The Oncoming Train, Part II

"You can't be the first student who has noticed how attractive he is. He seems to have been careful so far to maintain professional boundaries [with you]." 

--Harry via email

 There were definitely pretty girls in that class of Engl 201A, girls who were twenty-years-old at the most with long, blonde hair, coming into class with big tits and a bare midriff and a slender frame. A typical man's candy, which was exactly the point. I didn't even dress like that when I was a private dancer, walking around at night dressed in next-to-nothing didn't seem like good common sense at that point in my life. But going to class, sure, why not?

I never saw the English instructor do more than smile at them--which he did with everyone, even the plainer students as well (and the men). Me? I was watching the girl, staring right at her chest, wondering how God gave her that body, and she wasn't making money with it (maybe she was!). And what on earth possessed her to show up to lecture wearing that white, tight t-shirt, surely she was planning on taking over the world--at least the world that resides on campus. Taking them down, one man at a time.

Unfortunately for the class, the women were mostly mute--besides me, of course. There didn't seem to be much extroverted female personality in that room. 

And yes, of course, the women smiled right on back.