Finding the Professor Ch. 01

Meeting the Professor

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It was a miserably snowy day, the kind when a car refuses to start the first time and takes ages to warm up, the kind that makes breathing burn and turn to mist, the kind of winter morning where the snow crunches underfoot.

It took Walt ages before he left his dorm room. He kept glancing at the clock and at the door. What if he left and everyone stared at him? His impressive height drew more eyes than he was comfortable with. One set of eyes was enough to send him running. Only Johnny could have convinced him to go to college. His light-hearted brother could convince a fish to breathe air.

Outside of his dorm room may have well been filled with nightmares. Nightmares that haun him. Nightmares that prevent him from living a normal life.

With a twist of door handle, he was out of his dorm with his laptop bag, which had everything he would need.

He barely arrived at his class in time, and when he did, he was confused about if he were in the right class as it had already started and the Professor was talking about Beowulf.

That was very on point for Medieval Lit, so he walked towards the front, curious to learn more about the fictional hero. Though he was terrified that the students would make fun of him, he kept his eyes on the curvy woman by the whiteboard. Her voice was honey and led him all the way to the front row before he realized what he was doing.

The lecture hall appeared large enough to hold fifty students. It was a tiered room with folding seats and individual desks facing a raised platform with a table. The wall behind was lined with whiteboards. Half of the boards already had bright calligraphic writing in blues, reds, and black as if Walt had missed half the lecture already.

By his watch, he was only two minutes late. There were perhaps fifteen students who had felt it worth traversing snowy roads and icy sidewalks. He calmed his breathing before the overwhelming amount of people made him run out of class.

New semesters led to increased stress for the ginger boy, and the idea that somehow he entered the wrong class weighed heavy on his mind.

"Who knows Beowulf?" the instructor asked the classroom.

"Movies and TV shows count," she added, momentarily biting on her whiteboard marker. A handful of arms raise into the air. "Good. I actually knew him personally. You could say he was a man of great size."

The Professor said the last two sentences quietly enough Walt thought only the first two rows could hear her. Wasn't Beowulf a fictional hero? Walt wondered.

She wore a modern blue dress with patches of random colors sewn across it. If she kept adding onto the dress, blue wouldn't be the dominant color anymore. Walt smiled at that thought. Under the blue dress, she wore a white ruffled button-up that clung to her chest. The dress also had two lines of buttons, for what purpose he didn't know. It was ankle length, and he was disappointed by how little leg the dress showed; however, feet and shoes were just as arousing to him.

She was wearing boots, they were brown and had brass buckles, they had two-inch heels. Enough heel to walk in reasonably comfortably for a short period of time, but not reasonable to run in, nor to teach a class while walking and standing for an hour and a half.

"Does anyone know what date Beowulf was written?" the Professor asked the classroom. No one raised their hand, nor did they blurt out an answer. "Ha. That's a trick question," she chuckled and started to scrawl on the board.

Setting was in 500s

Written When?

"It was written anywhere between the seventh to tenth century," she said while writing the second line. "That's a very large gap, if any of you can do maths." Walt hadn't fully realized she had a very cute British until that moment. He couldn't tell which area of the UK she was from--he didn't know enough to tell, but the accent was music to his ears.

Her hair was a voluptuous shoulder-length cascade of white, which he thought was odd because he would have sworn she was too young to have white hair. Dyed or weird genetics, he thought. Walt was no man to judge with his bright orange hair. Growing up in Wyoming, other kids had relentlessly made fun of it.

Small town kids are savage, Walt thought errantly before bringing his attention back to the lecture.

The woman's chest was full and curved, creating two spherical mounds in her white ruffled blouse. Walt chuckled quietly, watching the tight blouse struggle to contain her breasts. Did he see sewn patches where they might've popped out?

"You there, young sir," she asked while staring directly at him, "can you tell me how Beowulf's story was created? Also, tell me your name."

"Um... Walt." There seemed to be a giant disconnect between his brain and his mouth. Everyone was staring at him, but all Walt could think about was feeling those orbs in her blue dress. Walt wanted to grab them, squeeze them, and glide his hard cock between her breasts. He also wanted to suckle on them. "Uh... I.. I.. believe it was word of m-mouth," Walt said shyly.

