The Professor's Girl

by Rose, Renee

  “Let’s pretend we never saw each other here, okay?” he asked.

  She nodded quickly and swallowed. “Right. Absolutely. Thanks.”

  Bullet dodged. Except, damn, it would have been a sweet bullet.

  Lucy climbed in Zoe’s car, still reeling from seeing Dr. Todd at the spanking party. He’d been right—she had hidden all night, hoping he hadn’t seen her when he walked in. Because as much as she wanted a spanking from the man who showed up in her most heated fantasies, she’d been terrified. She’d been nervous to begin with—not sure if she could take the pain or if she would even like a spanking in real life. Add in the humiliation of knowing the spanker, being his employee no less, and she’d panicked.

  But she realized she’d made a mistake. She just passed on the opportunity of a lifetime—If only she hadn’t been such a chicken. She should have told Zoe she didn’t need a ride and told Daniels she did want a spanking. Instead, she had just stood there letting them make the decisions for her. She sighed. Quite possibly the sign of a true submissive.

  “So where did you go?” she asked Zoe.

  Zoe had been in the Biochemistry 101 class she’d led as a Teaching Assistant the year before. They had bumped into each other at a social gathering that semester and somehow it had come out to everyone that Zoe attended spanking parties in Phoenix. She’d become the object of much erotic attention, the college boys crowding around to tease her and ask probing questions. Lucy had listened silently with burning ears, too embarrassed to even ask questions or join in the conversation. Only later, from the comfort of her casita, had she emailed Zoe and tentatively asked about attending a party with her.

  It had taken them six months to get their schedules lined up to go together. The parties were invite-only, so Lucy had to correspond with Ms. Payne in advance and Zoe had to vouch for her before she could be allowed entrance.

  Now, after all that waiting, planning and imagining, she had left without getting spanked. But worse, or perhaps better, she’d known a man quite capable of giving her what she craved all along.

  The next morning she got up early to go into the lab. It didn’t take long to check on the cultures but she stayed, doing even more unnecessary organizing than she had done on Friday. She replayed their interaction that day, remembering the raised eyebrows he’d given her. Knowing her laid-back employer was a dominant, it seemed wonderfully significant. She had not imagined the censure, he had been reprimanding her with his eyes.

  Dear lord, just the thought of it sent a throbbing pulse to her sex. She imagined what it would be like to be under his jurisdiction, so to speak. Subject to his punishment.

  Suddenly, she ached with longing that seemed stronger and more important than just sexual need. It came from some deeply-rooted desire to be governed.

  She considered what she’d read on the internet, after Zoe had opened her eyes to the spanking culture she had not known existed. There were many people who had non-sexual disciplinary arrangements. Maybe Dr. Todd would be open to such a thing.

  Are you sure you want to leave without getting spanked?

  He had been about to spank her and she had let the opportunity slip.

  She continued obsessing. She needed to ask him. She had chickened out once, she wasn’t going to do it again. She sat down at her work station and opened an email box. It was stupid—using university email accounts to discuss something that was so clearly not condoned—but she didn’t have his personal email address.

  Besides, if he did agree, and if it ever came into question, he could produce proof it had been at her request, not his.

  That thought gave her confidence, and she composed her email.

  Dr. Daniels,

  I’m sorry I acted so awkwardly at the party last night. You were right, I was hiding from you. I was embarrassed to be seen by someone I knew—especially you. But since you were there, you probably wouldn’t judge me for it.

  I know you said we should pretend we never saw each other there, but I wondered if you would consider something different. I would like for you to be my disciplinarian—nothing sexual—maybe just weekly sessions to keep me on track? I understand the ethics of you being on my thesis committee and me working in your lab make this difficult, which is why I’m putting this into writing. This way you’ll have proof it is all at my request if it ever came into question.

  Thank you for your consideration,

  Lucy

  She read and re-read it. Did it sound too formal? Too foolish? She cringed as she imagined him opening it. But knowing she would only continue to obsess if she didn’t take some action, she hit send.

  Thirty minutes later, she received a reply. Come see me in the morning.

