rapture. Dahlia sat mortified by the past minutes occurrences. Yet in part she felt her stomach tingle and her senses intensify as she observed George from the shade of her long brown waves. He ended the lecture and unbelievably left immediately. She thought she would have to try and avoid him on her way out, as he would try to call to her while she used the other bustling students as cover, but no he was gone! She gathered her things and made her way slowly into the winding corridors. She had no desire to catch up with him and resume her embarrassment. Maybe a long year had quelled his passion. Dahlia felt strangely dismayed by this thought. She'd often used George in her fantasises, fabricating the perfect lover. It gave her hope in her loneliest moments. Somebody out there, no matter how weird and unsuitable, liked her. Of course her idealised George was everything she could ever want. Lost in her reverie she wandered out of drab sliding doors into the green courtyard, where she heard her illusion speak… "From the moment I saw you…again." George stood with an excited smile. She let out an exasperated start, and put her hand up to cover her heart, when George once again stepped into her view. They both froze. George's face now a picture of concern and Dahlia's one of complete surprise, combined with a growing anger at being startled. She was working up to berating him for such an underhanded approach, if only she could get past her nervousness. All at once he pulled her into him to avoid her being bumped by a burly male student. They both watched him hulk past. Moving their sight to where he still held her they both realised it was the first instance they'd touched in a year. She felt her staunch disposition melt a bit at his kind touch. He relaxed his hold and slid his hands lightly down her arm almost taking her hand in his, but thinking better of it. Dahlia was anxious to be gone, that she might break free from his all too penetrating stare. "Yes professor Estraven?" Dahlia hoped he would have nothing to say. "Have you forgotten my name so readily then?" He said with a glum look upon his face. "No George!" She said impetuously. Then saw his new expression of glee. Stupid! Of course I should have made it look like I'd forgotten him. Anybody else would have forgotten such absurd passing moments. Why haven't I? How can you entertain such thoughts about a man who…who… She'd been embarrassed and caught unawares in the throws of fantasies she'd rather not admit to herself she had. She was angry with herself for keeping up such stupid musing for so long. She hoped her present anger could be used to disguise her embarrassment and her previous concupiscent thoughts. Forget-Me-Not Dahlia "Look, No No" She frustratedly spluttered out, moving away from George's extended hand. "George… so you do remember it," He said softly. His smile crookedly making its way up onto his cheek in a contented grin. A smile that was beautiful in its friendliness and asymmetrical delight. "Please tell me your name?" "Please you don't need to know it!" And with that she paced quickly away, unable to hear George's final sentence. "Yes… I do" George stood and watched her leave. He knew once again he'd been too rash and that he most definitely couldn't have helped it. But then he uneasily thought, maybe she's really not interested. More doubt slipped into his mind as he thought about the consequences of pursuing her. He would have to, of course, but at the cost of becoming heartbroken. However, a long year has passed, he thought, and yet still she remembers my name. **************** George strides full force into the second lecture, where he's sure she'll be. He restrains himself from looking at her until he's at the podium and can gaze uninterrupted. His head lifts to smile upon an ugly empty seat. Panic grips him, and his eyes hurry over the sedate faces. From up on high Dahlia is present to witness the hurried search and she can't help but roll her eyes in exasperation. She'd slipped in early so there'd be no accidental meeting outside or unnecessary walking past him. She ducks her head to her notes, her eyes intent on finding some undiscovered secret contained within them. It doesn't seem like anything's happening. She risks a quick glance up, but sees he's already smiling up at her. George has hastily found his jewel amongst the scattered stones. She's squirreled away at the back. He's quietly annoyed. From here he can't see the shine of her beautiful waves, the flecks of green in her brown eyes and the silly arrangement of her eyebrows, which comes with the exasperated expression, he's sure she has on her face. He sees her look up. He almost feels like foolishly waving at her. What's gotten into you? You're nearly 40 and your thinking about waving?!? You've completely lost it, he thought, goading himself. He was sure he was coming across as an old befuddled horny male, crazy even. But how to act debonair and attractive when I'm so out