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the professor

Let’s get these beards together sister, his text read.

I’d met the professor a couple of nights before. He had a beard and a wicked sparkle in his eye, and, when we were introduced, he kissed me on the cheek, tickling my neck at the same time. I knew that minute I was into him.

And I think he knew I was too; he purloined my number, very graciously, from a mutual friend of ours, and so began our discourse…

Kitty: Hey lovely, that sounds like a plan. Suggestions?

Professor: Tomorrow night, I am in France now. Let’s introduce these beards tomorrow.

K: No can do my dear – busy till next weekend!

P: And next weekend, what then my pet? I’m hoping to put my beard on your beard; I jest. Saturday night? Would it bother you if I didn’t have a beard? Probably so. I keep it for your neck and thighs.

K: Mmmmmmm… Don’t get me started… Till next weekend then.

During the next five days there was an endless barrage of texts building us both up to the climax of meeting under premeditated circumstances this time.

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