The Scholarship

By Captain Dunsel

Kelly Bishop made her way across the Hamilton College campus, only marginally aware of the turned heads she was leaving in her wake. Usually she relished that kind of attention, but today her mind was on more important things.

Not that she was entirely unaware of the attention she was getting. Nor was the attention entirely unsolicited. Kelly knew she was pretty, assuming you liked the buxom blue-eyed blonde type, and she wasn't exactly hiding her light under a bushel. The blue tanktop she had on was pretty skimpy, and with no bra to discourage her big breasts from swinging freely as she walked, and with a leather miniskirt so tight it looked painted on--well, she supposed she was bound to attract a little attention. 

Kelly moved off the grassy quad and headed for Caldwell Hall, her flawless skin made golden by the setting sun. As she trotted up the building's front steps her breasts bobbled playfully, catching the eye of a passing college administrator. Kelly didn't even notice his longing gaze--she was totally focused on her meeting with Dr. Quinn, eager to get his opinion about the Davis Scholarship. 

She entered the hushed, shadowy confines of the History Department, and took the ancient elevator to the third floor. At this time of day the corridors were echoing and deserted, and she saw no one at all as she made her way to her history professor's office.

Kelly smiled as she thought about Professor Quinn. He was a nice man, very understanding and fair, and super intelligent. He had gotten his PhD in England--Oxford, she thought--and it showed in his rather formal manners and sweet, gentle disposition. He was even sort of cute, in a middle-aged way--sort of a book-worm James Bond. Her friend Cindy had a major crush on Dr. Quinn, and Kelly could certainly understand why. 

Dr. Quinn's office door was open, as usual, and Kelly leaned in the doorway, her breasts stretching the fabric of her tanktop. "Knock knock...?" she said, cocking her head.

Professor Quinn looked up from his desk, his eyes widening at the sight of his buxom young student. He cleared his throat.

"Ah...Miss Bishop," he said. "Hello."

"Hi, Professor Quinn," Kelly said, a friendly smile on her face.

"Well...come in, come in." 

"Thanks," Kelly said, and she entered the office.

Her breasts swayed and bounced inside her tanktop, unfettered by a bra. Kelly was aware that Dr. Quinn was watching them, but she didn't think anything of it. After all, men were always staring at her breasts. Heck, that was what made them men.

"I hope I'm not late," she said brightly.

"No, not at all," Quinn said, swallowing as his eyes darted between her bosom and her thighs. Kelly actually felt sorry for the poor guy. Maybe she shouldn't have worn such a revealing outfit. Kelly seldom gave a second thought to her voluptuous body herself, but she knew the effect it could have on guys. And after all, she didn't want nice, proper Dr. Quinn to think she was a slut or anything. She sighed inwardly. Oh well...too late now.

"Oh, would you close the door, please?" Dr. Quinn asked.

"Oh, sure," Kelly said. 

She turned and walked back to the door, wondering if Professor Quinn was staring at her ass now, watching her cheeks wriggle inside the leather mini, studying the way her hips swiveled like a well-oiled machine. She found the idea strangely exciting--but she doubted he was watching her bum. Dr. Quinn was much too well-bred and polite to drool over some teenager's butt like an over-sexed frat boy. She closed the door with a click.

"Thanks," Dr. Quinn said.

He was trying very hard not stare at her boobs as she walked back across the room, the sweet man--but her breasts weren't making it easy for him, bobbling and jiggling like crazy, her nipples inscribing the inside of her tanktop with each step.

Then suddenly Dr. Quinn looked away and cleared his throat, as if he had suddenly come to a decision. Kelly feared he was angry at her for dressing so...provocatively. Maybe he would even refuse to let her apply for the scholarship!

"Please, sit down," he said--rather curtly, Kelly thought. 

Kelly obediently sat in the chair facing his desk. She leaned forward and smiled at him, trying her best to look innocent and demur. To her relief Dr. Quinn smiled back, his eyes occasionally glancing furtively down at her cleavage.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat again, "I was, uh...just about to have my regular afternoon glass of sherry. A habit I picked up when I was at Oxford. Would you, um...would you care to join me?" 

