Chapter 1 - Sex Re-Education: Chapter 1

Sex Re-Education
by Volpone

Chapter 1

          “Fleming Academy is unique in educational institutions,” the headmistress told Quinn. “Most people have no idea just how unique unless they have either attended or been on staff here. Only the heads of a select group of organizations are even aware of our... specialized curriculum.”
          Quinn nodded and kept quiet. The attractive but stern woman giving him his orientation tour was used to being in authority but firmly in control. Considering the school, it made sense. Quinn was an instructor here on a probationary basis, and it wouldn't do to have the Head (as they staff and students referred to her out of ear-shot) take a dislike to him. She was resistant to the idea of a male instructor at her all-female academy to begin with. It was only by a combination of chicanery by Columbina diddling with computer records, subterfuge by hiring away one of the Academy's instructors, and his unique skill set that had gotten him this trial run.
          The Head reminded him somewhat of a less personable version of the fictional agent Emma Peale, though the Head was probably some years older. She didn't give off any of the sub-conscious signals he normally picked up from a woman who was interested in men, but that simply meant he couldn't use sex as a lever with her. That suited him just fine as he liked his women without a professional armor that would probably withstand thermite.
          Still, it was very strange to run across such a character in a borderline-hentai continuum.  Usually the women who helped populate such time-lines were more approachable. It was possible she was one of the fem-dom fetish characters, in which case her behavior was very consistent.
          For hentai conditions, the rest was fairly normal. Fleming Academy was ostensibly an exclusive private school for women with a highly limited enrollment, but the curriculum was a bit different from the norm. The courses offered in most mainstream institutions of learning failed to include areas of study such as “Intermediate Evasion: Urban”, “Introduction to Circumventing Security Systems”, “Improvised Weaponry”, or “Advanced Sexual Techniques for Distraction or Information”.
          Basically, it was a school for female spies.
          At one time it had been a small religious college. Some kilometers northwest of the much better known colleges at Oxford, it had been built and endowed by one of the dukes of George the First. Later, when the ducal money ran dry, it was closed as a religious school. The collection of incunabula, antiquities, and the paintings of old English, Dutch and German masters that had been donated by various nobility rivaled any university collection of the time. It passed from one noble to another as a largely ignored holding for quite a while, and the school, most of the grounds and associated buildings survived unscathed until the early Nineteenth Century. Finally, the Crown inherited the school during the Napoleonic Wars, and rather than invest the funds needed to bring it back into use, it was sold to provide much needed funding for the war effort.
          In a bit of time-traveling slight of hand, it was Quinn who bought it. He established a false identity to provide him with a cover to use for the purchase, and after seeing to the acquisition and arranging for the continued maintenance of the collections and buildings, he left it as a trust overseen by local individuals and then jumped forward to the 1930s to see to the founding of Fleming Academy as it now existed. The Academy had actually trained several female spies who made substantial contributions to the Allied cause during the war against fascism, a benefit Quinn hadn't anticipated but that he was rather proud of even though he personally had no influence on that.
          Once he had set the ball in motion, he again jumped forward to the present point, this time to become an instructor at the school he had created.
          Quinn liked this continuum. It was the same where many years in the future (counting by the direction of time flow of this universe, naturally not by Quinn's personal experience) he'd encounter “the Teacher” on another planet many light-years away. This universe would also give rise to the city of Starfast after this version of Terra had/would experience a cataclysmic event.
          It was one of the few continua where Quinn was absolutely certain the villains were not “Black Hats”. Their areas of interest lay in other universes and so far as Quinn had discovered, they were entirely unaware of the importance of this particular corner of the multiverse. That meant he could basically relax and enjoy himself (as much as he could on a recruiting mission.)
          His orientation was the third step in his acceptance here. The first had been passing his interview process. The second had been his demonstrating his abilities in several areas including languages, self-defense, and a smattering of other subjects. The final step would be proving his abilities as an instructor in front of his students.
          “Of course,” the Headmistress went on, “we discourage any discussion of our actual purpose beyond the walls of the college. Former students know that to break the trust we place in them would be cause for great concern to us, as well as necessitating actions to prevent any more such breaches of confidence.”
          It was one of the most genteel euphemisms for “hunt them down and kill them” Quinn believed he'd ever heard.
          “We have one of the lowest student-to-instructor ratios anywhere. At present, we have eight professors including yourself and five assistants who aid and fill in when needed. As you can imagine, we can't simply hire temporary help as substitute instructors for most of our curriculum.
          “As for our students, we currently have eighty-six attendees from the age of eighteen up to mid-thirties. Each is exceptional in at least one regard and has been referred to us by the top of one of the intelligence organizations aware of our purpose. We then take these women and make them exceptional in more areas. Some come to us straight from another academy while others have years of field experience and have, through a demonstration of their abilities, been given this opportunity to become one of the best.
          “We usually only take eighty students, but we had a unique situation present itself which has required our present enrollment numbers. There is a strong tradition in some families of sending their daughters to us. And some students go on to become instructors. It is a combination of these factors which has led to our accepting more students than is traditional for us.”
          Quinn had intentionally kept quiet, allowing her to talk uninterrupted as he had found this often led to a person revealing more than they might if he questioned them, but she suddenly seemed to realize she had been discussing matters which had nothing to do with his new duties and stopped her digression.
          “Our students do not have a set curriculum they must complete in order to graduate. Some choose to take a course several times in order to improve their mastery of the subject. Some specialize in a limited area of expertise, though we always encourage our students to broaden their education as they will never have an opportunity such as this again. There are only a handful of courses all students must pass to graduate, leading to some staying on beyond the typical four years of higher education since no other institutions offer these core classes. There is only one Fleming,” she concluded with a clear note of pride.
          “A final note concerning one of the customs we encourage in very strong terms: no one here is addressed by their actual name. We are a politically neutral academy, but the organizations who pay to send their personnel here seldom are. Some are mercenary or corporate, but the majority are tied to various governments around the world. As such, no one is to discuss who they work for, who paid their way here, or what their real name is. Such information might be used by contentious organizations outside Fleming, and we must keep our neutrality unquestioned. No one brings their rivalry within these walls, and that is how we intend for it to stay. As a result, our ladies all take a nomme-de-guerre while they are here. Each chooses a name associated with royalty to remind themselves that they are the royalty of their field. Likewise, our instructors do not go by their last name but are addressed by their given name, such as Ms. Kris, Ms. Martina, or is your case, Mr. Quentin.” She didn't bother to
point out this also gave them an easily disposable persona with they left to join their sponsoring group.
          “No records will be kept after a student's graduation but are destroyed immediately to prevent anyone's files being stolen, though this would be of minimal help as no personal information of any kind is gathered by the Academy. Still, we must keep up our standards of security.
          “Grades are given just as any other school, but here the student or their employer says when they have completed their education, not the Academy or the instructors. We have had students who have continued their education for a full decade before moving on.
          “Our ladies come from all over the world, but all of them speak English to a greater or lesser degree, and so classes are held in English... with the obvious exception of other language classes.”
          She handed him a set of keys.
          “These are to your office. Yours is in the east wing, and your quarters are the cottage there on the right with the irises out front.
          “Please do not leave the village without clearance. Should you do so or engage in any activity which might constitute a danger to the Academy or its persons, your employment will be immediately terminated.”
          He was fully aware of what that entailed. One of the first “rumors” he had run across here at Fleming was how strictly the school dealt with indiscretion by employees or students. Anyone who discussed school business of any nature beyond the school would find themselves the target of every graduate, professor, or staff member of the college. The school was quite proud of the zero percent survival rate of such individuals beyond six months from the time they were placed on the list, regardless of who they now worked for. In the last twenty years, there had been no need for any “terminations”.
          During his interview the previous day, the Head had informed him that in the history of Fleming, only four men had ever been instructors. All of them had been in physical education or firearms training.
          “Firearms?” he'd asked incredulously. “If someone has to resort to firearms, all they demonstrate is their lack of planning and skill in other areas. Guns are for assassins, not operatives. They make people cocky and lazy.”
          “So you feel we shouldn't bother to teach firearms at Fleming?”
          “I didn't say that. I simply favor good planning that leaves no bodies to explain. In extreme circumstances, an unfortunate accident is more artistic that a sniper's bullet.”
          “But a bullet sends a message,” the Headmistress pointed out.
          “I agree with the old adage about the message of a stage play... 'If you want to send a message, use Western Union'.”
          She was about to reply, but he held up a hand to preempt her next objection.
