Tales from the Help Desk - Part 3

“And that’s how you install the driver you need to remotely print to any of the print centers on campus,” I finished explaining to a panicked first-year student. It was two days before Thanksgiving, so the fact that he had just now come to the Help Desk for assistance didn’t bode well for his first semester grades. I hoped he had understanding parents.

During our conversation, my phone had started buzzing away on the desk, and I realized with horror that I had left it open to my text conversation with Paige Hotchkiss, professor of English, inspirer of wet dreams, and—at least for the next several months—the woman I was fucking, with approval from and supervision by, her husband, Mark.

Paige was in my address book as “Pizza” for the sake of anonymity, but the conversation we’d been having was pretty racy, and as I turned back to the desk, I could see that my two employees, Katie and Prashant, had definitely seen something they shouldn’t have. Katie looked appalled, and her estimation of me seemed to have fallen precipitously in just the few minutes I had been speaking with the kid. Prashant looked like he had . . . questions.

I grabbed my phone and scrolled back. “Oh, God,” I said, under my breath. “Oh, God, oh God, oh, God.” I checked the time and realized that Paige was currently teaching class. I wouldn’t be able to talk with her about what she had sent for over an hour. My concern now was dealing with Katie and Prashant, and avoiding a lawsuit if either of them decided that what they had seen rose to the level of harassment.

The final texts in the string were actually images. Highly inappropriate images. The first was a crystal-clear, high-def shot of Paige’s bare-shaven, extremely-aroused pussy, deep pink and swollen, a trickle of juice flowing from her slit. No grainy up-skirt photos for her, unfortunately.

The next, accompanied by the caption <<Dare me???>> showed her hand holding her favorite dildo next to her pussy. It was smaller than most of her other toys, and lacking any “balls,” but she claimed the material it was made from felt more “realistic.” “Is she really going to spend the next hour or so teaching a class with that thing inside her?” I wondered to myself.

The third image was actually a short video, which clearly answered my question:  Yes. Yes, she was going to teach a class with a fake penis planted in her hoo-ha.

The final image, with the words <<Double dare me???>> showed one of her small bullet vibrators being slipped into her vagina, presumably to create sensations that would “enhance” Paige’s pleasure from her first toy.

Given the time stamps, and the fluorescent cast to the pictures, I could only conclude that these photos had been snapped in a bathroom in the College of Arts building shortly before her class commenced. I knew she could be wild and often liked to push limits, but this seemed too kinky, even for her.

I would have to deal with her later, though. Right now I had to mitigate the damage with Prashant and especially Katie. “Wow,” I started. “Don’t people know nothing ever truly goes away in cyberspace? My pizza delivery girl is going to be very embarrassed when she finds out she sent these to the wrong person.”

Katie looked at me skeptically, but then rolled her eyes, and went back to work.

Prashant just looked at me and said with amazement, “You have the most awesome pizza place in the whole world.”

Thankfully, the rest of my afternoon was uneventful in comparison. I slid my phone deep into my satchel, to prevent any further mishaps. Katie left, reminding me as she did that she wouldn’t be back until the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. After she had gone, I got a phone call from another employee, Dylan, who claimed to be too sick to work the overnight shift, but I could tell he was really just trying to slink out early for the holiday. “I know it’s going to be slow,” I muttered after hanging up, “but I really like having two people here at all times.”

“Who else is scheduled to work tonight?” asked Prashant.

“Jenny. Why?”

“Um, no reason. Maybe I could work tonight. I haven’t put in all of my hours this week yet, and I’ve only worked two so far today.”

I had a sneaking suspicion that Prashant had a thing for Jenny, and his willingness to work right before a holiday provided further confirmation that I was right. Luckily for his geeky self, I had the feeling she might actually reciprocate. “Okay, that’s a plan. Thanks, man.”

Prashant left with the promise to return later that evening, and two more of my little nerds came in for their shift. I also prepared to leave, not to go home, unfortunately, but to camp out in my carrel in another part of the library. I was working on a critical section of my thesis, and my findings were due to my advisor tomorrow before campus shut down for the long weekend. As usual, I had procrastinated too long, and I really needed to buckle down this evening without any distractions and just get it done.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed up to the fifth floor. My carrel was located along the far wall of the library. It was cramped and sterile, sort of like trying to work in a phone booth, but as a grad student, I had at least scored a window and a door that locked. That last feature was critical because it allowed me to keep all of my notes and research there instead of dragging them around with me.

