Zoe Ch. 01

-Prologue-

He could see the white triangle of her knickers peering through her thin black tights as he spoke to the swathe of eyes before him. He quickly looked away to regain his composure, being sure to make eye contact with various young men and women in the group to ensure he kept their focus and engagement on the lecture. The lecture hall had bare white walls topped with a grey ceiling that mirrored the gentle rake of the room, the only blemish on it was single black pole used to affix a powerful projector.

The hall could comfortably accommodate sixty delegates but only about thirty-five were present today. A row of tables positioned at the bottom of the auditorium forces the front row of attendees slightly up the slope and thus just below eye level of the orator on the little stage at the front. The lack of windows and the heat of the day outside provided a humid atmosphere, to the point where a thin layer of moisture could be seen on the brows of those sat a mere twelve feet , from the canvas used to display the projectors image.

Of course as his speech went on his eyes drifted to the eyes of the girl with the alluring white triangle. As eye contact was made the image he saw a moment earlier flashed in front of his eyes and he thought he saw a whisper of a smile on the young woman's face, as her bright brown eyes flashed up at him framed with long black lashes. Zoe was 19 years old with dyed blonde hair that neatly fell above her shoulders. Her skin was pale white but her cheeks were blushed with a reddish hue from her make-up.

Zoe possessed girlish features, very short standing at just 4' 10" when fully erect, and so she appeared even smaller now in her current posture lent back in the red office chair with her shoeless feet tucked into her bum with her knees pulled close to her chest. It was of course this position which afforded Leo his paradisical glances at the young girl's hidden sex, veiled between two layers of fabric so thin that a cool breeze would surely cause her to jump.

Leo carried on his lecture with an energetic fervour which reflected his passion to succeed in his new role, he impressed himself with his ability to think cognitively with the young blonde almost crudely on display to him. He fielded questions from the audience, some inane, some insightful and held himself together until Zoe asked a question. It was nothing challenging, just a routine query about assessment formats but as he formulated the words to answer her she stared into him never taking her eyes of his. Only the infrequent blinking gave him any rest bite from it.

His eyes glanced down again; he used a pause, as if thinking, to give himself time to drink in the sight. Her hands had now moved to her ankles pressed close together as if to draw attention to her exposed white gusset and her chair gently yet playfully rocked ever so slightly side to side. An almost indistinguishable smile across her lips. Realising he had probably let his concupiscent eyes linger too long he looked up to her eyes and answered her question.

"Thanks."

She said in a high tone of voice which screamed innocence in his ears but her eyes did not relent in their probing of him. She tilted her head slightly, physically expressing her satisfaction in his answer and an end in her questioning. This motion however filled his mind with lust and with a crystal clear image of sin. The room empty but the two of them. She sat in the same chair but instead of a mere white triangle, her legs, still bent at the knees spread apart, her tights ripped and his seed trickling over her white gusset. The moisture on her right thigh caused by his release shines in the fluorescent lighting from above, her young brown eyes fixed on his, her face trembling.

-Office Hour-

Before a plain oak effect desk Leo Cook is writing out feedback for one of his students. It is a poor effort and Leo is trying hard to find points of praise to balance his criticisms so as to not totally destroy the girls already fragile confidence.

"Well Natalie Harper, this course doesn't get easier so you need to up your game." He says aloud to himself.

It's like she gave up on doing well before she started writing the paper. He finishes his notes using a silver pen with his initials scratched into the barrel. His office is modest, being new to the University staff, his shelves lined with text books and journals seem drab. The floor is littered with disorganised boxes of books and papers, a job he has put off since his arrival. Poking out of one of the boxes is a copy of Doing it, a book he enjoyed as a teenager. How it ended up amongst his academic works is unknown even to him.

The front cover is a young skinny girl with her underwear being seductively pulled from just above her slightly bowed knees. The panties feature a thin purple trim; pencil line images etched on to the rear of the briefs convey a cornucopia of youthful rebellion as they linger at a twenty five degree angle. Her left thumb gently tucked inside the waistband whilst the right side is wrapped tightly around her index finger.