"Oh..." Kelly said, surprised. She wasn't used to the idea of her teacher offering her a drink. The teachers back at Zachary Taylor High School never had, that was for sure!

Kelly considered. She drank, but she really wasn't much of a drinker--three light beers and she was nicely sloshed. Still, the last thing she wanted was for Dr. Quinn to think she wasn't mature, or refined, or polite. And she supposed one little glass of sherry wouldn't hurt. She was pretty sure sherry was just watered-down wine, like for kids. 

"Well, sure, why not?" she said, smiling. 

Dr. Quinn took a bottle from the table behind his desk and poured them each a glass of the dark red liquor.

"Not the finest sherry, I'm afraid, but passable." he said, filling Kelly's glass.

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be...delicious," Kelly said, wanting to reassure him. She was surprised that the glass was so big, and that he was filling it so full--but she supposed that was the way they did it at Oxford. She knew Europeans drank wine like it was CocaCola. 

"Thanks," Kelly responded. She put the glass to her lips and took a cautious sip. The sherry tasted stronger than she expected, like sweet medicine. Sort of cloying. She took another small sip. 

"Oh, no no no, Miss Bishop," Professor Quinn scolded her gently. He smiled at her indulgently from across the desk. "The only people who sip sherry are old maids at tea parties."

"Oh..." Kelly said, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Here...observe..." he said, and he lifted his glass. 

"Cheers!" Dr. Quinn said, then he tilted back his head and, with a quick flick of his wrist, knocked back the sherry in a single swallow. He lowered the glass and smiled, licking his lips. "Mmm," he said. "Now that is how one drinks sherry at Oxford, Miss Bishop."

"Ohhh," Kelly said, nodding. "I get it. Sort of like a jello shot."

Dr. Quinn blinked and his browed furrowed. 

"Well...I don't know what a jello shot is, Miss Bishop, but the idea is not so much to drink it fast as it is to drink it with grace and finesse. A smooth, understated flick of the wrist. No wasted motion. Now why don't you try?"

"Okay," Kelly said, nervous and eager to please. 

She lifted her glass and smiled, feeling a bit silly.

"Cheers!" she said--and, mimicking Dr. Quinn's wrist action, she emptied the glass in a single swallow. Kelly lowered her glass, licking her lips.

"Well...?" Professor Quinn asked. 

Kelly blinked, a little worried that she could already feel the blood rushing to her head, and plunked her glass back down on the desk.

"Well, it's very...um...sweet," she said, trying not to offend her host. "But, y'know...it's good, really."

"Do you like it? Well, then..." Dr. Quinn said, reaching forward and refilling her glass.

"Oh...well...I didn't mean..." Kelly began.

"Now then," Dr. Quinn said, "What did you want to see me about?" 

"Oh...well," Kelly said. "I was wondering if you thought I had a chance at the Davis Scholarship."

"Ohh, I see," Dr. Quinn said.

Kelly took a sip of sherry.

"Mm," she said, swallowing, "I think my grades are good enough--except maybe in Psych, and that's--"

"Uh, uh, uh," Dr. Quinn said, interrupting her and wagging his finger. "No sipping, Miss Bishop. Remember: grace and finesse."

"Oh...right. Sorry," Kelly said, embarrassed to have forgotten so quickly. She would have preferred to sip the sherry slowly, concerned that another guzzled glass might make her a bit dizzy, but she didn't want to insult Professor Quinn. 

"Cheers!" Kelly toasted, and she drank down her second glass of sherry in the space of sixty seconds. The liquor was sweet and syrupy going down, but Kelly swallowed it with as much grace and finesse as she could manage. 

"Mmm...wow..." she said, pursing her lips as she lowered the empty glass, "now that is really sweet."

"Yes, it is," Professor Quinn agreed. 

"Mmmm..nnn..." Kelly murmured, smacking her lips. She placed her glass back on the desk. Dr. Quinn reached over with the bottle... 

...and refilled her glass again. 