Walt wasn't an expert on medieval literature. He wasn't an expert on any field of literature. Walt's specialty lay in creative writing, but this class was required for getting his bachelor's and moving towards the goal of being a world famous author.

Please be right! Please don't call me again! Walt inwardly shouted in his mind. I want to run. I want out of here.

He dared not look at the door. Could everyone sense his fear? He felt their eyes on the back of his head.

"You're pretty spot on. A story began to form as bards told the tale. It evolved and was changed with every year it was told by mouth until one day somebody finally took the time to write it down," she lectured. "I should know because I'm the one who gave that poor bastard the idea. Lot of help it gave him," she continued and trailing off to a mumble at the end as if lost in thought.

Multiple people chuckled awkwardly at the last statement.

"If you ever write a story, remember to include your name. I know he wanted the story to feel real and unwritten, but Jesus, that was foolish. If you take that long chipping it into a slab, the least you can do is flip it over and do your name on the back."

Walt had never seen a more impassioned speech from a professor. She paced with vigor in front of her students and talked so quickly with such accuracy, according to Walt, that the students, him in particular, were enraptured by her words. He couldn't wait to see those legs.

The Professor continued her lecture on Beowulf, but shifted it towards talking about language and how Old English evolved into Middle English, which evolved into Modern English. The lecture left Walt confused, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to take notes on.

First day shenanigans, Walt thought. Walt was hopeful that, as the semester went on, she would be more specific, or perhaps there would be easy assignments that didn't include a giant variety of topics.

I'm strong. I can do this. I'm not a coward.

????????????

The semester continued like that for the next month or two. Walt typed furious notes. He hoped what he took notes on were the important bits and that those bits would appear on a final exam, if there was one.

Fifteen students turned to ten, and ten turned into seven. Seven eyes on him felt less than fifteen, but it still scared him. How often were they watching him?

He found the view from the back was still as good as the front. The Professor's body often distracted him from both other students and some of the lecture contents. Her tight-fitting blouses were often very revealing, even if they did have ruffles.

Some of the tales the Professor seemed ludicrous and completely fabricated. She spoke on and on about how Chaucer liked his tea. Chaucer liked his tea black with no sweeteners under his favorite tree by some church on a comfy bench. It was absurd when the Professor talked about some of these figures like she knew them personally.

How could you know the monk that monk was based on? Why would you know them? Walt couldn't fathom how or why.

Many people asked her name.

"Just 'the Professor,'" she told the class. "I'm mysterious and private, and that's all you get to know," the Professor said in a playful manner.

Walt was so enraptured by the Professor one day that he almost slipped up and started jacking off in the classroom. He was young and dumb (and full of cum), but he had the decency to not pull out his cock. Walt still did something many might call a crime.

He sat at a desk against the back wall, away from any other students' eyes, which wasn't hard as there were only maybe seven that day in the classroom built for fifty. Cold season had hit the university hard, but Walt was glad there were fewer people to make him nervous. Seven was certainly better than fifty. Fifty students made him want to run, run fast, and run as far away as possible, preferably back in the safety of his dorm room.

Seven made him shiver.

He was in the perfect spot to rub his cock through his pants though. Walt could easily see if any of the students were looking his way, and if they did, he knew he'd either run or hide under his desk. They might still see him, but Walt had practiced the fetal position more than enough. None were staring, and they were ensnared by the honey-sweet words of the Professor, so stroke he did through the fabric of his jeans.

His imagination took root. Walt's mind started a scene.

The Professor walked over to his desk and grabbed him by the collar. She dragged him to the front of the classroom. Walt stood up there in front of his peers. It made him scared and horny. Several of the girls had migrated to the front to get a better view. Their eyes tore into him.

The Professor started stripping him for the class and started a lecture on sex. Which might have been a bit much when the only thing she talked about was medieval liturature.

"Today we're talking about giant cocks, and Walt here has the biggest in the classroom." Most, if not all, the class in his mind were now hot female versions of their current selves. Walt kept his eye on the real class to make sure no one was watching him as he silently jerked off in his jeans. The scene was really turning him on, and his cock was squished between the flesh of his thighs and two layers of fabric. His cock's head reached the hem of his boxers halfway down his upper leg.

The Professor had removed his pants and shirt, and all that was left were his boxers. "A boxer guy?" she asked as she slowly moved her hand around his cock through his underwear. Her soft touch brought a slight moan to his lips and a spurt of precum stained the fabric above the head of his cock.

