Morning After

ET ch 17 Morning After

Educating Thalia

Chapter 17

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3185

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, heavy life discussions

Summary:  Chris learns more about Thalia over a homemade breakfast together.  He finds there’s more to the dark-haired beauty than meets the eye…

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

He turns her in his arms and clasps his hands over her rounded ass, holding her tight in the locked cage of his beefy arms.  Through the gap in the sheet twisted around her body, his cock fits against her hot pussy, seeking her out again.

“Oh, no.  We’re not going for Four now.  Food.  I’m starving,” she chuckles, pushing hard against his chest.

Her touch has a power over him, but no strength to actually move him.  He smiles and teases.  “Oh, that’s cute you think you could move me!”

He halts when she points to her gym membership card on the dresser and shoves him a bit harder.  Not expecting it, he totters just a bit and throws his head back in laughter as she pulls free of his hold.  Shit, she could probably kick his ass…

Moving to the closet, she gathers clothes and steps towards the doorway, then stops and throws the clothes on the bed.  She rolls her eyes.  “What’s the point? You’ve already seen me naked and didn’t run off…”

If anything it made him want to run closer to her.  He looks around for his clothes but pauses to watch her thoughtfully as she dresses.  He doesn’t want to go home to his empty condo. “Enough of that… you’re a sensual goddess, and I don’t wanna hear any more about that.” He looks to her smartly when she audibly scoffs.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he points.  “I’ll do everything I can to make you believe me.”  He catches a pair of sweatpants she tosses to him and with a shrug, puts them on.  “Hungry, huh?  Last night you said pancakes.  What if I make pancakes while you study?”

Looking up from tying her loose sweats, her jaw momentarily drops.  “You wanna cook for me?”

“It’s mix and water.  It’s not that hard,” he replies, still feeling like a manly man for offering, but pancakes, he can do.

Pulling a superhero t shirt over her head she returns his laughter.  “Mix?  I don’t know what women you’ve been with, but real women make their pancakes from scratch.”  She runs her hand down his chest, straightening out the twisted elastic at his waist and then pulling it back and releasing it with a snap before leaving the room.

“Fuck,” Chris whispers following her out of the bedroom.  “From scratch?”

He watches her gather measuring spoons and a large skillet.  She opens a cabinet door and points to a recipe taped inside.  “It’s easy.  The one my stepmother always uses,” she explains.  “It says ‘vanilla optional.’ It’s not.  Add the vanilla,” Thalia requests.  “Are you sure?  I can make them quick, or even call the diner and pre-order something?”

Washing his hands, Chris grins at her.  “Sit down and study.  I can handle a Sunday morning breakfast.”

He notices her pause as she gathers some books to sit at the kitchen table.  Measuring out the flour and sugar he can feel her eyes on him and knows she’s studying anatomy and not… whatever it is she’s supposed to be studying right now.

“Chris,” her curious voice interrupts him as he dollops the first serving of batter into the warm pan.  “The comment about ‘women you’ve been with?’ I shouldn’t have said that…  I’m really sorry.  I… I just remembered stuff I’ve heard in the faculty workroom…  So?  It was a pretty bad divorce?”

Running his hand over his mouth and down his beard, his eyes sadden, nodding his head.  Scratching his eyebrow, he tells her, “I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t wanna talk about it.  That’s what I have therapy for.”

“Ok.  Fair enough…” She watches as he expertly flips the pancakes, biting her lip.  “You also made the perfect braid… “ she smiles, playing with her now loose tresses..  “A daughter?  How old is she?”

Opening a cabinet and finding the plates, Chris pulls two down and places them on the counter.  Turning, he rests his hip against the counter and smiles brightly.  “Avery is five; she’s my light…  Her mother wouldn’t let me see her last night.  That’s how I ended up drunk in a bar…  The last two times I was supposed to see her, there’s been some lame excuse.”

Turning back, he takes the pancakes off the heat and serves them up on the plates.  Thalia moves her books to the side, and he feels bad she’s not getting any studying accomplished.

When he sets the plate in front of her, she touches his arm.  “I bet you’re a good dad.  Don’t give up.  Your ex will see you’re trying, no matter what your differences are, and she can’t deny the facts.”

Sitting down at the little table with her, his large legs bump against hers and he enjoys her comfort.  “Thank you; I’m trying.  Some days are just easier, you know.”

Looking to a photo on the shelf of an older man, obviously her father, she nods her head and looks back to her plate.  “Yea, I do.”  She cuts up her pancakes and reaches for the syrup, her hand brushing his as he grabs for it at the same time.  “These look amazing.  You did good.”

They enjoy a friendly breakfast.  Chris asks her about the funeral notice and she tells her about her friend and he shares a few stories about Avery.  The speed with which they’ve settled in with one another alarms Chris and he already feels a tug on his conscious, trying to tell himself again she’s a student, and this is so damn wrong.

But he doesn’t really fucking care.

The pancakes were pretty damn good, for a first try, and he’ll remember to add vanilla the next time he makes some, even if he uses a mix.  Clearing away the table, she begins to rise but he stops her.  “No.  Study.  I’m in your way.  I really need to go.”

She smiles sweetly, tilting her head.  “Oh, I don’t know.  It’s kinda nice to have a man around,” she places her empty plate in his outreached hand.  “I mean, you should probably go get dressed, so I’m not distracted, but I’m going to study, really.  Once I get into it, I’ll focus…  You are welcome to stay.”

“I do have some emails I could answer, some papers to grade.  Not all of us have grad students to do that for us,” he comments wryly, placing the dishes in the sink, catching the blush rise on her cheeks.

“Professor Evans,” Thalia announces sternly and with authority, “any faculty member needing assistance simply has to apply in the office of student affairs.  It’s work study and helps keep tuition down for the students like me.  You can request short term help with things like grading tests and papers, or long term assistance if you were working on a large research project for the University.”

“God, please don’t call me ‘Professor.’  I really fuckin’ hate that title.  It sounds so pretentious.  And I try to be anything but that.  ‘Pretty boy.’  That’s a title I could get used to,” he teases.

Her eyes widen as she remembers talking to Jim before leaving the bar last night.  She cringes.  “It was so noisy!  How did you hear that?” she asks incredulously.

“I never reveal my sources,” he taunts, heading to her room to change back into his clothes.

Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later, Chris sits back down and powers up his phone, a question bugging at the back of his mind.  “So what’s the story with Jim, anyway?  He seems very protective of you.”

Looking up from her tablet, she opens a textbook and smiles. “That’s Papa Jim.  He and my dad were in Desert Storm together and have been like brothers ever since… he and his wife were so excited when I was accepted to school here.”  She glances at her scribbled notes and flips to another section of the book, looking over to Chris.  “To save money, they actually helped me establish residency here and I lived with them for about two and a half years, until I felt secure enough to afford an apartment with friends.”

Chris can’t keep his eyes off her.  Her little movements and quirks.  She’s fascinating to watch.  She twists her hair away from her face and ties it in a loose bun, sticking a pencil through the thick knot to hold it in place.  How is that even possible?

“Worst six months of my life, that apartment.  They thought it was party central…  I was so glad to get out of that lease when I went over to study in Europe the first time.”  She shivers at an old memory.  “And a friend stayed here and took over my lease this last summer when I was working on some research in England.”  Looking around the room, it’s like she’s seeing it again for the first time, maybe through his eyes.  “I like it here.  It’s cramped, and full of junk and crap, but it’s mine, ya know?”

His eyes sadden briefly.  He does ‘know’ but hasn’t felt that way in a long time.  He shrugs his shoulders.  “Still working on making my place feel like ‘home.’  To be honest, some nights I feel more comfortable in my office, or falling asleep in one of the bean bags chairs in the library.”

She clears her throat and leans forward over her book, picking up a highlighter to mark a note.  “I remember when my mom left and got a new place.  Hate to tell ya, it’ll probably feel like that for awhile.”

“Thank you for the uplifting sentiment; mind if I just stick my head in the oven now, so I won’t die alone?”

Her shoulders rock with laughter and he watches as once again, she jiggles in a bra that just isn’t the right fit for her.  That would be a situation he would love to remedy for her.  A little lingerie shopping and modeling of styles can always lift the spirits.

“I’m talking too much.  I’m keeping you from your work… But I do have one more question, then I’ll be quiet; I promise.”

Opening another book, she places it on top of the huge volume already displayed on the table.  “Shoot.  I’m an open book.  Whatever you want to know…”

“Well fuck, now it’s two things, cuz I just thought of something else I’m curious about.”

She giggles and gets up from her chair.  Moving to the fridge, she retrieves two water bottles, handing one to him over his shoulder.  “You are the type that asks for one thing, and then always hopes for more, aren’t you?”  She teases in his ear, pushing her body against his before returning to the chair.

He chuckles.  “Yeah, probably.  Like, maybe I’m just hanging around now for the hopes of Four?”  He smiles at the shake of her head and continues.  “Ok, first question.  You’re obviously brilliant.  You’ve studied in Europe; worked on a few archeology digs, and Professor Hiddleston obviously thinks highly of you; he can’t stand the state of the American education system and is always belittling students in meetings. But he tolerates you- you must be wicked smaht,” he grimaces when his old neighborhood accent shines through.  “Honestly, I don’t see how you stand to work with him, but,” he tilts his head, smirking at the scowl on her face.  Her beloved Professor Hiddleston… He might like to give that man shit, but he’s not going to get under her skin by knocking the man she admires… “I get the language and history connection, but still he’s just such an assh-…”  Shaking his head, he stops himself.   “So what do you plan to do with all your knowledge? It’s pretty diverse.”

Chris doesn’t let her know he’s actually been looking over her school records on his phone for the last few minutes.  She’s a fuckin’ genius; and her areas of study as so eclectic.  Linguistics, history, literature…  He’s probably in the presence of one of the smartest women he’s ever met, yet she’s still so clueless about so many things.

“That is a damn good question,” she laughs, tossing her head back and slapping her thigh.  “Can’t really teach high school, can I?  I’d be bored in a week…  I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully.  “I’ve been approached by some of the top museums in the world to work as a curator and continue my archaeological work…  The problem is, I’m passionate about all of it.  If I do that, then I’m stuck in one field.  And I think I’d hate that ‘tied down’ feeling.”

Fuck.  His cock immediately perks up at her turn of phrase and the image that popped in his head.  He drops the water bottle ‘accidently’ and bends to retrieve it, hoping she doesn’t see the expression on his face.  Sitting back up, he can’t stop himself.  “Yeah, you being tied down would be awful.”

The eraser she throws bounces off the table and hits him in the cheek.  They both share in the laughter.

“You.  Just sit over there with your fantasies.  I’m working…”  The blush on her cheeks is endearing and he knows he should leave.  Soon.  “Oh damn.  You had a second thing.  What was it?”

His cheeks now turn pink and he leans forward, resting his arms on the table.  Inhaling deeply, the air is tight through his nose.  “Last night… You said it was ‘taken’ a long time ago.  You don’t mean-?”

“Oh, God no. No. Just some fumbling around in a back seat and not really knowing what the hell he was doing, or I was doing.  It was awful,” she chuckles, “But it’s the story of my life.  ‘I make rash decisions.’  And ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’”

“I can teach you a few things,” Chris smiles, tapping his finger on the book.

The grin on her face is huge.  “I’m sure you can…  Now.  You promised to be quiet so I can work.  I hope you are a man of your word, Mister Evans.”

The two work in silence, chatting occasionally, well into the afternoon. Chris reads a bit more over her transcripts and finds notes from her research projects posted on some of the school study pages.  She’s an amazing talent and would be an asset to his team in the history department as they get ready to undergo some staff changes.  He contemplates what working with her would be like, but when images of bending her over his desk fill his head, he knows he’s had enough.

Rising from his seat, he cleans up the trash from the snack they’d had and moves to sit on the couch.  He doesn’t want to go home, and she seems in no hurry to make him leave.  Hugging a couch pillow to his chest, it smells like her.  His thoughts run back over the last few hours and he realizes his ex-wife still hasn’t called him back.  Guilt smashes him in the stomach as he realizes he’d totally forgotten his responsibilities the minute a pretty face and deadly curves turned his head…   Punching the pillow, he rolls to his side, preparing to nap when “God Save the Queen” starts to play on her phone.

She quickly answers it and he hears shuffling in the kitchen behind him.  “Hey, how are you?… Just a lazy Sunday.  A friend came over…. Yes, I have friends, you know,” she asserts playfully.

He freezes when he senses her hovering above him and he pretends to be asleep, not wanting her to think he’s listening.  Her hand graces the top of his head gently before she walks away.  When he hears her voice again, it’s muffled and coming from the bedroom.

“Sure, I can.  I’d love to!  What a nice surprise!   What time?  Ok… Anything else?  Yeah… Yes.   Alright.  I’m looking forward to it…. See you then.”

Chris realizes this is his cue to leave.  Fuck.  Thalia said ‘for reasons’ she and her other paramore, for lack of a better word, wish to keep things private.  He quickly prays she’s not dating a married man.  But it’s not his place to judge or ask.  From his spot on the couch, he realizes the apartment shows no signs of a man in her life, and he begins to question her need for privacy.  A sinking feeling sets in, and he sits up to put on his shoes.

The bathroom door closes and he waits anxiously for her to return to the living room.  When the door clicks open he turns to the dark haired beauty with a smile.  “Hey, I hate to do this Thalia, but I got a text from my ex and I can go see Avery for a few hours.  I really need to get going.”

Standing up he admires her lovely full lips as the bottom one pops out in disappointment.  “You have to go?  Well, then I guess it’s a good excuse.  Getting dumped for a younger woman already.  I see how you are.”

Moving into his space, she places her hand on his bicep, stepping closer to him.  Batting her eyelashes, she smiles crookedly.  “No, that’s great.  I’m glad you can see her.”

Her pout is irresistible.  He places his hand under her chin and with a bit of force he rubs his thumb across her tender lips.  “So beautiful…”  Holding her chin in place, he thwarts her physical effort to deny it.  “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”  He leans his forehead to hers.  “I left my phone number on one of the post-its on the table earlier when you were deep in thought.  Text me in a bit so I make sure I have your number.”

Sliding his nose against hers, he plants his lips on hers and sucks in her air.  Minty fresh.  Pulling back, he whispers quietly.  “You brushed; not fair,” he complains.

“Sorry. Syrup breath was killing me… And you know,” she sighs, “I was gearing up for Four, but I guess we’ll have to start our count over again another night.”

“Four?”  He cocks his eyebrow pleased by her enthusiasm and stamina.  “I’ll hold you to that promise, babe.”  He remembers her secretive phone call, and moves to extract himself from her arms.

She follows him to the door and tells him she’ll text soon.

Walking down the stairs and across the street, he wonders again what the hell he’s doing.  She’s a student.  Young.  Dating someone else.  His damn Italian jealousy is already getting the best of him…

Reaching for his car keys in his pocket, his phone beeps.  He can’t contain his smile when he reads the message.  “Had a great night. Look up.”

Following directions, he shields his eyes from the sunlight peaking through the gray clouds, the smell of snow in the air.  Standing at her window she waves grandly and he laughs when she flashes him the two most resplendent breasts he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Click here to read Chapter 18 Changes

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando


A Conversation with Chrissy Metz

chrissy metz This is Us.jpg

I feel very honored to be known as the “girl who writes plus-sized OFCs.”  When I had the opportunity yesterday (April 29, 2017) to listen to Chrissy Metz speak, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see such an inspiring role model for body-positivity in person!  Here’s my review of “A Conversation with Chrissy Metz.”

“Redefining what beautiful looks like.”

I think these words will echo in my ears for a long time, as spoken by the truly beautiful- inside and out- Chrissy Metz.  You may not recognize her name, but if you watch This is Us, you know her.  She is the plus-size actress who embodies the role of Kate Pearson in the NBC hit break-out show.  If you are not on this bus, you are missing it.  The story, set in the past and present, is some of the best TV I’ve seen in years.  The writing is phenomenal and the story twists are sometimes a punch to the gut, but the reality of family life is like that… Have a box of Kleenex handy!

She was invited as part of the guest speaker series hosted by the University of Missouri.  The event was offered free to students and $5 for admission by the public.  The organization’s Facebook page ran a contest for a lucky pair to have dinner with her before, and many to attend a reception afterwards; sadly, I won neither, but after waiting in the cold and rain, I lucked out with front row center seats with my cousin!  That was good enough for me!

The minute she graced the stage, you could tell her personality was larger than life.  She was so excited to see a packed auditorium, but nervous about our weather.  A tornado warning at 3 am had delayed her check in at the hotel and she was tired.  She was worried we’d mock her attire, thinking she wasn’t dressed up enough for the “Hollywood lifestyle.”  She looked fantastic in her tattered jeans and cute red sandals!  She’d only brought one pair of shoes and didn’t want them ruined in the rain, so she told us about her mad dash to the “Walmarts” that morning to get a pair of “Wellies.”

She’s just like us!

We learned a little about her background from the student ambassadors who introduced her, learning she grew up in Florida, but spent nine years of her childhood in Japan, learning to speak Japanese before English.  (“I don’t remember any of it; I can’t even English,” she joked.) and has five siblings.  She was discovered at a talent show when she tagged along to chaperone her sister.  Shortly after that, she moved to Hollywood, where she had roles in “My Name is Earl” and “American Horror Story.”  She worked for years behind the scenes in Hollywood as an assistant to a casting director, watching as other women got the roles she wanted.  Thanks to her spot on “This is Us,” Chrissy was recently named on People magazine’s list of “50 Most Beautiful People.”

A title she earned and deserves!

The “conversation” was moderated by a professor who works with patients with eating disorders.  She very easily lead Chrissy from one topic to the next in our hour “chat” with the actress, guided by audience and Twitter questions.

From Chrissy, we learned she considers herself a ‘work in progress.’  She said at 36, (“I’m 36 y’all, can you believe it? I know; it’s crazy right?), she’s working on getting her life together.  She told us not to believe everything you read in the tabloids, because she didn’t have a secret divorce.  “It’s not a secret, I knew about it!  I’ll tell you; just ask.”  With the audience, she shared she is learning to love herself and working on making better choices. “I might not always be known as the ‘plus-sized actress.’”

She described it like this: every time something good happens, you have to place it in the ‘self-esteem bank.’  “That way you can remember those 150 nice things people said about you on Twitter and ignore that one mean thing.”  She reminded us you can’t take everything personally, because you don’t know if the guy that accidentally rear-ends your car in the parking lot just had a fight with his significant other.  She tells about how road rage used to be her “thing” and it was so bad, people would ride with her in the car just to watch her.  “And then one day I realized that poor guy is just trying to get to work too; it’s not personal.”  Later she reminds us of that when she shouts out to an audience member leaving the room, “Where you going?  I’m not done!  Oh, wait… Maybe he just needs the bathroom; I’ve been talking to long.  See nothing personal.  It’s not about me.”

