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16 Nisan 2023, 17:04
NOTE: This story is a sequel to Melanie's New Life. As such, you will understand some of the characters better if you read that first, although it is not necessary to follow the story. All characters are over the age of 18.
*****
I first saw Eileen Wilhoit from the back row of an auditorium style classroom in Kenworth Hall. She was the guest speaker at a lecture sponsored by the Women's Business Students Association, not the sort of thing I normally attended, especially not on a Thursday night. Like many college students, I start my weekend on Thursday nights, usually hitting the happy hours with a few friends or heading to a dance club looking for a hot hookup. Even my quiet Thursdays generally involve chilling with some wine or weed.
So I wasn't too pleased to be there that evening, but my academic advisor, Prof. Bonner, had all but demanded that I attend. She was the faculty advisor to the group and had been lobbying me for more than a year to join. But I'm not really a joiner. I love my independence and besides, my limited experience with these kinds of organizations is that they are full of self-important wanna-be politicians padding their resumes and lording over lower ranking members. Thanks, but no thanks.
But I didn't think I could pass on this one, especially since Eileen Wilhoit was an alumna who'd succeeded in the cut-throat venture capital field, which was where I hoped to end up some day. Emily, Prof. Bonner that is, had just gushed over this woman's experience and how her lectures were always so fantastic and informative. Seriously, I thought she was just going to cum right there in her office while we were discussing it earlier in the week.
But I sat in the back, near an exit, so that if Prof. Bonner's idea and my idea of what constituted a fantastic lecture differed greatly, I could just sneak out. When I saw Eileen Wilhoit enter the room with Prof. Bonner and a very attractive black woman whom I recognized as Prof. Marengo, a member of the finance faculty, I figured I would probably be staying. I have a thing for hot, older women in their 40s and 50s and while I didn't know for sure how old she was, she could definitely play center stage in almost all of my masturbatory fantasies.
Even in a room full of attractive women, and more and more hot students were filing in by the minute, she stood out like a diamond surrounded by cheap quartz. She was wearing a black pant suit that fit her to a T with what appeared to be a white silk blouse beneath. Her black pumps managed to be both practical and sexy at the same time. Long, dark hair fell in waves to the middle of her back and her jacket was stretched just the perfect amount by her breasts, which I imagined to be firm and perky. When she turned to put her purse down on a chair, those of us lucky enough to have arrived early were treated to the sight of her perfectly shaped ass outlined by her form fitting slacks. My libido, which I admit never drops much below third gear anyway, suddenly shot into overdrive.
Once she started talking, it was clear she was not just a pretty face, either. She gave a fascinating and detailed talk about the challenges facing women in business and strategies for how to succeed. She was sharp, witty, and focused, using real-world examples from her own career. She spoke from experience, having put together multi-million dollar deals and provided initial funding to startups that nobody else thought would ever amount to anything. One of those companies was now worth more than a billion dollars, making her a very wealthy woman. Not many people can hold a roomful of college students in such rapt attention that hardly a single cellphone is visible, but she did.
I was so impressed, and even a little bit awed, that by the time she was done, I'd decided to go down an introduce myself. Yes, I know, it's kind of a cliché, kiss ass move but it's also playing the networking game and if anyone's ass was worth kissing it was hers, especially since it was such a delectable ass. Besides, I knew Prof. Bonner would want me to. She'd spotted me early on and from the look she gave me, was clearly not pleased by my choice of seat.
Once she had finished, and received a very enthusiastic round of applause - even I clapped, which I rarely do - there came the obligatory question and answer session. I would have skipped this, as no matter how great the lecture, the Q
*****
I first saw Eileen Wilhoit from the back row of an auditorium style classroom in Kenworth Hall. She was the guest speaker at a lecture sponsored by the Women's Business Students Association, not the sort of thing I normally attended, especially not on a Thursday night. Like many college students, I start my weekend on Thursday nights, usually hitting the happy hours with a few friends or heading to a dance club looking for a hot hookup. Even my quiet Thursdays generally involve chilling with some wine or weed.
So I wasn't too pleased to be there that evening, but my academic advisor, Prof. Bonner, had all but demanded that I attend. She was the faculty advisor to the group and had been lobbying me for more than a year to join. But I'm not really a joiner. I love my independence and besides, my limited experience with these kinds of organizations is that they are full of self-important wanna-be politicians padding their resumes and lording over lower ranking members. Thanks, but no thanks.
But I didn't think I could pass on this one, especially since Eileen Wilhoit was an alumna who'd succeeded in the cut-throat venture capital field, which was where I hoped to end up some day. Emily, Prof. Bonner that is, had just gushed over this woman's experience and how her lectures were always so fantastic and informative. Seriously, I thought she was just going to cum right there in her office while we were discussing it earlier in the week.
But I sat in the back, near an exit, so that if Prof. Bonner's idea and my idea of what constituted a fantastic lecture differed greatly, I could just sneak out. When I saw Eileen Wilhoit enter the room with Prof. Bonner and a very attractive black woman whom I recognized as Prof. Marengo, a member of the finance faculty, I figured I would probably be staying. I have a thing for hot, older women in their 40s and 50s and while I didn't know for sure how old she was, she could definitely play center stage in almost all of my masturbatory fantasies.
Even in a room full of attractive women, and more and more hot students were filing in by the minute, she stood out like a diamond surrounded by cheap quartz. She was wearing a black pant suit that fit her to a T with what appeared to be a white silk blouse beneath. Her black pumps managed to be both practical and sexy at the same time. Long, dark hair fell in waves to the middle of her back and her jacket was stretched just the perfect amount by her breasts, which I imagined to be firm and perky. When she turned to put her purse down on a chair, those of us lucky enough to have arrived early were treated to the sight of her perfectly shaped ass outlined by her form fitting slacks. My libido, which I admit never drops much below third gear anyway, suddenly shot into overdrive.
Once she started talking, it was clear she was not just a pretty face, either. She gave a fascinating and detailed talk about the challenges facing women in business and strategies for how to succeed. She was sharp, witty, and focused, using real-world examples from her own career. She spoke from experience, having put together multi-million dollar deals and provided initial funding to startups that nobody else thought would ever amount to anything. One of those companies was now worth more than a billion dollars, making her a very wealthy woman. Not many people can hold a roomful of college students in such rapt attention that hardly a single cellphone is visible, but she did.
I was so impressed, and even a little bit awed, that by the time she was done, I'd decided to go down an introduce myself. Yes, I know, it's kind of a cliché, kiss ass move but it's also playing the networking game and if anyone's ass was worth kissing it was hers, especially since it was such a delectable ass. Besides, I knew Prof. Bonner would want me to. She'd spotted me early on and from the look she gave me, was clearly not pleased by my choice of seat.
Once she had finished, and received a very enthusiastic round of applause - even I clapped, which I rarely do - there came the obligatory question and answer session. I would have skipped this, as no matter how great the lecture, the Q