He wasn't sure if he had actually made any sounds in his physical classroom, so he bit his tongue.

The Professor had started talking about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Her interest in the topic was evident, and she may have lingered on the description of Sir Gawain a bit too much. Yes, the knight was the classic, perfect knight who did everything right except on the third night, but Walt wasn't sure he was into guys.

She leaned over her desk at the front of the class. Walt could see straight down her cleavage as if she was standing that way on purpose. Instead of one of her normal ruffled button-up blouses under the patchwork blue dress, she wore low and revealing lantern-sleeved u-neck blouse. Her breasts were practically spilling out.

Another moan might have escaped the shy boy's mouth. Somehow, his tongue biting wasn't working, so he covered his lips with his right hand.

Walt could swear she was staring at him more as well. He hoped she couldn't see what he was doing under the desk. If she did, he would be mortified.

She removed his boxers next, and suddenly they both were naked. Walt chucked at the way his imagination was rushing things and figured it was because he was close to staining his pants. The busty professor then leaned and angled her breasts so the classroom had the perfect view. All the girls were in the front row and were pleasuring themselves; a few had their hands on their neighbor's pussy.

That mental image was driving Walt insane. One hand was vigorously rubbing his jeans, and the other was covering his mouth to prevent any possible noise erupting from it. His eyes were glued on the Professor's cleavage.

His professor then used her breasts to give him a good titty fuck. Walt's eyes couldn't decide what to glue themselves to: her dark blue eyes or her freckled breasts and pink nipples.

Walt was close, and he pinched her nipples. "That feels good, Walt," she said. A moan escaped her lips, and he erupted onto her chest and face.

The young man kept his right hand over his mouth and blasted his left pant leg with cum. Consequences be damned, he felt good. He felt his jizz make wet spots on his jeans. His eyes drooped a bit, and he could swear he saw the Professor wink at him, but it probably was his post-nut brain.

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Teaching had been a unique opportunity for the alien woman. Teaching humans had always been a challenging experience and teaching college students was even worse.

College students think they know everything. They thought they had it all figured out, but their education, according to the woman from a different planet, was barely beginning. Their adolescent years should mean nothing to them compared to learning about literature, mathematics, astronomy, and thousands of other fields.

Ew maths. Growing up and learning what others of her species were learning was always a challenge, especially maths. She struggled calculating the exact radius of the damn Medusa Cascade, but could easily pinpoint it on the map. Knowing where you are should be the battle, not figuring out how big it is.

The Professor did not intend to create a dick joke.

She wrote on the board in her usual penmanship. Today, she gave a lecture on something she knew well. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. If the Professor had to choose a place to be stuck for a year or two, it would be some mythical high fantasy England. The idea of Sir Gawain of King Arthur's round table being a gallant, buff-bearded knight made her wet. Or was that because of the cute redhead in her class masturbating at her? She had to convince him to grow some facial hair. Maybe a goatee would look good with his short, scruffy red hair.

Wait! she thought, is he really doing that in class?

Sir Gawain wasn't said to have facial hair, but when she imagined him, he always had a well-kempt dusty gray or brown set.

No! The Professor thought in disbelief, unable to comprehend the situation in front of her. I thought I knew that shy boy better than that.

She stared at his tall, lanky figure in the back of the class. He was leaning back in his chair as confident as the meek young man could be, which wasn't very confident. She was drawn to his lack of confidence as something for her to fix. She could guide him into being more confident.

She felt lust. She felt the human's lust. A lust directed at her. Their eyes met as he covertly masturbated while looking right at her. She arched her brow at his bravery.

The Professor knew he had been eyeing her with a horny look all semester, but she never thought this would happen in her classroom.

Walt's meek eyes watched her. She found his innocent green eyes attractive.

Her eyes scanned the room as she spoke, trying to keep her line of thinking on track. More than a few times, her eyes lingered on the student in the far back.

The woman knew every face and name in her class. Her memory was impressive. And, from the beginning, her eyes lingered on Walt Green more than the rest. It wasn't because the rest were unattractive-- it was because she felt a mutual attraction with young and meek Mr. Green. His height, his orange hair, his innocent green eyes, and the freckles on his cheeks all drew her to him. She also admired the young man's writing.