Kelly started to protest--the sherry tasted a little like cough syrup and she wasn't crazy about it. Not to mention the fact that she could already feel a little glow in her stomach where the first glass had hit. Or was it the second? Anyway, she was definitely starting to feel a little...odd. Not buzzed, exactly, but definitely unusual. 

Still, she didn't want to hurt Dr. Quinn's feelings, he was such a sweet guy. So she let him refill the glass, but decided that it would definitely be her last.

"The Davis Scholarship, hm?" Dr. Quinn asked.

"Yes, sir." Kelly said, feeling a little more fuzzy-headed with each passing moment.

"Full tuition, not bad at all," Quinn said, sitting back in his chair. "Well, the first step is to fill out the application form. Shall we go ahead and do that right now?"

"Sure, that'd be great," Kelly said, smiling...

...then she blinked, feeling suddenly dizzy. "Mmmm..." she said, squeezing her eyes shut and then opening them wide. It didn't help. The room was still slightly out of focus and refusing to stay perfectly still. And to top it off, her head was buzzing--not loudly, but it was disconcerting nevertheless. 

"Are you all right?" Quinn asked her.

Kelly smiled. "Mm, fine, I'm just...I'm fine," she said, not wanting him to think she couldn't handle her sherry. But in fact Kelly felt very strange. Light-headed and pleasantly numb, sort of like when she had the flu last winter. Maybe it wasn't the sherry at all. Maybe she was coming down with something. She took a sip from her glass without thinking. 

"Uh-uh, Miss Bishop!" Quinn said.

"Mmm?" Kelly asked, looking up at him. The sudden movement made the room tilt and she swayed, grabbing the edge of the desk and blinking with concern.

"You're sipping again," Professor Quinn admonished as he took an application form from a desk drawer.

"Oh," Kelly said, looking down at her glass. She blinked. It was becoming very difficult to think straight. What was wrong with her? That warm glow was starting to spread through her body. It felt rather nice but she wondered what was causing it. It surely couldn't be the sherry. After all, it was just watered-down wine. Or was it cough syrup? She couldn't remember.

"Remember Oxford," Quinn reminded her as he flipped through a file folder.

"Hmm? Oh...right," Kelly said, blinking owlishly. "Sorry." 

"Cheers!" Kelly said. She lifted the glass and polished it off in one long swallow.

"Good?" Quinn asked as she lowered the empty glass.

"Mmm," Kelly conceded, smiling. She decided that--much to her surprise--she was really beginning to like the taste of this stuff. "It's sort of like drinking watered down soft...I mean, cough syrup."

"Yes, that's a good description," Quinn agreed. He reached across the desk with the bottle. "Here, allow me..." 

"Mmm, thank you," Kelly said, letting him refill her glass. That's right, she reminded herself, this glass'll be my last one. Unless I have another. Just to be polite. She tried to remember what she had been concerned about a few moments ago, but it was gone clean out of her fuzzy, buzzing head. 

"Now then," Dr. Quinn said, lifting a pen, "let's start with your full name." 

"Hmmm?" Kelly asked, smiling at him woozily.

"Your name?" Dr. Quinn repeated, smiling indulgently.

"Ohh!" Kelly said, giggling at her own foolishness. She swayed forward, her breasts lunging. "Um...giggle... Kelly...giggle...Kelly Christine Bishop." 

"Okay..." Quinn said, filling in the form. "Age?" 

"Eighteen," Kelly said, then: "Cheers!" She tossed back her fourth glass of sherry with both hands, all worries about drinking too much vanished. She liked drinking sherry with Professor Quinn...because he was such a sweetie. And the sherry made her feel all warm and fuzzy, and she liked feeling all warm and fuzzy. 

Kelly lowered her glass and smiled fondly at Dr. Quinn. She was really begining to understand why Cindy had such a crush on the guy. He was looking better and better by the moment. Dr. Quinn looked up from the application form.

"Sex?" He smiled mischeviously. "Very definitely female," he said, writing. 

Kelly giggled. "Mmmm...you're sweet." She blinked at him through eyes that were growing increasingly glazed. "Did biny...anybody ever tell you that you are a sweet man?"