I sat down, plugged in my laptop, and got to work. Programming language semantics wasn’t sexy, but it was my chosen research area, and I was just a big enough geek to get really excited about it. Therefore, I had no idea how long my phone had been buzzing in the bottom of my bag before I finally noticed and dug it out.

Clearly Paige had been trying to get in touch with me for some time. About an hour after the debacle with Katie and Prashant she had texted:

<<Get my pictures?>>

<<Did you like them?>>

<<Jim?>>

<<Jim?>>

<<Jim????????????>>

<<Are you mad?>>

Then there was a break for a couple of hours, and the texts commenced again:

<<I don’t think they had any idea. The ventilation system covered up the humming . . . I think.>>

<<Once I got going, it was just one, constant, low-grade O for the whole class.>>

<<I had to play with myself in the bathroom when class was over.>>

<<I’d rather play with you. Come over.>>

<<Please?>>

She stopped trying for a few hours, and had started up again recently:

<<I want to see you before I have to leave for my parents’ house.>>

<<I NEED to see you before I have to leave for my parents’ house.>>

<<We don’t have to tell Mark.>>

“You really need to respond,” I thought. “Otherwise, she’s going to keep driving you crazy.”

I typed:

<<You really can’t send photos like that. You almost got me in trouble this afternoon.>>

Almost immediately, she responded:

<<Is that why you haven’t texted me back? You’re mad? I’m sorry.>>
 
<<Look, Paige, I’m not mad. I just need to get stuff done on my thesis before the holiday.>>

<<You’re not coming? I miss you. I want our special time.>>

<<Not tonight, babe. Happy Thanksgiving!> >

I powered my phone off completely, and put it back in my bag. I tried to get back to work, but my mind kept drifting back to Paige. I just couldn’t figure her out. Sometimes she could be lustful, wanton, and frankly filthy, like she had been this afternoon. At other times, she was sweet, and needy in an entirely different way, like she was being tonight. It was as if I were dating two entirely different women—except I wasn’t dating her at all. She was another man’s wife, and when he returned, I would be out of the picture.

I finally got back on task, and I was just preparing to proofread in advance of sending my document to print when there was a knock on my carrel. Thinking it was one of the janitors looking to empty my trash can, I got up and opened the door. In the doorway stood Paige.

It was unclear whether she was in “good girl” or “bad girl” mode, but I presumed it was the latter. Taking no chances, I quickly pulled her into my carrel, closing and locking the door behind us.

There wasn’t really room for both of us to stand, so I sat back down before launching into a string of questions, “What are you doing here? How did you even find me? Didn’t I tell you not to bother me tonight?”

She looked hurt, but simply answered, “I figured you wouldn’t try to work from home, because you’re too easily distracted. There’s a master list of carrels behind the information desk, and I just used my ‘assets’ to get a quick look at it.” She leaned over me like I assumed she did downstairs, her breasts almost spilling out of her trench coat. I had seen them dozens of times at this point, but I never grew tired of the sight. I was sure the guard downstairs had folded almost instantly.

“Paige . . . “ I began, but she interrupted me.

“Relax,” she said, “There’s almost no one here. Nobody saw me come to your carrel.” She kissed me, then straightened, put her purse down, and started to remove her coat.

I knew in my gut that she had nothing on under her trench coat, but I was wrong. As the coat fell away from her shoulders and onto the floor, I saw that her breasts—full, heavy, and the genesis of scores of undergraduate fantasies—were indeed bare. She was, however, wearing a lacy pair of what I have been told are “boy shorts,” which were considerably more substantial than her standard thong.

It was then that I heard it, a metallic whine that seemed familiar, but that I couldn’t quite place. Slowly it dawned on me.

“Paige . . . “ I started cautiously.

“Um-hm.” She raised her eyebrows slightly as a hint of a smile crept across her lips.

“. . . where is your vibrator right now?” I whispered.

She shimmied out of her lacy undergarment, and handed it to me. It was wet. Very wet. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I reached out to touch her pussy and confirmed that it was indeed thrumming along at a high frequency.

“Someday,” I swore to myself, “I’m going to write a letter to Penthouse Forum about Paige. And it will get rejected for being too ridiculous.”