Could she drive Mr. Green even more wild?

If she leaned on the desk, what effect would it have? She was wearing her normal blue dress. However, today, the blouse she had chosen, by complete chance, had a slightly larger view of her breasts. A smile crept over her face as she paused in her speaking and leaned over her desk at the front of the room.

His view was perfect, and the effect was instant. A slight whimper escaped his lips. The Professor couldn't help herself and grinned. She quickly said something to stop other students from glancing up to the shy student blatantly masturbating. If she could hear it, they could, too.

Another slight whimper escaped his lips, and she relished the feeling. Whether the rest of the classroom heard his immodesty, she couldn't know for sure. She hoped none of the other students minded her sexual lean.

Wonder swept her thoughts. All she could think about was what he was imagining.

She had briefly put lecturing on the back burner, so she took a deep and long breath. Left with none of the fun he was having, all she could was lecture.

That's not true, the Professor thought. I can easily have two thoughts at once. After all I'm a Kepleyan.

If men in anime can have harems then so could I. This was the last reasonable thought she had before, the part of her mind thinking that, thought descended into debauchery.

Her mind divided into two lanes. One part of her was sour that it wouldn't take part in the wild imagination the rest of her was having, but it still managed to give a lecture to the students.

Part of her mind, however, switched on the vivid colors of fantasy.

There was a lecture on Gawain happening outside of the mind of the Professor, but inside there was an epic fantasy landscape. The kind little men leisurely strolled through, and elves spent time reading books under giant green oaks.

The trees were alive and could grab busty adventurers as they foolishly climbed through their branches, and out came several thicker branches ready to probe holes.

This is where the Professor found herself. Not under a giant handsy tree, but on a road next to a hill with one of those giant handsy trees.

A knight came galloping down the street. Gallops were sending the wet mud flying from the road. The knight came her way. Their armor was silver and reflected the sun, creating an aura of light around their body.

The helmet of the knight was accented with gold, and a giant feather plume on the back caught the wind. Feathers of dark blue and bright white billowed in the air.

A horse neighed and stepped on mud, which landed with unfortunate accuracy onto the Professor's peasant skirt. She had been trying to keep the long thing out of the mud as the knight trotted over. Alas, it had all been for naught. A splatter coated half of the gray skirt, probably staining the thing, but it was only in her mind, after all.

Why is my mind fabricating a stained peasant skirt? the Professor thought. A hand held the stained skirt for a better look, and she smiled. She softly bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, my lady," the knight said through the silver helmet. His voice distorted through the metal grate near his mouth. "I had been trotting down this trail haphazardly and have fouled your fine dress."

There was definitely a British lilt in his accent, yet the voice seemed familiar.

"After this dastardly deed, all I can do is but offer a ride to this fair lady," he said, almost talking to himself.

"A ride would be greatly appreciated, great sir," the Professor said, unafraid that her English accent would sound unusual. A ride indeed.

"Hop aboard, and we will approach your destination," the knight said, reaching for her hand.

She laid her hand in his gloved palm, and he easily pulled her onto his horse. Her mind had no idea where this man would take them, but she thought she should fast forward. Surroundings became a blur as she quickened the scene. Trees, bushes, and fences darted past her eyes. What would have taken twenty minutes was cut to seconds.

Why is my mind creating such a weirdly in-depth scene?

"How can I ever repay you, my gallant knight?" the Professor asked as they stopped at her hovel.

"Think not on thoughts of repayment. After all, I am a knight, and knights do things with no payment required."

"But I must, sir."

"I simply would not allow it, young lady," he argued.

"But please, sir," the Professor said. A little desperation laced her words. "I have to."

"If you insist, maiden," he relented. The back and forth was only fun to a certain extent.

They entered her quaint imagined home, and she quickly prepared a meal. After the meal, which she convinced him was not the payment of his services, she led him to the room.

She stripped in front of him as teasingly as her mind would allow. She spun for him and kissed his handsome features. She knew now under the unshaven face, the knight was Walt, which made her desperate for more. He had a confidence that Walt sorely lacked.

What about him makes me so hot? His innocence? His lack of confidence? It's like a schoolgirl crush!

The Professor watched him strip as she attempted to come to a reasonable conclusion. The knight in front her unlaced and unbuckled layers of metal, leather, and fabric, which fell to the ground in thuds.