"Oh, goodness yes," Dr. Quinn said, entering information on the form, "all the time." Kelly giggled. 

Professor Quinn looked up from the form. "What's your extension number?" he asked. 

"Umm..." Kelly blinked, trying to concentrate. "Two-three...no wait, three-two-five-eight."

"Home address?"

"Home address," she repeated. "557 Mest Wape... giggle...I mean, West Maple Street," Kelly told him, swaying in her seat.

"What town is that, Miss Bishop?"

"Thas in Jass-king...Jacksonville. Thas in Flordira." 

Kelly slumped back in her chair and giggled at the ceiling. She was feeling wonderfully relaxed and completely fuzzy-headed.

"Mmmmmm...are you sure this's how they drink Oxf...giggle...I mean, drink sherry at Oxford?" she asked.

"Well, no, you're right, Miss Bishop, it isn't quite," Dr. Quinn agreed. "At Oxford it's customary to propose a toast when you drink sherry."

"A toast?" Kelly asked, leaning forward. Dr. Quinn took the opportunity to refill her glass.

"Mm-hm." Dr. Quinn confirmed. "There are several traditional toasts. Let's see..." He raised his glass, smiling. "To your mother's good health."

Kelly beamed, raising her own glass. "Aww...thas so sweet." She put the glass to her lips and downed sherry number five like it was water. It's a good thing this is only cough syrup, she thought, or I'd be getting sooo drunk. The idea of getting sloshed in her professor's office made her giggle. 

She half-slumped against the desk and held out her empty glass. Dr. Quinn wasted no time refilling it.

"Your turn," he said.

"Mm?" Kelly asked, staring at him through glazed and bleary eyes. She was rapidly passing from pleasantly tipsy to genuinely drunk and was already too far down that path to be alarmed by the fact. 

"A toast," Quinn prompted. Kelly blinked.

"Ohhh," she said, giggling and pitching forward, "I forgot." She thought for a moment. "Well...how 'bou...to your father's good hells!" she sang, giggling and raising her glass.

"Fine," he acknowledged. "Cheers!" 

"Cheers!" Kelly echoed, and she lifted her glass to her mouth and drank. She leaned back her head and emptied the sherry down her throat with a single flick of her wrist.

"Okay," Quinn said, refilling her glass yet again, "my turn. To your father's good health." 

Kelly was way past the point of knowing--or caring--that her history professor was practically pouring sherry down her throat.

"To my fatherer's good health," she agreed heartily, raising her glass. "Cheers!"

They clinked glasses and drank. Kelly emptied her sherry in a swallow, then lowered her empty glass and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Quinn asked, smiling.

"Mmnn, well," Kelly said, wiping her lips, "see...ashly he isn my fatherer. He's my fep stather." She laughed again, bending forward. "I mean...giggle...I mean, my step farther."

"Ahhh, my apologies." 

"Ohhh, thash okay," Kelly said, sinking back into her chair. She closed her eyes and started giggling. "Oooooh..."

"What's wrong?" Professor Quinn asked, grinning.

"I think...giggle...I think I'm shlipping...giggle..." Kelly said. Sure enough, her plump little butt was sliding further and further down in her chair, causing her miniskirt to slide further and further up her thighs.

"Yes...so I see," Dr. Quinn said, watching as the intoxicated blonde slipped to her knees and disappeared from sight. 

For a moment Dr. Quinn could only hear giggling, then Kelly pulled herself up onto the edge of the desk. "Whoops!" she said, giggling drunkenly.

"You okay?" Dr. Quinn asked, smiling.

"I'm okay," Kelly assured him, "but my legs're drunk!"

"Ohhh, how did that happen?"

"I don't...I don't know how did that happened," Kelly said, catching her balance.

"Mmm...well perhaps you'd better lie down on the sofa until your legs sober up, hm?"

"Mmm...giggle...only if you lie down with me..." Kelly suggested coyly, giggling and getting clumsily to her feet. Kelly knew she should be ashamed of herself, flirting with her history professor--but she was just kidding around, after all. Besides, she liked flirting with men. Which is why she did nothing as the straps of her tanktop slid down her arms, threatening to completely expose her already overexposed breasts. 