She talked about the show, but said she’s not allowed to talk about Jack.  She says Mandy Moore is just the sweetest thing.  She spoke about how all the actors, writers and staff have a group chat.  Just that morning, there were messages back and forth and Sterling K. Brown (Randall) was asking, “WHAT are you doing in Missouri?” and shared he’s from St. Louis and still has family there.

She told him she was hoping not to get swept away in a tornado or flood, “And I’ve been practicing this: MIZ” she shouts.

And the audience replies with a deafening roar, “ZOU!”  (The school ‘battle cry.”)

“OH MY GOD!  That’s the coolest thing!  Wait till I tell him.”

When asked if she’s Team Jess, she looks at the moderator blankly.  The audience shouts “Gilmore Girls,” and she says, “Is Jess his character?  Then I’m Team Jess!  I love Milo, even if he is my dad.”

There was playful banter as Chrissy and the moderator had spent time together during the day.  The woman reported she’d never watched “This is Us,” and the audience was quick to ‘boo’ her and to shout out she’d want Kleenex.  She pointed at her belly and said it was on her list to do during her maternity leave.  Chrissy made sure not to give away too many spoilers, but was happy to announce the show is extended for two more seasons.

She talked about complaints that some of the things Kate goes through are stereotypical.  But she reports, “I’ve said these things.  I think these things.”  After the second episode, she went to one of the head writers, and asked how he knew what was in the mind of a plus-sized woman and he shared he’s just writing things he’s seen his sister go through, and how her struggles affected the family.  “He just gets it.”  And she was triumphant with a fist in the air over the fact Kate now has TWO men after her!

“That just doesn’t happen in my life,” she laughed.

When asked if she was Kate’s friend, what advice she would give to the character, she admitted she would tell her to get out of her brother’s shadow; she’s too good just to be his assistant.  “She needs to learn to stand on her own.  I think we’ll see that in season two.”

In passing, she spoke about one of her favorite scenes, when Toby arranged for Kate to sing at the nursing home, and she let it slip her new boyfriend is one of the camera men on the show.  He texted her that day and said he couldn’t watch her sing because he was too nervous for her.  She told him that was the point of the scene, to feel Kate’s nervousness, which is why it was shot in one take.

She mentioned Toby should earn boyfriend of the year award, making all men in America hate him: “I know you hear me sing in the shower, why you don’t do something like that for me?”

Chrissy’s confidence and down home appeal was real; often slipping into a slight Southern drawl.  She spoke about a new friend she met recently, “Oprah?  Maybe y’all have heard of her?  We’re friends.”  She shares with the audience advice her new friend gave about always remembering to be nice to yourself first. Chrissy related it to the speech you get on a plane about the air masks, how you have to take care of yours first before you can take care of others.  She said that’s something she has to remember daily, but reiterates she is a work in progress.   Oprah also reminded her it’s okay to say NO when you need to.  “And NO is a complete sentence,” Chrissy stated.  “You don’t have to give a reason.”

She talked a bit about food and how as an Italian Irish German girl, food is love.  Her grandmother would pick her up from school each day and make grilled cheese, and she would eat her emotions, when she was happy or sad.  “When you don’t know how you feel, you eat.”

The beautiful actress spoke about how that now scares her.  She shared a fear that although she’s looked at for being a big girl, “What if they don’t look at me when I get healthy, or lose weight?”

Before we knew it, our time was up.  Sadly, it ended too quickly.  She thanked us all for coming and waved her goodbyes before gracefully exiting the stage.


I discovered this event because I follow the Facebook pages over several universities around the state. If you are looking for great opportunities to try something new, that’s a wonderful place to start!

Copyright © 2017 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom



Educating Thalia

Chapter 16

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3040

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, intercourse, multiple orgasms

Summary: Chris takes his time to really get to know Thalia’s body, fulfilling a tantalizing promise while losing himself in her.

Click here to the intro for Educating Thalia

He advances on her quickly, flipping her back to the bed and tugging on her shorts and pulling them down her shapely full figured legs, leaving her in nothing but a piece of skimpy blue lace.  Sliding off the end of the bed, he grabs her ankle and draws her down to him, spreading her legs to rest between them.  “I’ve been wanting to bite right here,” he circles his thumb on her inner thigh, “since you sat on the couch with your foot on the table.  Niña, I don’t even think you knew what you were doing, but you had my attention.”  She whimpers and begins to writhe before he even moves between her legs, tickling her with the top of his buzzed hair.  Noticing the wet spot already on her panties, he continues his little game, biting at her thigh and marking her there also.

With his hair so short, she tugs on his ear and pulls his head back to look at him and whines for him to stop teasing. Her eyes are dark with lust and reaching down to him, she removes his glasses and tosses them gently towards her dresser.  “Just do it.  Lick me, finger fuck me, whatever, but put me out of my misery.”

God, how he wants to hear her sultry voice cry out.  “Thalia, I wanna hear you beg for me.  You have to want it.”

Lifting her ass of the bed, she pushes against him.  “I do Chris; I want it.” She huffs when he pulls back.  “I need you to make me come.”

Licking across the lace, he pushes it between her folds and she cries out, “Fuck,” seemingly shocked at her own volume as she covers her mouth with her fist.  The glorious sound echoes in his ears and he longs to hear it again as he swipes his tongue again, sucking back and gathering the wet lace between his lips.  Stretching it away from her pussy, he glides one hand up her thigh, bringing his thumb to her entrance and massaging with the rest of his hand against her pelvic bone.  She pushes towards him and he holds her still with his other hand.  “Not that easy, Thalia.  You have to want it, you have to tell me you want it.”

“Dammit, I need you to fuck me, please.”

With the lace pushed to the side, he looks at her pretty pink sex and sees the throbbing of her walls, begging for him.  Leaning in, he pushes with his thumb as his tongue teases around her tight bundle of nerves and she cries out again, thrashing against the sheets, straining to rise up as he holds her down.  “More,” she whines.

“You taste absolutely sinful,” he praises.  Her hole is tight and he adds another digit to his caresses, fingering her and pulling in and out, simulating the sex act he plans for her later.  Her walls squeeze on him and he knows she won’t last much longer, teasing her with another lash of his tongue across her clit and her whimpers sound pained. He smiles as he licks when she raises her foot to his shoulder, opening herself up more for him as he continues to dive between her legs.

Choking out the words, she says what he longs to hear.  “Chris, I’m yours, make me come, please.”

“Thatta girl, that’s what I want; go for it.”  Pushing another finger in he curls against her g-spot, letting go of his hold on her stomach so she can rise up to grind against him as she comes over his hand, soaking his beard as he laps her clean.  “Shit, shit, shit,” she cries and it reminds him of his own string of expletives at her hands, his undoing.  The little bit he can’t catch runs between her legs and soaks the comforter as he sweeps her up in his arms and cradles her in his lap, wiping his beard on the already stained tank top.  “Niña, honey, that was just One.  Still two more to go.”

Her head drops to his shoulder, her arms tight around his neck.  She whispers against his skin.  “Fuck, I’ll be dead by morning,” she giggles.  “Cause of death: Amazing hot sex.”

“Don’t die yet; I’m not done with you,” he promises.

Her body quakes in his arms and he feels she’s still on the edge.  Lowering his head,  his lips caress the tender spot against her collarbone.

“Chris?  You just picked me up?  Like it was nothing?”  She giggles, still breathy and faint, the rush of air from her lips warm against his neck.  “That might be the fucking sexiest thing a man has ever done for me,” she shares with him.

He nuzzles closer to her body.  Her round, full womanly body appeals to him in a way no other woman has in ages.  He likes her weight, her power.  It’s a fuckin’ turn on.  His free hand glides up her thigh and her legs fall apart, giving him better access.  He massages over her shaved mound. “I’ll remember that,” he chuckles, tilting his head back to look at her.  She’s lovely with her eyes blown wide from her orgasm, tendrils of curls loose from her braid, damp with the sweat of their lovemaking.  “You like me just for my strength.  Fair enough.  I like you for your thick thighs and peach-shaped ass.”

She blushes and shakes her head back in a gasp as his hand reaches his goal, her wet center. Dipping his fingers in her juices, her walls tremble and clench around him, pulling his digits in deeper.  Curling his fingers, his smooth, rhythmic penetrations reach her g-spot and her breaths catch, her body arching into him.

“I hope that’s not the only reason,” she whispers against the top of his head.

Her nipples push against his solid chest and harden as his mouth drops down, kissing the tops of her exposed globes.  Her hand slides down his chest and joins his, flicking over her aching clit.  “Come for me again, Thalia.  Don’t hold back this time,” he quietly tells her.  “When you’re ready, just let go.”

Looking down to their drenched fingers her wet glistens in the low lamp light and he longs to taste her.  He thinks what the hell…  Sliding his fingers out, she whines from the emptiness but continues to rub herself.  His arm around her back reaches further around her side to lift her ravishing breast to him, as he circles her slick fragrant sluice around the dark nipple with his other hand.  Her flesh rises in goosebumps and he takes the chocolate peak into his waiting mouth, sucking her in and clasping his lips around her raised bud. Pulling back and tugging lightly with his teeth her moan delights his ears and he whispers, “Good enough to eat,” as his hand slides back over her ample stomach to find her hole waiting for him.

Sitting in his lap, her ass rocks against his cock and he stiffens under her, waiting for his turn to truly have her.  Not much longer now.

His fingers meet hers and their punishing touches continue to pulsate within her and he feels her body tense.  Turning his hand he pushes his palm against her hand, eliciting a whine from her as her pleasure takes on a painful need to let loose.  His other hand continues to pull at her nipple, pinching and squeezing as her noises rise and she lifts off him to push against their hands.  “Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m coming again,” she pants as her hand pushes harder in circles around her clit and his fingers reach as far as he can to hit against the most sensitive spot  Her come spills over their hands and Chris continues to caress, pulling the orgasm from her as she bucks against him.

“Look at me,” he coaxes reveling in the frantic darkness found in her gleaming eyes. Hers search over his face, as though she wants to know his features and hold them close.  Her mouth falls open as she cries out and he captures her bottom lip, sucking and pulling at the supple flesh, marking her with beard burn, as her whimpers die down.  Stroking his fingers across her gently, she accepts his mouth, placing a full kiss on his lips as her orgasm wanes.

“Two,” he announces pulling his hand from her sopping cunt and picking her up effortlessly as he rises into a standing position.  His needy hands grab and claw at her ass.  Instinctively she wraps her legs around him and he bounces her up high against his chest, returning her back down on his solid cock.

Her quick intake of air shows her surprise and he holds her still, allowing her time to stretch to accommodate his hard pulsing thickness. Taking a few short steps across the room, he sits her atop the dresser and pushes into her again.  Her lips crash against his in a fevered need and she purrs, “Yes, yes, fuck me like this. Please.”

Their bodies align perfectly and the dresser is just the right height.  Pummeling into her he sets a rapid pace, tired of waiting.  He pulls at her ass and teases along the crease, her moans louder and echoing in his ears. He wonders if this beauty might like a little ass play?   She rolls with him and bounces on the wooden surface.  Her teeth sink into the tattoo on his collarbone and he hisses, heightening his senses as her manicured nails dig into his shoulder.  Moving one hand away from her sweet peachy ass, he glides roughly over her dark skin, tugging and pulling.   Lifting the weight of her exposed tit, he pulls in and out of her. Right on the edge, he knows he needs to stop, get a condom, but she feels so damn hot, so tight, he literally can’t pull himself away.

Thalia opens herself more to him by lifting her leg and resting her foot on the edge of the dark furniture piece. “Damn, that’s hot, Niña.”   Extracting himself momentarily, he watches her walls convulse, the prettiest shade of pink and purple he’s ever seen.  Chris can’t take his eyes off her slippery pulsing cunt.  “So pretty,” he whispers and from the corner of his eyes, he sees her smile grow.

Sassy.  Pleased.

Grabbing the chain around his neck, her husky voice fills his head, words that will echo in his wildest dreams for ages, “You gonna stare at it, or finish filling it?”

With her foot wrapped around his trim waist, she taps his ass with it and she pulls him close guiding him in.  With a strength she’s hidden till now, she requests commands, “Fuck me now, Chris.  I need you to finish me.”

The earthy quality to her voice, her moment of dominance brings him back to the moment.  Rocking against her again he sheaths himself deep inside, scooping her up under her ass and carrying her to the bed.  “Do that all day,” she whines.  “Super fuckin’ sexy.”

Placing her on the bed, she keeps her leg up and he pins it to his side as he pounds into her again and again, unapologetically.  His sounds of pleasure mirror hers as they rise to their peak.  Her body clenches around his cock and her volume rises, a series of expletives falling from her sweet lips.  “Three,” he grunts as he pulls out and pumps himself to finish against her writhing hip as she still undulates beneath his weight.

“Three,” she giggles breathlessly holding him in place on top of her.  “Don’t move.  I like your weight.”

Lazily her fingers drape across his back and her body slowly relaxes.  His come rolls over her hip and onto the comforter and he breathes into her neck, whispering his appreciations.

Hours later, he’s not exactly sure when they fell asleep, so soundly, wrapped up around one another.  She must have been awake at some point.  The lamp is off and he can see around the room in the hazy morning light.  The soiled comforter is hanging off the end of the bed and his glasses are on the bedside table next to her phone.  He slides out of the cozy bed and is instantly hit with a wave of cold air.  Running quickly to the bathroom first, he later tiptoes to the living room to adjust the radiator.  It makes a rumbling sound, but it isn’t too promising.  He wraps the blanket from the back of the couch around him and riffles through the kitchen cabinets, settling on a protein bar and a glass of milk.  His feet are freezing on the cold floors as he pads back into the bedroom.

He tries to slip back into the bed without waking her but she stirs, a happy crooked smile on her face.  “Morning, handsome,” she slurs, her voice full of sleep.

Add it to the list of sexiest sounds.  Thalia’s morning voice.

“This place is fuckin’ cold.  You need a heater,” he declares rolling her on top of him for warmth.

She shrieks when he places his cold feet on the back of her calves, eyes flying wide open.

“You are not nice in the morning,” she tells him, snuggling her full boobs against his rock solid chest and settling between his legs.  Her mouth blows out tiny wisps of air against his neck and he warms under her.

Comfortable and relaxed, they lay in silence for awhile.  Chris plays with her curls while she rubs her hands through the light fuzz across his chest.  Eventually she rolls to his side, snuggling next to him.  A perfect fit.

“‘Niña,’ huh?” she teases, the Spanish endearment rolling off her tongue.

He chuckles quietly, tenderly kissing the top of her head.  “It popped in my mind.  For some reason, I remembered that from my language classes. I guess I thought if I actually called you ‘baby girl’ you might hit me.”

Her body rocks with laughter and jostles the bed.  “You’re probably right.”  She laughs some more and the musical sound fills him with joy.

Cuddled in her arms, he quietly tells her, “I’d like to see you again some time, Thalia.  Maybe we could get dinner later this week?   I’m a professor, and you’re a student; we’d have to keep things quiet…”

Her cheeks flush pink and he can see her hesitation, and a moment of… What? Fear? Disbelief? – pass across her face. She chews at her bottom lip, swollen and bruised from hours of use.  It’s like she’s warring with herself…  yet he sees the instant she makes her decision.

“I’ve just had some of the best sex of my life and I would like to see you again,” she admits, her face a deep shade of red at her confession.  “But,”  Thalia sighs, “I’m seeing someone else… We have a bit of an open relationship, and for reasons, we also like to keep things quiet.  If you’re okay with knowing that I’m not always available because of school, work and well,” she sighs, “him, then yes, I’d really like to see you again sometime.”

Chris’s stomach drops, and he says the first thing that comes to his mind, believing honesty is probably the best for her, especially since she was just now truthful with him.  “To be honest, Thalia, I wasn’t expecting that you were seeing someone else.  I’m gonna have to think on it…”

“It’s fine; I understand,” she rolls over to the edge of the bed and sits up, looking around the mess of the room in a daze.

He doesn’t want her to go; doesn’t want his time with her to end.  “You said you had a lot of studying today?  I really didn’t mean to take all your morning time away-”

“Chris. Stop.  You didn’t take anything away from me.  I’m glad you’re still here.” She sighs frustratedly as she pulls the sheet around her, seemingly embarrassed in the morning light.  Standing beside the bed, her wild hair creates a halo in the gray sunshine creeping in the blinds.  She smiles down at him, reaching to caress his beard.  “I would have really hated you; hated myself if you’d left.”  She repeats quietly, “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Picking up his glasses, she hands them to him.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he puts them on, laughing.  “You’re beautiful.  You look well fucked over.”  He delights in knowing he caused her undoing.

Looking in the mirror, she tucks the sheet around her, pushing her wayward curls back.  She hides a small smile behind her hand as she thoughtfully runs her lips over the knuckles on her hand.  As if she’s searching for what he sees and she can’t find it, she shakes her head and turns away.  Chris jumps up and is next to her side before she can move.  Fully naked, he stands behind her, caressing her hair over her shoulder and pulling out what remains of the braid.  “Thalia,  I want to taste more of you.  You’re a curvy, delicious woman.  Any man would be a fool not to see that.”  Bringing his hands to her waist, he digs into her fleshy sides, brushing his cock against her ass.  “Right here?  This is perfect for grabbing you tight.  I picture myself holding you here, and sliding you on and off my cock from behind and-”

“Behind?” she giggles, turning to look at him over her exposed shoulder.  “No, sir.  You stay away from there.”

Chuckling, he pushes against her more firmly.  “Oh, really? Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re missing.  You realize now you’ve challenged me to-”

Reaching over her shoulder, she places her hand against his scruff.  “You realize now you’re talking like a man who wants to stay; wants to see me again?”

His stomach tightens.  She’s right.  She’s too perfect, too beautiful, too damn smart to walk away from…  Whoever his competition is, he’ll make sure he wins.

Turning his face to kiss her palm, he sighs in defeat.  “Yes, you’re right…  I can’t walk away from you.  I need to know you, Thalia, all of you.”

Click here to Chapter 17 Morning After

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando


ET ch 15 Stay april 23, 2017

Educating Thalia

Chapter 15

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3884

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluffy smut, foreplay, nipple play, hand job

Summary:  Sober now, Chris isn’t really sure if accepting Thalia’s kind offer was a good idea.

Click here to the introduction of Educating Thalia

The two talk long past midnight.  The comfort and ease feels like old friends.  They discuss a shared interest in history and he asks her thoughts on some of the books he sees sitting around the room.  Leaning against the arm of the couch he puts his feet up next to her.  If he tipped his foot just so, he could brush against her thigh, but he tries not to invade her space.  Although it was difficult not to want to, with her patting his leg occasionally for emphasis in her storytelling.   He bites back a groan when she rests one leg up on the coffee table in front of them. Her robe falls open, exposing her chunky, delicious looking inner thigh and his eyes dart to the V between her legs, covered by her short plaid bottoms.   Oh, hell.  It’s more than a man can take.  He excuses himself to use the restroom, to get away and try to clear his mind.