          “Pardon me, but we can go around and around and never resolve anything. Let me simply state that I am well-qualified to teach not only unarmed combat in any of half-a-dozen styles, but sabre, epee, foil, three styles of Japanese sword, archery, quarterstaff, improvised weaponry, eleven languages other than English excluding so-called 'dead' languages, art, music, characterization, logic, both deductive and inductive reasoning, practical herbology, zoology, physiology, outdoor survival, cryptography, intelligence gathering, computer programming and hacking, misinformation, psychology, several dozen different courses in liberal arts... and I am qualified but will not teach assassination or forcible interrogation.”
          “Squeamish?” she asked with an audible sneer.
          “No, simply ethical.”
          “Ethics are slippery at best when dealing with topics such as espionage.”
          “No argument from me,” he agreed, then brought them back to the topic, namely his qualifications.
          “But to return to our muttons... The most important fact is that I've trained over a hundred field agents and not one has been killed in action.”
          She glanced over at the computer on her desk. Quinn caught her glance and surmised what she was doing.
          “So, what do your stress analyzers tell you?” he wanted to know. “Am I telling the truth?”
          She didn't try to lie this time.
          “It says you're probably telling the truth as you know it, but stress analyzers can be fooled.”
          He smiled and replied, “Then that's a win-win situation for me. If I'm telling the truth, then I'm qualified to teach here. If I'm lying, then I just fooled your lie detector and that shows I have skills worthwhile being taught to your students.”
          The Headmistress started to open her mouth, then realized he was correct and closed it again.
          Quinn put the period on the topic of his teaching abilities.
          “I told you I can teach logic.”

          The following morning had been his “testing”, allowing him to demonstrate his proficiencies to the Headmistress (while being careful not to show her the full extent of his physical capabilities). After she grudgingly admitted he was capable of being an instructor, he again found himself in the Headmistress' office, this time to go over his terms of employment.
          His pay was naturally irrelevant to him. Money was one carrot that held no temptation for Quinn as Phoenix Group had enough funds to buy entire planets. Their business holdings on this version of Earth alone made them the largest conglomerate in the world, though no one knew that except Quinn and a handful of his advisers back at HQ.
          The schedule she presented him with was the same left vacant by the departing professor, Ms. Abigail.
          Hmm... five credits of Advanced Unarmed Combat... three credits of Characterization... five credits of Deductive Reasoning... two credits of Beginning Foil... two for Intermediate Saber... and three credits each for Sexual Techniques for Distraction and Information (Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced courses)...
          That gave him a schedule of twenty-six hours of classes spread over the school week, each course having from eight to nineteen students enrolled.
          Still, Quinn couldn't pass up the opportunity.
          “Would you object to my offering a couple of electives not on the list?” he asked.
          “We really need you to cover these classes.”
          He gave her a reassuring smile. “No, I mean in addition to these. You've given me nine PE credits which will require virtually no preparation, and I have Ms. Abigale's rather complete course plans for both Characterization and Deductive Reasoning that I think are naturally very well thought out. As a result, the nine credits for the three STDI courses are the only ones that will require any planning.”
          “Ms. Abigail felt she was spread too thin as it was.”
          “Ms. Abigail may have been, but if I'm here to teach, I want to teach... especially things I have an interest in that will help round out their educations. Some things they can simply consider 'fun' classes.”
          “Such as...?”
          “Art, music, gemology, culinary arts...”
          The Headmistress seemed to feel a mix of curiosity and amusement.
          “How do you feel gemology would be useful?”
          “Ninety percent of the time, your graduates will be working in and around influential people. Influential people usually have money. Having money almost demands showing it off, especially in the form of jewelry. Being able to talk intelligently on the topic, even if it's just enough to pay an educated compliment at the right time, can yield unexpected benefits. The same it true of art, music...”
          “And food.” She nodded very slightly, conceding his point.
          “Food is an especially useful cover because so many jobs deal with it,” he picked up. “Catering, restaurants, hotels, casinos, cruise ships, resorts, health spas, hospitals...”
          “Agreed. Very well, if you feel up to the task. What would you say to two credits each of Music and Culinary Arts? We can consider the other areas on a rotating basis if these work out well.”
          He gave a wince. “Two credits of Culinary Arts? That's barely enough to scratch the surface. Well, it'll have to be a 'cooking for monkeys' course, but beggars can't be choosers.”

          He'd been at the school for just a day before he noticed one item which was not in the school's reputation... there was not a single student he would describe as “unattractive”. Most were at least “pretty”, a substantial percentage were “beautiful”, and a surprising number were unquestionably “gorgeous”. It wasn't listed as a prerequisite on the entrance form, but it seemed to be something of an unwritten law. Perhaps the school boasted a world-class plastic surgeon who did adjustments on the student body, but he'd seen no signs of such. At Fleming, it seemed beauty and brains went hand in hand.
          So much the better.
          It was Friday, the afternoon of his orientation tour, and Quinn was settling himself into his new office, placing his library of favorite books on the shelves when there was a rap at the open door.
          “Might I interrupt?” asked the lovely voice.
          Quinn turned to see one of his fellow instructors, Ms. Kris (he was absolutely certain it was a shortened version of her real name), standing in the doorway. She'd caught his eye earlier that day holding her class in the computer lab as the Head was giving him his tour. She was their lead instructor in cyber-courses. If it involved computers, either hardware or software, Ms. Kris was their resident expert.
          Kris also saw to the cyber-security of the academy and their systems. Columbina had admitted to being rather impressed by her attention to detail in plugging most of the commonly overlooked weaknesses in “older” computer systems, going so far as to create a backup system in their basement that was fully independent of the main system and could only be accessed during the times it was physically tied into the main system by connecting cables between them. There was no wireless access to infiltrate and so no weakness to remote hacking. (That was except when you had access to the kind of tech Columbina, his smart-ship partner, had aboard but that was hardly a fair contest as she was literally over two millenia more advanced with abilities far beyond simple computing and astrogation.)
          He had to admire how brains and beauty had gone so perfectly hand-in-hand with her. Kris was rather spectacular, and that was the opinion of a man who was surrounded by hundreds of beautiful women on a daily basis. She looked to be in her twenties, but when women had no obvious signs of aging it was impossible to say if she was actually a mature eighteen or a youthful forty. Her cultural background was clearly Indian, her skin tone richer than that of the majority of the women around Fleming (he felt she likely tanned a bit to accentuate this difference), her dark hair tumbling loose down almost to her waist and silken to the point Quinn couldn't help but imagine what it might feel like in his hands. (He was admittedly a fan of great hair.) She had a typically exaggerated figure one expected in universes that were basically hentai in nature, her curves filling out her lovely saree in magnificent fashion.
          But the thing that made her unique was her eyes which were an incredible blue. He knew how rare such eyes were in people of her racial background, and the combination often yielded women of exquisite beauty.
          Kris was one of them.
          At first glance he'd assumed she was wearing contacts, but his superior senses and knowledge of the little “tells” of the human body and how it behaved quickly informed him that the color was natural.
          That she'd chosen a saree that accented her eyes in such a perfect fashion it couldn't have been accidental. Earlier in class she'd been wearing an outfit typical to a female professor teaching at a small private school, a blouse and skirt that were nice but nothing special, more a matter of simplicity and function more than fashion. Now she was wearing an extremely nice blue jewel toned silk saree with very fine embroidery that in Quinn's estimate was probably worth her monthly salary, meaning she'd gone off and changed before “dropping by” his office. She had it wrapped in a manner that left her right shoulder bare and fitted her form nicely, showing her off in an excellent manner. It also indicated a lack of anything beneath it but her lovely skin (a very nontraditional manner of wear in
modern times).
          That boded well in Quinn's estimate.
          For her part, she took a moment to update her earlier observations about their newest member of the faculty.
          His appearance was fascinating to her as well. He wasn't what one would expect from a spy as he was entirely too distinctive to pass unnoticed. She understood that difficulty in their line of work as she suffered from it herself. Perhaps that was why both of them had gravitated into teaching roles rather than field work. (She couldn't have possibly known that for Quinn this was field work.)
          Overall, his look look very appealing.
          Her observant eye said he was about 185 centimeters, between 82 and 84 kilos, and he was trained. He kept his balance evenly distributed when relaxed, posture straight but not stiff. His shoulders were broad. His hair was too long for convention, dark blonde and reaching well down his shoulders though it was scrupulously clean and had a slight curl towards the ends. He also wore a moustache and goatee that were trimmed short and were slightly lighter than the rest of his hair. The overall effect was one that he might have been off the set of some movie about musketeers.
          His complexion was light, indicating he was likely of North European extraction. He wasn't pale but he clearly didn't bother with anything as vain as using a tanner. If his beard were fuller he could have put on furs and passed for a Viking.
