The Big Meeting

Unusually, the email from the Journal of Sociology was neither a yes nor a no. They told Kelly they were excited to receive her submission and wanted to meet with her to discuss further the possibility of publishing her paper. She had never heard of anything like this, and when she brought it to her friends in the Faculty Lounge, none of them had, either.

“All I can think of is, they’re on the fence, and somebody on the committee convinced them to meet you so you can tell them why they should publish you,” Professor Fitzgerald said.

“But… what am I supposed to say to them?” Kelly asked, panicking a little. Her anxiety was fully back for the first time in a while. “I’m better in writing than in person. What can I say to them in person that I didn’t already put in the paper?”

“All these journals are cowards,” Professor Galbraith, wearing another of his tweed suits, put in. “Your paper challenged them, so they’re afraid.”

“I thought her paper was accelerating the takeover of our culture by obscenity,” John Davis noted wryly. “I take it you’ve changed your position?”

“Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds,” Galbraith retorted.

“If you’re finished fatuously quoting Emerson,” Professor Fitzgerald said, “perhaps we should concentrate on assisting our friend Dr. Wyndam.”

And they did, at least a little bit. Dr. Galbraith even had a few tips for her. Kelly also noticed that more of the denizens of the Faculty Lounge were now choosing to wear more revealing outfits. Even Professor Fitzgerald, who had to be well over 60, was showing some cleavage that Kelly had no idea she had. Whether these changes were due to the ongoing heat wave or because of greater acceptance of the youth culture, she could not speculate.

It turned out that, instead of a Zoom call, the Journal agreed to send a representative to meet Kelly in town, which everyone in the Faculty Lounge agreed was a good sign. Maybe somebody just wanted to spend a weekend outside the city on an expense account. Or, Emma suggested, somebody at the Journal had read the paper and thought that if they could just meet Kelly she would be willing to fuck them.

“Which… can you blame them?” Emma said, from underneath Kelly’s desk in her office, her mouth still wet from Kelly’s snatch. “I love fucking you, and you’re really fucking hot.”

Kelly thanked her for the compliment, but decided to prepare more substantive talking points in case the interviewer was actually interested in the contents of her paper rather than her wet cunt. Though she would certainly leave her options open, just in case.

The interviewer turned out to be a Dr. Keith Markowitz, a professor at Rogers State who served on the Board for the Journal. Kelly had met him before, she was pretty sure, at a conference somewhere. He had not been particularly memorable. Still, she had no particular reason to dislike him, unlike at least some of the Board members who had written things in the past that she disagreed with fairly vehemently. She could work with him.

Kelly agreed to meet Dr. Markowitz at a coffee shop on Main, which she happened to know was commonly frequented by students. Pretty much all the coffee shops in town were, as it happened. Emma helped her pick out a black vest and short skirt combo that would push up her boobs (bought on that trip to Coquette’s), emphasize her ass, and create a general slutty impression without being blatantly unacceptable for the situation. She also borrowed one of Emma’s “pussy scents,” just in case.

The man was likely in his fifties, thin, with glasses and a shaved head that Kelly guessed was likely a response to going bald. He was already seated when Kelly arrived, and she was fairly certain she saw him eying her body appreciatively as she approached. She suggested the two of them get a drink before talking, and he agreed.

The usual barista, Layla, was behind the counter that morning, wearing her a green apron that barely covered her front and a pair of bikini bottoms. She was a cute brunette with large, perky breasts that strained against the apron. She greeted Kelly brightly,

“Hi, Dr. Wyndam! You’re looking slutty this morning.”

“So are you,” Kelly replied. “They letting you go JP at work now?”

Layla shrugged, nearly causing her apron to shrug off her ample tits. “My boss Jerry actually thought it would bring in customers, and I like it ‘cause it’s cooler. Which is good, ‘cause I had a long night last night, I’m not up for a lot of sweating today.”

“Everything OK?” Kelly asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I just got to reading Bluesky last night about… so many things, and before I knew it was just knocking on the door of the two guys across the hall and then one of their cocks was in my ass, and I gazzed a bunch, but it got really late, so… the usual.” She turned to Dr. Markowitz, who was openly ogling her nearly-exposed tits. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

Soon, they were taking their coffees back to their table. “Based on the shade of red you’ve turned, I take it they don’t have topless baristas as the coffee shop by Rogers State?” Kelly asked with a half-grin.

