Post by aliceofwonder on Oct 1, 2010 6:09:06 GMT -5
This came into my head and has been hanging around for about a month. So, I thought the best way to deal with this would be to give it to your lot to enjoy... well i hope you will enjoy it.
It was first week back at uni after the mid-year break. I was sitting in the back the lecture theatre playing solitaire on my iphone. Danial, a friend of mine was sitting next to me complaining about not being able to concentrate properly on uni because he was fasting for Ramadan. My replies to his comments were mostly disinterested and detached statements like “uh huh” and “oh that must be hard”. He had had the same whinge to me on Monday in our Human Rights lecture, and right now I just couldn’t be bothered about his low blood sugar.
We, and the rest of the 100 or so students in the auditorium, were waiting for our –Globalisation and the International Political Economy- lecture to start. The lecturer was running late. I looked up at the clock, five minuted late in fact, must be new to the University. I bend my head back down and concentrated on finding a home for a pesky 6 that was blocking an ace I desperately needed. Suddenly a voice came over the speakers “Hi everyone, sorry I was late. My name is Dr Colin Moore and I will be taking you all for globalisation and IPE this semester”. It was a smooth almost lilt like Irish accent. I jerked my head up to see who its owner was, and with that nearly slid down off my seat.
There was a wonderfully attractive, tanned, brown haired, strongly build Irishman, sitting in a wheelchair in front of the class. That little bit behind my belly button gave a jerk and a tingle ran over me causing me to go bright red. Thank god I had my laptop open to hide behind! He must have come in when I had my head down, and his wheels would not have made much noise on the plush auditorium carpet.
Finally my heart stopped beating at a million miles an hour and I calmed myself down enough to pretend to take notes. In reality, I was drinking him in, inch by inch, feature by feature. His brown hair looked thick and had a wave; it was so rugged next to his tanned Celtic skin. His eyes too were dark, a kind of mottled hazel with amber flecks. As I looked into them he suddenly caught mine. Making me awkwardly look away, do some kind of stupid clear your throat cough and then resume fake note taking on laptop. I would have to watch the lecture later on lectopia, there was no way that I could possibly concentrate now.
For the rest of the two hours I kept staring back at him. Wanting him more and more by the second. Each part of him was perfect. The way his knuckles became more defined each time his hands tightened around the rims of his chair. Or the way that he shifted his weight in his chair every once and awhile, his toned forearms flexing with the weight of this body. Or the way that half way through the lecture one of his feet nearly slipped from is safely stowed position on its foot plate and fell toe forward into the carpet. He simply and casually scooped under his knee and put it back, without even stopping his argument on labour markets.
I was getting more turned on by the minute imagining those same strong arms holding me against him, or his hands softly gliding across my body as we lay next to each other, or me making my way down his toned chest with my hot mouth, delicately kissing him all the way…. Oh sh*t, how am I possibly going to pass this subject now?
It was first week back at uni after the mid-year break. I was sitting in the back the lecture theatre playing solitaire on my iphone. Danial, a friend of mine was sitting next to me complaining about not being able to concentrate properly on uni because he was fasting for Ramadan. My replies to his comments were mostly disinterested and detached statements like “uh huh” and “oh that must be hard”. He had had the same whinge to me on Monday in our Human Rights lecture, and right now I just couldn’t be bothered about his low blood sugar.
We, and the rest of the 100 or so students in the auditorium, were waiting for our –Globalisation and the International Political Economy- lecture to start. The lecturer was running late. I looked up at the clock, five minuted late in fact, must be new to the University. I bend my head back down and concentrated on finding a home for a pesky 6 that was blocking an ace I desperately needed. Suddenly a voice came over the speakers “Hi everyone, sorry I was late. My name is Dr Colin Moore and I will be taking you all for globalisation and IPE this semester”. It was a smooth almost lilt like Irish accent. I jerked my head up to see who its owner was, and with that nearly slid down off my seat.
There was a wonderfully attractive, tanned, brown haired, strongly build Irishman, sitting in a wheelchair in front of the class. That little bit behind my belly button gave a jerk and a tingle ran over me causing me to go bright red. Thank god I had my laptop open to hide behind! He must have come in when I had my head down, and his wheels would not have made much noise on the plush auditorium carpet.
Finally my heart stopped beating at a million miles an hour and I calmed myself down enough to pretend to take notes. In reality, I was drinking him in, inch by inch, feature by feature. His brown hair looked thick and had a wave; it was so rugged next to his tanned Celtic skin. His eyes too were dark, a kind of mottled hazel with amber flecks. As I looked into them he suddenly caught mine. Making me awkwardly look away, do some kind of stupid clear your throat cough and then resume fake note taking on laptop. I would have to watch the lecture later on lectopia, there was no way that I could possibly concentrate now.
For the rest of the two hours I kept staring back at him. Wanting him more and more by the second. Each part of him was perfect. The way his knuckles became more defined each time his hands tightened around the rims of his chair. Or the way that he shifted his weight in his chair every once and awhile, his toned forearms flexing with the weight of this body. Or the way that half way through the lecture one of his feet nearly slipped from is safely stowed position on its foot plate and fell toe forward into the carpet. He simply and casually scooped under his knee and put it back, without even stopping his argument on labour markets.
I was getting more turned on by the minute imagining those same strong arms holding me against him, or his hands softly gliding across my body as we lay next to each other, or me making my way down his toned chest with my hot mouth, delicately kissing him all the way…. Oh sh*t, how am I possibly going to pass this subject now?
