The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: NightFall on 15-10-2009, 05:13:29</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>15-10-2009, 05:13:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexa Peterson sat in her office, the last one down the long corridor in the Art Department. Most of the other professors wanted the offices further up in order to be closer to the studios and classrooms. She, however, didn't mind having the end office. It was quiet and secluded, with a good view of the campus grounds below. Besides, that meant she had windows on two walls instead of just one. A bonus for someone who loved light. The youngest one in the aging array of professors in the Art Department, her other female colleagues often grumbled when they saw Alexa's long legged figure striding swiftly down the corridor.<br><br>There was a large, old elm outside the window, it's branches throwing just enough shade on Alexa's office to keep it cool in the summer months. But that isn't her concern today. A few weeks into the Fall semester, the weather had turned brisk, some of the leaves already turning golden. They rustle, dry and brittle, ground underfoot by the hundreds of students that drift under the gnarled old tree after each class period. But at the end of the day, not as many of them were milling about, just a few scattered in small groups across the wide lawn surrounding the art building.<br><br>The only sound in Alexa's office is the whir of her laptop's fan and the clicking of her mouse as she pieces together a slideshow for the Art History courses that she teaches for the University. A small smile touches her lips as she clicks and drags various photos of artwork for the Ancient Art History class that she teaches on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It always amused her to know that most of the students took Art History thinking that it would be a blow off course. Not the way she taught it though. With her love of the subject, it was partly a History course, made even more difficult by the fact that her students were expected to recognize each and every piece of artwork that was discussed in class. A lot of memorization as well as the ability to differentiate between similar pieces of art were required to pass her exams. She knew that even a few weeks into the semester, there were already students that had dropped and those that already knew that a lot of effort was required on their part to get even a passing grade. Most of them were from the University's various athletic teams, lacrosse players, basketball and the like, trying to get by with a minimum of effort.<br><br>The last photo slides into place. She hits the save button and pushes away from her desk. Her office chair's wheels scrape and squeak along the scarred, wooden floors as she leans against the chair back, her long fingers lacing together behind her head, just below the dark, shiny ponytail that holds her shoulder-length hair back today. Slate gray eyes search out the clock hanging on the wall above the door. Still another hour and forty five minutes left of office hours. Her day isn't over yet.<br><br>She rolls up the sleeves on her crisp, shirt, the pale blue one with the minute little pinstripes and the starched white collar that she favors. Inevitably, some student always shows up to plead their case or ask for extra help. Alexa wonders which one will show this time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>16-10-2009, 03:11:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Steven was just over six feet tall and built, quite literally, like a linebacker. He was on the school team as a starter and didn't have much brains to go with the brawn, or at least, that's what he liked people to think. He knocked on the door and let himself in to the professor's office. <br><br>"Hey, Professor Peterson. Sorry to bother you," his low baritone rumbled, "Just wanted to talk to you about my grades, and see if I could do a little more to do better in the class and stuff."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>16-10-2009, 03:34:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Unlacing her fingers, she gestures for Steven to come closer to her desk. "Hi Steven. Come on in, have a seat." She points towards one of the two chairs that were always in front of her desk. Ah yes, these athletes, she's had so many of them in her classes, always needing to raise their grades somehow yet unwilling to put in the work. At least this one was pleasing to the eye and not quite as vacant looking as the rest of them.<br><br>She waits until he's seated. Steepling her hands in front of her, Alexa's index fingers tap against a tiny smile. Her silky voice holds a hint of amusement as she tells him, "You know, I remember your last test. That was rather abysmal. It was clear that you didn't even read the assigned chapters." Rising from seat, she settles against the corner of the desk closest to Steven. Her arms fold in front of her, staring straight at him. "Steven, I even threw in a freebie for everyone. The Venus of Willendorf. Everyone should know what that little statuette looks like. All you had to do was identify a picture I had on the screen and you even got that one wrong. What am I going to do with you?" She shakes her head in disappointment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>16-10-2009, 03:43:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Well wasn't she just blunt? He sat down as she instructed, legs apart with his elbows on them. He let her go, assuming the same look he got when a coach yelled at him. Stupid indifference. He leaned his head down and let her finish, then he said, "Sorry. How can I make my grade better?"