He leans back in his chair with a sigh, the creaks of the seat breaking the prominence of the sound of the ticking wall clock.

He glances at it and states aloud "Ten to two, ten minutes," indicating the amount of time before his office hour begins.

His mind wonders of the past two months at the London School of Business; he lets out a slight embarrassed chuckle about his first week in the job where he got hopelessly lost in the warren like corridors of the old building. He was late four times in his first week. Luckily his impassioned and well informed lectures provided a saving grace. The school building itself, a six story block of grey and glass centered around the pollution and filth of central London didn't seem overly appealing to him at first.

Hardly the place to harbor the finest young minds in finance! He thought.

Almost right away though, he was blown away by the staff, students and facilities the premises had to offer and he soon befriended his co-workers. His amenable yet self-assured conversation endeared him to his new found colleagues who enjoyed having a new face to engage with. Two of the university staff shared his enthusiasm for the development of his field and the three of them would take lunch together away from the other lecturers. Leo felt he could form a friendship with Damien and Mary. It wasn't that he didn't get along with the other employees of the school but more that he felt they would eventually find his incessant exuberance wearisome after more than a short chat over a morning brew.

The first morning he spent with Damien and Mary was a few days after his start. His first lectures and seminars had gone well, so he was very pleased when they asked him to join them for a coffee in the old buildings refectory. He noted a raised eyebrow from a young professor of economics, the eyebrow wondering why in the two years he had worked there he had not been invited to the cosy conversational meets. It felt like a privilege to Leo for you could tell they had discerning tastes of character. They remained friendly to all who worked there but kept a distant and strictly professional relationship between them.

Betwixt Mary and Damien though you could tell there was an intense bond of friendship, the kind forged between people who have a unique shared experience. This relationship was not demonstrated through touch or some kind of inability to be separated (in fact they were quite independent of one another), but in the way they always ended up at the same conclusion in any debate. They always stood in unison and when their eyes met, you could tell some unspoken dialogue ran between them. Leo suspected that they shared intimate moments in the night or at least they had had done at some point .

"Hey Leo!" Damien chirped up, "Fancy joining Mary and me for coffee this morning?"

"You've got no class today at 11," Mary added correctly their eyes upon them with matching friendly and expecting smiles.

"Love to," Leo responded with a beaming smile.

The refectory was a long corridor like space with a typical canteen running down its right side, to the left was a sheet glass wall looking out into the hustle of London's financial district. The ceiling about 14 feet high paired with the large glass wall gave the room an open quality despite its thin rectangular nature. He joined Mary and Damien at a table alongside the transparent barrier to the cold outside, the winter morning sun beams shone across Mary's face lighting up her brunette hair, long and intertwined with red highlights giving her an intimidating yet simple beauty. She had tanned skin, across her face and neck were few blemishes bar some pale freckles on her cheeks.

She wore a white blouse with a loose collar displaying a generous amount of her nape. Mary smiled slightly mischievously at him as he crossed the cold tiled floor and sat down opposite her, meanwhile Damien looked on calmly. He looked the epitome of financial muscle in an all black suit complete with black shirt and tie, the tie containing the only colour in his outfit, a thin vertical red stripe which ran about 4 centimeters from its tip.

"Took your fucking time Leo," Damien jested as he sat, "Lost again?"

"Yep! Absolute nightmare," Leo admitted.

"Worse for your students, poor little cunts sat staring at a blank wall waiting for you to show up!" Damien retorted with a laugh.

Mary's gentle smile reassuring Leo that Damien's words are meant purely in jest.

"Better than hearing me ramble on about the joys of profit loss ratios I suppose," Leo said joining in.

Soon they were all talking and enjoying themselves, Leo learning that Damien possessed no fear of appearing coarse and Mary acted as a perfect foil to balance his warped assertions about life at the university. Leo felt he had done well to secure their friendship, no doubt a massive perk to his new job.