Soon, his chest was uncovered. Her hands rubbed through his red curly chest hair, which covered a majority of his hard pectorals, and moved down his rock-like abs to his belly button and the bush still in his pants. His pants stopped her hands. She almost ripped the brown leggings off in anger.

She released the bite on her lip she didn't realize she'd been holding.

He unbuckled and pulled down his pants, eyeing her suspiciously. "Is this what you're after, temptress?" The movement revealed that his long cock was already hard. She touched the coarse hair at the base of his rod then gave the red fibers a playful tug.

He grunted in response, and one of his hands gripped her breast in return. He played with the mound, circled the tit, and squeezed her nipples. She squirmed and gasped in pleasure. His rough hands massaging her soft breasts made her knees weak.

She got onto her knees and heard a sigh from the orange haired man as she removed her breasts from his grasp. Both of her hands found his cock and wrapped around it. Stroking his shaft brought her pleasure. His micro movements and the way his cock shifted in her touch drove her to remove one hand and touch her pussy.

She rubbed at her pussy while stroking his cock in the same rhythm. Her hand honed in on her clit and she rubbed it in circular motions as she twisted her other hand around the knight's long cock.

Her dark blue eyes rolled and her grip on Walt's cock squeezed tighter as brought herself to her first orgasm.

He squirmed under her tight grip. She smiled up at him and he gritted his teeth from the pain. The Professor loosened her grip bringing both hands back to his cock.

Grunts and his hard-built body made achieving her first orgasm easy. "You're so strong, Mister Knight," she said after her pussy juices coated his cock. Her hand massaged the sticky substance on his rod.

"That feels well, wench," the knight said, his voice was far deeper than Walt's baritone.

"You like my juices coating your shaft?" she teased. He grunted in agreement.

Her left hand took over on her clit as she massaged circles around it. His precum and remnants of her last orgasm aiding as lubricant.

The Professor's fingers circled around the base of his shaft and she massaged up gliding her palm against his cock until she reached the tip. Her grip loosened gliding over the head of his cock and then went back down. He groaned every time her hand glided softly around his sensitive tip.

Ambidextrous was not a word she would use to describe herself, yet her left hand did get her close to a second climax.

Just a fantasy, she thought. Yet, I'll still have my fun.

She orgasmed again. The Professor did not want to give the man in her dreams, an imagined Walt, a blowjob. The woman on her knees wanted that event to be special and not some dream.

Her right hand worked its way back and forth. His rigid cock's current size meant that her fingers didn't reach all the way around, not that she minded.

Up and down the shaft. Her left hand came in for support, and both hands worked their way around his shaft. He gasped as her palms glided over the tip of his cock over and over. She almost brought her mouth to the head. Almost. The continuous motion made the man above her sigh in pleasure.

His eyes met hers. "I'm getting close," the knight said.

Through grunts, he came all over her face and bare chest. The Professor's last moments in her dream consisted of gently stroking him a few more times and then rubbing his jizz into her skin.

Then, her mind reconnected back to its other half, and they finished the lecture together.

????????????

He had to finish up a paper and print it off. His dorms were too distracting, and a late night trip to the library seemed appealing. There would be few other students wandering around.

He worried it would be late enough for the library to be closed, but it wasn't, and he quickly found a computer lab on the fourth floor and got to typing. Though there were only a few students, he still avoided looking at any of them. He never liked eye contact and ran to the fourth floor where he knew there would be no other students.

Two hours later, after he finished and printed the essay out, he heard an unusual noise. Hundreds of horror movies ran through Walt's head.

"Never investigate a weird creepy noise at midnight emanating from a weird and creepy closet," he muttered quietly while lifting his laptop bag and slowly walking towards the noise.

It was real life, and in real life nothing happens to the six-foot-tall English major. Right? He was lanky, yet he still had some muscle. Yes, the slightest stare from one too many people would send him running, but he projected confidence.

He at least tried to. His legs shook with fear.

He slowly reached for the closet door, expecting a janitor, or even a mop that might have fallen onto the door.

Walt did not expect his favorite professor to come tumbling out of the closet when he opened it. She came out in a tumble with a few brooms and mops. Her brown heels clattered around in one of those yellow mop buckets with wheels.

