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Most of the shaft glided into her mouth. Soon she was slowly and rhythmically sucking his cock.

The man felt he might explode from the pure delight of it all. "Aah, yes," he sighed. "Oh god Amy, that's wonderful."

Joel would later decide that a period of about three seconds elapsed as Brianna froze, now holding his cock such that her teeth touched his shaft. Then, like a tigress, she rose up and pounced on him.

"Amy? Who the hell is Amy!" she said through gritted teeth. Stunned by how quickly things had turned, Joel looked at her, speechless. He saw her yellow hair outlined by the street lights; the gleam of moisture on her lips and her forehead.

"What?" he finally gasped.

"You called me Amy, you bastard! Now who the hell is she?" The words were fired at him like bullets.

Joel swallowed. "I don't know. Are you sure I called you that?"

"Yes you did." Brianna grabbed his hair and held him roughly. "Listen to me, Joel," she hissed, her eyes mere inches from his, "there is never a good time to accidentally call a woman by another woman's name. But believe me, the worst time of all is when she has your dick in her mouth. Now who is Amy, damn you!"

In matters of love, when a woman has suspicions, the cardinal rule for a man is simple: deny, deny, deny. But having made one terrible blunder already tonight, Joel compounded his troubles by telling the truth. He told all: the sex scene Amy had written; his erotic dreams of her. Everything.

After he had finished, Brianna sat on the bed, wearing a Ralph Lauren wrap robe and sipping the last of their merlot. "Joel," she began, "none of this makes sense. You've never even talked to the girl? You say she's not all that pretty, and she's one of your students for Pete's sake. And you got turned on because she wrote some porn you accidentally read? It's crazy."

Joel nodded. "I know. I thought it would pass, but it hasn't. I try to resist, but every time I look at her in class, instead of a quiet young girl, I see this sexy woman she described in the erotica she wrote. The sexy girl in my dreams. I can't stop thinking about her."

After a long silence, Brianna said, "Joel, I think you should leave now."

He sighed, and then replied, "We're in my condo tonight."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Well, I guess I should be the one to leave."

"That sounds rather final."

"Maybe it is," Brianna replied in a quiet voice. And it was.


The school semester dragged on and finally ended. Grades were given out; the students scattered. As unsettling as it had been to see Amy Collins during his lectures, far worse was to not see her at all. Joel's dreams of her became more vivid than ever. Finally mustering his courage, he donned jeans, a T-shirt under a cotton blazer, and went to the apartment where she lived.

Her apartment row was shabby; low rent. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and Amy Collins looked at him in amazement through her horn-rimmed glasses. She was unkempt, wearing an Eskimo Joe T-shirt and faded jeans. Yet even then Joel ached to hold her in his arms; to cover her with kisses.

"Professor Kane?" she cried. "What are you doing here? What's happened?"

"Nothing, Amy," he replied nervously. "I was ... was in the neighborhood, and thought I'd look you up."

Thoroughly nonplussed, the girl stared at him for a moment; then said, "Well, okay, come in, I guess."

Joel entered the apartment, noticing the chipped paint on the walls; the cheap furniture; the faint musty aroma of old carpets and old plumbing. Amy looked at him, still seemingly unsure if she were actually seeing the man.

"Would like something to drink, Professor Kane? I've got some Sprite."

"Yes. No, no, I won't stay long." Now feeling like an awkward teenager, he said, "I actually came to see if... if you would go out on a date with me, Amy."

The girl, open mouthed, looked at him in astonishment. "Me?"


"Me?" she asked again, the dazed look still on her face.

"I don't see any other pretty girls in the room," smiled Joel.

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