          Kris had always been attracted to men who were different from those she'd grown up around.  Her sisters had all been drawn to the classic good-looking men like those of the Mumbai film industry, but she'd always found herself more infatuated by men from France, England and the like. It was the “otherly” quality that made them interesting to her.
          Quinn certainly fit that category nicely. He not only was notably different from Indian men, he was also rather different from most Westerners, as if he weren't concerned with what others might think of him.
          She discovered he was also an anachronism in that he suffered an unusual case of chivalrous courtesy.
          “Please come in,” he told her with a smile that was easy since it was so genuine. “I don't believe we've formally been introduced. I'm Quentin, but my friends usually call me Quinn.”
          His voice was pleasantly deep and his dialect told her he was probably from the United States or Canada, likely the western portion of the continent. Either that or he'd intentionally rid himself of all of the dialectic markers that might let someone know too much of his origins. His voice was good enough he could have been in television or radio, and simply listening to him was a pleasure. 
          He watched her as she entered. She didn't walk into the room. It was more like she glided, or rather flowed.
          Quinn thought, This girl's had dance. Either that or she's got hips she borrowed from a snake because she slithers.
          “And I'm Kris,” she told him as she held out her hand.
          “My pleasure,” he replied, and rather than shake it, Quinn did what came naturally to him under the circumstances and kissed the hand she offered.
          He didn't use his Talent to influence her, but as his lips met the back of her hand, her fingers gave his a gentle squeeze.
          Hmm. I wonder if she realizes what that implies.
          “And what might I do for you?” he asked as he led her to the pair of overstuffed chairs by the bookshelves, pleased to note that the silk of her saree now had two pronounced bumps beneath it.
          Bowing her politely into her seat before taking the spot opposite her, he smiled as she said, “I was hoping I might welcome you to Fleming by buying you a drink at the pub.”
          Her diction was Oxford British with a slight shading of Hindi, just enough to make her sound delightful without letting him pin her down as a native of either nation with certainty. She might either be second generation immigrant to the UK or she could be a full Indian national with a good ear. The last could certainly be the case considering that Fleming emphasized languages as it did and spies often needed a talent for not only languages but dialects to pass as natives in foreign countries in the course of their jobs.
          He raised an eyebrow and said, “I'd enjoy that very much, but aren't you a tad overdressed for a simple pub?”
          She smiled and brushed away his objection by leaning forward and running a finger down the sleeve of his tourmaline green silk shirt. (Quinn wasn't exactly a clothes horse, but he did enjoy wearing what he thought of as “his colors”: a rich tourmaline jewel tone just a smidgen more green than teal, and true black, the same colors he wore when playing superhero. He also enjoyed the smooth, cool feel of silk and indulged himself when there was no reason not to, a habit which seemed to have an unintended benefit in this case.) Her gesture was rather intimate but not blatantly seductive, merely a bit suggestive.
          She reassured him, “I think you're suitably dressed, and besides, they're used to the faculty here at Fleming being a bit eccentric by local standards.”

          They informed the school receptionist (head of security) of their leaving campus, and while the pub was just a kilometer off campus, Quinn insisted on driving them as he couldn't imagine making Kris walk that far in her lovely outfit. She looked as if she'd stepped out of the picture portraying one of the apsara of the Hindu and he found himself feeling a bit protective of her pristine condition. It also gave him a chance to show off the 1935 SS Jaguar 100 he'd acquired and had restored in preparation for this mission.
          “And I had you judged to be an Aston Martin man,” she said.
          “Entirely too predictable,” he replied as he shifted them into gear and they started down the road from the school.
          Just a couple of minutes later they arrived at the local watering hole and Kris directed them towards a table in the corner.
          That she suggested going to a pub showed Kris was non-traditional, at least in this respect. A single female inviting a man she'd just met to a pub... alone. In many traditional areas of India such a thing would never happen, but as an operative and a Fleming professor, she clearly didn't feel bound by the proprieties of the more fundamental thinkers of her homeland.
          Still, Quinn suspected this was more than a simple “welcome to Fleming”. Kris was clearly attracted to him (and that attraction was more than mutual), but he had a suspicion this was the headmistress' way of checking to see if he was likely to go running his mouth about the school in public. Discretion was not something you could find on a resume.
          Kris was a skilled conversationalist. She used a number of subtle methods to put him at ease while giving him several opportunities to say something which might be considered “talking out of school”. Thinking back, he recalled Kris also taught the Basic Information Gathering course. His earlier suspicion became a certainty rather quickly, but he gave no indication he was on anything other than a casual outing with a colleague since to do otherwise might put an end to what was shaping up to be a delightful evening.
          Several times townsfolk stepped up to say hello and introduce themselves. Quinn caught Kris' smile grow just the slightest bit broader when he was asked what he was teaching and he easily replied, “I'm doing a couple of social anthropology courses, though the headmistress took pity on me and is letting me do a music class and has even allowed me take over a fencing course.”
          When the townie wandered away, Kris quirked a wry smile and asked, “'Social anthropology'? I've never thought of Sexual Techniques for Distraction and Information in those terms, but I can see how it qualifies.”
          “What did Ms. Abigail prefer to call it?”
          “I believe she said it was a health course.”
          Quinn nodded and took a drink from his glass. “That makes sense. Hopefully it will keep them healthy under the right circumstances.”
          Shifting gears, she asked him, “So where did you work before this?”
          Quinn realized that every question Kris asked was neutrally phrased but designed to let him hang himself if he failed to keep his replies carefully ambiguous.
          “This is actually my first pure teaching post, though I did training with the private groups I've worked with in the past. It seems that no matter what I do or where I go, I always end up instructing in one manner or another. My job here with Fleming simply makes it official.”
          “No government positions?”
          “I'm allergic to bureaucracy,” he said with a minimal smile. “I find private organizations more to my liking.”
          They kept up the chit-chat for another thirty minutes or so when Kris finally asked him, “So, how do you intend to proceed with your STDI classes?”
          “In what regard?” he countered.
          “Well, for one thing, do you intend to give live demonstrations?”
          “It's my understanding Ms. Abigail did exactly that in some circumstances.”
          “Yes... but being a male, do you think you'll be up to the task of teaching over a dozen young women per class?”
          “Not all in a single class as I prefer to take my time, but I'm sure I can manage at least a half-dozen, though there are some demonstrations I could likely give everyone a chance at participating in.”
          “Talent or natural inclination?” Kris wanted to know with a wry but suggestive look.
          He matched her look and replied easily, “I'm afraid I have a medical condition. Incurable, I'm told.”
          Kris' smile slipped a bit, but she gamely asked, “Nothing serious, I hope.”
          He delivered his punchline.
          “Satyriasis with prolonged fits of priapism.”
          Her smile returned.
          “That could prove useful in this case.”
          “Such was my thought as well.”
          Touching him gently on the back of the hand, she asked quietly, “Would that extend as far as a demonstration? Purely for medical research, of course.”
          He wanted to know, “That depends. Is there any rule against faculty dating?”
          Kris paused a moment in thought, then replied frankly, “I don't think the question's ever come up due to the lack of male teachers.”
          Quinn gave her a probing but comic look.
          “Are you saying no one has considered the possibility of dating when no males are involved?”
          The pretty Indian woman dismissed this out of hand.
          “Oh, the Headmistress wouldn't dare make rules against that. She'd have a mutiny among the faculty and a riot among the students. Fleming's just one step short of being a female prison, after all.”
          “And besides that,” he responded, “our noble headmistress doesn't want to shoot herself in the foot.”
          Kris smiled at him.
          “Oh, you are good. Most don't have any idea of Head's leanings. She likes to keep people guessing.”
          “Most men wouldn't have picked it up,” he assured her. “She was convincing during my interview, but there was something just the slightest bit... academic in her performance. I'm not sure if I can put my finger on it. It's probably the lack of the little subconscious signals such as I've been getting from you all evening... the ones that tell me your interest is far more than academic.”
          Kris' smile grew a bit wider and much more wicked as she repeated, “Oh, you are good.”
          Quinn mirrored her grin. “You'll have to judge for yourself.”

          They didn't rush their drinks, but they didn't linger any longer than needed before they were back at Quinn's place. He'd given Kris a chance to offer her own but she seemed to feel his cottage would be acceptable in spite of his having only just moved in.
          Perhaps it was just nearer.
          They continued talking for a bit as she made no effort to hide her curiosity about his home. She knew that the art was here before as were many of the furnishings, but the personal items he'd brought all told her things about him that she seemed to find interesting or at least acceptable enough that she didn't excuse herself and run for the exit.
