My Pick Up Artist System

Ben strolled down the middle of the classroom over to the mature beauty, who was gazing at him with a solemn expression.

He couldn't help but once again scan her in appreciation. High heels with black leggings that exposed only a tiny crevice of thick thigh… Black professional skirt-suit combo with wide h.i.p.s and a slim waist… White dress shirt peeking out the top that she couldn't manage to fully button; a happy consequence created by the massive cleavage stretching it out…

Ben glanced at her luscious curves stretching the fabric in all the right areas, and wondered, 'Where did she even buy clothes with such unnatural measurements?'

Then, he looked at her face, and had to admit it didn't lose out to her body. Although she was in her late 30s, she maintained herself with perfection, looking at least 10 years younger. Ben appreciated her fine features and rosy red lips, framed well by her blonde hair which she wore in a professional bun. Then, there was the final touch--red eyeglasses with a thick rectangular frame.

Some speculated those glasses were a top-down government initiative to stimulate the farming industry because they caused her students to plant so much seed...

...

Yet, tissue paper never became more fertile...

This professor was a beautiful stacked blonde, similar to Annabelle in that regard, but with differences in detail. Unlike Annabelle's bright blue eyes, the professor's eyes were a light baby blue, their cuteness creating an interesting contrast with her stoic demeanor. Her hair was also straighter and a brighter honeyed-blonde compared to Annabelle's wavy sandy-blonde hair.

They both had outrageous bodies, but that was where the similarities ended, because the professor possessed smaller, more delicate facial features and a mature aura. That and the genuine key difference—her thick ass…

However, Ben and the other students preferred to be respectful, whenever possible using only its formal titles:

The teacher's main ASSistant…

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The professor's power-point…

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NYU's marketing masscot…

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The dean of cream…

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My reason for life…

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Annabelle's butt was no slouch, but this thing meant business…

It was arrogant, boasting its prowess everywhere she walked, and it took no prisoners…

Many believed her career potential could reach the moon with such a powerful jet engine…

Everyone knew it. Noone in faculty doubted tenure was a done deal…since in university management, there wasn't a seat she couldn't fill…

…

Heck, she might even ride that thing to the White House…

As Ben pondered the crucial issues...he appreciated and agreed that these kinds of thoughts undermined the professor's legitimate, hard-earned, academic prestige. He knew first-hand she was a very intelligent teacher who deserved the highest credit, but come on buddy…

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I mean, dat ass though…

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With his brains on the booty…and his body reaching the front of the professor, Ben forced himself to visualize Melissa McCarthy as the professor threatened to raise his pillar of academia…

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"Mr. Romero…" Her voice was apathetic as she shifted her gaze from Ben to organizing her stack of papers. Yet, her French-Canadian accent also made his little brother organize…

...

Ben cleared his throat. "Professor Tremblay…I'm sorry I haven't been to class. It was a matter of life and death…"

She glanced up at Ben's eyes. When her female intuition told her he wasn't lying, she grew a little intrigued, but it wasn't her place to pry. Besides, this class didn't grade for attendance. "Very well. The competition is beginning today. It's good you came…"

When she said that, he nearly did…

Then, she pointed to a group of people all the way in the back. "Go join Lawrence's group there… They are short one person." Finished speaking, she turned around and prepared to connect her laptop to the class projection system.

Ben took a few seconds to exchange eye contact with the primary teaching assistant…until the other teaching assistant arrived at his side and coughed. Glancing at Miyuki, he put on the most innocent smile he could muster…before leaving in silence...

He then walked to the group in the far corner of the classroom. As he passed through the rows of students, Ben only now noticed they were already split off into groups. When he approached the one assigned to him, he observed a commotion afoot…

"What did you do?!?" The one shouting was the person the professor pointed out as Lawrence, a young man with good looks and parted black hair.

He was looming over a petite girl of 5 foot height. Her light brown hair was very short, a pixie cut at eye-length with bangs touching her black oval-framed eyeglasses. She was slim, with humble curves, wearing a conservative dark blue sweater and long skirt. If someone asked Ben, he'd have to admit she was cute, but she wasn't his type. Rather than s.e.x.u.a.l feelings, she inspired an urge in people to protect her, like a little sister.

So when Lawrence yelled at her, Ben's first instinct was to frown. He watched as the girl's brown eyes dimmed, her face turning pale, as she clutched the bottom of her sweater in anxiety. Her eyes darted around the room searching for an exit, but when she observed it was behind Lawrence, her face fell as her eyes moved to stare at the ground, hiding and hopeless…

She hesitated to speak. "I-I…"

"Speak up! Say something!" Lawrence continued to shout.

Her lips moved but words failed to come out… Her eyes began to tear up…

"Explain yourself!" He didn't care about her reaction at all… Nor did the other woman and man surrounding them. They stood there with their arms crossed, imposing even further pressure on her.

Watching all this, memories flowed into Ben's mind…recollections of himself being bullied and talked down to…of being screamed at…of being made fun of…of being emotionally abused…

That was the moment he knew he would step in and help her.

Then, when he saw the horizontal scars peeking out the sleeve on the petite girl's fragile wrist, that was the moment…he became furious! "Hey sh*thead! Shut your mouth! And f*ck off away from her!"