Prem
| USP | : | Not-so-quiet desperation |
| On my bedside table | : | A lamp, but hidden behind a |
| false bottom | : | Playboy Classics |
| Favourite sport | : | Women’s Beach Volleyball |
| Major turn on | : | Everything |
| Lucky charm | : | The Number 34D |
| On a rainy day I enjoy | : | Watching Baywatch (only the running scenes) |
| I Hate | : | The non-running Baywatch scenes |
| Parting Words | : | I love happy endings |
There was only one reason Prem attended all his Biology lectures and her name was Rose. She was the super sexy professor who had replaced that old fart Dhawan at the end of last term. Since then, this 8am lecture had become top priority.
Ms. Rose, as she insisted students refer to her, was stunning. Prem was sure she was pretty too, but it was hard to focus on her features when there was so much more to see. What he really liked about Ms. Rose was that she left very little to the imagination. She taught biology with a passion, and also believed in a full and proud display of her subject(s).
“Theory is all well and good,” she announced during her first class in that delicious husky voice, “but biology is about touch and feel,” to demonstrate, she ran her fingers across her arms before bracing them, thrusting her chest forward. This alone set the boys on a thin edge. “It is about experiencing and engaging the senses. All the senses!” She spoke in a drawl; each word intimate, and drawn out in leisure; each word designed to pull a layer of goose bumps across your arms, amongst other reactions. And true to her words, that’s what she continued to deliver week after week. Everything Ms. Rose offered was tight and bright and very upright.
And so boys like Prem couldn’t help but fall in love with biology – with every aspect of biology. It was but natural. This was the only class where Prem had a 100% attendance and was fully focused. No, he didn’t take notes; but he listened, watched and learned. Sometimes, he used his camera phone to capture important elements of the class; it was more effort than he put in any of his other classes combined.
Yes, Prem was very serious about his love for biology. This was the only class where you’d find Prem attentive and in the first row. With Amar and Meet flanking his side, he was often seen fighting off his competition on a weekly basis for this prime spot. The boys had lost friends, made enemies and had had to sacrifice a few potential conquests in the process, but the best views came at a price, everyone knew that.
Today, Ms. Rose was wearing an impossible black number: a tight black pencil skirt that clung for dear life to her voluptuous hips. It stopped just below her knees, and showed off those creamy legs of hers, all the way down to her red stilettos. Her blouse was black too, a wrap-around, gathered tightly and pulled into a modest bow to the side. It teased the class incessantly. Every boy in the room, and a few girls too, could think only of tugging at that bow. Tugs like that were known to unravel worlds. Would one pull be enough, or would it take two? Amar said two tugs; Meet’s money was on one. Prem didn’t care as long as it came undone.
Ms. Rose turned to the blackboard, chalk in hand. This view was just as good too, all curves and blind turns. “S-P-I-N-E,” she said, writing the same for the class to read. “Let’s talk about the human spine, and the pressure it has to carry.” Right on cue, she turned around and leaned her frame forward against the table. She displayed only a hint of cleavage; she was having one of those rare modest days, but it was still enough to fuel fantasies across hostel rooms later that night. Prem felt the pressure pull at him too, and he reciprocated by leaning forward as well.
It was an action she didn’t miss. Ms. Rose fixed her green-brown eyes to his for a second before addressing the class again. There was a small mysterious smile on her face. Prem wondered what it meant, and if anyone else noticed. It wasn’t the first time she had caught him ogling at her. In fact, each time she caught him, she gave him a quick look over as well.
When he’d mentioned it to Amar and Meet earlier, they had laughed at him. “Dude, you’re seeing things. The wonder twins are messing with your brain. Besides when have you ever made it all the way up to her eyes?” They laughed, but Prem was certain of it, well, almost certain. There was a thing though, for all the entertainment Ms. Rose offered, her class could be excruciating to sit through. The problem was sitting still while she displayed her oh-so-enormous talents, like right about now.
When the bell rang, a good forty minutes later, possibly the quickest passage of forty minutes in the history of time, there was a collective sigh that ran through the class. No other lecturer could boast of this reaction.
Prem told his friends to carry on. “I’ll catch up with you soon”, he waved.
They smirked and walked out. It was customary now. This was how every biology class played out. Prem took his time packing up. He savoured the extra seconds of observing her.
Ms. Rose was at her desk, bent over a set of papers; he wasn’t sure what they were, maybe he was supposed to submit something too. Her tight ponytail dangled from her shoulder, hovering over the desk. He wondered what it would feel like to have her bent over him like that.
It was right then that Rose looked up and caught him mid-stare. She wore that small smile again. What did it mean? It gave Prem a tingling sensation at the base of his stomach. A sensation that grew much more intense when she crooked her finger and beckoned him to her desk.
“Mam,” he asked, trying to build his voice. He didn’t want to come across as a silly, infatuated college boy. He wanted to come across as confident and suave, the kind of man he imagined a woman like Rose would like to tangle with.
“Hang on,” she says still wearing that smile. “We don’t want an audience now, do we? No, not yet, anyway,” she added with a cheeky grin. She followed the last couple of students as they filtered out of the class and latched the door shut behind them.
The classroom was empty except for the two of them. The only sound came from the rickety old ceiling fan. And Prem’s thumping heart!
Rose was a confident, smart woman, quick to take charge. As she sauntered up to him, Prem tried desperately to play it cool. It was not so easy though. He was having trouble breathing as she closed the gap between them. It got worse when she began to run her perfectly manicured bright pink nail along his chest. “Breathe baby,” she cooed at him. When a button came in the way of her travelling finger tip, she popped it open, and continued down the trail. Prem simply forgot to breathe. When all the buttons were undone, she discarded his blue shirt, throwing it somewhere behind her. She took a small step back and gave him a long simmering look over.
“I’m going to teach you lessons you’ll never forget, Prem,’ she said closing the gap between them once again, her