of sorts. Well the 'debonair' clinched it… you really are old, he grimaced to himself. Dahlia heard his voice crackle a little as he started talking of water transport in plants. It slowly smoothed out and he seemed to be back to his passionate description of all things vegetative. He also appeared to be deep in thought. It was now Dahlia's turn to watch the professor, as she became transfixed with following his movements. He'd check the brown cord laces on his shoes, stroke his hand through his burnished brown hair, pushing it back though it soon fluttered forwards again. Folding his arms he idly tapped his hand on his elbow. He'd hold his hands out and use them as tools of emphasis before clasping them together again, sometimes intertwining his fingers. He leant with his elbow on the podium and with his other hand takes the small flowers from his lapel, twirling them in his fingers. He watches their small petals swirl around; talking all the time about a lecture that's obviously second nature. Their Forget-me-nots, She notices, …is that…supposed to mean something? Scolding herself for becoming so captivated by his movements, she tries to understand what he was saying about the Xylem, but she'd missed several important points. Why did I have to come? She sighed becoming more and more confused by his superior intelligence. Loathing her shyness, she thinks how she doesn't know anybody well enough yet to borrow their lecturer notes. Urgh! I need to do well. Why should George… professor Estraven get in the way of my studies? This is his doing, why should I suffer for it? She thinks, carefully planning how to avoid him after lectures, so she can continue her course unhindered. Unfortunately she can't help but think there's another reason she came today. If only, he thought, If only there's a way to find out her name. Standing at the podium reshuffling his papers, he distinguished amongst his notes something of interest. It was a list of names. Of course, He thought. I already have her name. George looked up at his students who were relaxing in their stupor. Then his eyes rested on a very flustered looking girl high up in the room, and he spoke. "I'm afraid I forgot to start the lecture properly, I was supposed to make sure you are all in the right place and accounted for. When I call your name, raise your hand so that I know it is you." Dahlia felt more and more disconcerted as his eyes examined her face. He never moved his eyes from her as he spoke the general address meant just for her. If she kept her hand down she thought, it would only draw more attention. If she raised her hand there would be no doubt of her name. He had her. This is how he would get her name; he excitedly spieled of the list of names, but paid no heed to the springing array of hands. He only looked for one. "Dahlia Saunders" He looked down and grinned with satisfaction at his paper. **************** Managing to escape the last lecture had been tricky, but she'd used the thronging hoards to carry her away, determined that he'd not be able to force her to do anything else. Another week had passed however, and now she must go through her evasive dance once more. Yet she was more determined than ever that he shouldn't interfere with her learning. As the lecture paced forwards Dahlia was aware that he didn't look at her all that much. There was no longing look, or smile for her. He kept looking at his watch constantly, impatient for time to be got through. Slumping in her seat she thought she felt disappointed but she quickly changed it to confusion. No not disappointed just… confused, she corrected herself. The lecture ended early. Dahlia got up from her seat straight away not waiting for a clot of students to travel with. She didn't look at the front of the hall; she just strides towards the door taking two steps at a time down the stairs. She nears the exit. "Dahlia," she hears George say in a clear commanding tone. Her feet obeyed, stopping immediately. Her mind told her to continue on, but then he spoke again. "Dahlia, I'd like a word please." Heavily turning and scarping her feet forwards she came upon an invisible line of tolerance. Here at this distance she could just about manage to stay composed, and not overheat. One of the dawdling gossips, milling around them, could have easy lain down in the space between her and the professor. "Please come to my office. I have something very important to say to you" "No! I mean I'm in a hurry, could you not tell me here" "You look beautiful today…" "Professor!" Dahlia could feel the other students scrutinising them. She was immediately panicked. He was speaking much too load; it was starting to draw looks. Looking over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard, she caught the momentary raised eyebrow of a fuzzy haired male student. She lightly shrugged her shoulders in response, before he fell back into deep conversation with his fellow cluster of students. Dahlia's embarrassment