As he stared at the imperfections in the plaster of the plain white walls, counting down the last few minutes before his office hour his mind wandered to something far less plain, Zoe. He thinks of her often now, since the day almost two months ago where she exposed her underwear in his seminar on advanced marketing strategies. Every time he thinks on her his emotions are mixed; lust with a pang of guilt at the top of his gut thrown into his cerebrum

She's a young girl who has unwittingly sat in an unbecoming position, and here I am using her to fuel fantasies! Leo thought.

Recently Leo has often imagined her late at night before sleeping in his empty flat in Soho. Having only moved to London a few months ago and being very busy being sure to excel in his lecturer position, he is yet to buy much more than the most basic furnishings. His flat is coated with hard wood floor boards throughout, with a varnish that appears very orange from the single lamp that he uses to illuminate his bedroom. His bed, placed centrally is high framed and forged with iron bedposts that form a spiral at their tip. The iron head board is imposing, its cold black appearance dominates the room and its smaller cousin at the bed's foot casts the shadows of prison bars across the empty space in his room. The bed was not Leo's purchase but came with the flat, the previous owners saying it was too heavy and cumbersome to move to their new home.

As he closes his eyes and tries to slumber he imagines Zoe in the empty space at the foot of the bed, a thin layer of cool sweat slicks her pert modest cleavage that is displayed in a black strapped top which clings tightly to her skin. The light that probes between the bars from his lamp illuminates her unevenly as her knees press painfully into the floorboards like a carpet of fire. The white orbs of her skinny knees are crowned by her short black skirt that has risen up just enough for him to see a hint of white from where he lays on his bed, behind the bars.

Her arms hang limply by her sides, the back of her hands resting uncomfortably on the floor, her breathing shallow yet visible as the heat from her lungs meets the coolness of the Soho apartment and her breath leaves a moisture across her pink lips, untainted with make-up. He approaches her filled with lust, as if drawn in by a force one might equate to that of a sinner's fall from the gates of St Peter toward a pit of evil, terrified with what awaits but as a sinner; curious and excited. His movement to the standing position is mirrored by the position of her face looking up at him, her eyes locked on his, as he ejaculates on her virginal soft lips that adorn her pretty face. She never touches him in these fantasies, Leo hasn't worked out if she's complicit in the dreams yet, maybe in time she'll reach out and take his hard cock on her tongue.

As his office hour starts no eager fingers wrap his door, he hoped that Natalie would arrive so he could provide some kind of guidance sooner rather than later, it simply wouldn't do to have anyone fail in his first year he thought. To pass the time usefully Leo turns to the last of his papers to mark, it is written in a plain black font unfamiliar to his eyes. The characters are harsh and tall, the tone authoritative to the point of arrogance. The content is excellent, displaying knowledge far beyond that of what a first year student is expected, referencing texts and theories not yet covered in the material.

This piece of work, an undergraduate paper of the highest order has been turned in by none other than Zoe. Whilst he adorns Zoe's work with comments dripping in superlatives he reflects on how the standard and tone of this work belies the appearance of the petite young blonde who always sits, keenly engaged at the front of his class.

"Shit. She needn't bother turning up for the rest of the year, I certainly hope she does though!" he chuckles to himself.

He can't help compare this to the weakness of Natalie's; they sit next to each other in class, yet worlds apart in talent. Leo is slightly startled by a timid singular knock on is solid wood door that he had left ajar to welcome in any students with questions or concerns. Sliding Zoe's paper under a stack of other work, somehow fearing the effect it could have on another student's mind he calls out invitingly "Come in."

The door slowly ekes inward towards him and gingerly Natalie walks into the room. She wears an olive pleated skirt, thigh length with a semi-transparent look to it; beneath it there must be another slip to conceal Natalie's modesty. The skirt is covered in pale pink roses with short stems to compliment her white knit jumper and dirty sandals with thick pink straps. Natalie displays a full figure, the thick pink thighs on display representative of her physique, her face, tanned and pretty. Deep green eyes that looked tired and sore as if recently teary and generous lips. There is no make-up painted on her face as usual and her hair gives off the impression that it was given the briefest of preparations as she hurried out the door this morning.