No such luck.  The tiny space smells like her, the fresh scent from her shower and her lotions and creams on the ledge above the sink.   Resisting the urge to check in her medicine cabinet, he removes his glasses, laying them on the counter and rubbing his hands over his face.  Chris can’t figure out if she really is just being nice or if like the guy at the bar said, she’s flirting with him and interested.  Washing up, he begins to speak to himself, hidden under the sound of the running water. “What the fuck are ya doin’, man?  She’s a student.”  He sighs and adjusts the fit of his pants thanks to the ebbing hard on building off and on all evening in her presence.  “A hot one.  That invited you to her home.  Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Chris, ya shoulda gone to the crappy coffee place.”

Grabbing his glasses, he returns to the living room, watching from the doorway for a moment as she brushes the tangles out of her hair, rubbing the ends with a towel.  He longs to run his fingers through it…  To grab it in his hand and twist it in his fingers as he… Clearing his throat he stops his thoughts and he returns to his spot on the couch, this time keeping his feet closer to himself.

Instead of returning to their conversation, she barely hides a yawn. “Well Chris,” she says sleepily, rising from her spot, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I had studying to do tomorrow.  I need to get some sleep so I can function.”  Walking behind the couch, she makes the few steps to the kitchen table and sets her empty coffee mug there.  “Sunday’s my only true day off.”

Stopping behind the couch, she rests her hand near his.  Her voice drops, “Let me get you some pillows and blankets and-”

He places his hand on hers and can feel a slight tremble.  His tone matches hers, a shared intimacy of their voices.  “You know I’m not really drunk… Why did you invite me here?”  Chris asks quietly.

She looks down over the back of the couch at him, her lashes long against her cheeks as she blinks.  She licks her lips and he watches her swallow before licking them again quickly.  “I don’t really know.” She chuckles nervously.  “Maybe just to see if you’d say ‘yes,’” Thalia admits, a vulnerability in her eyes.

Tenderly he lets go of her hand and rises from the couch, walking around behind it to stand in front of her.  Her head low, he lifts her chin, holding it with his thumb under her pouty lip,  bringing her eyes up to meet his.  “You didn’t think I’d say ‘yes?’”

“Most guys don’t look at me the way you did in the bar.”  She pulls back from his hold.

He swallows his own thoughts when he sees she needs to be wanted, to be worshipped.  “And how is that?  How did I look at you?”

“Like you didn’t care that I carry some extra weight,” she sighs and sucks in her lip quickly before speaking again.  “Like you… like you wouldn’t mind feeling it on top of you…”

Fuck. Orchids. Wet curly hair.  Pajamas.  A slight blush at her confessing her innermost thought… He’s hard again at just the thought of her and what she’s saying and not saying to him.  Her heart is racing; he can see her blood pumping through the veins in her neck, the robe loosely falling down her shoulder.  Not speaking, he steps to her and grasps the tie on her robe.  Locking his blue eyes on hers, he smiles devilishly and gives it a tug, the robe falling open and revealing her plump frame, still fresh and pink from the hot shower.  He places his hands on her waist and pulls her to him.

Damn, she’s gorgeous.

His eyes fall to her mouth as her lips open in a sweet “oh” of surprise at his manhandling.  He lowers his head, whispering across her skin, “Do you want me to look at you that way again?”  Chris gently places a kiss on her collarbone, nudging the lace trim strap of her tank top with his nose.

She grabs at the back of his head with one hand, holding him to her.  Thalia drops her head back and sighs, “Yes.”

His lips slide up her neck and his nose grazes her skin, delivering feathery touches to light her skin on fire and with her other hand she grabs his on her hip and holds it tight.  “Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he whispers against the soft spot under her ear, kissing tenderly with his lips slightly open and searing her with a quick flick of his tongue.  He can feel her pulse racing and her shallow breaths echo in his ear.

“No,” quietly escapes her lips.

Chris grasps their hands resting on her hip in a tender squeeze and asks, “Do you want me to come to bed with you?”  He expertly pulls her earlobe between his teeth and sucks gently, his mouth pulling back into a smile when her knees buckle and she falls against him.

She squeezes his hand back and shyly replies in a barely breathed out sound, “Yes.”

“Thalia?”  She hums at the sound of her name.  “You’re still very young; You’re not giving anything to me?”  he asks patiently, voicing his concern.

Giggling quietly she turns her head to expose more of her neck to his devouring lips and with a soft voice addresses his thoughts.  “Oh, no, that was taken a long time ago.  And I’m not that young.”  She relaxes against him, allowing him to hold her up.  Her voice a bit stronger, she continues, “But I have a feeling you could have other firsts for me?”

Weakened himself by her thoughts, he nips at her flesh. Chris longs to brand her, to see his teeth marks, his handprints on her tanned velvet skin.  He feels a desire to possess her, to make her succumb to him.  But he also likes her fiery personality and wants nothing more than for her to power over him.

Taking her hand in his, he nods to the closed door and she shakes her head.  Pushing ahead he opens the door and waits for her to pass by him.  Moving across the room, he quietly orders, “Stop,” before she reaches the bed.  Moving behind her, he sweeps her hair into his hand, admiring it’s glossy sheen and the curls most women would kill for, seeing again the image he had moments before of him pulling her hair during a more sensual act.  He lifts it to his nose, inhaling the flowery scent.  “No smoke now,” he teases lightly in her ear, delighting in the chill that runs down her spine.  Still damp, he pulls it together and begins to make a loose plait, his hands brushing across her shoulders and back as he works.

“Mmm…  That’s nice,” she murmurs with her husky voice.

Her voice hits him below the belt, stirring him to rise again.  He tugs on his jeans, wiping off the precum he feels spilling over.  Coughing, he asks quietly, “Elastic?” and she removes it from her wrist and holds it over her shoulder.  He takes it from her outstretched hand and holds it in place as he gently kisses her palm.  When he lets her hand go, she runs it down the side of her neck and movement catches his eye.  In the dark room, only the small glow of a bedside lamp, he can see her in a mirror across the room. Her hand runs over her large breast and her nipples harden under the tank top, unencumbered by a bra, before she wraps her arm around her waist.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ.  She’s been sitting on the couch like that over an hour?

She awkwardly shifts her weight from one foot to the next as he quickly ties off the end of the braid.  Dropping it down her back, it reaches to her waist and he gives it a tug as he admires his handiwork.  Quiet sounds of her breathing and cars passing in the street below fill the room.  Placing his hands on her back, he runs his hands up her sides, feeling over her curves and across the tops of her shoulders to the collar of her robe.  Grabbing the neckline, he pulls it back off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor between them.  Her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, and he runs his hands slowly down her skin in the same fluid motion as before.  She makes no sound but her skin warms under his touch.  Kicking the robe out of the way, he steps to her, flush against her body, his threadbare jeans doing little to hide the hardness of his cock she has caused. Similar in height, his evident arousal brushes across her ass and she involuntarily pushes back against him.  His arms join hers around her waist, slowly rising up under her tank to grasp the tender flesh of her full breasts-

Music blares through the room from her phone. His hands drop when she steps forward, bending over the end of the bed to reach it.  “Fuck,” he declares, her ass in the air, and her tits falling free in the reflection of the mirror.

She pulls her tank top up, covering herself up self-consciously.  She turns her body, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him with a smile, shaking her head.  Rolling her eyes at his stare, she nervously glances at the screen.   Her expression lifts as she answers the phone.  “Yes, Jim, I’m good.  Yes, I know his car is still parked out there.  He’s here…  Asleep in my room…  When I’m done studying I’ll sleep on the couch…  Jim, I’m not your daughter…  Yes, I know…”

Chris groans when she adjusts her tank, and rises up to tug down on the legs of the shorts, riding up into her personal sweet space.   “I’m in the living room studying…  Dude was drunk and it’s 20 degrees out.  Roads will be slick.  I told him to stay…. Yes.  I know.  I know.  Thanks for always having my back…  Yea, ya big goof, I love you too.”

Pressing ‘close’ on her phone, she tosses the phone into the pillows. Giggling, she blushes and sighs.  “Kinda broke the mood didn’t it?”

Looking down at her, sitting on the bed, the true co-ed she is, Chris stalks forward, pulling his tight blue sweater and t-shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it on the floor.  Biting his lip, he places his knee on the bed next to her and places his large hand on her chest, spanning across her collarbone.  “Heart’s still racing, sweetheart.  And you got some of your spirit back.  I don’t think the breathy ingenue is really you; but fuck it was a turn on.”

Looking up at him with her dark eyes of melted chocolate, she starts, “Chris, I-”

“No, honey.  The problem isn’t you.  You said “guys” don’t look at you… It’s the boys you date.  You need someone older to appreciate you; to take care of you.”  With his other hand, he unbuckles his belt and watches as her eyes scan across his chest, taking in his tats from shoulder to shoulder.  With a cocky grin he tells her, “They’re all spelled right, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He slides the leather belt from the loops and brushes it across her thighs, feeling her shiver at his hold on her.  Her grin quickly changes to desire and the light gleaming in her eyes advances from playful to aroused.  “A woman like you needs a man.  A man can fuck you till morning; make you come three times before sunrise and leave you begging for more.”

With the force of his hand, he pushes her back on the bed with a slight bounce. She raises one of her perfectly arched eyebrows at him, and teases.  “Three times, huh?  A little cocky, aren’t you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s not little,” Chris promises as he falls on top of her, gently applying his weight and pushing her into the bed as he attacks her neck.   He brushes his scruff against her tender skin, knowing the effect it will have on her.  Thalia giggles while bringing her arms under his.  Her hands stretch over his shoulder blades, feeling their strength and power.  He returns to nibbling at her neck as he had done in the living room, the desire to taste her overwhelming.  Tenderly he grasps her skin between his teeth and bites as tiny sweet sounds escape between her lips. Tilting her head back she gives him more access to her delicate flesh and begins to wiggle beneath him.  He shifts, allowing his aching cock to fit between her legs and he grinds against her.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes out sinfully, scraping her nails across his back, digging slightly.

Moaning against her neck, he drags his beard against her again, leaving beard burn and marking her.  The desire to claim her is strong in his gut, to show to everyone she belongs to someone.  His inner monologue tells himself to shut up.  This is just one drunken night, he thinks.  But he still wants her to feel the ache for days…

He already knows he’s lying to himself – knows he’s sober- when she shifts, lifting her leg and rubbing it over his ass before sliding it down his leg, holding him closer to her.  Going in for another lick along the pulsing vein in her neck, he reaches to slide the strap of her tank top down her shoulder.  More forcefully than intended, the lace snaps and they both pause.  He looks up to her and sees the mirth in her eyes.

“Fuck it; never liked it anyway,” she giggles, toying at his chain, admiring his St. Christopher’s medallion.  “Good Catholic boy… Nice,” she wickedly grins, using it to pull him forward, lifting her head to connect their swollen lips.

his chain

“Can’t trust those Catholic girls,” he teases, his kisses drifting along her jawline.  He can’t get enough of the taste of her skin.

Sliding her leg back up his, she presses her heel into the cheek of his ass, rising up to grind against him.  “No, not at all,” she sassily agrees.

“Shut up and kiss me again,” he taunts, caressing his hand across her cheek, sliding across her freckles and winding under her hair.  Her lips collide with his and his large palm stretches from her ear to the back of her skull.  He squeezes lightly as her tongue darts in his slightly opened mouth, teasing and prying for more space.  His groan is swallowed by her kiss, her tongue lightly sliding against his, silently begging for his permission.  He opens his mouth, and returns the motions as their tongues tangle as if greeting one another.  Her breathing is labored and he feels her heat rising between her legs, turned on simply by his touches and kisses.

If this is her reaction to their tame foreplay, he can’t wait to really get her going.  Lifting his body up on both arms, resting his fists on either side of her head, he pushes between her legs again.  Without his weight on her, her body arches to him, her glorious tits raised. He grinds down on her, painfully aware of his own aching cock, wanting to seek solace and relief deep inside her.  She moans quietly and her head rolls back against the bed, her hands clenching the sheets next to her, his eyes drawn to them.

Not truly wanting to power over her, yet, Chris tells her quietly, “Touch me; I wanna feel your hands on me.”

Her warm hands drift to his sides, sliding along the waist of his jeans, dipping cautiously below the waistband.  Goosebumps form on his skin, desiring more touches from her.  The feathery caress teases him and he presses closer to her again as her hands reach lower, squeezing his ass.  She bites her lip, inhaling deeply at the discovery he’s commando.

“Damn, Thalia, you’re driving me crazy.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, he can see her denying his words.  “You’re beautiful, desirable,” he tells her.  “Sexy as hell, woman, and if no one has told you that before, they didn’t look close enough.”

Pulling her hands back, she runs them over his back, as if she’s afraid to play with the actual fire.  “Chris, this is just play.  A fun night; I get it.  You don’t have to say-”

“I always tell the truth; especially to a beautiful woman,” he rolls himself to her side, lowering his mouth to breath against her skin. “Maybe we won’t leave this bed till you believe it,” he whispers with a growl as he pushes down her tank top, exposing her swollen peak to him.  Her dark brown nipple is so tantalizing; he washes over it gently with his tongue and she whimpers aloud, not even holding back the aching need caught in the back of her throat.  Chuckling, he licks slowly again.  “Like that, do you?  Tell me, give me your sounds; don’t hold back,” he shares.

“Then do it again,” she replies, sliding one hand up to hold the back of his head against her breast.

Happily complying with her wish, he is treated when she rolls on her side to face him and the tank top pulls down, revealing the second delicious button.  He lavishes it with the same attention, but her quiet mewls encourage him to add pressure and he gropes with one hand while his tongue plays over her.

“Uhh…” she moans, throwing her leg over his hip and rolling him to her.  Snaking her hands between them she runs her hands over his washboard abs, teasing along his Adonis belt.  His breathing heightens and his need for her builds when she tangles her fingers in the trail of trimmed hairs leading her to the prize.  Her tentative touches are light and unsure so he’s surprised when she pops the button of his jeans and reaches inside.

Her soft hands brush over his broad tip, wiping at the precum he expels in response to her sexiness.  Sliding her hands lower she grabs him with both hands, not even reaching from tip to base. “Shit, not little is right, baby.”

Raising his head from her beautiful exposed breasts, his eyes meet hers, a mix of fear and desire.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.”  Given the heat and wetness he feels pushing against his denim clad thigh as she slowly rocks against him, he’s not too worried. About that, anyway.  “Thalia?  This was the the furthest thing from my mind when I left my place tonight; I’m not really prepared.  Do you have anything?”

“Seducing grad students wasn’t on the agenda, Professor?” She tightens her hold and tugs, pulling a groan from deep within his chest.

“Ah, fuck,” he chuckles, growing stiffer from her handling.  “Nah, I’m the only one that’s tugged that in a while, sweetheart.”

Biting her lip, she inhales.  “I’m covered, and I have stuff in the basket under the bed.  No worries,” she informs him.

“A fun basket?” His eyes delight in the thought of truly playing with her.  There he goes again, thinking in the future.  “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”

She giggles.  “How about the real thing tonight?  I can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”  Sucking in her breath, she whispers out, “It feels amazing in my hands.  So big…” Running her fingers across the veiny weave of his cock, she adds.  “So thick…”

He wants to respond to her but she instinctively licks her lips and his mouth falls to hers, pulled like a magnet.  Flicking his tongue across her raw flesh where he’s scratched her with his beard, his tongue teases hers again, running along the tops of her teeth and pulling out slowly.  She sighs and seems to melt beside him as she rolls to her back, flopping her arm to her side, the other still rhythmically pulling on him.

Dropping his eyes, he watches her hand, hidden still in his jeans and he lifts his hips to slide them down under the curve of his ass allowing more freedom for her movements.  Fully exposed, her hand reminds him of the way he watched her pull on the tap at the bar just hours before.  Was it only hours ago?  Her hands move methodically, and he realizes he’ll spill his seed if she doesn’t stop.  “Thalia, you need to-”

“You promised me three times before sun up, Mister.  This will help you last longer.”

Rising to her knees beside him he sees her eyes pleading with him as she continues to pull and twist his sensitive skin, reaching down to caress his balls with her other hand.  Kneeling there, she strikes an imposing figure, curves and beauty, all focused on him.  Damn, how did she flip it on him?  But she makes a point…  Raising up on his elbows to watch her work, he replies with a groan, “Have at it; it’s all yours.”  He grins, waving his hand as if he’s gifting himself to her.

Tentatively at first, her confidence builds and she pulls him to a crest, a tightening building in his thighs, whispering “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  He thrusts into her hands and spurts his cum over his chest, dribbling on her fingers and some rolling down his side onto the bed covers.  Her smile can’t hide her satisfaction and she takes it all in stride, pulling the ripped tank top over her head to clean the mess.  He’s surprised and so turned on when she casually licks the drips from her fingers.  “Damn, that’s really sexy,” he hisses, sitting up and placing his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her to him in a passionate kiss, his hormones surging as his body still quakes.  “Hell, I really needed that,” he chuckles.

Giggling, she shakes her head and replies, “Glad I could help.”

Click here for Chapter 16 Three

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Closing Time

et ch 14 closing time april 19 2017

Educating Thalia

Chapter 14

Collaboration by  @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3400

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, drinking, discussion of homelessness, thoughts of sexual situations

Summary:  Professor Evans seeks solace in a bottle and finds himself in the bar where grad-student Thalia Bareo is finishing her night shift….

Click here to the introduction of Educating Thalia

“Ah, shit,” she mumbles, wiping the counter down. Her grumble catches his attention and he looks up, a smile of recognition dawning across his face. A brief image of the lovely woman before him in a short Tartan plaid skirt quickly romps through his memory.  With a slight nod, he runs his fingers across the top of his glass indicating another, and she motions to the other man behind the bar that she’s got this.

“What’s your poison, professor?” The plump latina asks, her accent thick and sultry.

He indicates the tap and looks on as her hand subtly strokes the metal handle before she pulls it down, watching the foamy brew flow into the chilled glass, stopping just before it spills over.

She sets it down with a clink in front of him. “I work all the way out here so I don’t have to put up with the college crowd; what’s your excuse for being at this dive?”

He ponders his response, taking a long sip of the dark hops as it cools down his throat. Even in the dark bar he can see her eyes darken for a moment while she watches the muscles in his neck as he gulps the beverage down. He continues drinking, his eyes on her as a blush rises on her cheeks and her nipples begin to strain against her shirt. She turns away from him, grabbing a bowl of mixed nuts to place in front of him, the heat diminished in her eyes.

He runs his thumb across his bottom lip, gathering the wasted drops off beer and flicks his tongue across the pad of his finger before replying. “I needed to get away from the college crowd too,” he tells her honestly.  “Sometimes it’s just too much bullshit, ya know?”

She wipes her hands on her apron, “Man, I hear that.  So what is it this time? Johanas and Smythes fighting over offices again, or the library collection refuses to update the check out system for references?”  she teases.

He chuckles and takes a handful of nuts, palming them and pushing them into his mouth.  “All of the above, and shitty freshmen that can’t write a goddamn sentence to save their lives.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes.  “I hear that too. Working as a TA in the language department; I can’t believe what they let in these ivy league doors these days, it’s a disgrace.”  Winking, her long lashes close and rest against her freckled cheek while she shares her tease with him.  “Kids wasting Daddy’s money, while I gotta work my ass off to get anywhere.”

