Double Vision

BY : ChrissyQuinn
Category: Romance > General
Dragon prints: 1124
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication

Discussion thread (You can also vote for who you think M.M Adler is): http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/62627-double-vision-discussion-an-erotic-who-done-it/


Tags: 3Plus, BDSM, Bi, Bond, D/s, Fet, M/F, Oral, Other, S&M, SH, Toys, WIP


   It was the first day of the semester and I was late. It was odd, this lateness was in fact something that had perpetuated throughout my whole academic career. I was always late or absent on the first day of classes, it was like I couldn’t actually bring myself to be there on time. But this, this really took the cake, this was graduate school, and not just any graduate school. I was enrolled at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, I had a full scholarship and I was late.

   My feet couldn’t move fast enough as I ran down the hall, my legs burned as I pushed passed students and faculty in the old hallway. It was stuffy and somehow full of people, people who all looked at me like I was some form of oddity hurrying as I was. Maybe it was because I was a stranger in a strange land. Or maybe it was because they had the sense I was lacking and actually woke up when their alarm clock went off. Either way, they stared as I multitasked to the upmost, checking the numbers printed above the wooden doors, while running down the hall and sending a quick text to my cousin. I swallowed and let out a sigh as I stopped in front of the door, peering into the room at the twenty or so seated students. The only thought really on my mind was why the fuck couldn’t the door have been closer to the back. As it was the heavy wooden door sat at the very front of the room.

   Yet, surprisingly enough, there wasn’t a professor in sight, which confused me until I turned to look at the clock. That was when I came face to face with—well more like face to chest with—a tall man with mischievous blue eyes. I was a sucker for good eyes and his were amazing; looking at them you could tell he had a great sense of humor. He had the very definition of smiling eyes.

   “Looking for someone?” he spoke with a thick British accent and a smirk spreading his surprisingly kissable lips.

   “I—” I swallowed. “Well, the professor… I thought I was late but apparently they aren’t here yet.”

   “Ah well, I would suggest going into the classroom then.” He reached for the door and grabbed the handle—he actually held the door open for me the simple act made my heart pound. I went in before him and took a seat in the back. He, however, did not follow to the back of the room to take a seat. He didn’t take a seat at all. Instead, he set his brown leather messenger bag down behind the lectern and pulled out a flash drive and a folder. And I stared slack-jawed and shocked at the gorgeous man who was…hopefully just a teacher’s aid.

   “Sorry for being late, I had a bit of row with the department chair.” He took a breath and grinned, “Who by the by is a complete idiot. No… that’s wrong. He is not an idiot. He’s simply not very well versed in how much we will have to cover in this class and how two hours a day three days a week is barely enough time to even scrape the surface of Tudor court life. He’s a very nice fellow but knows very little about the Tudor period for an Englishman,” he continued speaking about the course and I just stared.

   He couldn’t be a professor. He was too young, too attractive. Oxford Dons were supposed to be wrinkly old men in jackets with tweed patches who wore glasses, drank port and smoked pipes. The very fact that he was young-ish, attractive, happy, playful and wearing a dark blue sport coat over a black shirt without a tie seemed very… wrong.  This was an impossibility. I almost took out my cell phone to text my cousin but I didn’t. I just sat still at my seat with my bag on the table in front of me and tried not to look at him. Maybe he was just filling in?

   “I know many of you who are new don’t know me, but I’m Dr. Ethan Adler. If you haven’t taken one of my courses before the name might seem familiar if you have ordered your text books already that is,” he laughed and held up the book. “I have two doctorates one in history with a focus on the Tudor Period and one which I will never ever use, in Medieval literature; It has been fifteen years since I received them and I am still confused to this day why I even took the time to go down that dark path,” he paused and took a breath and I did math—he couldn’t be in his forties.  However, he looked directly at me and said: “For those of you wondering I’m only thirty six. And no, I was not the youngest professor ever. I missed that by two years and one hundred and some odd days. I might have been the youngest history professor, but they don’t specialize like that or at least they never asked me about such a thing. However, on this campus, yes I am the youngest professor. Yes, I was one of those child prodigies. Also, yes being a child prodigy has buggered me up socially so if you have little prodigies someday I recommend against pushing them,” he went on to speak on the syllabus and I turned him out and kind of stared blankly at him. I did, however, pull out my phone and covertly google him with my phone sheltered in my bag. He had a slew of books under his belt, even more articles.

   After the class had ended I sat in my chair and hung my head, it was impossible, and at the same time of being impossible it was so inexplicably what would happen to me. I finally find a man in England attractive and he is a professor; not just a professor but a professor of a class I am taking at my university.  He was busy erasing the board when I finished stuffing my things into my bag. I started down the aisle to towards the door when he spoke.