was growing. How loud will he get if I refuse? Bugger it, She thought. Deciding to follow him to his office, she hoped she could berate him properly for his reckless behaviour and perhaps put an end to this thing… whatever it was between them. "You know I think I do have time," She finally conceded. George had no intention of going any further than his first declaration. He knew he was bluffing, but it had worked perfectly. She was too shy, too virtuous, to let him continue. Watching how she'd blushed on their previous meeting had told him as much. As they walked to the office George's hands were pushed deep in the pockets of his faded trousers. His arms cinched to his sides despite their length, which made him hunch his shoulders slightly. It made him look guarded, but his legs swung freely making it seem as if he was incapable of containing some excitement he felt. He nodded hellos to other passing colleagues, before eventually reaching his office. It was quite a solitary office at the end of a narrow corridor surrounded with what appeared to be mostly storerooms. Glimpsing the last offices however, she noticed they contained tall shelves filled with strikingly elegant plants. His body tilted forwards, as his office door swung open, and he motioned with his hand for her to enter first. He closed the door behind them. "I brought you here to explain my behaviour" George spoke instantly. There was then a long silence in which Dahlia made it clear that she wasn't about to make this easy for him. "I cannot explain my behaviour when we first meet; it is unexplainable even to me." George stated to pace the office talking with his hands. "All that can be said… is that… I had an irresistible need to… and then you left and I've put you into the depths of my mind. And now you've reappeared, and all this time it feels like you have just been out if sight." At this he stopped, and stared at Dahlia. "Now here you are before me. My mind seems to think you've never been gone, because it loves you the same. I feel the same." George moved to her suddenly, leaning on the wall she stood against, "Dahlia" he whispered to her. The whisper trickled into her ear with his warm breath. It made her stretch her hands upon the cold wall seeking something to hold onto. Her heart was thumping faster. She felt the side of his face brush hers. "How long have I waited for you? …to met you once again." She slid from under him. He stood with eyes closed, exactly where she'd left him. "Stop," Dahlia burst out. "I didn't come here to be manhandled again," She sarcastically sniped. "Why did you come?" George turned to face her. Dahlia was trembling on the other side of the office, her back against the opposite wall. The earlier reasons she'd picked for following him here were forgotten, as he eagerly looked upon her. "I came here to… to stop this." "What is it you wish to stop?" George stepped closer to her. "Whatever you're thinking right now!" Damn, she's right, he thought. He was thinking some pretty depraved thoughts all centring on her. "I want to stop whatever you think is going on between us." She continued. "Right," He said in a serious tone. He picked up a pen from his desk. "I want 500 words on 'why you don't want me to kiss you, right here' to be done immediately". He moved up close to her again, and handed her the pen. Dahlia took it, unsure of what to do. Her chest was beginning to break with the thump of her heart. Her rousing scent found it's way to him, as he found his way closer to her. Looking upon her, confused by her own desire, made his cock stiffen uncomfortably in his trousers. He longed to release it. She made to take paper from his desk, thinking perhaps he was giving her a way out. He stopped her, lifting his arm and pushing his hand into the wall. She longed to stick to her plan and remove herself from his office, but her head was going round and round. She must hang onto her previous thoughts. The ones she knew were right. The ones she wouldn't regret. Dahlia looked upon George even more confused and flustered as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Write it here Dahlia, next to my heart if you mean to break it." He lifted her hand and repositioned the pen between her fingers. He then guided her hand to his chest, and left it there. The cold steel of the pen was hard in her hand and she could feel her warm blood pumping through her fingers next to it. Her hand brushed his springy chest hair beneath which her hand met with warm thumping skin. She could feel him breathe stuttered intakes and slightly uncompossed outtakes of breath. She curled her hand to stabilize the pen and begin writing. Maybe if she could write one word 'No' then she could leave. Dahlia could sense him drawing closer and his hot breath fell on the top of her head as he looked down upon her. Standing there small, strong and yet beautifully delicate. Her hand was shaking. she drew the pen down to form one black line over his heart. As