She turns in a fluid movement to grab a bottle filled with an incandescent blue liquid, and his mind freezes on her use of the word ‘daddy’ and ‘ass’ in the same sentence.  From where he sits high on the bar stool, he can admire her rounded backside, in tight jeans with silver stitching on the pockets.  Reaching up to grab a bottle on a higher shelf, her shirt rises just enough to see a hint of her beautifully tanned skin.  Turning back to the main bar, she blushes lightly and self-consciously pulls her shirt back down.  He’s fascinated by watching her work as she mixes up a drink and shoots it smoothly down the wooden countertop and the other bartender catches it.  

“Thalia, right?”  Chris asks.  He knows she works for Hiddleston, but he vaguely remembers her from one of his study groups a year or two ago.  How could he forget such a beautiful name for such an alluring woman?  “You were in one of my classes, right?”

She nods.  “Your Women’s History class?  I gave my speech on roles of women in the World War II era while dressed in a USO showgirl outfit?”

Hell yeah.  She’d given the speech from memory, save for one notecard she pulled out of her cleavage halfway through the presentation.  He’d had such a hard-on the rest of the hour, he had to give her an A just because he couldn’t focus on a damn word she’d said.

“Do you commonly give costumed speeches?”  He asks, seeing her differently in the dark bar than he has before as she walks across campus, arms full of books.

Accepting a tip from a leaving customer she smiles brightly.  “Nah, I was young and foolish then, and besides, I’d worked really hard to make that outfit for a costume party.  I thought I might as well get more good out of it,” she laughs.

He smiles.  “Not so foolish now?”

“Grad student.  Bills to pay.  No time for fun.  Between school and workin-”

“Hey!” A voice at the end of the bar barks, “I don’t pay ya to flirt, I pay ya to mix drinks and clean tables.  Get to it!”

She drops her eyes.  “Sorry. Um, I wasn’t really… “  Shaking her head, she clears her throat.  “It was nice talking to you Professor Evans; I owe, I owe, it’s back to work I go.”  Humming quietly, she walks away, stopping at the end of the counter to pick up a big gray bucket to use to clean the tables.

He downs two more drinks during her absence, playing on his phone and returning emails.  Rolling his shoulders, he stretches his neck from side to side, watching her reflection in the aged mirror in front of him, rather than turning to admire her full figure.   Her dark curly hair cascades down her back, skimming just the top of the waist of her jeans.  Her tight v-neck tshirt supports a logo for the school team and hugs her tits just right.  From the fit, he can tell her bra is just a little too tight, and with each step she has an extra jiggle that makes him hard now.  He begins to fantasize about groping her voluptuous breasts from behind as he pounds against her ass.  Maybe she would even call him ‘daddy.’  

He shakes his head to clear the image.  Removing his glasses, he places them on the counter, rubbing his stubble gruffly.  Fuck.  She’s a student.  Even a damn good lay wouldn’t be worth risking his job.  And she would be good…  He can just sense it about her and that makes his cock twitch in his pants, and at the moment, he rather wishes he hadn’t gone commando after his shower at the gym.

He catches the eye of the other bartender and as if the guy could read his thoughts, Chris drops his head and hides his face in the crook of his elbow, staring into the amber liquid in his glass.

She chats with the other patrons and is obviously friendly with a few of the regulars.  When one guy tries to get a little handsy with her, she’s already twisted the man’s arm behind his back before he can jump to her rescue.  She gives the man a push and sends him on his way.  Chris watches as he scurries out the door.

Returning to her position at the bar, her face brightens when she realizes he’s still there.  “It’s late; don’t you need to be getting home?” she asks kindly, adding payments to the cash register and making a few notes.

“To be honest, I had a shit day and don’t wanna be alone,” he scoffs, slightly drunk and words slurred..  “When do you get off… work?” he adds with a wry smile, swishing around what’s left in the bottom of his glass.  “Sit with me and have some coffee while I dry out before I drive home?”

He sees her discreetly looking to his hands, possibly admiring their thickness or looking for signs of attachment, so he stretches his fingers to show there’s no wedding ring.   She leans into the counter, and pulls the glass from his hands, sitting it on the lower counter in front of her.  She rests her elbows on the bar in such a way to push her boobs together to showcase their beauty and whispers, “I got a better plan.  My apartment is just across the street.”  She twists her head to look at the neon clock on the wall behind her, exposing her graceful neck to him, to look at the time. “How ‘bout some early morning pancakes and some hot coffee before I have to hit the books.  Some of us actually prepare before we attend our classes,” she teases.

Chris can’t believe his luck.  It’s like an open invitation, but he sees a vulnerability in her too.  Her offer is gracious and full of concern over his slightly drunken state.  “That’s really nice, but we don’t have to,” he tries to deny his wish to say yes.  “The diner on the corner is open.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “And it’s shit.  Besides, I really hate going anywhere after work and smelling like an ashtray.  I was gonna fix coffee anyway, so it’s no big deal.”  The beauty shrugs her shoulders, indicating it really is no trouble.

How can he resist?  “Sounds good.”  He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and counts out a few bills to cover his tab.  She takes the money and raises her eyebrow at the tip.  Handing it back to him, he puts his hands up to stop her.

“Ok, fine,” she huffs.  He watches her move over to the end of the bar to open the register and address the other bartender.  “It’s slowing down and the tables are clear.  I’m outta here.”  Counting out her tips for the night, she doesn’t see the scowl on the older man’s face, but Chris catches it as the man turns to glare at him.

He strains to listen to their exchange over the din of the bar.  He can’t hear most of it, so he puts his glasses back on; he’s perfected the art of lip reading over the years.  Something to do on a slow day during boring staff meetings.  He catches the man’s concern for his female counterpart. “What? You’re leaving here with pretty boy?  Thalia, what are you doing?”

‘Pretty boy?’  Chris observes her looking around the bar, sweeping her arms wide.  Her voice is higher pitched and easier to hear.  “You’d rather I leave with one of the other patrons?  At least if pretty boy has tats, they’re spelled right.  But, Jim, don’t worry, my heart still belongs to you.”   She pats his big belly and rises on her toes to kiss his cheek.  Chris smiles at the scene.

Untying the apron, she tosses it under the bar.  He swears her voice is a bit louder, for his benefit as she continues. “Don’t worry about me.  You’ve seen me kick ass around here, you know if he tries something and I’m not interested, I can totally handle myself.”

Their voices drop but Chris continues to read their lips.  “You’re interested,” Jim nods towards him.

Thalia turns her brilliant smile to him and he watches her puff out her chest slightly and pull her shoulders back.   He returns the look and stands up from his seat, pulling his coat from the empty stool next to him.

She shakes her hair out, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “Maybe; I don’t know,” she says to the other bartender.  She grabs her coat from the hook and walks around the bar, titling her head to the exit and Chris follows her out, his hand on her lower back.

Outside in the cold, she pulls her collar up to protect her ears and loops her arm in his before stuffing her hands in her pockets.  “It’s just across the street; that doorway,” she gestures with her head as she leads him across the street.  Fumbling with her keys in the cold, she asks him to step around behind her for a minute.  “Hang on just a second; can you hold it open?”

“Sure?” he asks as she steps around the corner of the building and yells something down the alley and he hears a scuffle.  He’s surprised when she returns to see another woman with her.  “Tina, this is my friend, Chris.  He’ll be here tonight too, okay?”

Tina steps inside the warm entrance and mumbles something.  Thalia pulls a wrapped sandwich and apple from her pocket and hands it to the woman.  “Sleep well, Tina,” she says as the woman shuffles down the hall and disappears under the stairway.  

Thalia nods her head up the stairs and starts climbing.  Chris steps up beside her and quietly asks, “What was that about?”

Thalia grins and presses her lips closed tightly for a moment.  “She has no place to stay.  She’s harmless so a few of us let her in the building on cold nights and she sleeps under the stairs.”  Stopping at the third landing, she halts in front of the door on the right and unlocks it.  “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve offered her my couch.”  She shakes her head, her hair falling around her shoulders.  “But she always says no.  About once a week I am able to convince her to come up for a shower and we have hot tea.”

Chris is blown away by her generosity.  “You have a habit of taking in strays?  Me?  Tina?  What do you two talk about?”

The door open, she motions for him to enter and reaches around and flicks the light switch.  He’s struck by the chill in the air, but the light casts a warm glow around the small space.  She places the keys on a side table and rubs her hands together for warmth.  “Wanna sit at the table? You might wanna keep your coat on.  It’ll take a while for the place to warm up.”  She moves to the radiator and clangs on it a few times with a metal wrench and Chris immediately remembers his days as a poor grad student too.  He bites back his laughter at the expression on her face, when she bangs it again and curses in Spanish before it rattles to life.

Crossing to the kitchen, she lays her gloves on the counter, and fills a kettle with water before adding it to the machine and settling it in its spot.  “She tells me about her life before she lost it all; her husband and son were killed in a car accident, and she just gave up after that.”    She reaches to her left and pulls out a coffee filter and grounds, measuring and adding it as well.  She pushes the orange button and the coffee maker makes a quiet hiss as it begins to do its job.

He watches as she moves about the kitchen and instantly feels at home in her space.  Funny.  That’s a feeling he hasn’t had in months.  He looks around as she talks a little more about Tina and straightens the counters, maybe a little embarrassed a guest is seeing it in a messed up state.  She halts when she realizes he’s watching and giggles.  “Sorry.  Habit.  I’m not used to having guests, and it’s a mess.”  She hands him a tin of cookies from above the stove and places two mugs on the table.  “So, listen.  Can you finish up the coffee?  If I have to smell like that bar for five more minutes, I might scream.”  She pulls a strand of hair to her nose and inhales.  She drops it in disgust and makes a stink face.  “It’s just awful; in my hair, on my clothes; on my skin.  I hate it.  And my hands?  I think they always smell like beer.”

She’s standing just close enough that he reaches to grab one of her hands and brings it to his face, brushing his nose against her palm.  Breathing deeply, the smell is strong, but she’s just left work.  “Occupational hazard?” he teases as he gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb, enjoying the soft feel of her skin, afraid to lift his eyes to hers.

Clearing her throat, Thalia pulls her hand away slowly but the catch in her breath is audible and seems to echo in the silence between them.  Quietly she tells him, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower.  I won’t be long.  Make yourself at home.”

She rushes from the room quickly and enters through a closed door.  A few moments later, she comes out and rounds the corner and passes into another room with an armload of clothes. He hears the turn of the lock.  As he makes his coffee, he tries not to imagine her naked and wet in the shower, but the thought jumps into his mind anyway. Adding sugar, he visualizes the rivulets of water running across her hills and valleys as she soaps away a long night at work. If he were there with her, he’d follow the wetness all over her curves, with his fingers and his tongue. He’d… Shit, he probably shouldn’t be thinking this.

Chuckling at the sound of her humming, he tries to identify the song he’s heard on the radio as he reaches to the fridge for creamer.  On the door, he sees a recent application for paperwork to travel overseas and sees her birthdate, during the week of finals  She just turned twenty-five.  Pushing his glasses up, he rubs his forehead.  Twenty-five.  Fuck.  Is that too young?  She’s a grad student.  He shrugs his shoulders.  Not a student in his department.  What’s the harm there?

Sipping his coffee, he walks around the tiny space.  On the bookshelf are photos of friends and family…  A notice from a funeral she attended a few months back.  Books are piled everywhere.  Lots of little trinkets from tourist destinations across Europe.

The radiator is slowly warming the room, with a slight chill still hanging in the air.  He removes his coat and hangs it over the back of the chair before sitting on the couch and pulling the soft blue blanket around him.  The furniture is nice and newer, not typical college student decor.  He sinks back against the sueded fabric and settles in as the water shuts off.  Again, trying to shut out any thoughts of her naked behind the closed door, he pulls out his phone and checks for any updated messages.  Seeing none, he scowls at the screen, jumping a bit when the door creaks open.  

“Hey,” she says quietly as a waft of orchids from her bath soaps float from the room.  Her long curly hair is wrapped in a towel perched precariously on her head.

Damn, that’s really sexy, he thinks.  How do girls do that?  He smiles at her, in a pink polka dotted robe, tied loosely over a tank top and plaid pajama shorts.  When she walks to the kitchen, the robe splits open and he catches sight of the way her thighs sensually rub against one another as she moves. “Hey,” he responds.  “I didn’t know how you take your coffee so I just uh, didn’t fix it.”

She giggles.  “Strong and bold, with a little sugar.  Like my men,” she laughs and the sound is so joyous, he joins in the mirth.  Moving elegantly she seems comfortable in her skin.  Chris likes that about her right away.  She doesn’t seem phased by his presence or uncomfortable to be in her pjs in front of someone she barely knows.  As she fixes her coffee, he asks her a few more questions about Tina, her work at the bar and the memorabilia from her obvious travels.

“Ya know, Thalia, I always got the impression you didn’t like me,” he boldly states.

She settles at the end of the couch and tugs the robe around her middle.  He can see her carefully considering her words.  “You’re the type of man girls like me are taught to stay away from.”

A slow grin crosses his face, “Oh really?  And what type is that?”

“Handsome and self-assured?  But, I don’t know?  Tonight you seemed-  a little broken.  Like you needed someone just to be nice to you.  I can do that.  I can be nice.”

He wonders how nice she could be; how nice it would be to run his fingers through her hair; how nice to slide between her legs; how nice-

He clears his throat and takes another sip of his coffee.

Click here to Chapter 15 Stay

Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando



ET ch 13 Alone April 16 2017

Chapter 13

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, angst, thoughts of sexual situations

Summary: Thalia reflects on her life in general and on her relationship with Tom.

Word Count 1528

Click here to read the introduction to Educating Thalia

With a sigh, Thalia dumps her bag and keys, plopping down on the couch to pull of her boots.  To ward off the cold as she waits for the radiator to warm up, she stays wrapped in her scarf and coat, feeling oddly listless.

The best thing now would be to just fall into bed- and forget the fight with Tom she just had. But she’s much too annoyed to fall asleep right now. She’s glad to know her class in the morning is cancelled, and she can laze about a few extra hours. Finally warm enough, she peels off her outer layer of clothes and reaches for the slippers under the coffee table.

With another sigh, she pads into the kitchen and grabs the ingredients for a nice, ego-boosting, nerve-soothing cup of hot chocolate. Although a shot of whiskey doesn’t sound bad either.  She looks briefly to the window, and thinks about crossing the street to the bar where she works, but she’d probably get sucked into helping close for the night.  Chica, you are too tired for that shit.  Three nights in a row is enough and she looks forward to being off from the bar for a few days. Instead of booze as a soother, while the water boils, she rummages for home-made cookies she always keeps in an emergency stash in a tin above the stove.

Tom.  She can’t kick him from her mind…  It’s barely been two weeks since she’s returned from her Christmas break, but things have changed somehow.  She’s confused by how there can be a closeness and a distance at the same time…  It’s like he wants to pull her close, then gets scared of his own feelings, and pushes her away.  It’s become dizzying.

Although she’ll forever remember and treasure the amazing time she spent with Tom during his surprise visit, their days apart during the holidays made her see one thing clearer: She shouldn’t tie herself to him too much.

They’re becoming too dependent on each other; she’ll be looking for work abroad, and this isn’t the permanent home for either of them.  Their time at the college as professor and student is just a stop along the way to the rest their lives…

Yes, he’s all she can think about sometimes, and he’s awakened a hunger for more inside that scares the shit out of her – but does that mean he should wield such control over all of her life?

She’s a little tired of re-adjusting her schedule and missing out on other things because she’s at his beck and call. Whenever he is free, she ditches anything that isn’t work or school to spend a few forbidden hours with him.

Thalia munches grumpily on two cookies, the usually mouth-watering taste of her step-mother’s family recipe barely registering on her taste buds.

God, she loves spending time with Tom. And that’s part of the problem. She’s grown so attached to him, so dependent on him and how he makes her feel valued and appreciated…

What the hell happened to being her own girl?

It doesn’t help that Tom has steadily been growing more attached too. He cares for her, she feels it in her bones, even though he hasn’t put it into words.  It’s a blessing and a curse rolled into one, and sometimes he’s like a petulant child if he doesn’t get his way.

While going through the motions of making her hot chocolate,Thalia recounts a fight they had about a week ago.  She was in a bad mood before meeting him, weighed down by the challenges of the new semester and drained by all those extra hours at the bar now that one of the other bartenders quit. When she snapped at Tom for a teasing comment, he gave her an impromptu spanking in his office.  What started as playful fun, with her admitting she was being a bad girl ended up with him taking her from behind and leaving a rather prominent love bite on her neck. Afterwards, he cuddled her close and asked her what was wrong…and somehow off they were on their first ever real fight- over something completely ridiculous.

Tom was none too happy with her decision to work late hours. When she reminded him icily that she didn’t have the privilege of money, he offered to help her out.

Shaking her head at the memory, Thalia takes a sip of the hot, bittersweet liquid and waits for its effect to kick in.

She knows he mentioned helping her financially because he wants to have more time with her and because he genuinely cares for her, but to her that was a big no- a red flag. With a scowl, she remembers stomping around his office and gathering her clothes while hissing at him that he sure as hell wasn’t her sugar daddy and she was the last person who wanted his money.

He flinched and looked so wounded that she wanted to take the words back. But though they were harsh, they were the truth. No way would she let him help. It was bad enough that he paid for all those hotels and meals and little treats off and on. She didn’t want to turn into a kept woman, dammit, like some medieval mistress.  And she told him so before storming out of his office.

Slowly, trying her best to savor the flavor, Thalia sips the rest of her beverage.

In the days that followed, he did not bring up the topic again and he was careful to create opportunities for them to spend time together that didn’t involve large expenses.  She smiles at the memory of him ‘accidentally’ finding her studying in the Commons and the ice cream he shared with her.  And the whispered naughty things he would do to her if they were alone…

But the truce was short lived. They fought again tonight at dinner.  She hadn’t been able to see Tom for three days due to work and classes and today she nearly fell asleep while waiting for dinner.  His deep, crisp voice lulling her in safety and she wanted nothing more to fall into his arms and sleep for days. When she asked him for a raincheck on the date, things only got worse. Before she could even suggest he go with her to her place for the night, he switched from disappointment to cool anger. He accused her of being needlessly stubborn.

“I told you that you should let me help. Why are you so intent on making things complicated?” he asked, blue eyes flashing, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.

Something snapped inside her then, exhaustion taking its toll on her. “I’m being stubborn?!  Ya know, Tom, I don’t have strength for this bullshit right now.  How about learning how to deal with a little rejection instead of making matters worse?” she threw at him and left, ignoring his pleading voice calling her name as she paraded down the snowy sidewalk to her car.

As tired as her body is from being overworked, it also burns with a constant longing for Tom’s affection and attention.

And God, he could be attentive to the point of killing her, in the best ways possible.