"What are you doing at the library at midnight, Professor? In a janitors' closet of all places?" the student asked while catching her light body.

"Hey, Waltzy, thanks for the save," she said, squeezing his arms. "Is it already that late? Why haven't they kicked you out?"

"I'm not sure. They close at 11, but I told them this essay was due tomorrow and I haven't had time for it until now."

"Some teachers still want paper? Damn jerks," the Professor said while eyeing his paperwork. Maybe she was even looking for which teacher. "Way to wait until the last moment, shy guy."

Another noise. Both of their heads swiveled towards the stairs.

"Probably just the librarian."

"Is that what you think? Or what you hope? Please, Waltzy, can you help me out of this mop bucket?"

Walt, surprised that he could, lifted her from the bucket and gently placed her on the ground.

"My hero, you're pretty strong," she smiled coyly when his grip tightened on her. "Eye fucker," she looked up at him, winked, and wiggled out of his surprised grip.

"I uh..."

"Oh, it's fine. Walk with me, Walt. Something important is about to happen, and it's going to change your life."

Walt was slightly saddened when she didn't call him "Waltzy," but followed the woman and her patchwork blue dress.

Down one floor and sneaking like his life depended on it, they saw the librarian chowing down another student. He couldn't remember her name, but Walt recognized the deceased's face. Did they have classes together? Psych?

One of them stepped on a pop can, and it made a loud crunch. Everyone in the library probably heard it.

"Five feet from the recycling bin and some wanker couldn't walk an extra five feet? Five fucking feet," she said in her adorable British accent.

Walt looked down to see his foot on a red and blue can half crushed by his weight.

"We need to work on your sneaking, Waltzy. Never step on cans. Now lift."

Walt lifted his foot, and alarm bells rang through his head. The Professor chucked the can into the blue bin five feet away, and Walt realized the alarm was real.

The dark room they were in was originally illuminated only by the midnight moon. Now the room was being lit by the red and white fire alarm.

"He's getting away. Damn head librarian. Let's get out of the building."

They started to leave, but Walt was concerned about the young woman sitting in front of her open laptop. A video of a YouTuber he recognized was playing. Her headphones were still on, and blood oozed down her neck.

"She's dead. I'm sorry. Blood was drained right out of her. Now come on. I'm not sure who pulled that fire alarm, but we should get out of the building."

Walt struggled to remove his gaze from the dead girl, finally succeeding a few seconds later.

"Did you know her, Waltzy?" she asked while looping her arm through his elbow.

"I'm not sure, Professor. I think we had a class together last semester," Walt told her while they walked down three flights of stairs and went out the front door.

"I'm not sure why Gabe pulled the fire alarm. What does Gabe gain from first responders being here? Could it have been that a student saw the scene like we did? Why didn't that damn librarian clear the library before he started chowing down on students?"

"How do we find this murderer? What is he?" Walt felt like he was in the dark more than he'd ever been before.

"He's not a vampire, if that's what you're thinking. At least I don't think he is. Gabe is some kind of alien life form. Not from Earth. We're here," the Professor stated when they got to a classic pink two-door car with a canvas top. "But again, I'm not sure if vampires exist, nor if he is one. However, I will still refer to him as a vampire."

"Are you serious? You've got a t-bird?" he asked as he rubbed the pink car. "What year is it?"

"A fan of the classics? It's a modified '57. We're here to grab something. Give me a second here."

She used a key to open the engine hood and leaned forward impossibly far, but Walt was distracted by the inside of the car. The seats drew his eye, covered in a bright blue faux animal skin, and the steering wheel was a fluffy pure white mess of hair, which matched the white dash.

Finally, after tossing a few items here and there, the Professor pulled out a small rectangular item, gave it a few hits, and said, "not me, you idiot."

"What is that thing?" he asked with mild curiosity after inspecting the car.

"I could easily say it goes ding when stuff happens, but this device tracks alien blood from a decent distance. Right now, it's stuck to me, and that's why I don't use it," she gave it a few more whacks. She then opened the device up and gave it a few blows, a spit, and a rub.

"Why have it then?" Walt was staring at the front door of the library and watched the fire department enter the building. One firefighter was talking to a guy in a suit. Oh, that's Gabe, or whatever the Professor called him.

He nudged the distracted lady and pointed out the head librarian.