she did she felt his skin react, tightening under her touch, his hair rising. He was standing so close now, there was just a breath of air between them. The pen fell from her hand as she looked up to find his kiss. George forced his way through her arms and to her lips. She was wrapped deep in his arms as he pulled her closer. Spreading his bottom lip underneath her top, he drew away her flavour. He curled his lip into his mouth eager for his first taste. Tightening his jaw, he sucked her potion from his lip. A strange sweet tang of blackcurrants and chocolate was mixed together with some other unimaginable taste; it was unique to her. Once again George pulled Dahlia's lips to his. Taking her top lip between his, softly he brushed hers, while his hot damp breath heated the delicate skin. He waited softly embracing her lip in his until he began to feel her bottom lip graze his. Slowly he felt her increasing touch on his lips with hers. Like the sun opening a flower he would slowly draw out her desire. Rewarding her, George pressed his lips heavily onto hers. Feeling her tingling skin on his pushed his heart apart under his chest. This time Dahlia didn't shove him away. She curled her hands around him, under his jacket, feeling his heat becoming trapped. Trapped, like she was in his grip. She shifted restlessly at the warm ache in her cunt. Releasing her once again, Dahlia drooped against the wall and panted. George slid his jacket from his broad shoulders. "Professor?" She whispered, unsure of what to do. "I think you can call me George," he smiled, causing her to will to perish even more. He dragged her in, clucking at her round bum. In his arms, he walked her to his desk. Fully in his power her flat shoes slipped from her feet as she felt herself being placed upon it. Hurrying for the door, he flicked the key, locking it. Oh fuck. Get up and leave now, leave… please! She told herself. When George returned to her, he could still see hesitation in her lovely brilliant oval eyes. There's no way she's leaving now, he thought decidedly. Feeling unsettled by her strong will, one which was still half set on leaving, he quickly made to kiss away all her indecision. Thoughts were running mad in his head. Needing her more than ever, he became intent on removing any barriers to her gentle skin; her clothes that draped over such hidden wonders. She couldn't leave naked, although he secretly laughed at the idea. Then she'd have to stay, have to make love to him. Have to want him. Especially when Dahlia saw how much he could make her body want him. Hands shaking George took a button between his fingers. Resting back on the palm of hands, Dahlia stared intently at George. The button slid through the fabric. It began a hasty panic by George to undo the rest of her. Her shirt fell open and he pushed up her camisole to reveal two of the finest breasts he'd ever seen. Moving to hide her small round breasts only caused them to sway gently. She went to speak "no… oh," but his tongue was already whipping around the nipple on her awaiting breast. He sucked. Lavishly. Dahlia's small breasts sat on her chest perfectly, full and sensual, they complemented her small frame wonderfully. George could feel the smooth pink nipple becoming creased with unconcealed lust. Tending to her other breast he flicked and licked his tongue over the ripening nipple till they both sat proud of her pert breasts. Tingling swirls of appreciation overflowed from her breasts running a course over her fluttering stomach until it rested and built, hot and unrelenting, in her intimate nether region. These past minutes had been a thoughtless indulgence. Dahlia concentrated on the reaction his tongue was generating. The feel of George's hands stroking her skin, working up along her back, feeling the indent of her curved spine. He noticed her becoming increasingly restless; she was squirming slightly trying to rub herself on his enclosed erection. She thought these tiny moments would go unnoticed, so indulged was he in her breasts. She was still unwilling to show just how much she wanted him, this man who had forced himself upon her once before. In reality her actions were driving him crazy, his mind unsure of any conscious intention behind them. Although he could tell from her bitten lip she was holding back, yet still she refused to meet his gaze. He needed to work harder to make her relent. Kissing his way to the top of her jeans; George once again with shaking hands slipped the cold metal button open. Without a second thought her ripped the jeans from her legs. She drew in a quick breathy cry and brought her legs up to hide her exposed knickers. He threw down her jeans. Shuffling back on the desk, she was suddenly provoked by his steady advance. He could see her plain black cotton knickers peeking from between her ankles. Black cotton knickers stood between him and her. Sliding his hands with satisfying curiosity over her thighs, his hands reach her clenched