His American Fling

by Brogan, Kim

  Laying his head on my chest, he closed his eyes. I stroked his hair and rubbed his ear in calming circular motions. Within minutes I heard the steady breathing of sleep. I stopped petting him and let the cool night seeping in from the open windows and the warmth of his body bathe me. I soon fell asleep too.

  During the night he pulled on my arm to make me climb under the covers. I turned on my side and he spooned me, kissing the back of my head and wrapping his arm around my breasts as we fell back into our slumber. I felt safe.

  I woke up to his hands brushing my breasts and his lips kissing my neck. He slipped down lower behind me and lifted my leg, penetrating me from behind, his hand playing between my legs. We made love until we both came together, his hands doing the same magic as his tongue the night before. When he pulled out, I turned around to face him. We kissed for several minutes and then Campbell pulled me so that our bodies were locked together. We took a short nap and then I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door. I looked at the clock, it was 8:39 am, but it was Saturday and it should have been my day off.

  I cleared my throat and yelled, “Just a minute.” I jumped up, put on a robe and opened the door ever so slightly so my visitor couldn’t see inside. It was Jim Barton, one of the younger of the students who were here for a six week course. “Yes, Jim?”

  “That doctor last night said that if anyone started having trouble breathing to let you know and you’d get a hold of him. Well, my roommate, David, is wheezing pretty badly.”

  I heard a rustle behind me and knew that Professor Adair was on his feet getting dressed. He pulled the door open, standing just in his trousers. “What room are you in?”

  Jim was obviously shocked by the Professor’s sudden appearance in just his trousers, but I figured I wasn’t 17 and had certainly earned the right to a little action. Jim motioned to the stairs. “203.”

  “I’ll be up in just a minute,” Professor Adair said with some urgency.

  He closed the door and grabbed a wash cloth off the sink. After washing up at the little sink, he used my toothbrush without my permission and put on his polo top, socks and shoes. Smiling at me, he grabbed his stethoscope and said, “I’ll be back.” Then he took off for the second floor.

  My head was throbbing, so I took some pain killers. A shower was in order so I grabbed my clothes and toiletries and made my way to the bathroom. When I returned, Professor Adair was standing in the middle of the room looking around.

  “Good, I need for you to help me. I have a list of the people who are showing similar symptoms to each other. I want you to help me plot out their location within the building. Do you know if any of the other buildings have lodgers who are sick?”

  I shrugged and when I spoke, my voice was raspy, “I’m just responsible for my dorm. They house the Americans in this building because it’s the largest dorm and there are typically more Americans here during the summer than any other nationality.”

  We spent the next ten minutes drafting a floor plan and plotting the people who were ill and assigning a number to the severity of their symptoms. It was clear that we had a problem from the map in front of us.

  The people with the most severe problems had bedrooms right next to the main bathrooms which were directly above and below each other. The people who were not sick were the furthest away from the bathrooms. We saw the pattern and immediately raced into the bathroom next door to look for something that might be responsible for respiratory problems.

  “We either have a bacterial, viral, or fungal agent here.” His eyes narrowed as he focused on the problem. Bending over, he stared down at the floor.

  “Prof? What are you looking for?” I asked.

  He stood up and grinned at me. Grabbing me around my waist, he pinned me up against the cool tiled wall, nibbling my earlobe. “I think at this point you can call me Campbell.”

  I combed his hair back with my fingers. “What are you looking for, Campbell?”

  “I’m looking for black mold or something that could be harboring a lot of bacteria or virus.”

  I looked around, but all I saw was white tile from the early twentieth century. I saw nothing with my untrained eyes. “I don’t see any black mold. What else could harbor bacteria or viruses?”

  “A pocket of sewage, organic material, even inorganic material.”

  “Well, let’s go up to the second floor. Maybe it’s flowing down from up there,” I suggested.

  After scouring the bathroom for almost an hour, we could see nothing on the second floor either. I still wasn’t sure what we were looking for, but Campbell was inspecting and taking samples of everything he could swab. I carried things for him and, in general, explained to the nosey Americans what he was doing. I wasn’t too worried about the Americans getting worked up; they were all leaving in the morning, and I would have three weeks to myself until school was in session.

  I could tell he was frustrated by the furred brow and pursed lips. Stepping back, I let him do whatever it was he was doing. He knelt down, grabbed a swab and microscope slide from his bag and swabbed an area next to the shower. It looked clean to me, but then I wasn’t a doctor of Infectious Diseases.

  I have to admit, it was hot watching him work. He was so focused and determined, his long frame pausing from time to time to think about his next move. His index finger frequently came up to his mouth as he thought.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know. It looks clean, and I see very little that would suggest an infestation. But, I’ll send the samples to the lab anyway. If they come back negative, I’d like to conduct air sampling.” His tone was one of a professional consulting with a colleague.

  “Okay, but maybe we should tell Dean Hopkins. I have a feeling he’d like to know what’s going on in the building. After all, he is the Big Kahuna here.”

  He cocked his head. “Big Kahuna?”