"What?" she asked as she pulled out another device from some pocket in her dress or maybe from the light jacket she wore over it. It made some kind of whistling noise as she aimed it down at the blood tracker. She gave it a few more whacks as she looked to where he pointed. "Oh. Great, now it works."

"What do we do?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know how to stop him. We need to talk to him and see."

????????????

They walked up to Gabe. He was still talking to the firefighter. The Professor eyed the alien man up and down until Gabe was done talking.

"You got some blood on your collar, dude," Walt told the librarian, pointing out where it was. The Professor gave him a look. "What? He does."

"Excuse me, Gabe, can I speak to you about library business alone with Walt here?" the Professor asked looking back and forth between the firefighter and librarian.

They walked around the university library. It didn't look like it was on fire. The men and women in firefighting gear were looking around, but it appeared to them it was a false alarm.

"You have a choice, Gabe. I don't often give individuals like yourself, murderers, a choice. I'm feeling generous," the Professor said in a quiet whisper only the elderly vampire and Walt could hear. "I can either take you someplace where there is no one you can kill, or it gets messy."

Behind their backs, they heard people moving stuff into the firetruck and taking equipment out the library's doors.

"Another false alarm. That's three today. What is wrong with people?" a man said while some of his giant mustache tried to snake its way into his mouth.

Walt looked through the giant library windows as two firefighters continued talking as they threw equipment back into the behemoth red vehicle.

Suddenly, Gabe booked it down the side of the building and found a side door of the library vanishing behind it.

"God, old guy is fast," Walt said.

The Professor glanced over at the tall young man and gave him a somber smile. They heard what they needed and chased after the elderly head librarian. She used her device to unlock it when she found the door locked. It looked like a fancy pen with a glowing pink LED.

"Why does it always come to this?" the Professor asked as they climbed up a flight of fire escape stairs. "They always run!" she said, exasperated as a slight sob escaped her mouth.

Walt, however, was invigorated. He was excited, and he hadn't heard the hitch in his professor's voice. His mind was running as fast as he was running. "Why are the firemen leaving? If there was a body above us, why wouldn't they close off the library? Unless... there's no longer a body up there?"

"Walt, some good thinking, but give me a moment. I love fashion, but, these heels are never good for running," the Professor said as they finished one flight of stairs while looking at her brown boots and leaning on Walt. "Let's then conclude the body is no longer there and the old fucker isn't going that way. Where, then, would he be headed?"

Flustered because this was the first time the Professor had touched Walt, he said, "Um... I'm not sure."

"I really hope he has something in his office. Otherwise, I'll look foolish, if he's not there," she said. She glanced at the device she stowed in her pocket and nodded with confidence.

They headed towards his office. It was on the floor they had climbed up to and Walt was already thinking about carrying the shorter woman up the next flight, if his scrawny arms could handle it.

They heard sounds of scrapping coming from an upcoming office and slowed substantially.

In the office, Walt saw the man with gray hair and in tweed pull a bookcase from the wall to reveal some hidden chamber. He reached out to grab some kind of weapon from the hidey hole, where another body was crammed, and Walt reacted before his mind could process the possible dangers.

Walt collided with the older man, expecting him to crumble to the ground in shattered bones; however, they instead wrestled, each of them trying to overpower the other. The silver pistol pointing precariously between them.

The old librarian fought as hard as Walt and gained the upper hand. With a swift sweep of his legs he brought Walt to the ground. A wicked smile crossed Gabe's face as he aimed the pistol at the tall young man, completely forgetting there was one other individual in the room.

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As Walt and Gabe tussled, the Professor could only think to describe it as a tango, which made her smile. Meanwhile, she had successfully relieved a wooden chair in the corner of the office of its right front leg.

With one quick, barely audible, snap, the leg came free in a convenient stake-like shape. The kind of stake that would make Van Helsing proud and perhaps even Buffy.

By this point, Walt and Gabe had finished their dance. Walt was on the ground and fear crossed his light green eyes as he rubbed a hand from his forehead into his short orange hair.

The Professor did what Walt had moments ago. She reacted without thought, only swift action. It was over in five seconds.

She pushed Gabe's hand down towards the ground, the weapon discharged, and brought her right hand straight down into the librarian's chest. It slid right into the vampire's heart, and Gabe lit up like a Christmas tree.