          He'd been sitting and watching her stroll around purely for the delight of watching her move as she continued her ever-so-subtle interrogation.
          Finally he asked, “When did you decide to give up dance and go into intelligence work?”
          She turned with a look that said he'd caught her somehow, and he realized she must have been feeling a bit guilty over trying to gather information on him for the Head while he was being an attentive and polite date.
          Kris decided he deserved better than he'd been treated and gave him some honesty as well as seeing if she could prompt him into being a bit more forward with her.
          “I gave it up when these made it impractical,” she told him with a smile as she took her ample chest in her hands, “simply because it hurt. I refused to have reduction surgery because... well...” She stopped because she wasn't sure if she wanted to admit out loud to Quinn that she was vain enough over how she looked to not want to change it, and she truly was afraid of the idea of having scars if the recovery didn't go well, so she finished by saying, “...but I still enjoy practicing as part of my daily regimen.”
          He'd been waiting for some signal on her part that she was ready to move past the mating dance they'd been performing and move on to more intimate activities. Grabbing her own chest certainly qualified in his experience.
          “The dance world's loss is clearly my gain,” he replied as he took her hint, rose and moved towards her.
          She was surprised that she was genuinely anxious with Quinn. She was a Fleming graduate and had passed all her STDI courses (and enjoyed them thoroughly), so she was far from inexperienced, but here she was trying to use those skills on a person who was going to be the instructor of the courses.
          How many women had he had? A hundred? Two hundred? A thousand? For the first time in her life, Kris wondered if she would measure up.
          She couldn't possibly be expected to know that it was basically impossible to disappoint Quinn.
          Since he'd been Quickened, he had become the perfect feedback machine in bed. He derived nine-tenths of his own pleasure from the pleasure of his partner. When he felt it was needed, he'd simply use his Talent to read their nervous system much like an electronic engineer might diagnose the troubles with an electrical circuit that wasn't working properly and then fix it. It was impossible not to feel pleasure when your partner could basically reach into your brain and trip your pleasure switch without you being aware he was even there. And so long as they enjoyed, he enjoyed.
          As he gathered her into his arms, he smiled easily down at her and said quite unexpectedly, “May I ask a favor? Are you off duty now?”
          Kris was afraid he'd caught onto her earlier, but honestly she hadn't wanted to risk his being upset over his being her “assignment” by admitting it if he hadn't already figured it out. She liked Quinn. She was incredibly attracted to him so she hadn't wanted to take the chance of ruining what she was hoping would happen.
          Quinn was of a similar mind, but he'd spent the time since they'd arrived at his cottage to make certain she was not just here out of duty to the school. That he wasn't egotistic didn't mean he didn't have an ego.
          She relaxed and actually leaned into him, laying the side of her face on his chest as she returned his embrace before saying, “Thank god, yes... I'm off duty. No reason to continue now. I'd have much preferred the Head simply ask me how my date went rather than her making it an assignment and almost ruining our evening over it.” She looked up at him and he could see the relief in her face at not needing to keep secrets any longer. If anything, it made her more beautiful. “And thank you for not being upset.”
          “I understand,” he reassured her, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms. She was a delightful arm-full and smelled heavenly. She wore some scent that wasn't one of the typical fashion house perfumes but reminded him of her being from someplace far more exotic. “I'd have been surprised if the Head hadn't tried something of that nature. But maybe you could help me out on something.”
          She too was enjoying being close to Quinn, finding herself smiling over the way his chest rumbled when he spoke when her ear was pressed against him.
          “How can I help?”
          This was one of those moments Quinn enjoyed because he knew it would help support his presence here and let him show off a bit, too. Quinn was still entirely too human in some regards not to take advantage given the chance.
          “I find I'm torn trying to decide what to do about all the surveillance devices in the cottage. Are they intended as a test to see if I'd find them and remove them, or will she just order new devices installed while I'm in class because she genuinely wants to listen in on my private life?”
          She smiled at knowing their illustrious headmistress had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar but didn't look up at him, enjoying just being held this way. The Head had made it clear she doubted Quinn could be as good as he seemed to think he was and had used Kris as part of her effort to prove it. That he'd proven her wrong actually tickled Kris somewhat.
          “Whatever you prefer,” she told him. “I don't mind if she wants to watch if you don't.”
          “Oh?” he asked. “And is there going to be something to watch?”
          She looked up at him and though she'd heard the smile in his voice, seeing him told her he was actually giving her a way to bow out gracefully since he'd gotten her off the hook with their boss.
          “I'd be terribly hurt if there wasn't,” she admitted.
          “And I'd have been terribly disappointed as well,” he told her candidly.
          Unwilling to keep up their stalling any longer, Kris reached up and pulled his head down so she could kiss him as she'd been wanting to do for a couple of hours now.
          Kris could tell immediately Quinn was perfectly suited to teaching STDI, or at least had the “ST” portion down because he knew just how she liked to be kissed. He clearly enjoyed kissing just for the sake of the act. She could always feel when the man was kissing simply as a preliminary to get the woman ready for sex. Quinn seemed to understand that it was part of sex... just a part that didn't involve genitals. It was also the best guide to how a partner was going to behave in bed.
          Their lips and tongues explored each other for several minutes, and to her surprise Kris found herself the one who was growing impatient to move into the bedroom... or onto the couch... or perhaps the floor if things kept going as they were. Kris enjoyed sex greatly, and it had been a while since she'd had a man she was so attracted to. That they were mutually aware of their professions and with no need to hide it, it gave her a freedom she enjoyed. She liked to laugh in bed and sharing professional jokes was an easy way to get a chuckle at an opportune moment.
          It seemed Quinn preferred the bed as he lifted her and carried her into his bedroom as they kissed. He even got her through the doorway without whacking her head as was so easy to do (as thousands of newlyweds the world over discovered, thereby getting their honeymoons off to a rocky start).
          As he deposited her on the bed, she began to work on the buttons of his silk shirt, but when he moved to begin unwinding her lovely saree she stopped him.
          “No,” she asked him. “Leave it... please.”
          He was a bit surprised. She hadn't struck him as the body conscious type.
          “I'd hate to ruin such a lovely dress,” he told her honestly. “It becomes you.”
          She gave him a look that told him she had no such worries.
          “Indulge me,” she requested.
          There were two reasons behind her request. The first was she had spent extra time and effort in how she had draped and wrapped her saree so it wasn't dependent on undergarments to stay on. It was something of a trick to manage since the silk of this particular saree was slightly slick and wanted to slide, but she'd gone back to a style of wrap that was meant to be worn this way. She knew it showed her off in a manner that more conservative wraps couldn't achieve since there was nothing between her and the fabric, making it fit to her shape better.
          The other reason was Kris loved the sensation of silk against skin. It reminded her of when she'd danced and the joy she felt. Sex was very much the same kind of experience for her, being a physical expression of an emotional state that couldn't be expressed any other way.
          That she'd chosen this particular saree told something of her personal psychology. It was her favorite. It was her favorite because she knew it looked so good on her. It felt good on her. It moved well when she moved. And it had indeed cost her over a month's salary. The reason she'd spent so much was because it was the perfect combination of visual effect for her partner and sensual delight for herself. That she was willing to risk ruining it by making love in it was much like Quinn being willing to ruin his beloved 1935 Jaguar under similar circumstances.
          It was a loud, unashamed declaration that they felt it was worth it. In cruder terms than Kris would have used, she was in essence saying, “Fuck the dress. I want you now.”
          Quinn was honestly conflicted. He was happy to give in to most requests in the bedroom, but Quinn loved skin. Well, skin and hair. (The kind on one's head. He preferred his partners at least groomed if not bare below the waist.) Asking him to give up skin contact was a fairly huge concession on his part.
          But what made his partner happy made Quinn happy, so he decided to go with it and fell back on a catch phrase he'd been known to steal on occasion...
          “As you wish,” he replied.
          These seemed to be the magic words for Kris because she had Quinn's shirt unbuttoned and his pants off, clearly impatient now. She was more than willing to demonstrate her appreciation in physical terms because she was leaning off the edge of the bed with Quinn standing beside it, her fingers getting to know what was going to be the primary teaching aid in his STDI courses.
          His reaction was gratifying in how quickly he was stiff. If Kris had any doubt of their attraction being mutual, the iron-hard erection he was sporting dispelled it.
          Without a word, she slid forward a couple of extra inches so she could see if he tasted as good as he looked and felt.
          Quinn was constantly surprised at how quickly some women moved from kissing to fellatio. It did make a kind of sense in that they were both intimate activities involving the mouth, but as a man he seldom seem to feel the immediate need to dive between a woman's thighs as soon as the kissing stopped. It wasn't that he wouldn't like to but it always seemed to feel rushed.