“No, I… I think they would pretty cold this time of year, if nothing else,” he said after a little sputtering. “Though I’ve seen some things in my classes, certainly. No professors dressed like you, though.”

Kelly shrugged. “I wouldn’t have, at the beginning of the semester. But… I started out trying to bridge a gap with my students, and I found out that it worked.” She lowered her voice to a low purr. “And for the first time in my life, people looked at me the way you’re looking at me now, and I found out that I really, really liked it.”

“I’ll be honest,” he said. “The Journal Board loved your article. We think it’s a bold voice on an important topic, and could also bring in much-needed readership. But… some of the Board wanted to know more about who that voice was. You haven’t been published before, after all, and some of the things you mention yourself doing in the article…”

“They wanted to know who they were… getting into bed with,” she said, licking her lips.

“Uh…y-yes, I suppose that’s one way to say it.”

“Well, I will be honest, then, too,” she said. “I know that many people today feel like they can’t understand their own children. But I have spent a lot of time, over the course of my study, talking with young people like our students, and I can tell you that they have told me, again and again, that they don’t understand their parents, either. To them it seems natural to enjoy pleasure, to feel comfortable with their bodies, to celebrate those things about which their parents feel shame. There are a lot of problems today that I can’t solve, but I think that I can at least help with this one.”

“I do think your study is a positive step in that dialogue,” Dr. Markovich said carefully.

“The study is a first step,” Kelly explained. “Sociology is considered a ‘soft science,’ but I think it has its role to play, especially today. But it needs… You probably remember Carl Sagan, Bill Nye, Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Science educators for the hard sciences. I’m not comparing myself to them, but I think sociology can learn from them. Sociology has to meet people where they are.”

“And here the people are, serving coffee topless,” he noted with a smile.

“And I’ve found that just my few months of study have made teaching my class far more rewarding,” she continued. “The levels of student engagement have been exemplary. They feel comfortable with me, I feel comfortable with them. It’s convinced me this really is important.”

Dr. Markovich sighed. “And you’ve convinced me, anyway. That you’re not someone who would embarrass the Journal the first time someone interviewed you, which is probably enough, because I wasn’t kidding when I said your paper would probably boost readership. I’ll tell the Board as much on our call tonight.” He looked her up and down again, his eyes spending a particular amount of time on her tits. “Sociology could use its Carl Sagan. Particularly one who looks like you.”

“I appreciate it, Doctor,” she said with a smile. She took a long swig of her coffee, then said, “Now that’s over with, would you like to fuck me?”

He choked on his coffee, going into a coughing fit. Once he recovered, he tried to speak for a few seconds before managing to get the words out. “Dr. Wyndam, I…” He lowered his voice. “You understand that I already said that I would recommend we publish your paper to the Board, right? You don’t need to…”

“That’s why I waited until we’d already had a chance to discuss things,” Kelly replied. “I don’t want to influence your decision, I just thought it would be polite to offer. And I could use a gazz, honestly. I’ve been really anxious about our meeting.”

Dr. Markovich thought for several seconds, then said, “Yes, I think I would like that very much.”

Kelly led him by the hand to the coffee shop’s unisex restroom. As they went, she caught Layla the barista’s eye and gave the girl a wink. Once there, she pulled him into a stall, where she unbuttoned her vest, freeing her tits, and then flipped up her skirt to confirm that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

A few moments later, the patrons of the coffee shop could hear Kelly’s voice yelling in ecstasy. “Harder. Fuck me harder! Fuck my slutty pussy!” Only about a minute later, this was followed by, “Yeah, cum inside me! Give me all your fucking cum!”

It was Kelly who left the restroom first. She hadn’t bothered to put her vest back on, instead carrying it over her shoulder. She walked out into the shop in just her tiny skirt, with her tits on full display. Anyone who looked could see the jizz leaking down her leg from her sloppy pussy. She waved to Layla, then walked out onto the street toward her car with a smile, tits bouncing.