  “Jefe, Big Cheese, chief, boss, you know, Big Kahuna!”

  He nodded, laughed at me, and then grabbed me. I was pressed up against his chest giggling. Campbell’s smile could make any woman squirm. He leaned down, but before he kissed me, he said, with his lips brushing mine, “You and your strange idioms. Can’t you Yanks speak English?”

  The light feel of his lips on mine made me shiver. By the time he sealed the deal with a kiss I was putty and even though it felt so good, I hated it. I hated it because the last thing I needed was to develop feelings, any feelings, for a Brit. Especially a Brit that ran as hot and cold as Campbell Adair.

  “Let’s go down to your room.”

  He still had me pressed up against him and I could feel why he wanted to go downstairs.

  “I think I can accommodate you, sir.”

  We went down to my room where he quickly dropped his bag and pushed me up against the wall. I had imagined that sex with him would be rather subdued, nice, but very dignified. It was a pleasant surprise to find that he was a little rough, but both generous, and very energetic in bed. Pulling my shirt up, within minutes we were on my bed making sounds that I prayed weren’t being heard all over the campus through my open windows. It was the first time that I had been grateful for a room with the windows to the back overlooking a chain link fence and nothing of interest.

  After we were both spent, our legs still entwined and my hand resting on this thigh, he said to me, “I need a shower.”

  “I need another one too.”

  He kissed my ear, “You take yours and then join me over at my house. We’ll spend the day together.”

  “What are we going to do for the rest of the day?”

  He propped himself up and then lifted the sheet to look at my body. “Hmm, I have some ideas, but I’m open to suggestions.” He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled devilishly.

  “Punting. I want to go punting down the Cam.”

  He grimaced at the thought. “I assume you’ll do the punting?”

  “If I have to I will. But I thought you might do it. You have done it, right?”

  �
��I’ve lived in or near Cambridge all of my life. I’ve been punting a few times,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

  I reached up and rubbed my hand against his twenty-four hour beard. “Ah, come on. Won’t you take a poor American girl punting?”

  Campbell smiled at me, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling up, “Just this once. But we both know that there is no such thing as a poor American.”

  “You’re looking at the exception to prove the rule,” I answered.

  After showering, I put on a peasant skirt and cream eyelet shirt. Opening my backpack, I filled it with odds and ends and made my way across Parker’s Piece. The front door had a note on it that said, “If you can’t spell colour correctly, enter.” I snickered and walked entered. He came down, cleanly shaven, and gave me a peck on the mouth.

  We went down to the kitchen and I stood by while he pulled a bottle of champagne out of the wine refrigerator. “Now we need to go by the market and pick up the strawberries.” Digging a picnic basket out of the pantry, he started pulling food and kitchen utensils from the refrigerator and cabinets. After donning a straw boater with a band that had the colors of Trinity College, he turned and offered me his arm. I had to have a picture of him so we stopped by the dorm and picked up my camera. Afterwards we purchased strawberries at the outdoor market in the town square. Campbell also bought assorted crackers to go with the Camembert cheese he had retrieved from his refrigerator.

  We finally made our way to the little dock and put our names down to rent a punt at 1:00 pm. Since we had half an hour to while away, we bought an ice cream and sat along the Cam to eat it, dangling our legs over the wall of the river as we did. He reached over and took a lick off of my cone and smiled like a naughty boy. I did the same to him. An older American couple came by and asked to take Campbell’s photo in the boater. In turn they reciprocated by taking a photo of us laughing and holding our ice cream cones up near our chins.

  Campbell put his hand around my neck and pulled me over to kiss me, his mouth cold and tasting like chocolate from the ice cream. They snapped another photo of us and then handed us back the camera.

  My professor was so cute punting up the Cam in his cotton tan trousers, striped Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his expensive straw boater on top of his head.

  The Cam is a shallow river that only punts can navigate properly. A punt is a long wooden boat with a flat bottom and a platform at the front and back of the boat. You punt by standing on the platform, sticking a long wooden pole called the “punt” into the river and then pushing off the bottom of the river, propelling your boat forward. There’s an art to it. You have to do it properly or you either go willy-nilly down the river or you lose your punt as it gets stuck in the muck or gets pulled under the boat. Campbell was so graceful punting from side to side, his long limbs pushing the punt, his toned biceps contracting as he did. He didn’t have huge muscles, but he obviously did some resistance training because his arms were sculpted quite firm.

  We punted behind the colleges, hence the area was called, “The Backs.” The colleges, many built before America was colonized, looked beautiful and regal in the summer sun with their gardens, green lawns, stone walls and stained glass windows. I couldn’t help but think it was the perfect day. The sun was warm as it danced in and out of the high feathery clouds. The wind kept us cool and the bucolic scenery couldn’t be more beautiful. More importantly, the company was very pleasant. I was thinking about all of this when I looked up into his eyes. My heart flipped when Campbell looked down and smiled warmly at me.