Her cheeks heat, and it has nothing to do with the chocolate. She writhes with the sizzling memory of him pleasuring her with his mouth and a tiny but powerful vibrator last week. He didn’t let up until she thought she’d burst out of her skin, coaxing so many orgasms out of her that she was a boneless mess in his arms by the time he rubbed himself between her full breasts and came all over them.

Thalia tightens the grip on her cup, arousal slipping through the annoyance and making her press her thighs together.

Almost defiantly, she downs the rest of the liquid and rinses the cup in the sink.

Dammit, she doesn’t want him to have such a hold on her, and he simply doesn’t understand what’s so bad about, how did he phrase it, ‘helping the woman who means so much to me until she’s pulled through.’

Her phone dings, announcing a message. Knowing instinctively that it must be Tom, she keeps herself from looking at it. Instead, she walks into the bathroom and indulges in a hot shower, trying to wash off all her conflicting emotions.

When she’s finally in bed twenty minutes later, she picks up her phone and checks.

She can’t help the eye roll and reluctant smile when she reads the Shakespeare quote. It’s just so Tom.

‘A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ I’m sorry for being such an insufferable fool this evening, darling. Forgive me? I just want what’s best for you…for this beautiful thing we share.

The umpteenth sigh for today wrenches itself lose.

Forgiven, she types, I’m off work tomorrow.  Let me buy dinner and we can talk things over?  Not even waiting for a reply, knowing he’ll say yes, she lies back and tries to catch the sleep she so desperately needs.

Click here for the next chapter, Closing Time

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando


ET ch 12 tutoring April 14 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia: Chapter 12

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, Dom, Sub, safe words, binding, blindfolds, aftercare, delayed orgasms, cunnilingus, blow job, spanking, condom use, silk tie play, trust, lessons from Tom on making tea

Summary:  Tom and Thalia grow closer while spending the night together in Chicago, putting his Christmas present to good use and learning to make a proper British cup of tea.

SPECIAL NOTE: Due to Good Friday in the States and the New Year celebration in Sri Lanka, there will be THREE story postings this coming week.  Look for chapters to be posted on Wednesday, April 12; FRIDAY, April 14 and Sunday, April 16.  If you want to make sure you are always up to date with Tom, Thalia and Chris, just follow avenger-nerd-mom on WordPress and stories are sent directly to you!

Images used for this chapter were found on Pinterest

Word Count 5996

Click here for the intro to Educating Thalia

Tom inserts the key card and enters the room, with Thalia close on his heels and still holding his free hand.

He’s opted for a cozy double room this time, not a lavish suite, but he made sure before booking that the bathroom has a generous tub if his girl should want a repeat performance of their first night together.

Pulling Thalia to him, he nuzzles her hair.  “I’m glad, darling, we were able to spend the day together.  I enjoyed seeing your city through your eyes.  So many places to visit; it’s no wonder you grew up with a love for theater, history and culture.”

Thalia pushes back against him, taking his hand.  “Come here, you have to see something.”

Tom drops his bag and follows her to the window.  Pulling back the curtains, the beautiful city lights up in front of them as snow begins to fall and a lighted ship can be seen on the lake, bobbing along on the waves.  His arms wrap around her waist and she rests hers on his, running her fingertips along his leather watch band.  His pulse quickens at her light touch and he wonders if she has any idea how she makes him feel.

“I’ve never really seen the city from up high at night; it’s so beautiful,” she whispers, leaning forward to get a better view.

With her forehead pressed against the glass, he releases one hand from her grasp and sweeps her long hair over her shoulder.  “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in her ear, continuing to tug at her hair.

He can see the smile in her reflection on the cool glass.  Pursing her lips together, she quietly says, “It’s a lost cause.  The Chicago wind; my hair will be in knots for days.  I like…” she sighs, turning in his arms.  Playing with the buttons on his shirt collar, she looks up at him through her dark lashes.  “I like leaving it down for you to play with…”

His heart flips at her innocent admission.  Before he can speak, she makes another confession.  “You also look really good in plaid,” she giggles.  “It’s damn near pornographic.”

“Oh, really,” he taunts, a chill running through him as her fingertips light over his collarbone, dipping beneath his shirt collar.  Barely a whisper between them, he tells her, “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Entirely too sinful… I wouldn’t be able to concentrate in class-”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” His hand reaches behind her and gives a light squeeze on her ass.

They both laugh warmly at the ruined lesson the day she wore the plaid skirt to lecture, and the few times since they’d worn or said things in a veiled attempt to tease the other out in the open.

Standing in front of the window, he begins to sway with her gently in his arms as they look out over the city.  He tries to formulate the words that tickle at the back of his mind.  He opens his mouth several times, but closes it quietly, not knowing what to say and not wanting to say too much.

She giggles, gently shaking in his hold.  “Tom, just spit it out.  I can see your reflection in the glass and you look like a funny fish!”  She mimics him in the window and he has a good laugh with her.

Shaking his head, he begins, looking down on her glowing face, cheeks still slightly pink from the wind..  “Thalia, I didn’t come all this way to visit you out of sexual frustration.  I want you to know I truly missed you.  I’ll admit, dammit, I was miserable without you.  My favorite hiding places- my office, the library- they held no spark for me knowing you wouldn’t pop around the corner.  Do you understand, darling?”

Her eyes soften and a new expression fills them, something he’s not seen there before.  She licks her lips and he can see her pulse quicken.  A light blush crosses her face, darkening her freckles.  “I understand, Tom.  I… I felt the same.  I’ve missed you; the feel of your arms, the poetic lilt of your voice.  You calling me this morning?  That was the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.  I can’t repay that to you, but-”

“Darling, it’s not a give and take like that.  Just having you here with me now is enough.”  His hand slides up her curvy figure and his palm rests against her rapidly beating heart, his fingertips brushing gently along the gold necklace chain she wears.

In her low raspy tone she tells him quietly, “I guess I could confess something else to you, as a thank you for flying all the way out here to see me?”

“What’s that, Thalia?”  His own pulse echoes in his ears and he wonders what she has to share with him.  “You can always tell me anything.”

Her mouth  turns up into to a cocky grin and she bites at the corner of her lip.  “You once asked me if I pleasure myself while thinking of you?  Well, I’ve been missing you a lot, late at night-”

“Oh, fuck, Thalia,” he chuckles darkly, “then let’s get on with it, shall we?”

She throws her head back in laughter and the tension has a more playful feeling now, but Tom still intends to give her a lesson.  She has no idea what she does to him…

“I hope you aren’t suffering from an overdose of too many sinful experiences late at night and alone, are you darling?”

She snakes her arms around his waist and buries deeper into his embrace, shaking her head. Her words come out muffled against his chest.

“Not at all. As long as I share all the experiences with you.”


As much as he enjoys a simple hug as this, Tom draws back, flicking her chin up with his long fingers.

“Good, because I have another new experience waiting for you.”

She looks up at him, and something about the expression of utter trust in her face makes him feel ten feet tall. He steals a quick kiss before saying in a low voice full of sinful promises, “I’ve been dying to try out my Christmas present, you know?”

He sees her eyes widen, then darken when she remembers- their last night together before she left on break and the silk tie and their talk about alternative uses for it.

“Yes,” she says, her voice already breathy, and he can’t wait to see how far she will let him go today.

The air between them becomes charged with sexual energy and anticipation.

Cupping her face in one large hand, he holds her gaze intently.  “A few things first before we start playing. While we’re doing this, I’m in control. You do what I say. You don’t ask any questions, unless you need clarification of what you’re supposed to do. If you address me, you’ll call me sir. Understood?”

Her tongue sneaks out to wet her lips. She nods, then remembers earlier instructions and adds a breathy, yet somewhat confident, “yes”.

He can feel her pulse throb against his fingers and he knows his heart is racing just the same. God, how has he deserved a woman like this? She’s a true gift, and he intends to treasure her for as long as she lets him.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t like, so please don’t be scared, darling. I’m giving you the safe word ‘chocolate’. If you want me to stop something I’m doing or you ever feel uncomfortable at any point, you say the word clearly once, and I’ll take that as a signal to stop immediately.”

Thalia shivers, and he caresses her gently, trying to ease her nerves.  “Do we really need a safe word, Tom?”

Fear in her dark eyes, he worries he’s frightened her.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you or be too rough, nothing I don’t think you’ll enjoy.  It’s just a precaution…” His voice is tender and soft, to alleviate her concerns, but switches back to a controlling sound to finish his thought.  “What’s your safe word, darling?”

She sighs, working her lip over and he can feel her fingers nervously fidgeting with a fold on the back of his shirt where her hands rest around his waist.  “Chocolate.”

“Exactly. It’s your right to use it whenever things become too much. But I just want to tell you that you shouldn’t use it too liberally. This is all about new experiences. I want to educate you and guide you. So even if something might strike you as strange or daring, give it a chance first and see because you might enjoy it. Okay?”

She pulls herself tall in his arms, creating a confidence, making up her mind to turn herself over to another lesson at his hands.

“Yes, sir.”

Jesus, they haven’t even started yet and she’s got him hard.  She’s so stunning in the dark light, with the city glowing behind her, and he’s proud of her resolve.

“We won’t try anything too forward today,” he adds because he wants her to enjoy this and not panic.  And as he’s told her, he isn’t into the hardcore stuff anyway.  To prove he wants this to be fun, he nips playfully at her neck, eliciting a light squeak from the back of her throat.

“Yes, sir, I trust you.”  She nods, her curls bouncing and her pulse leaping.

“Good girl. Let your man show you how much fun a bit of playing can be.”

He lets her face go and grabs hold of her hand to pull her towards the bed.

“Strip for me, love.”

A little less shyly than the first time, Thalia removes her clothes one by one, holding eye contact.

Tom licks his lips and takes deep breaths. He doesn’t move from his spot until she has stepped out of her white panties, the innocence of them contrasting tantalizingly with her actions.

He steps out of his shoes, impatience raising its head inside him.

“Now be a darling and help me out of my clothes.”

She comes forward eagerly and removes his jacket before unbuttoning his plaid shirt. When her fingers brush lingeringly over his pecs, he grabs her wrist.

“No touching. Not yet. Just remove my clothes.”

“Yes, sir.”

She undoes the rest of the buttons and slides the shirt off, followed by the navy T-shirt he’s wearing beneath it. Tom shifts obediently this way and that, pleased that she’s sticking to the rules so far. His pants are next, and her fingers shake slightly while she opens the belt.

Slowly, she pushes the button through its hole, then lowers the zipper over the beginning bulge. Her hands falter and her eyes shoot up when she discovers that he’s been going commando.

Thalia opens her mouth to say something, but a warning lift of his eyebrow reminds her that she’s supposed to be silent. Tom watches with a smirk how she eyes his hardening cock with longing but keeps her hands to herself. He can tell whatever she wants to say is just killing her and he’ll have to ask later.

She lowers his pants all the way down to his feet, squatting in the process. Tom steps out of them and removes his socks, then pulls her up with him.

“The tie is under the left pillow. Be a good girl and bring it to me.”

His voice has automatically taken on a deeper timbre, a low growl full of authority.

He enjoys the view of her round ass when she walks to the bed, bends and retrieves the tie. The shiny silk with its mesmerizing color pattern of blue, purple and pink gleams in the light. Thalia is holding it in both hands, carefully carrying it like a breakable glass on a tray.

Tom takes it, gliding his fingers over it in a caress that has her suck in a breath. He plays with the length of it, watching her eyes follow the movement as if hypnotized by the sight.

“One day,” he says softly, “I’ll have you tie it for me before a party or retie it during the event, your fingers tugging and stroking it. And we’ll both remember what purpose it served before I wore it.”

He leans in for a kiss, snaking his tongue past her lips and feeling a little of the tension leave her body.

“Do you trust me?”

Her answer is immediate. “Yes…sir.”

“Perfect. Turn around and close your eyes.”

She does as told, swallowing hard. When he lifts the tie to her forehead and places it over her eyes instead of looping it around her wrists, she starts.

“But I thought…”

“Be quiet, pet.” He makes his voice stern, enjoying her surprise. As a warning for her to be obedient, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck and sinks his teeth into her skin, hard enough to send a jolt of pain through her and mark her.

Then he returns to tying the blindfold, making sure with a few tugs that the knots are neither too tight nor too loose.

“Is this painful for you?”

“No, sir.” She sounds a little out of breath and nervous again, but her voice also carries the huskiness it adopts when she’s aroused.

“Can you see anything?”

“No, sir.”

God, it’s tempting to kiss and caress her now, maybe press his lips to every knob and indent of her spine before scraping his teeth over the small of her back and over those gorgeous globes.

But he has other plans for her, so he restricts himself to licking the spot he’s just bitten and then blowing cool air onto it. Goose bumps rise on her skin.

He inhales the flowery scent of her hair, the unique fragrance of her skin, mingling with a hint of crisp silk cloth.

“Turn around again.”

A little wobbly and off balance, Thalia turns to face him, and something about her blindfolded with his tie makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

Fuck, she looks hot like this, submissive but not too different, and definitely not uncomfortable.

“Touch me,” he commands, his voice rough. “Your sense of touch will be enhanced because you can’t rely on your eyes. I want you to run your hands all over my body and explore me as you’ve never done before.”

It takes all of his self-control not to haul her close for a kiss or fondle her breasts with their hardened tips when she starts caressing him. Her movements are tentative at first, hovering uncertainly at his shoulders. But she grows bolder with every ragged breath, her fingertips and palms traveling over his clavicles and his pecs, molding the ridges of his abs.

Emboldened by how intensely she must be feeling things and by the novelty of it all, she takes her time and really does explore him. Her nails graze over his nipples, making him moan. She glides her fingertips through the sparse hair on his chest and lower through the hints of happy trail leading south.

Fanning her hands outward, she explores his Adonis belt, tracing a vein down. Instead of moving lower, she touches his arms next, fingertips digging into his biceps when he flexes them. Her touch flutters over his wrists and palms. Interestingly, she explores his face next, studying him like a blind woman would to guess what he looks like. Her fingers brush over his high forehead and sharp cheekbones, linger on his mouth when he parts his lips and lets her seek out his teeth and tongue.

When she moves her hands to his waist and then back, wandering lower to cup his firm ass, Tom shivers in delight. Their bodies are pressed flush against each other, and it’s heaven and hell rolled into one. He grits his teeth to keep himself still, battling the need to really touch her and focuses on the subtle changes in expression on her face instead.

“On your knees,” he orders.

Thalia lowers herself unsteadily and reaches out to caress his thighs, trailing inwards to his balls, which she cups softly.

He hisses in a breath through his teeth, tensing when her fingertips massage the tender flesh and she rolls them slowly.

Probably unconsciously, her tongue wets her lips, as if she wants to run not just her hands but also her mouth all over him.

Fuck, he needs more.

With one hand at the back of her hair, half holding onto the tie’s knot and onto her hair, Tom keeps her in place.

“Open your mouth.”

Clenching his jaw, he shifts his hips a fraction so the head of his rock-hard cock brushes against her lips.

“Now explore me with your mouth.” It’s almost more of a plea than a command, and he can’t hold back a groan at the first slick of her tongue over him.

She licks away a bead of pre-come before sucking softly. Tom holds her head in place and drives his hips forward and back, sinking into the welcoming warmth of her mouth with agonizing slowness. Inch by inch, he lets her take more of him in, and it’s almost too much to handle.

Without waiting for his order, Thalia begins to lick and suck in earnest, and he can feel it in every cell of his body, the fierce longing to let go.

After a few more minutes of this sweet torture, he orders gruffly, “Stop.”

She obeys, but with a delay. Too turned on to remember punishing her, Tom yanks her up again and devours her mouth in a heady kiss that has them both moaning, biting and licking furiously.

He picks her up and half-throws her on the bed where she bounces, breasts heaving and begging for attention.

He wastes no time hunting for a condom in his wallet, tossing it onto the sheet before joining her on the bed. Crawling over her so he can cover her body with his, Tom lets her feel some of his weight.

“How was it for you?” he asks, barely able to form a rational thought and control his vocal chords.  “Did you feel everything more intensely?”

“Yes… Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Now feel this.”

He slithers down and buries his face between her luscious thighs, wasting no time in working her up into a frenzy with his talented mouth.

“Oh God, unh… ugh, fuck…” Before long, Thalia is whimpering and shouting profanities, her inability to see heightening the sensations.

Tom pauses to reach up and tweak a nipple. “Quiet, girl, or I’ll stop and leave you hanging again while I pleasure myself and come all over your helpless body! No sounds, remember?”

She nods frantically, biting her lip.

“And you’re not allowed to come until I tell you to, understand?”

When there’s only desperate and very muffled keening, he holds down her bucking hips while pinching the nipple harder. “Understand?”

“Y-yesss, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

He licks again, alternating between using the tip of his tongue and the broad flat of it, teasing and stroking. Pursing his lips around her clit, he sucks softly, which draws an animalistic sound from her.

He slows down a fraction, keeping her at the brink but not allowing her to jump off the cliff and drown into bliss.

Licking her delicious taste from his mouth, Tom moves up again. He holds her head and fumbles behind it, finally untying the silky fabric so he can stare into her beautiful dark eyes.


Her hips still lifting and circling, she nods frantically.

“Yes. God yes, please, sir.”

Tom grins at her, frankly surprised that he hasn’t fucked her raw by this time because she’s so freaking delectable like this.

He shifts, crooking a finger at her.

“Sit up tall with your back turned to me and your lovely ass resting on your feet.”

Thalia moves as if in a trance, her whole body flushed and sweaty.

When she’s in the right position, he gives his next order. “Arms back, wrists together.”

Again, she reacts eagerly, her thighs pressing together to alleviate the ache between her legs.

“Good girl,” he praises her in a deep low tone, before giving her another love bite on the sensitive juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Her whimper travels straight to his cock, and he hurriedly wraps the tie around her wrists, tugging experimentally.

“Not too tight?”

“N-no, sir.”

He grabs and positions her as he wants, with her body braced on her knees and leaning forward and her ass in the air. The sight is so goddamn pretty that he can’t resist. In quick succession, he slaps both cheeks, hearing her choke on a needy drawn-out sound that’s more animal than human.

Alternating between displays of dominance and tenderness, Tom makes sure her head rests comfortably and she can breathe. He grabs the condom and sheaths himself, his hands shaking because he wants her so much. Wrapping a fistful of her hair around one hand, Tom tips her head back to whisper into her ear.

“Do you want me to take you like this, like the naughty girl you are?”

He rubs himself against her wetness, coating himself in the slick juices so he won’t hurt her.

“Hm? Do you want me to fill you so thoroughly that you think I’ve become one with you? Fuck you so hard that the guests on the whole floor will know I’m treating you well?”

Thalia moans incoherently.

“I’m afraid I can’t hear you. What was that?” He nips at her earlobe.


“Yes what, my pet? Tell your man what you want and he’ll give it to you.”

She fights for breaths and for her voice, trembling with need against him. “Please, sir, please take me like this. Make me come. Make me scream.”

Fuck, that’s hot.