Dr. Quinn smiled his charming smile, his eyebrows rising. "Miss Bishop," he said, shaking a finger at her, "you are a naughty girl."

"Mmmm...I know...I know I am a naughty girl..." she said. She giggled, swayed unsteadily, and launched herself off the desk. 

"Wellll...I'll juss toodle on back t'my droom...giggle... drorm room..." Kelly gurgled, weaving a crooked path and stumbling straight toward a wall, too drunk to navigate. She lost a shoe and staggered, almost losing her balance.

"Uh...Miss Bishop..." Dr. Quinn said, smiling at her inebriated state. 

Kelly blundered blindly into the wall, staggering back a few steps and blinking in confusion.

"Heyyy..." she complained, giggling like an idiot, "who put sis wall here...?"

"Okay...here..." Dr. Quinn said, standing and walking over to his thoroughly intoxicated student.

"The sofa's over here, Miss Bishop," Quinn said, leading her gently across the room. Kelly blinked up at him through bleary eyes and grinned.

"Heyyyy, Dosser Quinn!" she said, smiling with drunken recognition, "What're you doin' here?"

"This is my office, Miss Bishop," her professor reminded her. Kelly giggled.

"Ohhh yeah..." She giggled again, stumbling unsteadily as he led her to the sofa. "Come here often?" 

Kelly slumped onto the sofa and grinned up at Dr. Quinn. Drunk as she was, Kelly could tell the poor guy was doing his best to ignore the patch of white lace between her thighs. She felt a sudden flood of affection for her kindly professor. Kelly was begining to think she might let the old boy kiss her if he wanted--and she was pretty sure he wanted. In fact, one more drink and she'd probably let him feel her up. As sort of a reward for being so cute. "May I--HIP!--may I have anunner dring, please?" she asked with intoxicated politeness.

"Certainly," Quinn answered, smiling down at her. "But...what do you say we try something a little more fun than boring old sherry, hm?"

"Mmmm, surrre!" Kelly agreed. 

Dr. Quinn went to his desk and pulled a bottle and a clean glass from the bottom drawer. "Twelve-year-old scotch," he said, hefting the bottle. Kelly grinned foolishly. She had never had scotch before, but she knew older guys drank it a lot. She was too drunk to notice that Dr. Quinn had only taken out one glass.

He opened the bottle and poured a very healthy portion of liquor into the glass. Kelly watched blearily from the sofa, her thoughts becoming less coherent with every passing minute. But that was okay--she was happy to just sit there and go with the flow.

"I think you'll like this, Miss Bishop," Dr. Quinn said. "It's aged in oak barrels. Very smooth." 

Dr. Quinn walked over and sat beside Kelly on the sofa. He handed her the glass of scotch. "There you are," he said.

"Mmmm...thanksh," Kelly said, blinking at him woozily. She stared down at the amber-colored liquid.

"Well, give it a try, let me know what you think."

"Mmmm...giggle...okey-dokey," Kelly said, giggling like a three-year-old. It never even occured to her that it might not be a good idea to drink a large glass of straight scotch on top of seven glasses of sherry. 

Kelly leaned back and downed the glass of scotch, her adam's apple bobbing as she gulped. "Mmm...mmm..."she grunted, swallowing. The scotch had a smokiness about it, but her tongue was so numb she could barely taste it. She might as well be drinking iced tea. Kelly was vaguely aware of Dr. Quinn watching her with amazed anticipation, so she figured she must be drinking the scotch the way they did at Oxford. That was good. She wanted Dr. Quinn to be proud of her. Kelly downed the last few drops and lowered the glass with a gasp.

"Mmmahhh..." she said, pitching forward, breasts wobbling. 

For a long moment nothing happened. Kelly sat there, a smile on her pretty face, fuzzy-headed and content. She could feel the scotch glowing in her stomach at the same time it was rushing through her bloodstream, but the sherry had dulled her perceptions enough that she was only vaguely aware of what was happening. It didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter. The world was a pleasantly out of focus dream.

Then the scotch hit. 