<br><br>She was really a bitch. He didn't like her at all. Not knowing Art History shouldn't tell her something about his personality. She should know he just wanted to get into the NFL and never worry about this shit anymore.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>16-10-2009, 04:02:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexa sees that blank look on his face, the way he avoids meeting her stare. Pinching the bridge of her nose ,she takes another glance at the clock. She really didn't have time to try to coax someone to study if they had no inclination to. And she had a feeling that Steven wasn't the type that ever put any effort into anything other than working out and practicing.<br><br>She did notice that he was pretty large, and well built. Tapping her lip, a thought forms in her head. "Alright, Steven, how about this? You're going to need a lot of help to pass the next test and you must pass it otherwise you are in danger of failing this class. Come to my house, I'll give you the extra help you need and in exchange you can do a few things for me. I could use someone with a strong back to move things around." A perfectly shaped eyebrow notches upwards, awaiting his reply.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>17-10-2009, 16:53:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He blinked. Guess she wasn't married. Probably just wanted to move furniture. That was cool. He shrugged and thought it over. He would do it for free, and she would just have to talk about art history to him. She would probably enjoy talking about that anyway, so he was really just doing her a favor. He nodded more to himself than her.<br><br>"Ok. Where do you live?" He said, the blank stare still present. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>18-10-2009, 21:16:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She slips off the edge of the desk and grabs a sheet of paper from the printer tray nearby. Folding the sheet in half, she writes out her address in neat, block letters.<br><br><em>427 Spring Court </em><br><br>It wasn't far, just a few blocks from the main campus where there was a profusion of large Victorian houses. Alexa fell in love with a large Queen Anne styled house on the very end of a cul-de-sac. She spent most of last spring filling in the gardens in front of the house. Now she was slowly decorating the spacious interior.<br><br>Handing him the paper, she reaches out with her other hand to tilt his chin up, her fingertips cool on his skin. Gray eyes stare into his own blank ones. Alexa is unaware that her shirt gapes open just enough that he could peer in and see the tops of her breasts and just a hint of the lacy bra that she was fond of wearing. This close to him, she smells of vanilla and chamomile. "Steven, it would serve you well to look a little more attentive when I speak to you. Do bring something to take notes with as well. I'm not going to pass you without effort on your part. Is that understood?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>19-10-2009, 04:13:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He took the paper and stared at it more to keep him from having to look at her than anything else. He nodded dumbly when he was asked. When she finally told him to put his head up he did, staring right down her shirt. He blinked like an idiot, then nodded. After she was done, he just said, "What do I have to do?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>19-10-2009, 18:29:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Don't worry Steven, they're things well within your capabilities. It shouldn't be a problem for someone as strong as you to help me move some of the heavier pieces at my house. I also have landscaping that needs doing and if I can have someone like you doing the digging, it would really save me a lot of time and money." Alexa eyes his broad shoulders, her gaze traveling down to bulging muscles on his chest. He was solid, indeed. Her hand reaches out to pat him on his upper arm. Corded muscles bunch underneath her fingers. She lets them linger a while as her eyes stare into his once more. "Saturday, and be ready to work, alright?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>26-10-2009, 06:07:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The days passed with little incident, other than Steven receiving a less than stellar mark on his most recent test in Art. His grade (among others) was falling off a cliff with no padding in sight. If he needed any more motivation to show up on Saturday, that was it.