Tom shifts and nudges her legs wider apart, settling on his knees behind her and giving her engorged clit a pinch that has her arch up with a mewling sound.

“You want it all?”

“Yes, sir, please.”

With one thrust, he sheaths himself fully in her, hissing at the tightness. God, it’s like he’s died and gone to heaven.

Thalia shouts, tightening around him in a vice-like grip that has him clench his jaw so hard it’s painful. When he slowly pulls out only to press himself inside to the hilt again, her shout turns into a guttural moan. He can see her body struggling to keep balance, can see her bound hands flex uselessly in search of something to hold on to.

Tom begins rocking into her, not as hard and fast as he’d like it because he’s a lot to take even with her state of arousal. From behind, he fits so incredibly well it’s as if they were built for one another.

He grabs her hip, fingers digging so deep that he’ll leave bruises. With his free hand on the back of her neck, he keeps her still while he pounds into her with all he has.

It doesn’t take her long to convulse around him, high-pitched keening telling him she’s close. Moving the hand around and letting it glide down the front of her body, he pinches a nipple before traveling lower and rubbing her slippery clit in tight circles.

Thalia arches up wildly and grows absolutely still, coming so violently around his cock that she can’t even make any noises. Tom follows close behind, feeling her milk him for all his worth.

As soon as he can somehow force breath into his lungs, he straightens and unties her wrists.

Massaging them tenderly, he peppers her back with kisses.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Never been better,” comes the weak reply after a moment, and they both have to chuckle at that.

Tom turns and embraces her, shifting so they lie side by side and he can get a good look at her face.

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“Enough new experiences for today?” he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead.

She smiles, reminding him oddly of a sated and contently purring cat.

“Yea,” she giggles.  “You wore me out.”  Caressing across his brow with her thumb, she sighs contentedly.


Tom steps out of the shower and grabs a towel to dry himself off. His early-morning run has invigorated him – but truth be told, he knows that his good mood is mostly Thalia’s fault. This stolen day in Chicago with her has been a blessing. And he notices a subtle change in their relationship. More trust. They weren’t really the professor and his student yesterday, they were almost two normal people dating.

His blood heats at the memory of their tie play. God, she’s the hottest woman he’s ever met.

Starting to dry his hair, Tom walks into the room only to stop and admire her.

Thalia didn’t wake up when he snuck out for his run earlier, and she’s still asleep. The sheet has shifted with her movement, exposing one long, thick leg and part of her delicious curves. Her gorgeous curls are spread out on the pillow in tangles, giving her a certain wild look.

Tossing the towel aside, Tom prowls closer and slowly tugs the sheet further down. He licks his lips at the sight of her full breasts, remembering them bounce. There are faint bruises on them and on her waist where he’s sucked and bitten a little too hard, and his cock stirs at the sight of how he’s marked her.

She’s his.

And he’s hers too, even if he’s reluctant to admit that to himself. She’s wiggled her way into his life and now she’s as essential to it as his meals.

Banishing further thought, Tom leans over and shakes himself like a dog so that his wet hair sends water drops flying over her naked body.

She grunts and moves restlessly, one arm flinging out to the side. With a chuckle, he rubs his curly hair against her belly and nuzzles her breasts, spreading cool wetness over her skin.

With a small yelp, she jerks upright, hands automatically trying to fend him off.

Now laughing outright, Tom crawls on top of her and captures her wrists in his hands.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. I never knew orchids need so much time until they can bloom again.”

She reacts with a half-hearted eye-roll and a stifled yawn.

“Morning,” she grumbles. “You’re already up and showered?”

He nods. “Just came back from a run, actually, while you were lost in beauty sleep. Not that you need it, as you’re beautiful enough already.”

A blush begins to rise while she mutters, “You’re much too chirpy for this time of the day. Get your morning cheerfulness away from me.”

Tom grins and licks a few water drops from her breast, deliberately avoiding her nipples.

“Adorable. But I won’t tolerate slovenly behavior, Miss Bareo.” Shifting so he can sit up, he keeps her wrists in one hand while he moves the other to draw circles around a nipple, watching it pebble.

With a sound that reminds him of a purr, Thalia stretches beneath him. She drags her gaze to the alarm clock on the nightstand and gasps. “Oh, it’s much later than I thought.”

He dips and gives the now hard bud a tender suck, which instantly makes her focus on him again.

“I guess I wore you out last night, hm?” he asks with the lift of an eyebrow.

Her blush deepens, but a sassy look enters her eyes. “If I said yes, will that convince you that I need to be pampered with a 5-star breakfast?”

Tom throws his head back, his carefree ehehehe causing her to giggle too.

“As if I needed any convincing whatsoever when it comes to breakfast.”

He grows serious momentarily, trailing his free hand down to brush ever so softly over her thighs and center.

“Are you feeling sore, darling?”

She sobers and wriggles experimentally. The slightest grimace flickers on her face, gone in an instant.

“A little?”

Tom places gentle kisses around her belly button.

“Sore in a good way, I hope?”

She smiles, and it lights his whole heart. God, he’s fallen for her so hard it’s not even funny anymore.

“In the best way.”

Telling his interested cock to calm down, he forces himself off her.

“Go and refresh yourself, love. Then we’ll have that breakfast. But before that, there’s something I want to do.”
Interest widens her eyes as she wraps the sheet around herself and rises to go to the bathroom.

Before she reaches the door, he calls out to her.  “Oh, Thalia.  Last night, when you undressed me, you were dying to say something, love; what was it?”

With a flounce she stops and turns to him, laughter bubbling from her.  “I was just thinking about you being commando all day in the biting Chicago cold.  I almost felt sorry for you,” she giggles and disappears behind the door.

Bubbling with laughter himself, Tom makes the bed half-heartedly and paces the room, practically bouncing with energy when she returns a while later, still clutching the sheet.

“Only your panties and bra,” he commands softly when she bends for her clothes.

Thalia huffs, but she knows better now than to argue.

Taking her hand, he leads her to the far side of the room and points to the table.

“Pay attention now, Miss Bareo, I’m going to introduce you to the art of making proper English tea.”

She giggles, biting her lip when he shoots her a mock-reproachful glare.

“Yes, sir, certainly, sir,” she says in her most obedient tone, and he’s seriously tempted to ditch this and explore some more naughty roleplaying with her.

But he does take his tea seriously, so…

“Now,” he holds up a finger, using his lecturing voice although he can’t help grinning a little, “the most important thing by far is to choose the correct tea. But we’re sadly lacking in choice here, so the one they provide will have to do. I usually prefer Earl Grey or breakfast tea. And tea leaves would be even better than bags, but never mind that now.”

She nods, watching him grab a tea bag.

“Next, the water.” He holds out the kettle and motions for her to go and fill it while explaining, “Using old or coldish water in the kettle can result in scummy, scaly tea. So always boil it freshly.”

“Yessir.” Thalia salutes, which earns her a slap on a butt cheek.

“Behave. Tea is almost sacred for a true Englishmen.”

She quirks a brow at him. “Oh, is that why I’m supposed to make it half-naked? Wait, wait, wouldn’t that be a sacrilege of sorts then?”

With a feigned growl of anger, Tom plants a firm kiss on her mouth. It shuts her up for the moment, though the playful gleam in her eyes stays.

“Okay. Next step. If you want to make tea in a teapot, warm the teapot with hot water first , and then add one teabag per person. This ensures that your tea will stay hot longer. But we’re using two mugs with a tea bag each. The water really needs to be boiling when you pour it, simple hot water won’t free all the aromas.”

They wait for the water to boil, Tom allowing himself to be distracted by her fingers combing through her hair.

“Right. Now pour the water into the mug and stir briefly.”

He watches her do as told, displaying the same quiet concentration he is so familiar with from her studies.

“Now we let it brew for around two minutes.” Tom pulls her in closer, his hands always hungry for her skin. He caresses her waist and the small of her back, oddly happy to be standing here with her and making tea.

They share a smile.

“Ready. Remove the tea bag now,” he instructs.

Thalia does so, yelping in surprise when he clamps his hand around her wrist.

“No, don’t squeeze the bag. It’ll just make the taste bitter.”

“Yeesh, Tom, you really do take this far too seriously,” she complains half-heartedly while dumping the soggy bags into the bin.

“And now, oh maestro of the British tea culture?”

He pinches her waist softly, motioning to the condiments.

“Now it’s time for milk and sugar. And none of that low-fat nonsense for me.”

He drops some sugar in, making sure she’s watching. Then he takes her hand and helps her add milk slowly, controlling the amount.

“You need to watch for the right colour, darling. The perfect cup of tea will have a dark orange-brown look once the milk has been added and stirred. Too little or too much will totally throw the taste off balance.”

She rolls her eyes again, which earns her a second slap on her ass, this one stinging enough to make her pout.

Tom leans in to kiss the pout off her lips.

“Done…but not totally,” he announces. “Now we’ll let it rest for around four minutes until it’s the perfect drinking temperature.”

He takes a whiff of the fragrant steam rising, and she does the same.

“Catch that slightly fruity undertone?”

She nods. “Yes, what is it?”

“It’s a pinch of bergamot that is added to Earl Grey tea. Usually we should really celebrate the tea with some digestive biscuits or jaffa cake.”

“Oh, I remember that one,” she half-squeals, eyes instantly lighting up at the mention of food. “My roommate in London made me try jaffa cake. That mix of chocolate and orange was perfect.”

Tom gives her a joyful smile. “Ah, a girl after my own heart.”

He grabs his mug. “Now come and sit on my lap while I enjoy my morning cuppa. Repeat my instructions back to me. If you get them right, I’ll treat you to a spectacular breakfast.”


Trying to give her the privacy she deserves for her phone call, Tom places his earbuds in his ears while he checks over his flight information to return home the next day.  He shouldn’t have been concerned.  Her whole conversation is in Spanish, and he finally realizes she’s talking to her father.  Listening as the words roll from her tongue fluently he eavesdrops as she tells her father about enjoying a day on the town with a friend.  He can detect her father’s worry she didn’t return home when she sweetly reminds him she’s an adult and can be trusted in her decisions.  He keeps his head low as she watches him from across the room, blushing lightly when she explains to her father in her native tongue of Spanish, “He’s special dad, and you’d really like him, but it’s too soon in the relationship to meet family.”  His air of indifference holds until his laughter bursts out when she raises her voice to her father, shouting with frustration in Spanish, “God, yes we use condoms; I’m not stupid!”

Her head jerks to him and she blushes, shaking her head.  Ending the call quickly, she says defiantly.  “Shit, I should have known you were fluent… The way you roll your damn tongue,” she winks.  Sighing, she finishes.  “Dad’s a little old-fashioned; he gets I’m not a virgin, but he likes to meet my boyfriends.  He hates I went to school so far away from home, but it was the best choice for my studies… I know we’re a little non-traditional, you and I, so I’m not expecting you to meet my parents.”

He nods, crossing the room to her and hugging her close.  Meeting her parents and all a relationship should entail for a young woman…  Damn, he chides himself for the hundredth time, what am I doing?  Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he decides to set his thoughts aside for his solitary return trip home.

“Which museum shall we hit today darling?”

Click here to read Chapter 13, Alone

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando


ET ch 11 april 12.pngChicago: Chapter 11

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, sightseeing, FOOD PORN, cuteness overload, PLAID PORN, innocent making out

*****SUSPEND REALITY- we know it’s not possible to see ALL these attractions in one day. This is what happens when a German girl living in Sri Lanka has never BEEN to Chicago!******

Word Count 2652

SPECIAL NOTE: Due to Good Friday in the States and the New Year celebration in Sri Lanka, there will be THREE story postings this coming week.  Look for chapters to be posted on Wednesday, April 12; FRIDAY, April 14 and Sunday, April 16.  If you want to make sure you are always up to date with Tom, Thalia and Chris, just follow avenger-nerd-mom on WordPress and stories are sent directly to you!

Click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia

Tom feels as if he’s entered into a parallel universe or discovered an alter ego of his. It isn’t just the clothes, though he does feel different in his red-and-blue plaid shirt and black jeans. He’s picked the shirt because it looked awfully comfortable and because he couldn’t get the image of Thalia with her cowboy boots out of his head. To brace himself against the biting cold, he’s wearing a navy T-shirt beneath the shirt and a quilted navy coat with a zip. He had half a mind to go for cowboy boots himself, but part of him was scared he’d just look like an idiotic wanna-be Yankee mixed with a stiff Englishman. So he opted for his go-to solution, the well-worn grey suede shoes that he loves to combine with basically any casual or even semi-formal outfit.

Thalia has already glanced at the plaid shirt more than once, and the approval in her eyes – turning to quite a lot more than interest when he opens a few buttons in the toasty warm museum – feels like a soothing caress. It makes him feel more at ease, ready to let her play tour guide and boss him around a little.

Since they have embarked on this journey through the city, she’s been pointing out landmarks and sharing little snippets that he stores away in a corner of his knowledge-hungry brain for future reference.

The museum is amazing. The building itself caught his attention when he Googled things to see in the city, with its imposing reddish brown façade and half-round side wing full of windows. He listens happily to Thalia sharing some backstory while they make their way inside. Tom chuckles at the way she occasionally bumps him as they move through the holiday crowds.  They’re walking close enough for their hands to brush, and on an impulse, he laces his fingers with hers.

She shoots him a glance and lowers her lashes, smiling.

He doesn’t want to let go of Thalia’s hand, and she seems just as happy to let him hold it. Off and on, they look at each other instead of the exhibits, and it feels like a real date, with all the cares in the world a million miles away. She’s wearing warm black tights with a denim skirt. To match his outfit–which he’d revealed with a spur-of-the-moment selfie to prove to himself as much as her that he really was in Chicago–she’s also opted for a plaid shirt, hers in different shades of blue that match her skirt and coat. And of course, her trusty cowboy boots make today’s outfit complete.

Once they’ve had their history fill in general, Thalia enthusiastically pulls him aside to show him one of the world’s largest costume collections. Tom entertains her by imagining little tales for the astonishing historical clothes on display, and they get quite a bit of side eye from other visitors for all their whispering and laughing.

They round off the experience with a hearty brunch at the café on the ground floor.

Pushing his chair back from the table, Tom asks, “What now?” glowing with an overdose of happiness that is partly museum-induced, partly food-induced and most definitely Thalia-induced.

He can’t find words for how wonderful it is to share these magical moments with her, away from the whole professor-and-student sword that’s usually dangling over their heads.

Thalia drinks the last of her coffee. “Well, I’m pretty sure you did all your touristy homework and have figured out a whole list of things you are planning to tick off. Am I right or am I right?”

Tom throws his head back and guffaws. “You know me entirely too well, darling.”

With a flourish, he pulls an actual list out of his pocket, grinning at her exaggerated eye roll. He smoothes the crinkled paper out on the table.

When Thalia leans closer to get a good look, he acts on instinct again and kisses her. It’s hardly more than a gentle peck, though he deepens it a little when her lips part, delighting in her sweet sigh. He lets the tip of his tongue brush over her full lips before pulling back.

The look of surprise and joy on her face momentarily lets his mood nose-dive. This, this right there is what she should have. A man who can date her, take her out and spoil her properly. A man who devotes all of his time to her and who will march right into that house and face her family bravely because he intends to stick with her through thick and thin.

Determined not to let the real world burst his giddy bubble, Tom slides a finger down the list.

“Which item can you recommend?”

She concentrates, her forehead puckering in a slight frown. As usual, she’s willing to dedicate 100% of herself into whatever needs doing, whether it’s studies or showing a secret lover around town.

“The Adler Planetarium is amazing,” she says thoughtfully, tugging on a strand of hair until he pulls it out of her grip and curls it around his fingers. “Their Sky Theater offers you virtual-reality trips through space and time which are seriously mind boggling. And if you’re really lucky, you can meet one of the top-notch researchers who are responsible for the museum.”

“Oh, tempting.” Tom can feel himself getting all bouncy in his seat again, which reminds him of his sister Emma always telling him he’s somehow managed to trap a five year old in an adult’s body.

“The Museum of Science and Industry is another of my favorites,” she adds. “It’s got a restored U-505 German submarine, a simulated coal mine and a vintage diesel-electric train. Lots of action instead of only dusty exhibits.”

“Can’t we do both? I promise to keep my enthusiasm mostly bottled up and move quickly through all the halls.” Tom gives her his best puppy dog look, which makes her laugh and swat his arm none too gently.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Tom.”

She hasn’t called him Professor Hiddleston once today, and although it’s a turn-on to hear her do so, he’s rather glad because he wants to be plain Tom here.

Unable to resist temptation, he slides a hand to her knee and toys with the hem of her skirt while leaning close enough to speak into her ear. “As far as I recall, I haven’t been allowed close enough to your ass yet to cause any pain, other than the occasional light spanking. But if you feel inclined to change that…”

She makes a squeaky sound and knocks his hand off her leg, wagging a finger at his fit of giggles. “I swear, if you keep that up, I’ll happily let my family torture me again and leave you to your own devices in big, mean Chicago.”

But her eyes dance merrily, and she holds her hand out to him when she gets up from the chair.

“Now stop acting like a teenager, we’ve got two items to cross off your list.”

“Darling, I have a mental list you should consider sometime as well then.”

Her eyes grow wide as his words sink in and he throws his head back in laughter, quickly clearing their table before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to make their exit.


They visit both the Museum of Science and Industry at Hyde Park and the Adler Planetarium with its domed roof that reminds Tom a little of a study trip to Berlin in Germany, several years ago. By the time they are done, Thalia grumbles good-naturedly about wearing holes into the soles of her boots, and Tom is bouncing with another energy boost because the thought of trying out local food is so tempting.

“Don’t laugh, love, but I’m hungry again.  What do you recommend?” he asks. “I’m starving and I want to try absolutely everything Chicago is famous for.”

Thalia gives him another of her eye rolls, hooking her arm through his to pull him to a bus stop.

“Oh my god, that metabolism of yours!  I’m jealous!” She shakes her head in disbelief.  “Well, Chicago IS famous for food, so brace yourself for the experience of a lifetime.”

She holds up her free hand, counting off on her fingers, “We have deep-dish pizza, which is pure heaven and I haven’t found any like it out East. There’s the Chicago-style hot dog with all the fixings… And all sorts of high-end cuisine stuff if you think it’s below your gentleman status to eat what everyone does.”

Tom snickers and gives her butt a light slap. “I’ve heard about the hot dogs, actually. Weren’t they a result of the Great Depression?” She nods and he continues. “What’s on them?”

“My favorite is just the standard version, with an all-beef hot dog on a steamed poppy seed bun. It’s topped with yellow mustard, relish, tomato wedges, chopped onions, pickle, hot peppers and celery salt.”

With a groan, he pulls her closer. “Okay, I need one of these like I need air to breathe. Lead the way, oh heroic, merciful tour guide, and prevent my death of starvation.”

They take the bus and end up at Portillo’s, googling its impressive history and success story while waiting for the food.

Stuffed with hot dogs, but still drooling over their dessert of strawberry shortcake and chocolate éclair cake, they manage small talk between bites.