“I’ve needed you all day, so I came up with this.” She sat down on the ledge opposite my desk and spread her legs, giving me a glorious view. With her muscles unclenched, the bullet vibrator peeked out just slightly. “But it’s a poor substitute for the real thing.”

I dare another straight man to be presented with the vision I was—Paige Hotchkiss, naked, gorgeous, and begging to be fucked—and not react as I did. I rose from my chair and stood between her legs. I tilted her face up with one hand as I bent my head to kiss her and used the other to cup one of those incredible breasts. “You beautiful freak,” I said. “What am I going to do with you?”

Paige certainly knew what she wanted to do with me. She reached over and turned off the light switch next to the door, plunging the tiny carrel into darkness, illuminated only faintly by the light coming in through the window. She hastily undid my belt and unfastened my jeans while wrapping her legs around me tightly and pulling me close to her. It was definitely a unique sensation to have her pussy vibrate against my swelling prick, but her toy was occupying the space I desperately wanted to be.

I felt between her legs and gingerly removed the small, oblong vibrator, switching it off as I did so. I was preparing to enter her when I noticed that it hadn’t been the only thing occupying her vagina. The dildo from the infamous video was making its presence known, too. “Paige,” I said, my eyes finally adjusting to the dim light so I could see to pull it out, “Please tell me these haven’t been there since this afternoon.”

“No. I took them out when I masturbated after class. I got horny again, though, so I put them back in and came to see you. Are you going to fuck me now, or what?” She bit her lip and smiled.

“Yes, I’m going to fuck you. Patience, Paige.” I looked around for a place to put her extremely damp toys.

“Here, give them to me.” She opened her purse and put the dildo in a case she had obviously brought along for the purpose. “I’ll keep hold of this, though.”

I bent slightly at the knees and penetrated her, lifting her from the ledge, before setting her back down again. “Oh, that’s good,” she breathed in my ear as I got settled in my rhythm.

I heard the vibe begin to hum again. I figured she was going for her clit, but Paige reached under us to apply her little plaything to my balls, just about doing me in. “I hope you don’t expect me to last very long,” I groaned. I was just being honest.

“I figured I should share my toys, like a good girl,” she giggled. “I’ve been so close to the edge all day, it’s not going to take me long either.”

As if to prove her point, she began contracting around me, throwing her head back, and panting with ecstasy. The vibrator continued to do its job, soon sending me into my own climax, and I finished with a couple of good spurts inside of her. I held her against me as our breathing slowed. Sex with her was incredible, but just holding her afterward was always pretty nice, too.

This was our first time being intimate away from Paige and Mark’s house, and it felt like something had just shifted in our relationship. Being Southern California, it wasn’t too cold outside, but our brief interlude had still fogged up the window of my carrel. Paige reached over and wrote “I <3 Jim” with her finger in the condensation.

“Babe, you know we can’t . . . “

“I know,” she said, giving me a kiss as she disentangled herself from me and reached for her coat. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She opened the door and stepped out into the deserted library.

My head was reeling, but somehow I managed to finish my proofreading and send my work to print at the Help Desk downstairs. I figured I would pick up my paper and check in on Prashant and Jenny before I left for the night.

As I approached the Help Desk, my two employees were nowhere in sight. Granted, the odds of anyone needing urgent tech help at one in the morning on the day before Thanksgiving were pretty slim, but I was still disappointed in them. I went to the printer to collect my document and noticed that it had run out of paper about halfway through. Sighing, I opened the door to the office to retrieve another ream, and got an eyeful of something I really didn’t need to see. Jenny was reclined on the desk, her skirt pulled up, being enthusiastically eaten out by Prashant. Thankfully, Prashant’s head blocked a view of anything really sensitive, and I managed to grab a package of paper and back out of the room without being noticed.

After the break, I was going to have to have a serious discussion with them about appropriate behavior in the workplace—and the importance of locking doors. But I decided to leave them alone for the time being. It was always nice when two nerds stepped out of their shells and found love, or at least lust, with each other.

As I walked to my car, I considered what I was going to do about Paige. I thought getting past the fact that Mark wanted to watch us screw would be the hardest part of our arrangement. I hadn’t counted on Paige wanting to engage in sex with me away from her husband’s prying video equipment. And now, we weren’t even restricting our relations to their home. I hoped a couple of days away from campus with too much turkey and way too much football would help to clear my head.

 








 

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