<br><br>He drove over to her house and parked on the curb, doing his best not to flatten any grass in the process. He assumed his usual stupid athlete pose and knocked on the door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>26-10-2009, 21:56:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As much as she dressed so carefully for work, Alexa liked to relax when she was at home. When she heard the knock at the door, she dashed down to the foyer to let him in. The professor persona was hardly there when she greeted him with a smile. "Come on in, Steven. You're right on time." Her dark hair was loose, falling just past her shoulders. She barely had any makeup on. The top she threw on hastily was loose, made out of natural colored cotton. It gathered a little tightly by her breasts and flared out from there. The wide, square neckline showed the elegance of her collarbones and the upper swell of her breasts. The denim shorts she wore underneath rode low at her waist and were quite brief, perfectly offsetting her long, slim legs. Similar, really, to the tiny shorts some of the other girls at the University would wear. <br><br>She spun on her heel and led him past the living and dining rooms to a sunny breakfast room where an ancient wooden table was butted up against a wide picture window. It overlooked her spacious back yard, enclosed entirely by a high wooden fence painted a pristine white. There was a lot of landscaping material about, plants with burlap covered root balls, as well as several grassy areas marked off with some sort of paint. Alexa gestured at the marked areas. "I just needed some help digging up those areas so I can plant some larger bushes outside." She turned and faced Steven, her arms crossed underneath her breasts, the gesture pushing them up a bit higher beneath her loose top. More of the creamy tops of her breasts could be seen thanks to the low dip of the blouse's neckline. "Think you can handle that? Like I said before, it wouldn't be too hard for someone like you." Another smile touched her lips as she eyed his shirt. "You might have to lose that shirt though, digging is sweaty work."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>27-10-2009, 16:51:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She looked like a 14 year old girl with those clothes on. He furrowed his eyebrows as they went out back, but he didn't say much of anything. As she kept talking he looked at the garden and nodded. When he was a teenager, he had worked construction and landscaping so he knew how to dig a hole. When she mentioned his shirt he almost puked on the spot. Really? That was pretty much out of the Pedophilia 101 textbook. So that was what she wanted. Fine. He'd tease her a little and make her want it more, then he could fire back on her. He smiled.<br><br>"Ok. Do you have a shovel?" He said in his usual baritone.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightFall</strong> on <strong>30-10-2009, 00:09:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She grinned, her hands on her waist. "Shovel's outside along with any other tools you might need. Teakwood storage bin right by the back deck." Leading the way to the back door, she pauses by the spacious kitchen. The small island to their right was capped by a rack gleaming with pots and pans. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the refrigerator. "Fridge is there if you need something cold to drink. If you take beer, Steven, you'd better be over twenty one or I'd say stay away from it. There's juice, bottled water and several varieties of soda." Alexa liked entertaining and the contents of her refrigerator showed it.<br><br>The back door was perfectly white, the window in it mullioned, giving them a glimpse of the wooden deck beyond. She held the door open for him. "Alright, there's a good number of bushes that need to go in. How long do you think it'll take? I'll probably run to the garden center and pick up a few more things unless you feel like listening to me lecture while you dig?" Her lips quirked in amusement.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Art History Course (bradten and NightFall)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insight</strong> on <strong>02-11-2009, 14:12:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He nodded as he walked behind her back to the garage. <br><br>"I dunno." He said, wordy as always. "Few hours. I don't need a whole lot. Just art help."<br><br>He stepped ahead and started looking between all the storage bins, having zero idea what 'teakwood' was. He saw something that looked like a shovel, pulled out the bin, and found that it was garden hoe. Damnit. He pushed it back in and kept looking. The next bin had it. He pulled out the big shovel and suddenly understood why she needed help. The thing probably weighed forty pounds and was built to break up concrete, not garden. She probably didn't even know that. He sighed. He'd be taking his shirt off whether she wanted him to or not.<br><br>He turned and started going to the backyard. He took his hoodie off (cold day as it was) and left it atop a car. Then he took his white t-shirt off and put it on top of the the hoodie. He had a pretty fair ripple of muscles. It wasn't the grossly overdone kind that some athletes have, but it modestly showed his six pack and pecs. Plenty to look at, if someone wanted to. Back in the back, he shoved his shovel into the ground.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>