          Well, what's good for the goose...
          Just as she was starting to move from kissing and licking to actually taking the crown in her lips, he lifted her face by a hand under her chin, making her wonder what was wrong.
          He leaned down and gave her another kiss than reassured her nothing whatever was wrong, but as he broke the kiss, he asked, “Mind if I join you?”
          It took her a second to get his meaning. Wasn't he already involved in what was happening? Then she realized what he meant and it was her turn to be a bit surprised by how rapidly her partner was willing to get oral with her.
          With a smile she scooted to the side a bit.
          “Top or bottom? Lady's choice,” he offered.
          “Ooh, decisions, decisions...” she mused. “Side-by-side?”
          “How egalitarian of you,” he quipped with a wicked grin.
          Actually, it was a simple matter of knowing it put them on even terms concerning whose neck would have to do most of the work. Besides, when she was on the bottom she found herself wanting to give up control and let herself be irrumated... “face-fucked” in urban language. It was exciting under the right circumstances (a rare combination yet she could see it happening with Quinn) but premature at the moment as she liked to be much more excited for that to work well for her.
          Then she wasn't thinking of technique or much of anything else but trying to give as well as she got because Quinn clearly wasn't squeamish about oral. The moment she lifted her top knee to give him free access, he went happily to work.
          He'd been concerned her saree might interfere with their activities, but honestly his open shirt was more trouble than her dress. It was also quickly clear why Kris didn't mind silk getting between their bodies as it was almost as pleasant to feel her through the fine garment as it might be to touch her bare skin.
          His hand worked its way under the bottom hem of her saree, trying to slide it up enough to give him room and he was pleased at how the silk moved aside without fighting him. He'd expected it to be a bit like unwrapping a mummy and to his delight it was as if it wanted to cooperate by slipping aside without a fight.
          (Purely as a side note, Quinn couldn't help but notice that he was correct in his earlier assumption about Kris tanning as she displayed clear bikini tan lines around her hips, her skin still naturally darker than his but not as deep as she liked to appear. Not only was she perfectly smooth of any sign of hair but clearly she enjoyed showing off her Indian heritage and accented it by taking in some sun when the opportunity presented itself. He also thought he'd love to see her in her bikini as she'd be an absolute feast for the eyes.)
          The moment she felt his tongue stroke her lower lips, she knew she was going to enjoy herself.  She was always a bit hesitant since cunnilingus could be so disappointing when performed out of some sense of “Well, if I have to...” Quinn had no such thoughts and it showed in his chuckle at the first welcoming moan of pleasure she gave around him.
          God, I love the women in this universe...
          Kris clearly approved of what he was doing, loving the feeling of his lips as they nipped at the hood of her clitoris and she responded by swallowing the first half of Quinn's delightful cock.
          As she ran her lips down, her tongue caressed the head of him, swirling around him as she enjoyed the feeling of him. This was another reminder to her that she was sharing a bed with a man who wasn't Indian. Most Indian men she'd known would have been concerned and possibly embarrassed over being circumcised since so many considered it a kind of “mutilation” (except for those who followed Islam, and she'd only known one Indian man from her past that she was certain followed the Quran), but it was obvious Quinn didn't think anything about it. She was never squeamish over men who were natural, but she had to admit the lack of “flavor” to him was nothing to complain about. In fact, she thought he was perfect in this way... he was just short of being daunting, giving her plenty to work her wiles on but without being so big to give her troubles. She gave another pleased moan at the sensation of him slipping along her tongue and pressing against the top of her mouth as he neared the back of her mouth, and she imagined what it would taste like when he came like this, making her even more excited at the thought. (It wasn't the cum that excited her but the thought that he was so crazy he couldn't hold out any longer that did it for her. The semen was purely secondary, evidence of a job well done.)
          At that moment, Quinn was thinking her wiles were pretty damned good because she was tossing her head, rotating as she took him down, moaning happily and not hiding the fact that she was enjoying herself more than she had in a long time.
          Quinn decided he wanted to see how she was doing and he slid a hand up the outside of her upper thigh to her hip, raising her saree so he could rest his hand on her wonderfully rounded ass.  This gave him plenty of skin contact for reading her nervous system. Effortlessly, his perception slid down her nerves to where her pleasure center was located, having no trouble finding it because it was pulsing with a deep, steady throb that gave the impression of both physical warmth and strong emotion. There weren't any of the sudden little drops in pleasure that so often indicated something being amiss that was distracting his partner, and now that her pink pearl of a clit was peaking out from under its cover enough, he put his lips over it and gave a gentle bit of suction. As he did, he also reached behind to cup the cheek of her round ass, letting his middle finger play around her snug anus a moment before applying a bit of pressure and slipping it inside.
          The result was far more than he'd anticipated. Her pleasure nexus light up like a Christmas tree and she gave a muffled squeal of delight as she shook, actually having the first of what were to be many orgasms that night.
          Suddenly, Kris turned from sensual and patient to sexual and demanding.
          The next thing Quinn knew, she had them both off the bed, pushing him back against the wall by the door to the bedroom, holding him there with one hand on his firm abs as she used the other to cradle his scrotum as she knelt there and did her best to swallow him, her head bobbing fast and strong, her clinging lips caressing every contour of him, her cheeks caved in deeply in suction as she gave every sign of wanting him to cum in her mouth now!
          Never able to stay passive long, Quinn did what was natural to him and slid his hands into her thick, dark hair, encouraging her with deep feline sounds of pleasure. He clenched one hand as the other urged her forward, far from objecting to her avid cocksucking. She was driving him deep enough that her mouth was producing too much spit and he looked down at her as one thin, viscous strand escaped the corner of her lips and trailed down her chin to drop onto the upper slope of her silk-covered breast.
          The saliva triggered another natural reaction in him by drawing his attention to her magnificent chest. He let one hand drop from her glorious locks down so he could caress the breast which was now decorated with its dark wet spot, and he felt her nipple tighten even more beneath its silken hideaway in response.
          Kris gave another impassioned moan and kept sucking demandingly, this time leaning in with her chest to push it more firmly into his hand. The feeling of his hand through the silk over her hard nipple and breast felt incredible, and she wanted him to keep it up.
          It shouldn't have surprised Quinn any longer. It was the kind of reaction he'd grown almost to expect. So many women who were strong and independent seemed to harbor a dark, repressed fantasy to be dominated, and mauling their chest seemed to be very popular once they were excited.
          It seemed it was the kind of fantasy that often didn't surface until Quinn was around.
          But he knew Kris wasn't some cartoon Submissive Sally. She wouldn't just go limp to make him assume a dominant role. No, she needed more substance to her fantasy than that. In her case, he'd have to take control, not be given it. The way she was sucking him down deeper and holding him against the wall with much of her weight meant she wanted a challenge. She knew Quinn was no milksop. He was a strong-willed, virile male with all the tools he needed to turn the tables on her and a secret wish for him to do just that.
          And if I'm not right, she can always say 'No'. Well, not with her mouth full like that.
          He hated to interrupt her because quite honestly Kris had an incredible mouth. With her in control, she was able to use all the skills she'd acquired to make things amazing for her partner. She clearly didn't have much of a gag reflex any more because she had him hitting the back of her throat almost every stroke, her tongue, cheeks and lips all working in perfect concert to put all the pleasure she could into the act, her free hand cradling his testicles and urging him on through gentle squeezes, taking plenty of joy from showing off just how fabulous a fellatrix she was.
          But Quinn knew she was hoping for something more than just being able to show off for him.
          Oh, she wouldn't object if he lost control and filled her mouth with his cum. She'd undoubtedly take it as the compliment it was to her talents.
          But she was also here at the request of the Head, even if she was “off duty”. He'd bragged about how he was qualified to teach a room full of lustful young ladies the finer points of sex and how to use such points to their best advantage. Simply letting Kris push him over the edge without giving her a thorough demonstration of his skills would not lead to her giving the glowing report he wanted her to pass on to the real woman who would be evaluating him, namely the Headmistress.
          Just to be certain she was ready, he tested the waters by giving the breast in his right hand a firmer squeeze. It was large enough that he could only fit half of it in his grasp, but he grabbed as much as his fingers could hold and clutched strongly to gauge her response. It wasn't enough to be painful, but it was forceful.
          In response, her fingers tightened ever-so-slightly on his scrotum in time to the heavy moan she gave around her mouthful of hard Quinn.
