She wanted a word with the professor in private, and hoped Harold could go get the statuette without her having to fake some dumb massage scene.
Harold continued to track nicely.
"Sure. Is she in the upstairs bedroom, Professor?"
Foster nodded cautiously. He trusted Harold. He liked Harold, who helped Lisbeth with her campus art activities and kept an over-energetic wife happy. Furthermore, it was preposterous to think of Harold as having carnal designs on Lisbeth or anyone else. Harold went off happily upstairs.
Cheryl felt the professor study her guardedly. There she was in her cut-off jeans, boots and cape. She could see his male hormones begin to tingle with all that bare thigh showing.
"Well, if you can be discreet about what goes on in the Chem Lab," he said, "there's no reason why… " He let it drift off.
She continued the role Harold had given her. "I just want my twenty bucks for the massage," she said. "I need the money.”
"I didn't realize… Spider never told me-”
"Young guys don't need massages. Your Swedish type is very straight, no hanky-pank.”
He put an arm around her and escorted her to the hallway.
"You can wait in my study, Cheryl. Uh, maybe you can earn forty bucks. I could use a massage myself. After you do the other, that is.”
His thigh had bumped hers and his arm about her waist pulled her close.
"One thing at a time," she breathed.
She had no desire to get further involved with Foster. But he, feeling safe, now appeared delighted by her visit. His arm moved under the cape. More squeezes.
"I like you very much, Cheryl. You were a real good sport with Spider today. I have certain influence on this campus and I can probably help you in a number of ways.”
She pulled free of him. "I'll keep it in mind."
His lust was up. Again his hand went under her cape and he squeezed her ass.
"Come on, Cheryl. It's not like we are strangers. I love the kind of things you do.”
The rest of the interview consisted of the professor chasing her around his study in restrained pursuit. She didn't want to make him mad and he didn't want her to get upset and stalk out. At last Harold returned. His eyes looked miserable.
"She didn't want to talk about the Doris Miller," he said crest-fallen. "She wants the massage, though. Her back is killing her.”
Cheryl felt her heart jump. He'd tossed the ball to her. Common sense told her to give up, but her compulsive drive to get hold of Salt drove her.
"So let's go upstairs.”
"Be sure and see me on the way out," Foster called after them as she quickly took Harold's hand and guided him out of the study…
As they climbed the stairs, he said: “What happens now?”
"We'll fake the massage," she hissed. "We'll steal it, that's all. Is it in the house. Do you know where?”
"Yeah," he said. "She stacks all the stuff in a bedroom they don't use since their kids grew up. It's probably in there, just down the hall from her bedroom.”
"Good. I'll start and you stay around I'll go for a toilet break or something and grab it. Or maybe it's better if you grab it while I work her over.”
"No, no!" squeaked Harold. "I couldn't do that. You grab it while I keep her talking. Then she won't blame me.
Men! she thought. Weaklings, when it came time to protect their interests…
Actually the massage was fun. Cheryl began to get into the spirit of it, once she got Lisbeth Foster on the bed, naked, with a towel across her hips. Deft questions assured Cheryl that Lisbeth knew nothing about Swedish massage. The woman had an older face and gray-streaked hair, but below her shoulders she had a terrific figure. She took good care of herself. Her skin was smooth, pliable, the muscles soft and sexy. She had pretty good breasts, a nice behind, and great legs and thighs. In spite of herself, Cheryl felt her cunt warm as she worked on the nude woman. Ever since giving in to her leech of girl sex with Abby, Cheryl felt able to touch and appreciate other feminine flesh. The professor was crazy to want to play around behind this woman's back. But it added to the sexiness of this situation to realize she'd pulled the plug of the cock that normally got off in Lisbeth's cunt. If the woman only knew.
"Ah, that's so good. That feels so good," cried Lisbeth as Cheryl's fingers dug in.
"Time I'm done you won't even know you have a bad back," Cheryl told her.
As she worked on the flesh of the woman's back and moved down the smooth taper, Cheryl began to get an idea. It was wild, but it made sense in what she wanted to do. She skipped the towel to work on the woman's back thighs. Her hands rose higher and higher towards her crotch. Harold sat a few feet away, talking to Mrs. Foster about some of her art projects. Cheryl's woman's sense told her that the older woman would not have let Harold witness this massage unless she liked the young man. Even in the few minutes she'd worked, Cheryl realized that Lizbeth liked the young man a whole lot. Further, her experience with the Professor told her that the Fosters, like so many people who were married for a long time, had roving eyes. There was a lot of sublimated sexuality between the sexy, older woman and Harold, although he didn't realize it.
Cheryl's hand went under the towel and she gently jogged the older woman's cunt. She felt tension in the woman's loins and her own sex rush and a blush. Cheryl held her breath. Her hand slid back down on the thighs.
The older woman's dark eyes looked at Cheryl, as Lisbeth turned her head to peer over her shoulder. Lisbeth looked puzzled-and a little hot-eyed. She said nothing and that was all Cheryl needed.
"All right, Harold," said Cheryl. "You can help me now.”
"Wh-what?" squeaked Harold.
Cheryl went on smoothly, talking to Lisbeth. "I'm teaching Harold my massage system,” she said. "If he's good enough at it, we may open a service in Brighton. Since you and he are already-sort of friends-would you mind?”
“Listen,” said Harold, blushing. "It's nothing of the kind-”
"Come on, Harold," Cheryl cut him off. "You don't have to hide it from Mrs. Foster-Lisbeth.”
"Not at all," said Lisbeth with a laugh. "I've often encouraged Harold to learn to do something useful with his hands. He spends too much time in his head.”
"So hop to it, Harold," Cheryl ordered. "You get busy on the back while I take care of the legs.”
"I-I-I-" Harold stammered.
"Harold, get over here!" Lisbeth's tone was peremptory and Harold jumped.
A few seconds later, coat off, sweating and blushing, Harold dug his hands into the nude flesh of his patroness, while Cheryl "instructed" him as she continued to squeeze the sexy thighs of the professor's wife.
"Slowly, Harold… move the flesh in and out… take your time. Be firm but not painful… now then… your knuckles on the backbone, but not too hard.”
Cheryl had her own fun down below. Harold was too confused to notice what she was doing to his patroness. Cheryl's hot hand sneaked under the towel to work that luscious cunt, making it swell and wet, just as her own cunt began to swell and wet. Lisbeth's hot eyes crossed hers, and Cheryl saw that the older woman was both amused and delighted at getting this erotic attention from the two young people. Pretty soon Lisbeth made very gentle humping motions and a soft groan escaped her lips.
"Was I-too harsh!" cried Harold.
"You're doing fine, Harold," said Cheryl.
She spread some of Mrs. Foster's cunt honey down on the soft inner thighs and had to breathe fast at the glisten and feel of it.
If she weren't careful, Cheryl feared she'd forget the real reason she'd come here and start a mini-orgy right on Lisbeth's bed. Certainly the older woman enjoyed it. Her legs had opened, her butt had tensed and relaxed under the towel. Bravo! The worldly, quick-thinking professor's wife was plenty fast on the uptake, adjusting to this lucky situation and letting Cheryl manage the whole thing.
Cheryl had Lisbeth turn over, covering those quite excellent breasts with a smaller towel. Harold modestly averted his eyes, but Cheryl didn't. The woman's nipples were as hard as if they had been carved out of stone. Cheryl's own breasts tensed in appreciation of the hot sex flashes she knew Lisbeth felt.