“So, haven’t seen much of the US since you arrived here?” Thalia inquires after he’s fed her with a forkful of chocolatey delight.

“No, haven’t had the time yet.” Tom lets her feed him in return, staring into her eyes while suggestively licking his lips, pleased to see her hand wobble a little. “I’ve been around the world a bit, though.”

“Oh, tell me more.”

He shrugs modestly. “Mostly Europe during my youth. Spain, France, Italy, Russia. A couple of years ago, I accompanied some colleagues to Germany.”

“What about the rest of Britain? Or do the English make it a point to snobbishly ignore their neighbors?”

He wagged his fork at her and relishes his last bite before answering. “I visited Scotland with my father once. And my mother took my sisters and me to Ireland when we were still young.”

His face clouds over momentarily at memories of a childhood that had been anything but easy but was mixed with enough happy incidents to not bother him too much now. At least he hadn’t carried any serious scars of his parents’ divorce over into adulthood…though he should probably rethink his rules on relationships.

“Oh, and I flew to India for my sister’s wedding,” he adds with a smile, deliberately pulling himself back to the presence. “That was just…surreal and truly beautiful.”

Thalia smiles back at him and entwines her fingers with his when he reaches for her hand.

“And you?” he wants to know. “You’ve got the whole world waiting for you. Where do you want to go?”

She screws up her face in thought, as if there’s too much to consider.

“Everywhere,” she answers with a laugh.  “I’ve got to finish my degree, but fortunately it could take me all the places I could never afford to go on my own.  I’ve applied to internships in Paris, Cairo, Athens and Rome for museum work and archeological digs.  I’m just waiting each day for the right phone call.  There’s a box of dusty clothes ready to go in the back of the closet, aching for more dig dirt,” she jokes.

Tom leans forward and caresses her cheek with his other hand, scooting his chair closer to hers and resting his leg against hers.  “I hate the idea of you being so far away.”

Her head drops, her hair falling around her, but her blush is unmistakeable. She seems at a loss for words and it endears her even more to him. Dammit, Thomas. This trip was the best worst idea ever…

She grabs the ticket from the table and the two tussle over who will pay the bill. Tom insists that she’s already playing tour guide so he absolutely must pacify his inner gentleman by paying for lunch.

“Fine… But I’d like you to let me take care of you sometimes too, I’m not totally broke you know.”  His scowl changes her thought and she forges on.  “What’s next on your list, Mister?” Thalia wants to know, still pouting at her defeat.

“You know what, why don’t you suggest something?” He smiles at her. “As I said before, today’s in your hands, bills excluded.”

She smiles back. “Millennium Park is kind of a no-brainer, despite the weather. Want to give it a go?”

“Sure, that’s where the Bean is, right?!”

She laughs at his enthusiasm, bundling up to brave the cold Chicago air. They make it there in no time, discovering that a lot of people are bracing the cold to get photos in front of the iconic Cloud Gate sculpture with its metallic bean form and cloud-reflecting surface. Tom takes a few selfies with Thalia, debating with himself whether to share these lovely memories with his family or not, and deciding against it with a heavy heart.

As happy as he is today, he keeps realizing one thing that obscures his inner sunshine momentarily: In a world with less prejudice, Thalia and he would make a great couple. But as things are, a normal relationship is out of the question and not something either of them is ready for anyway. He knows he should wish for her to have someone else to share such joyous moments with—but he doesn’t. He wants her to himself for a bit longer at least.  They take their own sweet time, walking the city streets, giggling and window shopping, dragging out their stolen moment together.

Close to evening, Thalia takes him up on the 360 Chicago, formerly known as the John Hancock Observatory where the 94th floor – 1,000 feet up – offers a view for miles and miles, across four states. They dine up there at the restaurant, and again Tom can’t resist doing all the little things proper couples should. He feeds her and teases her, touches her as much as he can, asks her personal questions and stores away each morsel of information as if his life might one day depend on the right answer.

“Tom, I’ve had a wonderful day.  I hate to see it end, but I really should be getting back home.  There’s a train switch and I don’t want to miss it.”  Her eyes glisten in the low light of the restaurant. Her tone is wistful and tells him what he wishes to know.

Taking her hand in his across the table he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.  “Thalia, darling, if you’re willing to risk it with your family, I’d love for you to stay with me tonight.”

Her eyes search his, search his face, looking for what, he doesn’t know. She brushes a floppy curl from his forehead and runs her thumb across his scarf, and he leans into her touch, craving more. Slowly her grin turns up. “Let me make a call to my stepmother. She’ll know how to soothe things over with Dad.”


Nestled in the warmth of the back seat of the cab, Tom is pleasantly surprised when Thalia takes the initiative to kiss him, at first unsure and timid.  He tugs on her scarf, pulling her closer and acknowledging his need.  Her hand grips his thigh as the kisses grow more heated.  He bites back a chuckle at the cab driver watching in the rearview mirror while they make out like two lusty teenagers.  The ride is entirely too short and by the time they make it to the hotel, he wants nothing more than to lose himself inside her and forget the rest of the world.

Click here for Chapter 12 Tutoring

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Rescue Mission

ET ch 10 april 9 2017.jpg

Rescue Mission Chapter 10

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3352

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, Fluff

Summary: Thalia surprises Tom with a message on Christmas Day – and then it’s his turn to surprise her and take their relationship a step further.

SPECIAL NOTE: Due to Good Friday in the States and the New Year celebration in Sri Lanka, there will be THREE story postings this coming week.  Look for chapters to be posted on Wednesday, April 12; FRIDAY, April 14 and Sunday, April 16.  If you want to make sure you are always up to date with Tom, Thalia and Chris, just follow avenger-nerd-mom on WordPress and stories are sent directly to you!

Click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia

Stomping the snow off his shoes, Tom turns the key in the lock and opens the door. He leaves his scarf and black coat on the rack and toes off his shoes. He has just set down the key and is rubbing some life back into his cold hands when his phone chimes to signal a message.

Hm, who has suddenly remembered him on Christmas day? He has already exchanged wishes with his family in England and India and a few friends all over the world.

None too keen on interaction with someone who probably isn’t worth the time and only felt obliged to be nice during the holiday season, he ignores his phone and goes into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

While he waits for the water to boil, his let his thoughts wander…and they settle on Thalia. What would she be doing right now? He pictures her in something red and figure-hugging, surrounded by playing, bright-eyed children and slightly tipsy adults sharing jovial stories or even singing some carols together, stories tossed back and forth in rapid fire Spanish.

With a sigh, he dips his teabag into the hot water, grinning briefly to himself when he remembers that he still hasn’t been able to teach Thalia how to brew the perfect tea for an Englishman. Well, he’s certainly taught her other things…

Feeling more cheerful and wistful at the same time at the thought of her so far away, Tom carries his steaming mug into the living room. He plonks himself onto the couch, stretching his long legs that are slightly tired after the walk.

Bracing himself with a hot sip of Earl Grey, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at the notification. Thalia’s name appears, making him sit bolt upright and nearly spill tea all over his pants.

Why would she text him today? She had wished him Merry Christmas before leaving for break nearly a week ago, and they’d even sent a few messages back and forth.  Her light teases proved she was over any bitterness about his failed date, and she wasn’t holding hurt feelings against him.  She’d expressed she didn’t really have time for even a fake date, but she understood his reasoning.  He felt things were back on an even keel between them and he was content in the blossoming relationship with her.

When Thalia had simply sent a smiley face emoji last night at bedtime, he’d considered calling back instead of texting her, but something had held him back. Surely she was soaking up the family fun and had only contacted him out of some sense of duty. Just because he’s become a part of her life here doesn’t mean she wants him to stick his nose into her other business.

Curiosity peaked, Tom swipes his finger across the screen and reads her message.

Help! Appealing to the English gentleman to rescue a damsel in distress. Do you have a few minutes?

Brows rising, he re-reads the weird message, his free hand blindly groping for the mug so he can take another sip. What’s this all about?

Even more curious now, he types out his reply, wondering idly when he last used his phone to text someone for fun.  He pauses mid-typing when he remembers his catastrophe of a date and the messages he exchanged with Thalia that evening.

As if an Englishman could ever refuse a beautiful woman in dire need of some assistance… What’s the matter?

Her reply is almost instant.

If I don’t get an excuse for leaving this lunatic asylum posing for a family get-together, I’m going to kill someone.

With a chuckle, he settles down more comfortably.

Miss Bareo, I am shocked to the core. It’s Christmas, not Halloween. No gruesome killings, please.  I don’t want to see reports of a Chicago Christmas Massacre on the news.

He gets a laughing emoticon before her reply flashes on the screen.

Thanks, I needed the giggle. It’s just all a bit too much right now. Are you busy, Tom?

Well, you are interrupting my date with a hot cuppa, but I feel inclined to forgive you.

Her answer makes him quirk a brow and smile before drinking some more tea.

Only you would use the phrase ‘inclined to forgive’ in an SMS.

Is that good or bad? he types, feeling a little like a twenty year old messaging his girlfriend—and enjoying that ridiculous notion far too much.

It’s very you.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” He mutters aloud to himself, home alone on Christmas. Tom shakes his head, fingers hovering above the keys. Before he can reply, a new message appears.

This might be a bit weird, but…

He waits with bated breath, curious to know what on earth she wants to share that would be weird.

Would you Skype with me?

Staring at the screen, he wonders for a moment whether she’s serious. Has she had one drink too many?

What the hell, why not? He types his reply, grinning to himself.

As I said, the gentleman in me would never refuse a damsel in distress. Especially not if said damsel happens to be you.

He gets a thumbs up and her username in reply.

His tea forgotten, Tom gets up to grab his MacBook from the desk and carries it to the sofa. He switches it on, feeling oddly nervous for a moment. What’s he supposed to say? Why does she want to video chat with him? And why the heck does it make him so happy beneath the confusion?

He fiddles with his denim textured shirt, rolls the sleeves up and pats his hair, then catches himself being all fidgety and scoffs. As soon as Skype has loaded, he searches for her and adds her to his list of contacts, drumming his long fingers against the keyboard.

Hardly a minute later, a video call flashes and he accepts it.

It’s kind of surreal to see Thalia’s face pop up after a moment. Her curly hair is tamed into a loose braid, but some defiant strands have wiggled free. She’s wearing what looks like a seriously ugly knit Christmas sweater, and a fine gold necklace that draws his attention because she’s not the type to deck herself out in jewelry.

“Hi,” she says, a tentative smile lighting up her features, though it doesn’t make the tension around her eyes go away.

“Hi,” he replies somewhat dumbly, at a loss for what to say.

For a few moments, they sit like that, looking at each other and smiling uncertainly. The longer the awkward silence lasts, the more fidgety Tom feels. He smiles a little brighter as if to encourage her to speak, but feels ridiculous. To give himself something to do, he takes off his glasses and sets them aside, then goes back to staring at the screen. His tongue flicks over his lips. He swallows, willing himself to speak.

“So, what on earth…” “What were you…”

They both speak at the same time, which makes them laugh and breaks the ice.

“What were you doing?” Thalia asks.

“Nothing special. I just came home from a long, lonely walk through mostly deserted and much too windy streets.”

She gives him an incredulous look. “Seriously? What sane person walks around town alone on Christmas day?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “And what sane person Skypes with her professor on Christmas day?”

She grimaces. “Point taken. In my defense, I’m with family, Tom.” She says the word like a curse.  “I’m going stir crazy and longing to drive a carving knife into a few people’s necks.”

“Whoa there, my warrior.  If you keep up the murder talk you’ll scare me away.” He smiles at her again, shifting on the sofa and taking the laptop with him to sit more comfortably. She doesn’t smile back, and he realizes again that she’s all tense and morose despite the banter.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

The word slips out automatically and he bites his lip. Is she even alone?

Taking his cue, Thalia moves too, and he catches a blurry glimpse of stuffed toys and photographs before she settles down and it’s just her face against a light lavender colored wall.

“Ugh.” She makes a frustrated noise, gesticulating wildly. “All of this is driving me crazy. I see my extended family only on rare occasions, and when I do, I remember why.”

Rubbing her temple, she searches for the right words.

“I know they mean well, but I hate it when everyone makes my life their business. All the career advice and badly concealed criticism. And if my aunts ask me one more time when I’m planning to marry a nice man with a steady income and settle down, I swear I’ll poke my eardrums out with a rusty nail or something.”

Tom bites back a chuckle, secretly loving how her Latina temperament comes to the fore when she’s annoyed.

“I can’t even imagine this,” he admits. “But whoever thinks you need career advice is obviously a prat or seriously delusional because you’re one of the smartest women I know and on the sure-fire path to academic success.”

Her whole posture relaxes a little, one hand rising to play idly with the end of her braid resting over her curved breast, making his hands itch to do the same.  He tugs down on the leg of his pants, adjusting himself discreetly.

“Thank you. Seriously. I mean, I know I’ve got brains and I’m doing what I love, but… it gets to me, all the sly jabs mixed with well-meaning people who have no idea what is important to me. It’s enough to make a girl feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

Before he can protest, she launches into another heated complaint, tugging harder on her hair. “And they’re right, aren’t they? I’m burying myself in studies because I have no fucking idea what else to do. I don’t even know whether I’ll find a decent job, and in the meantime, I’m working myself to death so I can pay my rent.”

She scrunches up her face and sniffs, and Tom really wants to hug her and comfort her. Or inch his hands beneath that monstrosity of a sweater and make her forget all her worries.

“Don’t say that,” he admonishes gently, lifting a hand as if he could actually touch her.

“You’re letting them get to you, and you know you shouldn’t. Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing, Thalia. We’re all just living our lives and doing what we think is best. Or at least people like you and me do, and we’re probably happier than those who let others decide what’s right and wrong.”

He rubs his neck, struggling for the right words. “You’re doing what you’re damn good at and what you like. Whatever is supposed to happen after that will fall into place once it’s time. And you’re an amazing woman who’s come farther in such a short time than a ton of people twice your age. Me included, probably.”

He grins self-deprecatingly, and a corner of her mouth lifts.

“Now you’re just downplaying yourself to make me feel better,” she argues half-heartedly.  She whispers, “And you’re not ‘twice my age,’ Tom.”

He purses his lips at her pointed reference to age.  She’s right, nearly a decade isn’t that much, but some days the age difference seems like light years apart.  He sighs and chooses to ignore her statement.  “The point is, Thalia, that you’re not answerable to your family or any nay-sayers.  It’s not your duty to marry and raise enough children to form a football team, or to visit them more often and let them hack away at your admirable self-confidence. Your only duty is to yourself. To be true to yourself. To be happy.”

She sighs, and this time her whole mouth curves in a slow smile that reaches her eyes.

“You’re being entirely too nice to me, Professor Hiddleston.”

Her words tug at him, loosening something inside.

“I’m sure I’ll find a way for you to pay me back,” he says in a deep, low tone that makes her eyes darken.

They stare at each other, neither willing to break the connection.

When Thalia finally looks away, her gaze slides over his face and his torso, and he can feel it like a caress.

“Did you go to the staff party yesterday?” she asks, moving restlessly as if she’s felt the change in atmosphere too.

It’s his time to groan in frustration. “I did, yeah. Don’t remind me.”

She giggles. “That bad? Tell me all about it.”

Tom leans back and props himself up on a cushion. He tells her about the food – atrocious when compared to what the English prepare for Christmas – and about the stilted speeches, about the wreath that nearly caught fire and the secretary who spilled her drink all over herself and got rescued by Professor Evans.

“Was Professor Kent there too?” she wants to know, and Tom grimaces.

“Gave me the cold shoulder the whole time. If looks could kill, you’d be Skyping with my ghost now.”

That sends her into another fit of laughter. “Serves you right for texting me all throughout the date. Pfft, gentleman, my ass.”

Tom grins at her wolfishly. “Oh, your ass certainly doesn’t make me feel very gentlemanly.”

She half-chokes on her laugh, eyes going wide.

“God, I wish I weren’t here. I have a feeling you’d make the Christmas blues go away very efficiently,” she says, her tone half longing and half seductive.

“Me too. I miss you.” Tom flinches, wishing he hadn’t quite blurted that out.

But her expression softens. “I miss you too.” She sounds mildly surprised at her own admission.

“How long will you be stuck there?” he asks after an awkward pause.

“I fly back around the third, I think?  Gotta get back into the frame of mind for school.  My brain is rotting here… New year, new schedule.”  She screws her eyes shut and makes a whining sound.

“Well, then, when you get back, we’ll just have to make the best of it.  I saw an advertisement that the old movie house will be showing a film I’d like to take you to see.  I think you’ll really like it…”

Her sweet voice begging for details fills his ears and his heart lifts on a lonely Christmas Day.  He can see Thalia’s mood brightens considerably as well, and before long they’re both laughing and throwing Shakespeare lines back and forth that only make everything even more hilarious.

His answer to one of her queries is interrupted by someone calling her name. He hears loud knocking and watches her head swivel to where he presumes the door is positioned in the room.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, basta ya” she shouts before turning back to him, chagrin on her face.

“I’m sorry. I guess it was too much to hope for at least an hour or so to breathe. I’d better go back into the lion’s den.”

“Lions hold nothing on you,” Tom says softly. He leans forward to fix her in his gaze. “You can do this, darling. You’re a wonderful woman. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Thalia smiles at him a little sadly. “Thanks again. You have a nice time with your tea, Professor.”

On impulse, Tom blows a kiss at the camera, seeing her breath hitch before her smile deepens.

Once she’s ended the conversation, he logs out and drinks the rest of his now cold tea in one go. An idea pops to his scattered brain, lost in thoughts of his beautiful Thalia.  Before he knows it, his fingers fly over the keyboard, checking for a way to surprise her. He needs to do this now before he can give himself a chance to chicken out of it.


Tom fiddles with the strap of his black backpack, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waiting for the crowd to thin before exiting the building.

He takes a deep breath, still not entirely sure this was a good idea.

Don’t be a wimp, Hiddleston. He gives himself a last mental pep talk before taking out his phone and dialing Thalia’s number.

She picks up after a few rings, and he hopes he hasn’t woken her.

“Tom?” She sounds happy with an undertone of confusion. “Hi. What’s up? I didn’t expect you to call again so soon.”

Clearing his throat, he tries for the nonchalant tone he’s been practicing in his mind, but he sounds a lot more excited and anxious than he wants to.

“Hi. Uhm, good morning. Am I disturbing you?”

“No, not at all.” There is a muffled groan.  “I’m always up before seven am on vacation.”  Her voice is loaded with sarcasm, but the joyous sound rings in his ears.  So he did wake her, he thinks wryly.  “It gives me time to consider whether to fake some sickness so I won’t have to face another day cooped up with clucking aunts and noisy, nosy children, or if I should just run away.”

That makes him chuckle. He grips the shoulder strap tighter.

“So, no plans for today?”

“None whatsoever, unless you consider my murder plans, which I’ve perfected pretty much over the last few hours.”

“I never knew you were such a violent woman, I’d better watch my tongue from now on,” he says, but his tone isn’t as humorous as it should be.