          Having figured this was likely to be her reply, he took a more firm hold in her lush hair, gathering a handful into his fingers to insure a solid grip, and he started to pull her down onto his cock more forcefully while his other hand stopped exploring and began to simply grope her, using enough pressure that he didn't think he'd leave bruises but it might be a near thing. He wanted to give her a touch of pain but not so much she'd retreat.
          Sure enough, Kris gave a surprised exclamation that was heavily muffled by the length of aggressively male cock he was feeding her, and her hand left his balls and went to his hip, almost as if to stop him from going too far. On the other hand, her breathing caught and her fingers clenched on his abs, her fingernails involuntarily trying to find purchase like a cat that was losing its balance.
          The one thing she didn't do was push him away as if she wanted him to stop.
          I'll take that as confirmation...
          He pushed out from the wall and held her in place, putting her off balance as even on her knees like this she could only lean back so far before passing her center of gravity, but he used his handholds to keep her from toppling back, and her hands went to his hips and clung out of pure instinct against falling.
          Now that he had her in the proper posture, it was a simple matter of shifting around so he was standing above her head with her leaning back.
          He kept one hand behind her neck to let her know she wouldn't fall as long as he held onto her.  Then he positioned himself so that he could hold her in a back-bend of about forty-five degrees and feed her his cock from overhead.
          Kris was almost shocked at how easily Quinn had slipped from gentle to dominant. He'd been so polite and courteous, it almost seemed at odds with the man who was now sliding his cock down her throat as he towered over her.
          And it was amazing.
          To feed into her fantasy, he used the hand he'd been groping her breast with to grasp the top of her saree at her cleavage. Taking a good hold, he used the top of the dress to hold her in place, supporting her weight as she literally hung from it.
          Quinn had no fear of her saree ripping from this. Silk was far stronger than it felt, and he could have lifted her completely off the floor by it had the occasion required. As it was, it gave him complete control of her, one hand supporting her head and the other arm taking her weight as it gave her no place to go. She had no choice but to hang there and let him face-fuck her.
          Tears began to run from the outer corners of her eyes, but not from fear or pain. It was a simple bodily function in response to his violating her missing gag reflex like this.
          She wasn't objecting. Rather she was hanging on to his hips with both hands as she did her best to swallow every centimeter of him.
          Since she was reacting so well to the scenario so far, he decided to see how she handled a bit more demanding action on his part.
          He stoked himself slowly down her throat several times, and then he ran himself deep and held himself there. He moved the hand from behind her head to her throat, he gave her a gentle squeeze and told her, “Go ahead... swallow.”
          Unable to make a sound, she hung there in his grasp, and he felt the muscles lining her throat contract and try to pull him further down her gullet.
          Damn, but this woman has skills, he thought to himself.
          Then before he could withdraw and give her a chance to breathe, she did it again.
          Suddenly, he felt her begin to shake, and her fingernails bit into the skin over his hip bones.
          Realizing she was in the midst of a climax, he pulled back until he felt the air move past the wet crown of his cock as she pulled air through her nose.
          “NGGGGGGGGGG!” she cried out, unable to do any more with her mouth filled with his equipment, and she shook heavily as her orgasm surged through her. That he could make her come without even touching her thrilled her and scared her at the same time.
          She grabbed a couple of quick breaths and Quinn thought he felt her nod her head slightly. It might have been that, or it might have been an attempt to get him in a better position. Considering the results he was getting, it didn't matter.
          Whichever it was, he used his grip on her saree to pull her towards himself as he pushed forward and slid down her throat yet again, his testicles bumping her face on every stroke.
          Kris bucked and her hands grabbed harder as her climax refreshed, and he felt her throat squeeze him again as she swallowed around him.
          In spite of the temptation to simply relax and let her have a full load of semen to swallow, he had no intention of letting her think things might be over that soon, and more control would lend credence to his reputation.
          Instead, he pulled her back off his hard prick and held her there a moment to let her finish her climax and catch her breath. The gorgeous Indian woman whimpered sensually and bit her bottom lip, here eyes closed, tears still seeping from the outer corners and leaving dark trails from her eye makeup.
          Before she thought her legs could support her, he was lifting her by her saree, and the next thing she knew she was the one pinned to the wall by the bedroom door, feet off the floor, Quinn holding her suspended with a hand around the outside of each of her shapely brown thighs.
          She instinctively wrapped both legs around his hips, the silk of her dress bunched up around her waist. This left her in the perfect position and Quinn didn't even hesitate for more than a moment as he let her down slightly while he pushed forward, and she felt herself impaled on the hard cock that had been thrilling her throat moments before.
          Had he been playing things differently, Quinn would have naturally taken plenty of time, teasing her along so that she was almost leaping at his touch before he penetrated her, but with her already having come several times and her avid response to his display of dominance so far, he wasn't about to change now.
          The next thing she knew was the impact of his hips as he thrust forward hard. She gave an involuntary cry as both arms went around his neck and she clung to him. His angle was incredible, the head of his cock rubbing firmly across her g-spot and the tension on her clitoris tugging insistently with each thrust.
          For Quinn, the feeling of her swaddled in her silk, her marvelous chest mashed against his as he drove into her was bloody amazing. He was afraid he might hurt her she was so tight around him, but he peeked into her nervous system to check on her and found that the cry she gave each time he thrust deep inside her was the only thing she could manage at the moment because she was being driven towards her next climax so quickly.
          He felt the muscles lining her incredible pussy relax the slightest bit, and he realized she was working to keep herself squeezing him that way.
          Gods, what a magnificent woman...
          Once he knew she was able to relax if she wanted to, Quinn decided it was time to show off.
          He doubled the speed of his hips and did his best to rattle her to her core.
          Kris couldn't even tell him what she was feeling because she'd lost the ability to speak the moment he'd filled her up. She'd had men who were strong and others who were well-hung and still others who were just plain good in bed. Quinn was the first she'd ever discovered who was all of them and also knew how to dominate her without hurting her.
          So many men thought that dominance meant inflicting pain on their partner.
          Case in point: a bit over a year ago, she'd had a date she misjudged, inviting him home with her.
          They were doing fine until the rough play started. Kris had gone along hoping he was able to walk the line without going too far, but then he began to choke her, slapping her with his other hand, calling her racial slurs as he did.
          Kris was a trained operative and he was not. Just because she was an expert in computers didn't mean she wasn't physically capable. She was just glad he hadn't scared her badly of she might have killed the idiot before she could stop herself. As it was, the evening had ended abruptly when she broke his wrist and then stomped his testicles when he hit the floor.
          But Quinn knew how to walk the line. She wished she could tell him so but it would likely just ruin the moment. In fact, if he were doing any better she'd have passed out by now. He'd have to interpret her gasps and cries without her help. He was an intelligent man. He'd figure it out.
          Then she felt a sensation that she hadn't felt too often in her life, at least not with a partner who was responsible. There was a tightness building down in the neighborhood of her urethra but she knew that it wasn't a need to visit the bathroom. She'd learned she was capable of squirting some years ago when she was a student taking STDI herself, and since then she'd discovered she could often manage when she was by herself using one of her favorite toys to help when she was feeling the lack of male companionship most keenly.
          In her life, she'd ejaculated exactly twice with a partner.
          From the feel of things, the count was about to go up.
          Sure enough, she felt her next climax swelling much bigger than the ones earlier, and she opened her mouth and began to cry out as it arrived, Quinn driving up into her hard and fast like some kind of sexual machine designed for the sole purpose of making her come this hard.
          Kris wished she could shout out some earthy obscenity to indicate how she felt. Actually, she wished she could form words of any kind but her mind and body were both hijacked by the freight train orgasm that was shaking her.
          As she shouted, he felt her thrash and buck in his grasp, then liquid gushed around him where he held her pinioned on his cock.
          That's three, noted some tiny spark of intelligence within her that managed to hang on.
          The little spark was also smart enough to believe it wasn't over.
          She clung to him, arms and legs firmly around him, hanging on for dear life as she shook and tried not to pass out. She didn't even realize he'd stopped fucking her until she felt him deposit her on the bed.
          Quinn waited until she could relax enough to release him, and she thought she'd simply been distracted and missed his orgasm. She was glad thinking they had managed to both come at the same time. She only hoped he'd enjoyed himself a fraction of what she'd experienced.
          But then he was picking her up and placing her on all fours on the bed facing away from him.
          Kris was still a bit befuddled, trying to figure out what he was thinking. She was spent, and she was certain he must be as well. It hadn't been the longest sex she'd ever had, but it was the most spectacular.
          Then she felt him kneel behind her and push her saree up around her waist again.
          No. He couldn't be.
          Then he pushed forward and she gave a cry of surprise when he did, shocked to find he was still hard. She'd naturally thought he was joking about priapism.