  We punted over to the right bank of grass and climbed out to find a place to have our champagne and strawberries. Campbell pulled out the small picnic blanket from the basket, spreading it on the ground under a Yew tree. Opening the champagne carefully, he managed to keep the cork in his hand when it was released from the bottle. Pouring the champagne into the crystal flutes he had packed, Campbell wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he handed me a glass. I found the cheese, the strawberries, the crackers, the pate and the whipped cream, spreading them out on the blanket.

  He kept looking at me strangely, finally getting the courage to ask me, “Maggie, aren’t you a little old to be reading Law?”

  I chuckled. The English weren’t used to older students. “It’s my second chance. I had a T-shirt printing business with my boyfriend. We had just landed a large client when he “fell in love” and took off with our line supervisor and all the money. I tried to save the business, but just ended up in more debt. I sold my house, barely paid off our debts and told myself that no one would ever do that to me again. I decided to go to law school.”

  “I have to hand it to you Yanks, you certainly don’t let things like age or money get in your way of what you want. I don’t know if I would have the energy to go back to school, especially law school.”

  We ate and drank, watching the punters go by, several of which fell into the Cam as they tried to navigate the river. I took some funny photos of drenched tourists and friendly punters. Campbell put his glass down and laid his head in my lap with the boater over his face to block the sun. Within minutes he was asleep.

  Looking like an angel with his smooth, angular face and long eyelashes, I let him sleep while I continued to watch the people play along the Cam, many pulling over to have their own picnics. I should never be left to my own devices because my head started worrying. I wondered if he thought of me as just an American bimbo, an easy lay, someone to have a little bit of fun with. I started doubting myself—was I pretty enough, bright enough, polished enough for him to want a real relationship with me? Campbell was so handsome, accomplished and sophisticated.

  I came to the ugly conclusion that I was kidding myself if I thought this could be any more than a bit of fun. I needed to guard my emotions, pull back, and start protecting myself. All the happiness of the day was dampened by my doubts and I found myself wishing he would wake up and make it all better.

  After an hour I felt him stir. He pulled the boater off of his face and opened his eyes, trying to focus but looking slightly groggy. Sitting up, a sensual smile curled across his lips. He reached over and slipped his fingers around my neck, pulling me in for a tender kiss. Lying back down he pulled me back for more. We started “snogging” as the English call it. Our tongues played as did our hands. We snogged and snogged until a family of four walked by. Our actions evoked a throat clearing from the mother to let us know our snogging was not appreciated. Campbell started laughing. We cleaned up our mess and climbed back into the punt.

  I tried my hand at punting, but it was disastrous. I ran into several other American punters and got stuck under the Bridge of Sighs. Campbell was in stitches laughing at me trying to get us out of our jam. I was running back and forth across the boat trying to push one end off only to have the other end get stuck.

  “I give up. Can I please borrow your big strong arms for a minute? I need a shove.”

  “What’s in it for me?” he asked.

  I shrugged and pretended to look innocent. “Uh, what would you like?”

  “What every guy wants.”

  “Head?”

  He roared with laughter. “I was going to say, “a home cooked meal,” but that will certainly do. My God you Americans have a one track mind.”

  I was laughing too. Campbell stood up and grabbed the punt from me. All the doubts and worry I had experienced earlier were gone and I was happy once again.

  “Wait!” I stopped him, “Before you assist me, I need to know. Am I cooking or bobbing for apples?”

  He reached over and gave me a quick kiss. “I’ll let you decide. They both sound delightful.” He grabbed the punt and within a few minutes we were on our way back down the Cam. I was sad to see the dock; it meant our time on the Cam was over. I felt as if my day of leisure and happiness was rapidly coming to a close.

  When we got out of the boat we started our walk back to his townhouse through Cambridge. He had his arm aroun
d my shoulders and the picnic basket in the other.

  “You can drop me off at the dorm.” I said.

  He leaned down and put his face close to mine, “Dorm? You know, you have three weeks before class starts. Let’s fetch your things and you stay with me until school begins?”

  I wasn’t sure I was hearing right. “You want me to stay with you—in your townhouse—for three weeks?”

  “Yes, that sums it up quite nicely.”

  I kept walking with him, but I was dumbfounded. “I think that’s moving too quickly.”

  “You have a dorm room less than an eighth of a mile from the townhouse. If things get rough you can always run back to it.”

  It struck me odd that he was being so impulsive. Everything I knew about him said he hated changes in his life. Still, every ounce of my body wanted to say yes.

  “I wasn’t expecting this, but if you’re okay with it, I’ll try it. I hope we don’t regret it.”

  “Oh, I have a lot of faith...in me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

  “Let’s go get my things.”

  I packed a weekend bag and we took off. My dorm was so close I could come back and get things as I needed them. Unlocking the door to the townhouse, he led me upstairs to his room so I could unpack. It was so strange to be in his bedroom unpacking my things. Campbell cleaned out a drawer and I put my few articles of clothing in it. I looked around, the room was impeccable, but it seemed different from the rest of the house, the taste was less feminine, more sophisticated than the other rooms.