There’s an awkward silence, punctured by a blaring horn on his side and a baby wailing on her side.

“How about…” He swallows and tries again, “How about running away to the Chicago History Museum?”

“Uumm…” Tom can almost picture her face, her nose scrunching in that adorable way it does whenever she frowns.  “You know I love museums, but there’s no way my family would let me go on a day like today; there’s still family stuff and-.”

This is it. He takes another deep breath. “Not even if a certain friend of yours had traveled miles to see you and insists on a tour of the museum?”


“Okay, now you’ve kind of lost me,” she giggles.  “Am I still dreaming, because I was actually having a rather delicious dream… you were in it… and we had pancakes?  But I think that’s because I can smell the cooking in the kitchen-”

“Thalia,” he interrupts her early morning rambles, going in for the kill. “If I turned up on your doorstep, ready for some touristy fun, would you be able to extricate yourself from the lion’s den? I could act like the hapless Englishman completely lost here in Chicago…not that I’d need to do much acting, mind you. I do feel like on a different planet.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and an “oh my god” followed by something muttered in Spanish.

“You’re here, in Chicago? Right now? But…what…oh my god!”

Tom’s smile beams from ear to ear and his heart pounds at the joy and confusion in her voice. “Thalia, it’s the holidays. I hated the idea we’re both lonely. To be completely honest, darling, I wanted a chance to see you away from school. I hope you don’t mind it; I haven’t been too presumptuous have I?”

He waits a bit impatiently for her answer, hearing the lyrical voice of a small child rambling in Spanish through the phone. He hates he can’t see her at this moment, surprised he’s come all this way to see her, or at his slight admission of his true feelings.

He anticipates her answer, not realizing he’s holding his breath.

Her voice drops, possibly not wanting others around her to hear. “You’re… unbelievable.”  She chuckles.  “Yea, I’d love a day as your tour guide.  Let me get myself presentable for you, deal with my step-mom and aunts, and I’ll catch the train as soon as I can.  I can meet you around nine at the museum?”

He finally takes a deep breath. “I’ll see you then, darling.”

Click here to read Chapter 11, Chicago

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Dating Fiasco

ET ch 9 april 5 2016

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3618

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, Fluff, Impolite Use of Cellphone

Readers may wish bodily harm on a certain someone after this chapter, and he’s surprisingly clueless, but the bastard wears his glasses… so, there’s that. 

Summary:  Professor Tom tries to keep suspicions away from his secret relationship with his assistant and grad student, Thalia Bareo

Click here for the introduction to Educating Thalia

Tom sits in the staff lounge, his head bent diligently over some paperwork. None of his colleagues have any idea that he’s been staring blankly at the same page for minutes without accomplishing anything.

Over three months have gone by since his secret night with Thalia in the school library, and they’ve managed to sneak many others in too. Their stolen moments are the sunshine in his life now, a time when he can truly be himself and get a taste of what a happy relationship might feel like. If only…

With a sigh, he adjusts his glasses with his forefinger and tries his best to not let his feelings run away with him. Yet his thoughts keep drifting to the idea she’ll be leaving soon after finals, and be gone for the long weeks over the holiday break.  If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to be apart from her that length of time.  Tom shakes his head and turns the page to give the appearance he’s working.  He needs to focus on what his head tells him, not his heart, or they’ll risk being discovered.

“Alright, I’ll call it a day then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Laughing at her own joke, Professor Joanna Kent grabs her bag and coat, ready to leave the staff lounge. As usual, she manages to walk by Tom so closely that she ‘accidentally’ brushes his arm.

He grits his teeth. Hiddleston, get your butt into gear and do this.

Suppressing a sigh, he rises and catches up with her in front of the door.


She turns, fluttering her lashes at him.

Tom clears his throat and gives himself a mental shake. “I was wondering… A new Greek restaurant opened at Williams Street, and… Would you like to join me there for dinner tonight?”

Her eyes widen, and then the lash-fluttering increases to such speed that he feels dizzy looking at it.

“That sounds lovely, Tom. Tonight at eight? I know which restaurant you mean, I’ve been meaning to check it out. I could meet you there?”

Well, he has to give the woman credit for one thing, she doesn’t beat about the bush.

“Sure. Uhm, great. Yes.”

“Awesome. I’ll see ya then.”

She gives her hips an awkward swishy sway and leaves, her overly sweet cologne lingering unpleasantly, and Tom has to remind himself for the umpteenth time why this is supposed to be a good idea.

“Trying your luck with the local ladies, Hiddleston?” comes Professor Evans’s voice from close by where he’s packing his bag.

“Beginner’s tip,” he adds with a smirk, “you might want to smile a little more.”

Tom resists the urge to roll his eyes, realizing with a start that Thalia is rubbing off on him. He scoffs instead, shooting his colleague a glance. “I’m not entirely sure you’re the right person to be dishing out dating advice, but thanks a lot.”

Smirk still firmly in place, Evans walks out too, leaving Tom alone in the room to sort out his feelings and give himself another pep talk.

Hours later, Tom is fervently praying for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole.

They haven’t even gotten to the meal yet and he’s had more than enough. Struggling hard to keep his polite smile in place, he toys with the napkin.

Professor Kent has been talking incessantly since she arrived – which was fashionably late and in heels so high she’s almost walking on stilts. While she’s always come across as bold and wanting to appear younger than she is, Tom hasn’t expected her to present herself quite so aggressively. Her hot pink dress is a bit too short and offering glimpses of cleavage he certainly won’t be caught staring at. What surprises him even more are the layers of makeup she’s hiding behind. Not that he’s ever looked at her with much interest, but she strikes him as pretty in a sort of bland way. With the right makeup, she would look attractive because she has a nice, small nose and even features. Tonight, however, she’s gone for the siren look complete with garish colors and fake lashes, and it’s all he can do not to cringe.

He wants a woman like Thalia who knows how to bring out the striking features she has, not someone who decks herself out in war paint to slither into a different skin.

Of course, he has complimented her nevertheless, earning himself some fake-humble giggling and two cheeks presented to kiss.

Tom takes a long sip of water and reminds himself to inject “I see”, “oh, really?” and “mhm” at regular intervals while Joanna keeps on talking.

He has no real idea what she’s blathering on about. Oh, he has tried valiantly, because it’s rude of him to ask her out on date and not care…but he’s fighting a losing battle. For one, she jumps from topic to topic and doesn’t much care for input. And it doesn’t help that he wishes he could take Thalia out on a proper date instead. Right here, for everyone to see. It’s like he has this primal urge to officially stake a claim on her or something, although he knows full well that he can’t and won’t.

His phone chimes in his pocket, and he automatically reaches for it.

It’s a message from Thalia, the last thing he’s expected. He texted her right after he left the staff room, telling her about the planned date. Her reply came more than an hour later, consisting only of an “okay” and throwing him off balance. He expected some teasing or at least a longer comment, and the one word with its million ways of interpretation has had him wondering ever since.

He turns his phone to vibration mode and makes sure that Professor Kent is so entertained by her own baseball-related story that she won’t notice him checking the message.

Enjoying your date?

With a grimace, he taps out a reply, wishing for once that he’d use emoticons because he’s sure there are a whole bunch of very expressive ones he could use to illustrate his suffering.

Tremendously, thanks for asking. I think having all my teeth pulled out without anesthesia would be preferable.

He keeps the phone on his thigh instead of sliding it back into the pocket, hoping against hope that Thalia didn’t just want to check in on him but will reply.

It’s getting rather warm in the place, which is full of enthusiastic guests and the mouth-watering smells of Greek cuisine. But he doesn’t want to take off his suit jacket. It’s his armor, protecting him from unnecessary ogling and offering at least a bit of reassurance. Joanna has already eyed him like a vulture about to pick the meat off his bones; he doesn’t need to encourage her by chucking the jacket. Thalia is never good at hiding whenever she’s running her eyes all over him, but there’s a world of difference between her appreciate gaze that makes him all hot and bothered and between this…this…leering.

Stop it right here, Tom, he scolds himself. He’s making matters worse. Dammit, he should be banishing Thalia from his thoughts. Tonight of all nights is the worst time to long for her. And he shouldn’t be comparing apples with pears.

Just when he leans forward with his chin on his hand, tuning in to Joanna’s monologue – Wait a minute, she’s talking about cleaning alcohol stains from expensive dresses? How did they get to that topic? – he feels his phone vibrate on his thigh. Tom glances down and reads.

I didn’t need that visual. 😉 Surely it can’t be so bad. Man up and woo the lady with your irresistible charms, Professor Hiddleston.

He suppresses a chuckle. Her tone is odd today, and he can’t put his finger on her mood. Stretching his pained smile wider, he flicks his gaze down to type a reply.

You know very well that I’m all man. But if you need a re-demonstration, I’m more than ready to comply.

He feels his lips curl in a grin, but his fingers hover over the send button. So far, they’ve only messaged each other sparingly, keeping it either project-related or organizing their clandestine meetings. Is this too far? And why the hell does he tease her when he should be focusing on his date?

Tom hits send and looks up in time to catch Professor Kent staring at him expectantly.

Flustered, he takes his glasses off and stuffs them in a pocket.

“I’m sorry, Joanna, how terribly rude of me. I think I’ve lost you there for a bit.” He gestures to the phone, cringing inwardly. “My sister. From England.”

She raises her needle-thin eyebrows. “Oh, how adorable. So, you’re a family man?”

Before he can try to get a word in – and he honest to god has no wish to share family stuff with her – she bulldozes ahead. “I keep thinking we’re much too young to think about all the settling down and founding a family stuff, don’t ya agree? We’re still enjoying life and all it has to offer, why tie ourselves down with babies and added responsibilities?”

Tom blinks and gets a “yes, if you say so, sure” in sideways before she rambles on.

With an internal groan, he sits back again and gives up all pretense of listening. The ironic thing is that she’d make a good ‘partner’ for him as it’s obvious she doesn’t want anything serious, finds him attractive and is too interested in her own life to get suspicious of anything he might be doing. That’s the theory, but reality looks a lot different. There’s no way he could ever see himself dating her, whether it would help or not.

His phone bounces a little on the table, and he snatches it up to read Thalia’s message.

You are so NOT texting me teases like that while you’re staring at Professor Kent’s cleavage. Behave.

There’s no smiley this time, and Tom finds himself wondering again what mood she’s in. Is this a serious reproach, and deservedly so? Or is she teasing him back?

Only one way to find out… He types surreptitiously, nodding at whatever Joanna is now saying about sports cars.

If you think that’s a tease, you’ve got another thought coming. And for your information, Miss Bareo, the only cleavage I am mentally ogling is yours. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to bury my head in it now. I shaved before my date, so I’d be all smooth and cool against your warm, full globes. I’d hold them ever so softly, not giving you the fondling you crave, and then I’d run my tongue all over them, avoiding the hard peaks that are begging for my attention.

Tom presses send and sits up straighter. He needs to get this dinner over with, preferably without making a fool of himself.

When the waiter brings their food and there’s a momentary lull in conversation, he puts on his most charming smile. Filling their glasses with wine, he asks, “So, tell me, Joanna, have you ever been to England?”

He’ll keep her talking about herself. That should do the trick.

“God, no, England is way too plain, old and snobby for me. Monaco, though, now that would be grand, to mingle with the high society and…” comes her reply, and he realizes again how much her shrill voice grates on his nerves. He’s always been sensitive to voices, maybe because of all the book readings and plays he’s been to. And Thalia’s voice has him enthralled. That sexy Spanish accent, the passionate lilt to it. Her husky undertone which gets more noticeable the more aroused she becomes.

Shit, maybe it’s not such a good idea to distract himself with thoughts of her moaning his name when she’s writhing in his arms.

Shifting against the tightening in his pants, Tom devotes all attention to his food and studiously ignores his phone even when it vibrates dully on the table cloth.

They make it through the main course without any trouble, although he is seriously considering splashing wine all over his suit just so he has a reason to leave early. Not only is Professor Kent still droning on about a hundred different things a minute, he can also feel her play footsie with him under the table.

Jesus, he shouldn’t have gone on this date.

On the pretense of dropping and picking up his napkin, Tom scoots his chair back a little and sits so he’s out of her high-heeled reach.

He tops up her wine and debates whether to accidentally brush the glass so the wine hits her instead. Wasn’t she going on about how she’s an expert at removing alcohol stains? But then he thinks of having to be all gentlemanly and pat her body down with napkins, and he ditches the idea.

With an apologetic smile that is totally lost on the woman, he checks his messages.

There are only two words. Not fair.

Damn, what’s this all about? He’s at a loss how to answer. Is this her way of refusing to be teased? Or is she turned on and too shy to urge him on?

Running a hand through his hair, Tom asks Joanna whether she wants any dessert, and she orders a fruit salad. Ugh, as if she needed another minus point on the ever-growing list in his mind. What the hell is he doing here sitting with a stick-thin tactless excuse for a woman who thinks she needs to count calories to keep up her appeal when he could and should be spoiling Thalia with some sinfully tasty sweet treats?

As if she’s read his thoughts, another message appears.

I hope you’re not feeding her dessert.

Tom’s fingers fly over the keys, typing his answer before he can think about it.

Fuck no.

He flinches and drinks more water. It doesn’t take more than a moment for her reply to appear.

Language, Professor.

He hurriedly sends another message.

By now, I’d be willing to feed her anything to make her shut up. I’ve never met a woman in my life who yaps on and on like this. I swear my ears are ringing. But that aside, I won’t be feeding her anything. There’s only one woman I want to feed – with food and with quite some other things – and that’s you.

While typing, it dawns on him how pathetically, dangerously true that is. He’s addicted to Thalia, so much so that he’s got no room left inside him for the politeness he’s usually so proud of. He knows he’s being a dick, texting her on his date, but he can’t bring himself to care.

In between dainty nibbles on fruit pieces she clearly doesn’t enjoy, Joanna suddenly changes track and asks him personal questions.

Using his best British behavior, he dodges them all and offers half-answers that have her narrowing her heavily painted eyes.

“But enough about me,” he insists when his phone vibrates, “why don’t you tell me more about why you chose to become a college professor?”

That effectively sends her off on another self-centered discourse so he can glance at the screen.

If I can be such a good girl for you all the time, sir, you can be good too. Keep that chiseled chin up.

Tom frowns at the sentences. Her tone is kind of bossy, but then she’s mentioned the word that always triggers his darker side, and he’s pretty sure it’s deliberate.

With a sigh, he pockets his phone and lives through the rest of the ordeal silently. Not even the amazing dessert he’s chosen – Greek yogurt with honey, walnuts, vanilla and something else that’s delicious – can lighten his mood.

Nearly an hour later, Tom finally ditches the subtle and seriously unsuccessful hints that they should leave and outright tells her that he should get going because he has an early morning class.

When she rises from her chair and he gallantly helps her into her coat, she leans into him, and her wine-breath wafts into his face.

“What a lovely evening we had. Now how about proving to me that you’re indeed a typical English gentleman and making sure that I’ll reach home safely?”

Her fingers crawl up his jacket lapels and he has the irrational wish he knew how to disapparate at will.

“But of course, Joanna,” he says in his best British voice, jaw clenched.

Once they’re outside the restaurant, he realizes that she’s walked here and apparently lives close. And it’s more than plain to see she’s had a glass or two too much of wine, because she’s swaying dangerously on her killer heels.

With a long-suffering sigh, Tom offers her his arm and escorts her home.

Oddly enough, something has made her go quiet, so they spend nearly ten minutes navigating the pavement in awkward silence.

Tom shoves his free hand in his pocket against the winter cold, toying with his phone and wondering what Thalia may be doing at the moment. What does she think about this whole dating farce? Will she do the same soon, and let him know about it like he did?

His gut clenches of the thought of her with another man. Worse still, it would be a bumbling, fumbling boy and nothing like the real man she needs.

A gust of cold wind makes him even more miserable. It will be Christmas break soon, and he isn’t particularly looking forward to it. Thalia will visit her family in Chicago, and most of his colleagues will be on leave too. And he? Something holds him back from traveling to England for a week or two, and he can’t really pinpoint what.

Maybe he’ll barricade himself in the library and read until he’s forgotten all about the world. It’s worked wonders for him before, both during childhood and much later. Though he’s usually spent Christmas with his family back home.

With a jolt, he realizes he hasn’t bought Thalia anything for Christmas when he picked out cards and little souvenirs to send to England.

Damn, how could he forget that?

Another thought brings him up short, which makes Professor Kent stumble and grab onto him with both hands. Tom lets her hang onto him, quickening his long strides so he doesn’t prolong the agony of being with her.

Would Thalia even accept a present from him or would it be out of line? He desperately wants to gift her something simple yet meaningful. A book to emphasize their shared love for literature? Another of those girlish, vividly colored, endlessly long scarves she wraps around herself these days, which always make him itch to grab her by the dangly ends and reel her in for a kiss? A naughty toy to explore another nuance of their relationship and make her discover more thrilling novelties?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts roughly when Joanna digs her long, red nails into his forearm.

“That’s me, right over there with the lovely pink curtains,” she says with a slight slur, pointing across the half-empty street.

Tom swallows, feeling claustrophobic with her pressed so close. She turns and dances her fingers up his jacket lapel again, and he has a devil of a time of keeping his expression civil. He’s beyond the point of fake smiles by now, but he sure hopes his feelings don’t show on his face.

“Such a gentleman,” she says, followed by a high-pitched giggle. “How ‘bout bein’ even more gentlemanly and accompanying me in for a nightcap?”

Revulsion making his skin crawl, Tom takes a hasty step back and extricates herself from her surprisingly strong hold.

“Erm… I think I’ll pass on that, Joanna, uh… thanks.” He fumbles for something nice to say when her redder than red lips begin to droop and her thinner than thin eyebrows pucker.

“I’ve had a nice time tonight, thank you.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Grasping onto his last ounce of reserve, he forges on. “But I don’t think I should be joining you now. We’ve barely got to know each other, and…” He breaks off and gives himself the millionth mental kick.

For a moment, Joanna simply glares at him. With a “right” that is tight-lipped and glacially cold compared to her previous sugary tone, she turns and wobbles across the street. Halfway up the short flight of stairs, she comes to a teetering halt and turns to look over her shoulder at him.

“Ya know, we would have gotten to know each other a lot better if you hadn’t spent so much time looking at your fucking phone.”

With that, she’s up the stairs and inside the building before he can pick his jaw off the ground.

“Serves you right, Hiddleston, you pompous, pretentious arse,” Tom mutters to himself and sighs.

He definitely isn’t dating material. This fiasco has proven it once and for all. And it’s proven something else he’s begun to suspect… Thalia makes him a better man, in a way. He can not only let down his guard and be himself around her, but he’s also much nicer than people here have probably come to expect it from him.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turns and begins the walk back to the bus halt, as he’s left his car at home tonight.

No more pretend dates for him, no thanks.

He tries to summon a Shakespearean quote to calm his frazzled nerves, but all he can think about is Thalia, home alone in her own bed, as he dials her number.

Click here to read Chapter 10, Rescue Mission

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