knees and begin to sink down between her legs. Reaching the top of her mound with his hand flat against her thighs he pushed apart her legs. She's watching his hands, but he's watching her. Dahlia could no more stop him than she could stop her immense embarrassment at being exposed to her professor's eyes. He pulled her to the edge of the desk again. Bloody hell?! Dahlia looked terror stricken. Grabbing a pair of scissors from his desk, George had began to cut down to her slit, slicing through the small black bow at the front of her knickers. It was an impulsive action, but he knew she'd have to go the rest of the day knickerless. Cold steel carefully slid past her skin. Quivering she felt them graze her lips. The sound of crumbling material, breaking underneath the sharp scissors, reaching her ears. She held her breath. He could tell she was very wet as he enjoyed the sensation of the scissors sliding over her damp juices, which stuck to the fabric of her knickers, changing its consistency. Stopping George drew the scissors out, bringing them to his nose and sniffing. Falling to his knees he peeled open the dark damp fabric fragments, seeing her dew laden flower open. He pushed her legs wider to let it bloom further, watching in wonder as his rare flower unfurled. Faced with her nectar filled bloom, he buzzes with excitement. Engrossed in his movements Dahlia had never seen someone so in awe of her before. She couldn't help but feel this obvious want grab at her heart. A few more snips and the black pants drifted to the floor, defeated. George trailed his hands once again over her strong pale thighs and well-defined calves, marvelling at the supple pale olive skin he'd seen before in the park and never thought to see again. Her short but perfect legs an obvious result of the frequent cycling she did. He thought back to the days he saw her in the park, her summer dress clinging to her, revealing shape but not detail. Seeing her bum pressed firmly against his desk below a red engorged line of hot flesh that moved under heavy breaths made him stiffen more. Letting out a lustful moan, his body gave way to small spasms triggered by the luxurious visual pleasure that meets his eyes. He could view her no longer, wanting instead to take her right then, but he couldn't miss the opportunity to taste her before the taint of his seed was spilled inside her. Looking up with a devilish smile he was surprised to catch her staring at him. Embarrassed she quickly looked away, as he caught a brilliant blush colour her pale skin. Forget-Me-Not Dahlia This is wrong. I shouldn't let him see me like this! Dahlia agonises. George dips his tongue beneath her lips, licking up, flicking his tongue across her clit. "Oh ohh" She moans out. A rich spicy flavour, full of heat and laced with salt meets his eager taste buds. "No don't," she weakly moaned before his tongue was once again circled her opening, his nose nuzzling at her clit. Her body longed, it ached and was impatient, but it did nothing to move her. "Oh please George… don't," Dahlia slid down, her back on the strong oak of the desk. His tongue lapped up her nectar. Concentrating on her gasps, ignoring her desperate pleas to stop, he started to push his tongue into her opening. Revealing in its tight tugs, the sexy slush of her juices and the beautiful bucking it created. George plunged a finger in and watched her writhe and moan "Oh please…" as he stroked her walls with come hither movements. Dahlia couldn't understand how he could evoke reactions that others had failed to awaken. Previous short-lived boyfriends went for a fumble in her jeans and hard kisses, provoking nothing but frustration. But now thinking about his kisses… the one in the park… it had felt like the promise of satisfaction. George was now using that kiss more intimately. Lips press around her bud. A metal rain of staples showers the floor as Dahlia reaches out for something to hold onto. All her energy is being pulled towards her abdomen. She strains and arches her back against the desk, her toes clutching at the edge. Her knees are spread like the petals of a flower. She holds her breath as another pulse climbs and holds for a moment of pure pleasure. She can feel him making pleasing moans onto her clit becoming excited by the reaction he's eliciting in her. George presses another finger into her opening, feeling her jump from the surprise. Dahlia's squirming slows. He holds back, wondering if he's hurt her, but her pace picks up again. She tries desperately to control the pleasure as she flexes and strains her muscles. He too can feel the muscles of her slick walls squeezing and clamping at his fingers. Watching as they slide easily on her essence. Enjoying the feel of her greedy cunt swallowing his fingers, craving more. George sucks and flicks his tongue across her clit once more; torrid bursts of energy run along her labia. Dahlia relishes in the moments of mounting pleasure that greet her sooner and