KA-WANNG!!

In an instant Kelly passed from moderately intoxicated to totally wasted, the scotch turning her brain to mush with a ruthlessness far beyond the powers of simple sherry. Kelly felt a rush of conflicting sensations: simultaneously numb and tingly, sleepy and energized, confused and perceptive. 

Most of all, she felt peaceful and completely uninhibited. No worries, no guilts, no fears--the scotch had obliterated them all. She wasn't exactly sure where she was, but that was okay. Everything was okay. Gradually she became aware that somebody was speaking to her, asking her something. Kelly blinked, trying to concentrate.

"Miss Bishop?"

Kelly smiled. Oh, yes, it was her friend Professor Quinn. He was sweet. And she was in his office, she remembered now. She couldn't remember why, but that was okay. Everything was okay.

"Miss Bishop? Shall we continue with the application?" 

Kelly turned and faced Dr. Quinn. "Hmmmmm?" she drawled, her bleary eyes blinking at him contentedly.

"The application?" Dr. Quinn reminded her. "For the Davis Scholarship?"

Kelly grinned. "Ohhhh, yeahhhh..." she said, recalling. She knew she really wanted to get that scholarship. Whatever it was.

"All right, next question," Dr. Quinn was saying. "Height?"

"Hmmm?" Kelly asked, uncomprehending.

"How tall are you?" Professor Quinn explained. 

"Oh..." Kelly held her hand up even with the top of her head. "I'm ziss tall."

Dr. Quinn smiled. "Okay," he said. "Weight?"

"Um...a hunnerd...hunnerd an funny...fuh...twenny-five."

"Okay," Dr. Quinn said. He licked his lips. "Um...bust size?"

Kelly didn't hesitate. "37-C," she stated firmly, and with a touch of pride. In her alcoholic state it never even occured to her that it was a strange question for a scholarship application.

"Really?" Dr. Quinn asked. "Are you sure? I would have said 36-B at the most."

"Ohhh, no no no," Kelly assured him, hefting her jiggling mounds. "I have...had th' biggess tits at Zach'ry Taylor High! Theze babies're thirry see...thirry-seven see, truss me."

"Mmm...well, I'm afraid we'll have to prove that. For the record," Dr. Quinn said.

"We will?" Kelly asked, blinking.

"Yes. Would you remove your top, please."

"Okay," Kelly said, eager to cooperate and confident that she was right. She certainly knew the size of her own boobies--they were her best feature, after all.

Kelly grasped the hem of her tanktop and pulled it clumsily up over her breasts, then her head. She dropped the tanktop on the floor and smiled at Dr. Quinn... 

...who was staring at her breasts with unabashed awe, his mouth hanging open. Kelly had seen that look before. It made her giggle, but it also made her feel proud.

"See?" she said, letting him get a good look, "I tole you zey were 37-C."

"I, uh..." Dr. Quinn said, clearing his throat. "I apologize for ever doubting you. Would you like another glass of scotch?"

Kelly smiled. "Mmmmm...maybe juss a li'l bitty bit. I don't wannit t'sart fecting my jushment...HIP!" 

"Here, I'll just, uh...get the bottle..." Dr. Quinn said, leaning across Kelly.

Kelly smiled. She couldn't help thinking that the poor man would have an easier time of it if he looked in the direction of the bottle instead of her boobs, but she was feeling much too blissful to be offended by his unusual attention. On the contrary, Kelly found Dr. Quinn's fascination with her naked breasts amusing and sort of cute, like he was a very naughty but adorable little boy. Besides, he eventually managed to grab the scotch bottle and refill her glass, so there was no harm done. 

Kelly lifted the glass with both hands and, under Dr. Quinn's watchful gaze, downed the potent liquor in a matter of moments. She was vaguely aware of his hand resting on her thigh, casually sliding up toward her miniskirt, but the alarm bells in her brain were ringing deep beneath a sea of alcohol and were easily ignored. 

Kelly giggled and sank back into the sofa, her body limp as a wet rag. The room was spinning around in her several directions at once and her thoughts were hopelessly muddy and confused--but she felt absolutely wonderful.

