In Love With Shakespeare

Forgetfulness

Anyway, Prof East took a pretty sustained glance at my tanned belly. I swear she did!

I even looked down at it myself. I could just see a thin strip of pink panties kind of peeking over the top of my mini-skirt. I think I looked nice.

My professor was still staring! It was like I'd hypnotized her! Part of me wanted to click my fingers and just snap her out of it. But another part just wanted her to look and look and look, wanted her basically to feast her eyes on me. If she'd kept up that stare much longer, I swear I would have just wriggled my mini-skirt a little lower, just to tease her and please her, just to make that thin line of pink a little thicker and a little more provocative...

Am I bad? I know you think I am. But I'm just telling you how it was. Is it even a little arousing, dear reader, for you to hear? If it is, I'm happy. I'm happy to tease you a little, just as I was teasing Professor East.

Back in the room! Somehow, through some monumental act of willpower, my gorgeous professor had torn herself away from the delights of my flat belly and was pulling another book off the shelves.

"Let me show you this!" she said suddenly.

I actually loved how she would suddenly lurch off into unexpected directions. I found it so sexy! I don't know why but it made her seem so brainy.

"It's a copy of Thomas Wilson's The Art of Rhetorique – not an original copy, unfortunately, which would have been a useful contribution to my retirement fund!"

I giggled in what I hoped was a winning way.

Professor East smiled contentedly as if acknowledging laughter during one of her well-attended lectures. Then she continued:

"The book was first published in 1553 and was taught in schools in Shakespeare's time. Wilson says that when our cause is hated by the listener, we will need a kind of 'creeping in' or an insinuation to get their attention. And this is exactly what Mark Anthony does in his famous funeral oration after Caesar has been assassinated."

"How so?" I said. I leant back and stretched once more, only this time – instead of stretching backwards towards the uncomfortable backrest of that regency sofa – I swiveled my legs around to the side and stretched backwards onto two purple cushions near the arm-rest before placing my slim ankles carefully over the armrest at the other end of the sofa.

It was a bold move and one that actually caused my skirt to ruffle up my thighs a little, a development I did not attempt to reverse.

"Do make yourself comfortable!" my professor said, eyeing my heels and then shifting her eyes along the length of my legs towards the very top of my thighs. There was a hint of rebuke in her voice, but also a hint of sauce.

A slightly awkward silence followed.

"Sorry, what was the question?" my professor said eventually.

Aha, this time it was HER turn to be forgetful!

"I said 'how so'?"

"How so what?" she said.