A lifetime of Seasons
 

This is a private story that will be written by myself and my husband. It is for our enjoyment, however we also hope you might like it as well. :)

Her hand froze in front of the brass knocker as she reached for the large ring hanging from the lion's mouth. Her thoughts exploded with the realization of what she was about to do as she stared into the lion’s cold eyes.

"Did you really think he meant for you to just drop by?"

“ Yes," she silently whispered to the lion, not believing it herself. She could feel her pulse race and reached up to tug at the heavy winter scarf suddenly wrapped too tightly around her slender throat. Her mind raced back to last week. That day when he had smiled into her eyes and just as casually as one would comment on the weather said, "Drop by and take a look whenever you want." And with that, she had a personal invitation.

But what if he hadn't really meant it? People say things all the time they don't really mean. Like, "let's have lunch" or "call me sometime." They are polite pleasantries and both parties know that follow-up is not required.

But he had meant it. Hadn’t he? He had smiled right at her! He wasn't even looking at the rest of them. Just at her!

She glared at the lion with a renewed determination, raised the brass ring, and hit the door with three solid thuds. "Hang on!" His deep baritone voice rang out and she half turned ready to flea down the brownstone steps just before hearing the latch turn and the door swing open.

And there he stood, looking at her with a flash of confusion and then a slow smile spreading up to settle into his hazel eyes.

“Good afternoon Lily.”

That's not a story! :hair: That's not even a preview.

MORE, MORE. and hurry while this is still getting hard, thinking it's your story. :69:

It is a preview, PF.

I think the problem you're having with it is that it's not a perv-view. Give her time, it will be.

“I came to see …” Music, and a girl’s laugh stole her words. She always thought of him as living alone. Really. What was she thinking?

“Come in, come in,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she rushed. “I’m interrupting.” She looked up at him. His eyes had left her and were focused behind her, narrowed. “Maybe some other …”

“No, no.” His huge hand took hers and his other hand went behind her arm to raise her over the threshold and into his house. The Atlanta humidity had made her palm sloppy wet. “I should have offered a ride,” his voice rumbled. “This isn’t the best area.”

She looked back at the street. A man leaned against a streetlight, playing with a cell phone. He’d stared at her at the bus stop; he put the phone in his jeans and walked quickly away. What’s with that? Her professor’s arm circled her shoulders and moved her toward the stairs. Music – some pre-war singer – and a woman’s voice filtered down to them. It could have been a TV.

Prof London was one of those men who looked about average size behind the desk in seminar, but next to him … he was just huge, and in the entryway he was surprisingly close. His body, his warmth, a giddy male thing felt like he was about to envelop her. “Please. Come in.” Her bare neck felt his warm breath in her little hairs and she almost shivered, certainly not from cold.

“Stop it, Lily,” she said to herself. He’d invited her to see artifacts he’d returned with from Australia. “You’re just here to see a frigging statue,” she thought, “and get some brownie points.”

“I think he’s really good-looking,” she had told Annie. Annie had been skeptical. “Yeh, if your taste runs to old dudes that look a little geeky.”

“He’s not that old,” Lily had fired back. Annie’s eyebrow had raised. Lily led him up the stairs. She wondered how much of her he could see. At the landing she saw his living room, bright and white and modern and … three real, non-TV people, two women and a man.

The young blonde leaned into a tall, cinnamon-skinned man with short hair. He looked flustered and yanked the blonde’s hand from behind him. She giggled and didn’t look at Lily. A pale brunette, maybe Lily’s age, sprawled like a man on the sofa, arms and legs spread wide. She had large boobs, big cleavage, and an attitude. She was too comfortable and wasn’t ready to like Lily.

Lily felt out-classed. Again. She spun to face Dr. London. “I’m sorry, I came at a bad time.”

“No you didn’t,” he said, firmly. “They’re leaving soon. My nephew wanted his girlfriend to meet me.” He had Lily’s arm again and turned her toward the people. She smelled his cologne and felt his leg behind her thigh. “Meet Fred and Missy. And this lovely lady is Candy. “And,” he said to them, “this is Lily. She’s going to be my Teaching Assistant next year.”

She gasped with surprise, blood rushing to her head and face, and her head began to spin. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “My God. That’s great.” She felt dizzy. His arm gathered her in.

“Sit,” he ordered.

Lily sank into the bright white leather chair that was as soft and supple as the skin on her inner thighs. All eyes turned to stare at her and the only sound in the room came from the soft voice singing in the background. Her head spun trying to focus on what he had just said. Teaching assistant? Her? Lily felt his large hand gently push her head down towards her knees. "Breathe Lily."

"Candy, get a glass of water, “he said. An exasperated sigh and painted electric blue toes walk past her and out of the room. "What's wrong with her?" Missy asked in a voice that sounded like a dog's squeaker toy. Lily attempted to lift her head, but Professor London kept his fingers firmly in place.

A crystal glass clinking with ice and water suddenly appeared in front of Lily's nose and a husky voice dripping in Southern honey said, "Here a go sugar"

"Thank you." Lily whispered as his hand lifted from her head. She took two sips of the cool water and again tried to stand up. "I really should be going."

“ Stay." He ordered. Lily didn't care for orders, yet for some reason Prof London had a knack for getting what he wanted. Last semester had more than proved his power of persuasion, and now with this new declaration of teaching assistant, Lily was going to have to do something fast.

He turned to his nephew and the girl with the squeaky voice. "Fred, I'm glad you and Missy stopped by."

Not missing that particular look in his uncle's eye, Fred quickly snatched up Missy's hand! "Sure thing Uncle Silas. Missy and I were just on our way out."

"Nice to meet you Miss....Lily." And with that they were gone.

"Candy, weren't you on your way out, too?" The big breasted girl stood her ground for a moment giving him a clear look of defiance before bending down to slip on a pair of a cream colored Uggs that had been lying next to the sofa. "Sure thing, sugar."

She straightened up and pulled down her tight purple T-shirt exposing more cleavage than was decent. She looked at Lily and with another smile that seemed weighted with secret knowledge, opened her mouth as if to say something, but with a quick glance at Professor London turned and walked out of the room.

They were alone with only the music.

"I shouldn't have come here."

"Nonsense, I invited you."

"Look, I appreciate the offer to be your TA, but I really can't accept."

"Yes, you can and you will. You're exactly who I want."

Lily's pulse raced at that statement. It was a known fact that Prof London never gave compliments. And before Lily could respond his fingers gently gripped her forearm and turned her toward the large glass and steel staircase. He smiled at her and Lily's resolve to argue with him vanished.

"Come on, I want to show you the statue."