sooner. The movement of his rigid fingers challenges George's will, his cock straining for similar access. He relinquishes his hold on her. Dahlia first thoughts, as her pleasure dies away, were that George had brought her here only as torture. Her cunt ached for the catalyst to her release. Release that was now left untouched. Locked within her. George stood before her. Dahlia was no longer in the grasp of unintelligible pleasure. Lifting herself up on her elbows she saw his hand swept down to the crotch of his trousers, rearranging the uncomfortable stiffness within. Observing the large protruding rise in his trousers, she suddenly felt more afraid and very aware of her impending, inescapable, coupling with him. Too encumbered by clothes, George pulled at his shirt till it relented and opened. His shoes and socks were quickly put aside. His straining cock twanged on the waist of his trousers and boxers as he fought and rejected them in favour of full nakedness. He seemed to present himself to her for assessment. He gazes at her astonished face; her eyes moving over his manly chest with lightly dappled golden brown chest hair that trails into his slightly darker bush. She can't help but stare with fascination at the cock, which grows from his bush, its perverse curve jutting from his body. It's head a dark pink, its heavy sac, bulging, the foundation to the rigid column above. Dahlia's cheeks were still pressed tightly against the desk and just above them a wet open Eden waiting to be filled. Juices trickled from her cunt onto the desk. Anxiety crosses her face. The fixed fervid observation of her cunt causing her legs to falter. She inches them closer together, but George has grabbed her knees, prizing them apart again, delving two warm fingers once again into her opening. A small startled yip turned to a contented sigh at the intrusion, which once again started to excite her awaiting orgasm. Burying his fingers deeper still he moves them feeling her tightness. Could it be? Despite her dampness she still felt incredibly tight. He wanted desperately to plunge deep into her, but he suspected this was to be her first time? He felt quite depraved, but he needed to ask her. "Have you ever…?" "No." "This is going to be your first time?" "…Yes" Blood rising from her stomach to her face. Colouring her cheeks. "You can trust me." Then nobody had ever seen this much of her. Nobody had ever seen her laid out like she is for me now. Ready to be taken, body pert, trembling, apprehensive. He'd have to restrain himself, but he cherished the thought that he was to be her first. His Dahlia, fresh and ready. Secretly he rejoices. Almost definitely not on birth control then. George then for a few seconds imagined her ripe with his seed. He'd have to save spilling in his seed in her for another time. Out of a desk draw he pulled out a box of condoms, which he'd brought a few days ago, out of some sort of unconscious optimism. He wasn't an arrogant man, just hopeful. Dahlia watched him roll the condom down his shaft, confirming his intent. She imagined the ever closing moment she'd surrender to his pulsing cock. Dahlia had held her thoughts back, but now here she was locked in a room with a naked man and his twitching sheathed cock. She let the thoughts go that were crowding the corners of her mind and found that she wanted him. She hopelessly desperately wanted him, as he wanted her. George fell towards her and the bang of his flat palms on the desk either side of Dahlia's waist gave her a start, which was quickly quelled by the professor tending to her lips. George's warm breathe mingled with hers and she swallowed to pull back her lust. She fell back with his cock pressed firmly into her mound. He slowly humped her slit, sliding his cock up and down her folds, her pubic hair tickling the pulsing veins on his engorged penis. His slides became slicker as his cock became coated with her warm juices. Mirroring their sliding thrusting tongues and slick lips. Tiny moans escaped from Dahlia's mouth as George's hardness stroked her clit. She arched into his cock, and wriggled forwards to create more friction. He could both feel and hear her wet juices lubricating his cock. From the look he saw in her eyes he knew it was time to take her, to fuck her on his desk, there would be no more waiting. He was so excited by her and amazed at his patience, but he had waited long enough. He heard her let out a small whimper "mmm… Professor… George…" It was soft and desperate. George halted his thrusts making her quicken her pace, bucking on the desk with desperation but he leaned back from her. She lifted her head forwards ready to protest, but she caught his look and saw his erection jutting out from his body, hard, anxious, covered with her juices pointing directly at her slick cunt. Before Dahlia could give him words of encouragement, George had leaned back in, guiding his cock to her opening. She gazed at his cock as he circled it at her