          The stiff rod that was almost knocking at the door of her uterus said otherwise.
          When he grabbed her thick hair and pulled back she almost came again. Then she felt the silk of her saree that was draped over her shoulder and down her back pull tight with his other hand and constrict her chest some as he began to use it for purchase as well.
          That did it. He wasn't even in motion before she gave a sob of uncontrolled emotion and shook heavily, head pulled back so she couldn't bury her face in the mattress as she would have done naturally to quiet herself, so Quinn was treated to her full vocal reply to the incredible climax that rose up to slap her. She shook in bursts, giving a louder cry whenever she did, eyes shut tight, lovely lips open as she was stripped down to her most primal and panted out as she reveled in being fucked this way.
          Quinn felt her clenching around him, the well-trained muscles of her slick hot canal milking him as they tried to make him come along with her. The feel of her wet, round ass against him was absolutely perfect, buried in her this way, loving the sounds of ecstasy she was making and looking down at the magnificent woman he was pleasing as he enjoyed himself immensely.
          Then he pulled back a bit harder and began to move, the sound of his hips as they met her moist ass adding to the sexual atmosphere filling the room, the smack of their bodies coming together shaking her rhythmically, sending a little wave of impact through her.
          Kris wasn't thinking any more. She was simply along for the ride, her body reacting without direction, the feeling of his hard cock sending shocks of pleasure through her with each push, the way he pulled her back onto his erection, molding her to his will, taking what pleasure he liked and making her soar as he did.
          And then she felt herself gush against him yet again, her ejaculate running freely down both the back of her thighs and the front of his legs where they pressed against her.
          Quinn suppressed a chuckle of appreciation. She was the kind of woman that he dreamed about, unbridled in her joy of sex and giving him unbelievable pleasure in her enjoyment, the sounds of unfiltered lust telling him of every little peak to her bliss.
          She'd have been begging him to stop so she could catch her breath by now, to let her relax just a moment but he had no intention of letting her off the hook yet, and Kris couldn't form the words even if he'd been inclined to let up. All she could do was try to hold on as he taught her what it felt like to become his personal fuck toy.
          Her muscles were trembling all over and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold herself up much longer as her climaxes crowded close on each other, her hands and feet a mass of pins and needles from her hyperventilating this way.
          As she felt one particularly heavy surge in her ecstasy, he let her go, letting her collapse forward, going flat on the bed in a panting mass. She was breathing like a bellows, her eyes closed, her mouth open and slack, shuddering occasionally at the aftershocks of what she'd been through.
          Then she felt him dribbling something cool and slick down the crevice of her round derriere, and he began to run the fingers of his hand along the crack he'd just made slick. She didn't think he could possibly intend what he seemed to be leading up to. She simply wasn't up to it, not after what they'd just done.
          But after massaging a couple of moments, he began to probe with the tip of his middle finger, slipping inside the pucker of her perfect little anus and she had no choice but to tremble as her body reacted. Her muscles might be begging for respite, but it was clear her libido was willing to go on if he was.
          His finger probed a bit deeper, and she felt him rotate his wrist, a flutter in her stomach and another thrill of sexual desire and pleasure chasing through her in response.
          Then she felt his begin to push a second finger along side the first. One finger was easy to take, but two felt many, many times bigger to her sensitive asshole. Kris gave a small moan that was almost pitiful in how it sounded, and she tried to decide if she had the strength to object. Even the two fingers were uncomfortable but her anus had always been very sensitive and surprisingly receptive to being used during sex... but only if she trusted her partner implicitly. She'd never considered letting a man the size of Quinn use her ass the way things seemed to be heading, but then she'd also never had sex like she'd just experienced. She knew it had nothing to do with how big Quinn was. She'd had bigger men (not anally) on several occasions but they'd all been lazy and terribly disappointing, thinking that a big cock was some kind of magic wand to make woman should come but instead leaving her frustrated.
          Quinn was big but he was incredible at finding her buttons and pushing them... repeatedly.
          When his third finger joined the first two, she gave an open-mouthed whimper and shook, not coming but the way he was stretching her sphincter making her react in pain that she couldn't bring herself to stop. He rotated his wrist some more as he slid his digits deeper, trying to get her ready.
          She'd reacted far too well earlier when he'd simply slipped the tip of one finger in her ass for him to ignore what was almost certainly going to be a spectacular way to end the evening.
          Besides, the Head was likely listening in and he wanted to give her an ear-full.
          He had Kris giving a kind of combined moan that bordered on a sob and she was trembling all over.
          Quinn gently withdrew his fingers from her and her anus slowly began to draw back instead of tightening down right away, showing him she was as ready as she was likely to get.
          Wiping his hand off on the coverlet, he took her legs and bending them at the knee, folded them forward and under her, Kris feeling like some puppet that had lost its puppeteer, a kind of pose-able sexual doll.
          She still didn't move to look at him. She was close to having another climax and she'd almost cried when he'd stopped short in spite of the pain. When he'd moved her, it had let her gain a tiny bit of control though she was still unable to speak or at least unwilling to try, whichever the case might be.
          He took the back of her saree with one hand, using it to control her. He'd thought of taking both her hands and pulling them behind her back, then wrapping the drape of her saree around them to hold them there, binding her so she was unable to escape, but she hadn't continued to struggle. There wasn't any reason to go so far other than to say, “See? I can do this to you and you can't do anything about it.”
          Quinn didn't have that need as his ego didn't need that kind of building up.
          He got up higher than her on one knee, the other foot on the bed to give him balance, and he positioned the head of his erection at the slowly-closing ring of her anus.
          As he pushed forward enough to stop her rear entrance from closing any more, she gave a loud whimper and reached back with her left hand, waving it around blindly in an effort to find him.
          He reached out and took her questing hand in his free one.
          Her fingers clutched in desperation at his, and as she got a reassuring hold on his hand, she gave his hand a slight shake.
          Go ahead.
          With steady downward pressure, he pushed more firmly and her snug sphincter slowly opened further to let him in.
          As he reached the tightest point where the flaring head of his cock was fighting to make its way the last few millimeters past her constriction, Kris's mouth opened and she took a shuddering breath but otherwise didn't utter a sound. He felt the muscles in her abdomen tremble a couple of times and then she let out her breath... and he slipped in without any more trouble.
          The second he did, she gave a cry that started as nothing but quickly swelled in an emotional crescendo, peaking and tapering off but her fingers gripped his hard, her other hand grasping hold of the coverlet with white knuckles, and she convulsed as she was shaken with the suddenness of the orgasm that hit her. The entire bed shook with her, and Quinn was surprised when the lovely backside he was violating pushed back at him, driving him deeper.
          She let loose a sob, but it wasn't the kind of sound that made him worry if he'd hurt her. She was in the midst of a climax and Quinn's only concern was if she was wanting him to hold still or go ahead and fuck her luscious ass.
          Her hand pulled at his, giving him his answer.
          Grasping the back of her saree firmly, he pulled her back as he shifted his weight forward and his cock slid gradually inside her until all twenty-five centimeters were buried in her slick, molten core.
          The trembling within her continued as her pleasure rolled on, the pain of his tool stretching her out this way driving her higher as her mind took all that pain and used it to fuel her orgasm further.
          And then he began to move, pulling back several inches before shifting directions and driving himself back inside her abused anus as she gasped and trembled.
          It only took him about ten strokes before she keened out and flopped heavily as Quinn felt droplets hit the leg he was kneeling on, realizing Kris had squirted yet again, ejaculate splashing on the covers and her own feet where they were tucked beneath her.
          At that point, he decided he could actually go ahead and really fuck her ass.
          His hips started moving faster and her voice began to climb as if he were building up pressure in a steam kettle.
          Kris had never come like she was. Ever. She'd orgasmed during anal before but this was like something entirely new. It was like she'd been electrified but her sexual circuits were trying to handle more current than they were designed for.
          Her cry rose in a long, sustained note until she ran entirely out of breath, but she still tried to keep going, just tiny squeaks coming out in time to Quinn's driving hips.
          Then the hand that gripped him let go and she tried to wave at him in a feeble attempt to call a halt as if crying “No more!”
          Quinn had been holding down his own climax since she'd had him pinned to the wall almost thirty minutes ago. He'd needed to because everything Kris did made him want to let go and shoot his load inside her. She was one of the sexiest women he'd ever known, and one of the most exotic.
          All he did was relax the nerve block he'd put in place and his prostate went into action, blasting the gorgeous Indian woman in the ass with a huge burst of semen.
