Cambridge Cocoa
"When porter Bernard helps new fellow Dr. Chisom carry her boxes to her rooms, the thick Igbo academic thanks him in ways that blur every line between town and gown."
Bernard had worked the porters' lodge at St. Catherine's College for twenty years. He'd seen every type of academic come and go—brilliant, eccentric, pompous, kind.
Dr. Chisom Okafor was a new category entirely.
She arrived with more boxes than sense, trying to carry three at once across the cobblestones. Nigerian accent, designer glasses, and a body that her professional dress couldn't contain.
"Let me help you, ma'am."
She looked up—and Bernard's heart did something strange.
"Oh, thank God. I was about to drop everything."
It took four trips to get all her things to her rooms. Dr. Okafor—"Chisom, please"—chatted the whole time. New appointment in Economics. First time in Cambridge. Nervous about fitting in.
"The other fellows seem so... English."
"You'll find your place, ma'am. College has a way of welcoming people."
She smiled, and something warm spread through his chest. "You're very kind, Bernard. Can I offer you tea? As thanks?"
He should have declined. Porters didn't socialize with fellows. But those eyes, that smile...
"Tea sounds lovely."
Her rooms were a chaos of boxes. She cleared a chair for him and busied herself with the kettle.
"I noticed you watching me," she said, back turned. "When I arrived. Then during the walk. Your eyes kept finding me."
Bernard's face heated. "I apologize if—"
"Don't apologize." She turned, leaning against the counter. "I was watching you too. Strong arms. Kind eyes. Patient manner." She crossed to him, close. Too close. "I've always had a weakness for working men. The genuine ones. Not these soft academics."
"Dr. Okafor—"
"Chisom." She sat on his lap, and he couldn't breathe. "I'm new here. I don't know the rules yet. And even if I did..." She kissed him softly. "I don't think I'd care."
Her weight on his lap was warm and perfect. Her thick thighs spread across his, her ample breasts pressed against his chest.
"We shouldn't," he managed.
"Probably not." She kissed him deeper. "But I've been alone for two years, and you're the first man who's made me feel something. Don't you want to feel something too?"
He answered by standing, lifting her easily. She gasped with delight as he carried her to the bedroom, boxes be damned.
"Strong," she breathed. "I knew it."
He laid her on the bed and stripped her with reverent hands. Her body was pure abundance—heavy breasts, soft belly, thick thighs. He kissed every inch.
"Bernard... God, yes..."
When he finally entered her, she wrapped around him completely, pulling him deep.
"Don't hold back," she commanded. "I want all of you."
She was magnificent. Responsive and demanding, crying out without shame as he drove into her. The ancient college walls had surely heard worse over their centuries, but probably not much better.
"Yes! Harder! Give me everything!"
She came three times, each one louder than the last. When Bernard finally finished, she was still shaking.
"That," she panted, "is exactly what I needed."
"Happy to be of service, ma'am."
She laughed. "After that, I think you can call me Chisom."
Their arrangement was unconventional. Officially, Bernard was just exceptionally helpful with Dr. Okafor's needs—carrying packages, fixing stuck windows, checking in after hours.
Unofficially, he visited her rooms twice a week for very different services.
"The other fellows would be scandalized," she said one night, wrapped in his arms.
"The other fellows don't need to know."
"No." She kissed him. "This is just for us. Town and gown, together."
Cambridge had many secrets in its ancient stones. Bernard and Chisom became one of its sweetest.