opening. Biting the side of her lip, she moves her feet so they clung to the edge of the desk, her toes curling and straining, anticipating the hot thrusts of the professor. He caught her whimpers and whispers and smiled knowing his efforts were being rewarded. George looked up locking her eyes to his as their fluttering stomachs meet. He kissed her deep with the passion from every bone; he arched his back, tightening his body as the head of his cock dimpled her opening. "As you said goodbye, I almost died… I almost died! You left me broken hearted. You've a lot to make up for". Simultaneously in one long slow push he plunged deep into her. Watching her face form a rousing expression of half pleasure, half pain; his mind became completely devoted to the feel of his cock buried deep in her tight cunt. She let out a short moan and breathed heavy with elation. Stiff nipples rubbed on his chest as he leaned down for another all absorbing kiss. The breath from her near silent murmur was cast into his mouth. George's cock hardened like it hadn't in years, its ability to stiffen in recent times affected by indifference to his lovers. It was all because of some unknown quality that his new love provoked in him, its description unable convey its perfection. His still cock inside her felt the ripple of her muscles as they adjusted to such an unfamiliar intrusion. George wriggled closer still until he could feel her soft pubic hair tickling his stomach. She could feel the warm thrill of earlier sensations began to surface again. "Oh please, please…" She pleaded. "Oh fuck, is this happening? George questioned, bewildered by Dahlia's urgency. Slowly he rocked back and forth, their combined juices started sliding together, mixing creating a snug and conducting connection between them. The thought of stopping the pain that was burning at her opening was secondary to the absolute comfort and pleasure in being filled by George. George stood firm on his feet, sliding his hands over her breasts and down her side, before his thumb found the small bump of her clit. The fingerprint of his thumb circled around the sensitive mound. "Ohhhhahhh" Dahlia's palms splayed on the desk. Her back arched. Moist air from her pants hit the desk, as the yellow flame of sexual frenzy, turned to blue. Desire overwhelmed pain and logical thought. Fiery speaks ran from his strokes through her body. His thrusts offering the answer to her desire. "George…further, … harder please… ah…" was all Dahlia could manage to put to words before George groaned, withdraw and thrust back in hard shifting the desk on its feet. His balls hit the warm juices on her bum, as he planted himself deep within her. Relentlessly he drove his cock back and forth into her cunt. Her buttocks clenching and relaxing with his thrusts. Her toes wriggling frantically. "OHHHH ohhhhh OHH," "Ohhhhhahhohhh," simultaneously they let out moans that filled the room. Catching each other's eye, they both smiled and let out a small laugh. Dahlia's eye caught sight of something else. She lifted her head and saw his dick ripping into her cunt. Their perverse connection startled her; she watched the length of his cock drive into her then slide, slick with her juices, from her cunt. Pulses of energy mounted in Dahlia's cunt, her clit, her thighs and deep within her core. Every time the pleasure lasts a little bit longer. Tiny muscles pulse together with his thrusts collecting their energy and pushing it hot back through her body. Her muscles squeezing altogether, bringing in her walls around his cock, releases flashes of heat throughout his entire body. Followed by prickles of pleasure, alighting long forgotten deeps of his flesh. "Oh ple…ase ohh ahhhhuh mmmm" Continuous whimpering falls from Dahlia's lips combining with his stuttered breaths. George collected her in his arms from the desk. His hands stroke her body as waves of pleasure surface, and slowly wane. His sexual energy was being leaked through her skin. As they kiss her moans turn into squeal of pleasure that fills his mouth. Her muscles ripple and grab at his cock as her orgasm spreads like an immaculate heat through her body. His cock twitched in her, tending to her orgasm. "Mmmm ohhh aaaaaaaaahhhhh fuck George!" Dahlia called his name many more times. Hearing her squeal his name made a coursing surge of pleasure shot through his thrusting cock. He can feel hot juices being squeezed from her cunt, and his bum clenches on the cusp of release. His orgasm came hard and fast with her rippling orgasm rubbing his cock inside her sumptuous cunt. It tore through his body cascading to the smallest nerves in his skin. He thrust a few more times, spilling his seed. "Ohhhurghh Dahliaaa." With her face before him, he finds a few brown freckles covering her nose. She looks at his face; it flits between the face of her professor and the new one; the face of her lover. George just stares intently at the face of the woman he's always known he loves.