The room was filled with green flames, and with a pitiful screech, the vampire fell to the ground. The Professor bent over to grab the silver pistol not wanting it to be used ever again. It slipped into her dress pocket and Walt didn't see it as the vampire's weapon vanished; years of thieving aiding her. She watched Gabe's burning corpse for a long moment. He deserved it, she thought.

The Professor's eyes flitted from the green fire, to the scorching hole in the ground, and then her eyes settled on Walt Green.

She held her hand out for Walt to grab, "Well, Waltzy, what did you think?"

Walt returned to his feet with her help, and they both stared down at the dimming green flame.

Murderers don't get to live, the Professor thought before she gazed into Walt's green eyes. Her thoughts dissolved, and only a wide smile remained. She interlocked arms with him and led Walt to her car.

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Walt followed her lead. A few times he wondered where they were going, but ultimately, he couldn't help himself and followed along.

Would they get arrested for murder? he wondered, but he pushed those thoughts aside. It was self defense and the remains had randomly combusted leaving none of his prints.

Walt stared at the pink Thunderbird, yet again. Was the Professor going to take him somewhere?

She opened the hood of her vehicle with the same key and popped it open. "Did you need help with your car, Professor?" Walt asked.

"No. Look again, Walt," she slid over and into where the engine was supposed to be, but it was gone.

"What?" Walt asked. "How's this possible?"

They made their way down a few steps, and before Walt was something impossible. It was impossible, but still there. In front of him was a technological marvel, and it made him crosseyed.

"Welcome to my ship. It can travel in time and space. You've proved yourself useful, and I'm thinking about keeping you," the Professor said with a wink.

"What is this? It's bigger on the inside?" Walt asked. His eyes darted around the place, finding it not at all possible to stay on a single button, light, or knob.

"I love it when they say that," she said while she twisted a few knobs and pressed a few buttons from a center console. "I'm from a different planet," she said somberly.

"Where are you from?" Walt asked, his whole attention on her.

"I'd rather not say at the moment, but I will eventually. It's hard for me to talk about," the Professor said as she pulled a lever.

"How many books do you have in here? Oh, and what a lovely sitting area," Walt said. His eyes took in the upper floor, full of books in bookcases. The railed floor wrapped itself all the way around the ship, only allowing the steps to the outside and a staircase to interrupt the pattern. There were two chairs and a table next to the railing near the stairs to get to the upper floor.

"I have more in the proper library. These are just a few of my favorites. Most of it is filthy erotica," she said with a bright smile across her face. She was still looking at the center console, probably still thinking about Gabe or even her home planet. Walt didn't know.

An alien? Jesus, Walt. What have you gotten yourself into?

Walt's eyes still explored the ship he was standing in. There was a ship inside an old sports car. His mind was officially blown, and he couldn't help pinching himself to see if it was truly real.

"I want complete honesty for this next question," she said with a serious face. Any jokes previously said were gone from her ancient eyes, and Walt could tell he was staring at an alien from some unknown world.

"... um... OK," Walt mumbled, his wonder shattered by the Professor's serious tone.

"Are you truly wanting to journey with me? Through time and space. I can't always guarantee your safety, and I have lost friends and family. It wasn't pretty," she glared down at the console for a long moment, which buzzed with energy.

"I-I'm not gonna l-lie, you kinda scare m-me, and the idea of traveling with you only to be left behind terrifies me, but you seem like a good person, and it seems like you're lonely..." Walt said, his eyes drifted across her body. He wondered what was under the patchwork dress. She caught him looking and beamed with happiness.

"Quite the horn-dog, but my body comes with those perks I guess," the Professor eyed his body as much in return. "No sex until after two adventures though. That's a rule I just made up, and it sounds good," she briefly punched in something on a keyboard, pressed a few buttons, and looked at a monitor. "Gabe counts as the first," she said, briefly catching his eye and then looking back to the monitor. A bright and blushing smile crossed her face.

A shy Walt couldn't take his eyes off her as she pressed more buttons. Her cheeks red. He was up for her rule and nodded quickly when their eyes met again.

"I love that you can't take your eyes off me. In a spaceship under the bonnet of an old car. Thousands of things to catch your eyes, and all you see is me," her Cheshire smile was almost prideful.

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