          She could feel the way the cock deep in her ass bucked and the swelling sensation caused by his seed filling her. It was only the fact that her climax had nowhere to go that prevented her from peaking once again. Even her Skene's were empty from having just fired their contents seconds before, but that didn't mean they didn't try, causing a strange ache she'd not felt before.
          Quinn held himself there, buried to the hilt in her, holding her there by her saree, the tension trying to compress her breasts by trying to mash them flat. Then when he was entirely spent, he released his hold and pulled back, his equipment making sticky wet sounds from the lube he'd applied to her earlier as he withdrew himself from her overused anus.
          Her orgasm had finally begun to taper off, and as he left his very snug haven, she gave a little “aah!” exclamation, whether from pain, pleasure, relief or disappointment neither of them could be certain.
          She lay there shuddering spasmodically, and as she didn't show any indication of moving, Quinn made a long arm and snagged a towel from the cabinet under his end table, laying it gently over her exposed ass but careful not to rub it against her poor sphincter. Then he lay down and very slowly and carefully pulled her over onto her side so he could cradle her.
          Kris came back to herself much quicker than some women he'd known, probably because she was in such excellent physical shape. He was enjoying how she felt, and she pulled his arms around her and placed his hands on her chest. Her saree still didn't allow his fingers the pleasure of touching her skin but she wasn't trying to get him ready for another round. She didn't think she'd be able to come again for quite some time, feeling like her climax trigger had been worn out for the moment, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate strong arms and warm hands on her.
          He gave an appreciative chuckle as his hands cupped and gave her a small squeeze. It was just enough to tell her he couldn't keep his hands off her even though they'd just finished, and that was always a compliment to a woman, saying that even after the sex was done they were still desirable.
          But as much as she wished she could stay there, she knew she needed to run to the bath and take care of some much needed hygiene issues.
          With a moan of disappointment (and a degree of discomfort) she slid from his embrace, telling him she would return by kissing her fingertips and touching them to his lips with a sultry smile, then slithered off to the water closet and closed the door.
          “Thank god,” she moaned as she settled herself on the bidet with minimal pain. It was actually surprising she was able to walk at all at the moment. She hadn't been that thoroughly fucked in... well... truthfully she'd never been so thoroughly fucked if she was honest about it. She'd had longer sessions of sex before but if he'd kept it up any longer, she'd have been crippled for days, so it was well he didn't.
          She winced in anticipation of the water on her chafed membranes, but the pain she expected as she washed off was far less than she'd experienced in past sessions where she'd let her partner “go there”. It made no sense. Quinn's was undoubtedly the largest cock she'd ever taken in the ass, and though she knew size didn't make sex any better, she also knew it didn't make it easier on a female and he had been far from easy on her. Still, she felt remarkably little discomfort. She could tell she'd been well and thoroughly fucked by both orifices, but she didn't feel any of the little spots where the tender membranes lining them had been torn, and that was unheard of. It was the price she knew she'd pay for having intense, gut-wrenching orgasm sex. Why she didn't this time was baffling.
          Washed inside and out, she dried off and examined herself in the mirror.
          Oh, dear...
          Her makeup was a mess, dark streaks marking the tracks made by her watering eyes, her lipstick largely missing from her mouth but wiped well up onto her face on her cheek, probably transferred by his cock.
          But her favorite saree was the real loser. She had a number of spots marking the upper slope of her chest, a couple of them dark enough to have been caused by her running makeup. There were several other stains scattered about, and there was a very wet stain right over her crotch. When she checked the back there was an even worse one behind as it ran from the top of her ass all the way down almost to her knees, clearly advertising exactly what she'd been doing to get in that condition. 
          Considering there was no cleaner in the world who could repair such damage (and certainly none in the area discreet enough not to broadcast the reason for the stains on the professor's attire), she was rather wistful about losing such a fabulous dress, but she had to admit the sex had certainly made up for it. Besides, she was the one who had asked him to leave it, so she had no one to blame but herself. Her reputation wasn't the best in the town as it was, but if she turned such evidence over to a cleaner in an ill-fated attempt to save the saree, she'd certainly be branded the biggest slut within a hundred kilometers of Oxford. Considering London was in that area, that said a great deal.
          Dear god! I can't walk home in this without some local seeing me even at this time of night. I
could be wearing the biggest engagement ring anyone had seen and I'll still be “that Indian whore”.
          A quick bit of repair with a washcloth took care of the worst of her makeup mishap.
          Straightening herself up and examining herself in the mirror one last time, she walked out of the bath to find Quinn still laying patiently on the bed awaiting her return.
          Oh, well. No need to postpone the inevitable, she thought.
          With a heavy sigh, she told him, “I think it's best if I go home now. Waiting won't make me any less likely to be seen.”
          Quinn gave her a look of mild disbelief.
          “Are you truly concerned with what the neighbors think? What you choose to do in your private hours is none of their business.”
          She threw him a look of gratitude over his attempt at moral support, but she knew better.
          “This isn't a large town, but even so someone will surely see me, and in this condition I'll be unable to show my face in town for some time without causing talk.”
          Quinn looked at her and she saw something in his look she wasn't sure she could define. It was a kind of puzzlement that wasn't that he didn't understand but still seemed to be missing something.
          There was a brief flash of resentment inside Kris because she thought he felt she was being silly to be concerned over “public opinion”. A man could advertise how he slept with a different woman every night and really not suffer any public shame. If anything he'd be even more popular with other men who envied him, but a woman who had that kind of history would never get the same kind of free pass from people. If she were spotted...
          Suddenly Kris had an epiphany. Quinn wasn't puzzled at why she was concerned. He was puzzled why she wasn't being professional in her thinking. She was a trained operative, not some empty-headed puritan with intolerance where her brains should be. If she couldn't figure out a way to get home unobserved when all she needed to worry about were ordinary citizens and not armed sentries, then she should turn in her decoder ring.
          Leaning down, she put her hands on the bed and moved close enough to give him a kiss that was far from chaste but not an invitation to round two.
          When she stood, she told him with a smile, “You are not good for me.”
          He gave her a surprised look and asked, “Moi?”
          “Yes, you. I don't see anyone else in this bed.”
          He could see she wasn't upset, so he had to ask, “And just how is it I'm not good for you?”
          “You had me being emotional and not logical. I got flustered when I haven't been in a long time.” He watched her stand a bit straighter, resolution settling on her now. “I can come up with a way out of this.”
          Quinn sat up as he reached out, caught her fingers and asked, “And why is it you're planning on leaving? Do you have a hot date you haven't told me about?”
          She gave a silent laugh, her eyes smiling much more than he'd seen recently. Good, that meant she was relaxing.
          “After the hot date I just had, do you mean?” She squeezed his fingers and then brought them to her lips so she could kiss them affectionately.
          He explained, “I mean why are you leaving at all? There are no classes until Monday, so why don't you settle in and spend the night. No one need see you leave at all until Sunday night, and that gives us plenty of time to work something out.”
          Kris replied, “A woman shouldn't presume, and most men are in their clothes and out the door before the mattress has had an opportunity to cool.”
          “You're not presuming. I'd love for you to stay.”
          She looked at him with a broad expression that said she wasn't sure she should believe him.
          “Most men panic once they wake up next to the woman they've had sexually. They think the woman must be intending to move in if they aren't careful.”
          “Most men are fools in that regard,” he responded, “and most women don't look like you, either.”
          She looked at him, trying to determine how much was real. She wanted to believe that it was more than a purely physical attraction...
          Or did she? After last night, she knew how intense it was to be around him like that. He managed to walk right past all her emotional defenses and put her in a state she hadn't been in for years.
          Did she actually want anything more than an evening of incredible sex?
          As if he were reading her mind, he told her, “I'm not offering anything that would tie you down. I enjoy so much about you, but I'm not about to try to stampede you into anything after one date.
          “I'm offering whatever you need... when you need it. A safe haven for the weekend, a warm bed when you want to take advantage of it, a colleague to help you when you have need, and a good friend even when you're not sharing his bed.”
          It was a perfect offer at this point in time... a professional friends-with-benefits that wasn't utterly platonic. She only hoped he was genuine and not some possessive psycho beneath all his reassurances.
          He then put the final nail in the coffin sealing up her worries.
          “I'll be teaching Sexual Techniques to dozens of ravenous co-eds. You have nothing to worry about my being possessive.”
          Kris realized that the longer they talked, the more she was wanting to crawl back into bed with him in spite of feeling rather well-worn from earlier. He was just so bloody tempting!
          She reached a decision and stepped back from him. Raising her arms out from her body, her final question settled matters rather precisely.
          “Quinn, dear... would you please unwrap me?”

--END-- (for now)