   “You seemed surprised. Am I not what you were expecting from a professor at Oxford?” he chuckled a bit and set the eraser down, looked over the new cleared board and nodded. “I hate this room, all the new technology and we still have this bloody ancient chalk board,” he mumbled wiping his hands on his pants.

   “When I did my undergraduate in the states I had professors younger than you,” I shrugged. “I just…” I laughed and trailed off.

   “Ah, so you’re an American. I have such a hard time with Canadian, American and Australian accents,” he slipped a folder into his bag.

   “I’m Canadian but I attended University in the states for five years, this is my first semester here.” I stopped at the bottom of the walkway and he turned and looked at me. Those mischievous eyes looked me over with a fierce hunger that made my skin breakout in gooseflesh, after a moment he looked away and cleared his throat.

   “Well, I…” he trailed off and smiled. “Welcome to England, and welcome to Oxford. It’s rather dull but it’s only an hour or so from London.” With those words he left me standing in the room staring at him. I just stood there for a moment trying to process everything. I could always drop the class… but that was stupid. Shaking my head I made my way out into the hall.

 

  “He’s a fucking Adonis!” I screamed at my cousin as we sat in her London flat, she had sent me a text after class begging me to come see her.

   “And an Oxford Professor at age thirty six, well ladidah,” she snickered and ran her fingers through her pale brown hair. She was a very successful lawyer—erm, barrister—and a handful of years older than me. However, she took after her father’s side, and as we were related through our mother’s we looked very little alike. I was swarthy with long black hair that fell to my hips in loose curls when not tamed properly, and she, she was pale and mousy brown hair in a cute bob.  The only thing we had in common genetically was that we were both short—I was five foot two inches and she was five foot four.  Together sitting on her couch we looked like friends talking about the day, and we were friends. My move to England had made us closer.

   “It’s hell,” I breathed as I leaned my head back over the edge of the couch and looked at her kitchen, “I have no clue how I am going to concentrate. I’ve been here for… five months now and only just now am I finding an attractive man and he is completely untouchable.”

   “You need a very good bang,” my cousin snickered shaking her head. “A good no strings attached how’s your father.”

   “I… I can’t believe you actually just said that.”

   “What?”

   “How’s your father… do people actually say that here?”

   She tilted her head from side to side laughing. “Sometimes. But my advice is the same,” she sighed and looked around the apartment for a moment. “I have just the thing,” she stood and walked into her room. A moment later she appeared with a black mask and an envelope.

   “What’s that?” I raised a brow with a snicker.

   “This… this will help you through the semester.” She sat back down next to me and placed the envelope and the mask on the table. Looking around for a moment, her hazel eyes flit back and forth like she were trying to remember something. After a few moments, she took a breath before continuing. “Once a week in London, a very wealthy gentleman throws a very… interesting party.” She pursed her lips, “This is a sex party, it is totally anonymous. You show up at the time and place in the envelope—it’s usually at a gym after closing. You strip down in the locker room, lock up your clothes and parade around naked.  There’s very little talking as a rule. No names are exchanged, no numbers. You simply approach a gentleman you fancy and touch him on the shoulder. If he touches you back…well, then you go off and have some fun,” she smirked. “Everyone is clean and professional, so no need to worry about disease. Every man uses a French letter as per the rules; it’s very safe. I go often. I’d be going this time, but I believe you need it more and referrals happen often.”

   I picked up the mask and looked at it. It was one of those elaborate Venetian masks that covered most of the nose and eyes. I thought about it…and it made my mind just scream with the very explicit immorality of it.

   “Can I show up drunk? I mean uhh, pissed?” I stuck my tongue at her and she giggled.

   “I usually do. But then I know who I’ve become a favorite of, like Bryce Allen. He actually runs it, and he has even visited me outside of the parties.”

   “I thought you didn’t speak to anyone? Like Fight Club but with sex.”

   “Ha. You can… though most frown upon it and I will warn you most will look for women they know. We are after all creatures of habit,” she giggled. “So are you going to go?”

   I scratched my neck and thought for a moment with my lips pursed. The thought of being in a room surrounded by naked men was in a way as arousing as it was terrifying.  I let out a sigh and she giggled again.

   “Everyone is for the most part fit and attractive; it’s essentially a place for us professionals to play without worrying about ramifications. You know morality clauses and what not,” she let out a sigh. “So are you going or not, dearest cousin?”

   I took a breath and nodded after a moment before pushing off from the couch. I had the hope that it would actually take my mind off of Dr. Ethan Adler.

   “I’ll do it. I’ll go.”

   “You’ll have fun; by the by, everyone needs a good uncomplicated fuck every now and again. Doubly so when you’re single.”



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