Obviously, it Was Not a Romance Language

Submitted by Frank:

Mindy and I met when taking a foreign language ancient literature course. The class was small, geeky and competitive. But even if Mindy was an intellectual, she had a sense of humor and was pretty to boot. I never thought I could ask her out since she was graduate student.

After university, I got a corporate job in the capital city of the country whose language we had studied. When I found out that she was doing research for her dissertation at a university in the same city, I invited her to dinner. One of the company managers was out of the country and I was staying in his hotel suite.

The main topic of conversation was an elderly professor's sexual harassment. Once she had eaten lunch with him in a fast food restaurant and he had refused to let her pay.   "You are my dog, there can be no question of you paying,” he had told her.

He had also tried to grope her in his office. He was close to retirement and her complaints came to nothing. She was almost a bit teary about it. Admittedly it must be horrible for women to have some horny old asshole exert power over their careers. However, at the time it seemed ludicrous to me that some geezer who probably could hardly get it up would be so difficult to fend off. I also felt hypocritical since I also wanted to get into her pants.

“I am not really into living with the people anymore in the cold and dirty discomfort at the university,” she confessed.  That sounded good to me, so I offered to show her "my" place.

On our way up in the glass elevator, we made out. I put on some classical music and suggested a hot bath, guessing that she would feel sexier afterward. It was nice in the tub together, and I thought that it would soon be nicer in bed.

Once we got there, everything ground to a halt as she explained that it was very difficult to for her to reach orgasm. In fact, her first one had come only after she had masturbated for a very, very long time. Even if the trip was long, she liked the destination.

She asked, “Could you put one finger in like this, and another in like that and then use a third to rub me?”

Until that point in my life, sex had always been an instinctual sort of thing. It worked great most of the time. Suddenly, I found myself daunted by the mechanical and psychological challenges that she had thrown up. It didn’t help that she hadn’t stroked me or anything to encourage me to think that it would be mutual.

“Can you do it?” she pressed.

Instead of asking her to show me how or going down on her to experiment, I stupidly replied, “No.”

That killed it, so we went to sleep.

A couple of days later, I headed to the university to see her again.  She was pissed that I hadn’t called the very next day after the failed night.

We went back to her place.  I had some present for her in my briefcase and I straddled her while she lay in bed to open it. By that point, though, she had written me off. She asked me to get off and explained that she actually had a relationship back in the states and wanted to remain faithful.

I never saw Mindy again, but years later I Googled her and found that she had become a professor. I was not surprised to find that her literary research centered upon women and women’s issues in the ancient culture.