"Uh...Miss Bishop...?" Dr. Quinn asked gently. His hand was still on her thigh, massaging gently and inching ever nearer to her white lace panties--but Kelly only noticed because it was causing pleasantly erotic tingles.

"Mmmmmm?" Kelly drawled, not opening her eyes.

"Are you all right?"

Kelly giggled. "Mmmmmmmmm...shweetie... giggle...I am sooo all rye you can' even know...giggle..." 

Suddenly Kelly sat forward and draped her arm over Dr. Quinn's shoulder, her breasts swaying and flapping like luscious pendulums.

"Hey..." she said with drunken gravity, "wuz you like to kiss me?"

Dr. Quinn gurgled and blinked. "Uh, I...would I...?"

"Because--HIP!...because I will like t'kiss you...HIP!..."

"You would?" Dr. Quinn asked.

Kelly decided to show him. 

The kiss was wet and deep and lasted a long, long time.

Later Kelly would have a hard time remembering exactly what happened after that. She remembered making out with Dr. Quinn for what seemed like hours, and she definitely remembered liking it. Professor Quinn may have studied at Oxford, but his tongue had obviously learned a few tricks at the Sorbonne.

After that, though, Kelly's memories got even fuzzier... 

She remembered that eventually...inevitably...Dr. Quinn became more interested in her breasts than her mouth. Not that Kelly minded. Dr. Quinn's playful fondling and sensual licking and gentle sucking were enough to drive her to the edge of orgasm. In fact, she may have gone over that edge a few times, she couldn't recall...it was all a very pleasant blur. 

She had a fuzzy but vivid recollection of being sprawled on the sofa, guzzling scotch straight from the bottle and giggling like an idiot at the fact that Dr. Quinn had maroon underwear. For some reason that was the funniest thing in the world. Kelly also remembered that she was stark naked by this point, though she had absolutely no recollection of how she lost her skirt and panties. 

A few moments later, Kelly eagerly replaced the bottle with something more organic, her alcohol-soked brain consumed with lust. She had always been a bit squeamish about oral sex before, but the scotch and Dr. Quinn's skillful foreplay had obliterated all her inhibitions. More than anything in the world Kelly wanted to fill her mouth a man's penis, and Professor Quinn's impressive specimen just happened to be available. She did her best to work with grace and finesse, thoroughly enjoying herself as she gradually brought him to the brink of madness...

...and enjoying herself even more when, moments later, he returned the favor. Her memories of his enthusiastic explorations were hopelessly jumbled and bizarre, but she definitely remembered panting and bucking and squealing like an insane animal, completely out of control and never wanting it to end. 

After that...well, the rest of the evening was a confusing blur of wild, weird, wonderful images and sensations. Kelly could never decide how much of it was real and how much was an alcohol-induced dream. Apparently Dr. Quinn had an entire liquor store in his desk drawer because the drinking never stopped. Kelly remembered drinking more scotch, and passing out, then coming to and drinking something else...it might have been vodka--she remembered laughing like a fool because it was clear...and passing out, and coming to, and drinking some bitter-tasting stuff from a silver flask. And whatever that was it moved her beyond being just plain drunk off her ass and put her into orbit around Venus, stoned out of her gourd. 

Mostly, though, she had these incredible flashes of making love with Dr. Quinn. Again... ...and again... ...and again... ...until finally, her brain overloaded with booze and pleasure, Kelly passed out for the umpteenth and final time. 

When she came to early the next morning, she was sprawled on one of the sofas in the basement lounge of her dorm--fully dressed, thank God. She had no idea how she got there and she never found out.

As she sat up Kelly realized she was sore all over--especially between her thighs--and she had a hangover the size of North Dakota. As she went to get some some Tylenol from her purse she discovered a letter tucked neatly inside. 

It was from the history department, congratulating her on being awarded the Davis Scholarship for Excellence in Special Research.

Kelly smiled. It hurt her face, but she smiled anyway. Not just at the scholarship letter...but at the bizarre, fuzzy, wonderful memory of sweet Dr. Quinn's unusual application process.

The End.