Leo holds out an open palm motioning her to the chair beside his, without making eye contact she sits herself down, her legs pressed together and the loose interlocking fingers hold her hands as one resting just above the knee.

"How are you?" He asks sincerely

"Er, I'm OK, thank you," She replies quietly.

He notes that while she speaks her eyes never venture to his face, as if there is something of great interest on his plain black t-shirt. He knows full well why she is here but decides to feign naivety.

He asks cheerily "How can I help?"

Whilst he waits patiently for the nervous girl to respond he is surprised that Natalie, unlike her peers, is not doused in some expensive perfume but in fact fills his nostrils with the smell of sweat twinned with some other acrid scent. Natalie is the embodiment of the piteous little girl not destined for life atop the financial powerhouses which she is now swimming, nay drowning in.

"I was hoping you could tell me how I did in the last assignment? I worked really hard I didn't want to wait until class later to find out how I did," she probed with a slight smile.

Leo did pity her and as her teacher and mentor felt compelled to help as much as he could but at the same time he couldn't help despising her a little, her meek and desperate state so outshone by her fellow students. Carefully, he dissected her work with her in detail pointing out the few highlights interspersed with the serious inadequacies. She was tearful yet attentive. Drawing a small pink notepad from a white canvas bag that she had placed at her feet when she had sat, she gratefully took notes. She copied down all the names of additional material Leo gave her to look at. Leo demonstrated incredible patience as Natalie struggled to comprehend the simplest of spoon-fed information he provided her with.

After a considerable amount of time had past (long beyond his allotted office hour) he felt he could do no more with her for now and she wept with thanks for Leo and his efforts. This last act of weakness and ill self-control paired with her off-putting scent made the resentment rise in him again. He pictured bringing that same palm that had welcomed her but an hour ago, with a fierce slicing of the air crashing into her pretty wet cheek and screaming.

"Get a fucking grip! You dirty little girl!"

Clearing the guilty and violent image from his mind with a slight shudder and rattle of his head he tried one more supportive line of questioning before abandoning her to a no doubt futile attempt of self-sufficiency, "Do you have anyone who can support you with this outside of school?"

Her tears stopped and she wiped them on her off-white sleeve already wet from drying her nose and face throughout the last hour. The loud tic of the silver wall clock the only noise as the girl paused trying to compose herself. She grew very tense and her fingers trembled as she nervously fiddled with the hem of her dress resting on her pink thighs.

"Well," she said finally, "I have already had some help, although I think they're going to be a bit disappointed in me when they see this mark," gesturing toward the below par effort laying across the desk covered with Leo's annotations .

"Come now I doubt that, It's great you have someone helping you, do you have a family member supporting you?" Leo said with a hopeful smile.

"No, Zoe from class has been helping me." She said more confidently and for the first time Natalie's eyes flickered up at him as if recognising a weakness, before flitting back down to their usual resting place on his chest.

Leo's head began a carousel; he sat silently. He was rocked by someone else bringing her image in to his office other than him. After a second had passed he regained himself and nodded in faux approval of Zoe's apparent kindness.

"Great," he muttered, "Don't worry I'm sure she won't be too hard on you" with a chuckle.

She reciprocated his kind laugh before preparing to leave, placing her notepad and dissected assignment in her shoulder bag. She gave a nod causing her messy brown hair to rock forward and back delicately and stood to leave raising her back on to her shoulder. The action caused her loose jumper to fall into an off the shoulder fashion on one side. She progressed towards the door and as Leo absorbed the girl from the back he observed a harsh purple bruise peeking out like an little ugly monster.

"Natalie." Leo said firmly, his authority now recovered.

She froze on the spot, her downcast face turned slowly to meet his gaze...

"See you in class later." She nods as before, and exits quickly.

The clear glass doors of the entrance to the university slide open in front of Leo letting the cold air rush onto his face and attempt to clear his thoughts. He walks thirty or so yards from the gate and leans against a short brick wall. Pulling a cigarette from his trouser pocket and lighting it.