The Lab Assistant

The Lab Assistant

by Jaz Monday

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Dr. Cooper Corbis is a molecular biologist and a professor at a large Southern university. He's clean-cut, all business, and lives for his research. He's also lost, lonely, and looking for meaning in his life--the kind of meaning only love can reveal. He just doesn't know this. Not until a new student walks into his classroom one day and steals his heart while arousing raw lust.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781257683710
Publication date: 03/13/2013
Format: NOOK Book
File size: 629 KB

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

It all began in the Spring. Specifically, it all began in my 8:30 to 9:30 AM session of MCB4404, Microbial Physiology, Spring Semester.

I suspected that I'd be in for a ride. I'd been teaching, first as an adjunct, and now finally as an assistant professor, for a long time--but not even in my unlikeliest fantasies would I have predicted what would happen this semester.

I've had my share of students. This particular student seemed the same as a lot of others. Not the same as most, but the same as a lot. I thought I knew her type. These students came early and stayed late. They'd complain and argue about grades, down to the last derisory point. They'd demand extra credit. They'd offer their free time. They'd strike up lengthy conversations on topics that I couldn't have cared less about, but which, for some reason, they assumed would endear them to me, and strike that special bond that would, in their minds, ensure a more favorable grade.

But that's not quite how it went this time.

Not with Sonia Simmons.

Not even close.

* * * *

On the first day of the semester, she came into my classroom early. There was nothing spectacular about this. But whereas most of the other students came in early, dropped off their backpacks or purses or notebooks to stake claim to a chair, and only then disappeared back out into the hall or even father afoot to smoke, drink, or socialize, she came in and stayed in. Forty minutes early. She came in and found a chair in the first row of desks, directly in front of my lectern. This was an upper level course, not something the casual student would even know about, let aloneelect to register for. Even still, forty minutes early was a sign of something different, something new.

She smiled at me as she set her nylon backpack down on the table. She was stunning. Her skin was a warm, golden ebony; her hair was jet black, permed straight, and then braided into two long pigtails that fell behind her ears and over her shoulders. Her eyes were brilliant white saucers framing airy green retinas that flickered in the light like pearls. She pursed her lips as she smiled--wet, and glossy. She was porn. Nothing but.

"Good morning, Dr. Corbis."

"And a good morning to you, too," I managed. I paused for a heartbeat, my mouth open.

"Sonia." She smiled again.

"Sonia," I repeated, and I smiled, too.

She wore a bright pink tank top with a glimmering white heart emblazoned on the front, and baggy, comfortable gray sweatpants--de rigueur college-wear for early-morning classes. But whereas the soft, gray fabric fell away loosely across her legs and in the delicate triangle of her crotch, it was stretched taut and firm against the two incredible globes of her young ass. They were large and round, almost perfect spheres, pressed together in an idyllic, upside-down heart shape that tapered up and flowed imperceptibly into her thin torso.

The cheeks of her ass jiggled slightly as she sat herself down on the tabletop, her feet planted on her chair. Her side faced me, and the contours of her ass held me like a siren's song. I was staring. She knew it but I didn't, yet. I didn't know anything except the soft pillows of her underside.

"Dr. Corbis?" she asked.

She's not wearing any panties.

"Yes, Sonia?"

I couldn't tell for sure, but she didn't seem to be. There was no panty line. Under that thin film of fabric, I could almost make out the individual hairs on her luscious chocolaty skin. If there had been panties, I would've seen them. I would've been able to read the label, given the stretch.

"I'm excited." She seemed to pronounce the three syllables in agonizing detail. "I'm excited about this semester. I really feel as if I'm going to come into my own."

I smiled and nodded. "It's going to be a great class. I think you'll enjoy it quite a bit."

I searched the top of her beautiful ass as she sat there--studied her lower back, surveyed every inch of her. There was no little vee, no upside down triangle, no whale tail. It didn't look as if she was wearing a thong. No panty line. No thong. Just the sweats. Just the sweats and the painful beauty of her skin underneath. My heart began to race. I felt a heavy, ticklish burn in my chest. Willing myself not to lick my lips overtly, I forced myself to focus on the stack of syllabi on the lectern. I arranged them fretfully, brushing non-existent dust from the top copy, pushing on the sides to align all of the pages in the stack perfectly.

I couldn't believe I felt what I was feeling--that she was having such a manifest effect on me. What the hell am I doing? I had to focus. This was a student. A gorgeous, amazing-looking student, but a student nonetheless. And I'd only just met her, five ten minutes ago. Why was I getting so worked up?

She smiled ever more broadly. It was a casual, coy smile. Detached. But loaded. When she opened her mouth, I saw the silver glint of a stud on her tongue. Clichéd, maybe, but it was stunning.

My mind could think of nothing but the pleasure of that stud as it rubbed against the underside of my glans.

Another student walked into the classroom, strode between Sonia and me, and headed off toward a seat in the anonymity of the back of the room. Sonia eyed the student playfully as he walked, and then left her gaze on me as he passed from view. "I know I'm going to enjoy myself," she said finally.

With this, she pulled herself off the table, and turned her back to me, ensuring that the full width of her luscious ass was offered in my direction. Almost in slow motion, she leaned forward and slinked herself down into her seat. She was moving so slowly that I could feel the breathing in my chest grow labored. Her ass-cheeks spread against her sweatpants, and they separated between the globes like beautiful sections split from an orange. It was actually difficult to breathe. Heat I hadn't felt in years radiated from my core and into my arms and my legs. It burned in my thighs and in my wrists. A delicate vertigo hit me, as I forced myself to breathe.


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