  Her entire body trembled as she scanned his short email over and over, trying to infer the meaning. Was it a yes? Would he spank her in the morning? Or was it a “let’s discuss?” Or worse, was it a no? She pushed that thought out her mind, refusing to accept it. This situation was too perfect. It had to work out. It just had to.

  Chapter Two

  He woke entirely unrested. He had spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about bending Lucy Larson over his knee and spanking her until she squealed. But he couldn’t. The answer to her request was clear: absolutely not.

  Somehow, he had managed to avoid temptation at Rebecca Payne’s party. Now, if he managed it one more time, he would be in the clear.

  He got up and showered, cutting himself as he shaved. He rode his bike in because he lived close to campus. Not surprisingly, he found Lucy had already arrived, taken cell counts, and straightened the lab.

  He took off his helmet. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she called out brightly.

  He gave an inward groan. Letting her down was going to kill him.

  “Come on in, Lucy.”

  She followed him into his office, betraying her nerves by picking at her nails.

  “Sit down.”

  They both sank into chairs opposite each other, his heavy wooden desk standing between them.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t do it,” he said, coming directly to the point. “And you know why.”

  She stiffened, a muscle jerking near her eye.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She lifted and lowered her chin. “Right,” she said, slapping her thighs with her palms and sounding very business-like. “Is that all?”

  He wanted to tell her he would like nothing better than to take her under his protection and provide her with his favorite form of discipline. That he imagined she would be a perfect sub in every way. But, of course, that would not help the situation. “Yes,” he said.

  “Okay. Fine.” She stood and walked out of his office and straight out of the lab, not stopping or looking back.

  He sighed. I’m as disappointed as you are, my sexy scientist.

  But she wasn’t his sexy scientist, was she? Too bad.

  He found himself watching for her all morning. She usually came back after she taught her class. Her office—well, work area—lay in his lab, so even if she didn’t come in to work on his study, she would sit at her computer. Students were coming and going now—his other lab employees as well as graduate students who also had work stations near hers.

  He experienced something similar to relief when he finally saw her blond head pass by his window. She’d come back. Had he been afraid she would stay away?

  He sat at his desk, getting very little done for the next hour, debating how to ease the tension between them. Finally, he stood up and wandered out.

  “Lucy.”

  She lifted her eyes, giving him a cool gaze.

  “Would you like to discuss your thesis proposal? I have some ideas for making it more palatable to Snelling.”

  She blinked.

  He doubted she would turn down his offer of help.

  “Yeah. Okay,” she said, picking up her laptop and following him back into his office. She left the door open, which was normal procedu
re. He liked to be available for his students to pop in and ask questions.

  “So why don’t you just tell me what you’re proposing—in your own words.”

  She threw him an annoyed look. “Did you read it?”

  His lips twitched as the desire to pull her over his knee and demand a little respect with the flat of his hand took hold.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  He shook his head with chagrin. “You must know how I’d like to handle your attitude right now.”

  She dropped her eyes and smiled. When she lifted them again, they held a challenge. She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

  “Well man up and handle me, then,” she dared.

  He dropped his head back and chuckled. Still smiling, he said, “Get out.”

  The cocky expression on her face faded.

  “I mean it,” he said, standing up. “Get out. We can’t treat each other professionally right now, and you are testing my resolve. This isn’t going to work.” He meant the discussion about her thesis proposal wasn’t going to work at that moment, but Lucy looked frightened, as if she thought he was firing her.

  She stood when he did, but hadn’t moved toward the door, other than to take a step back. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll cut out the attitude. Really. I apologize. That was totally out of line.” Her eyes were wide and pleading. The scoop neck of her shirt had dropped from her slender shoulder, revealing a black bra strap with hot pink trim. This sort of appearance had earned her the “Sexy Scientist” moniker by her fellow students. She seemed unaware of her femininity and its effect on the men around her, wearing skirts or close-fitting tank tops without looking like she was attempting to show off her tight little body.

  He felt a wave of affection. He had enjoyed her quick intelligence and persistent personality before, but finding out she shared his fetish made her so all the more appealing. Now the two shared a bond, regardless of whether they had actually engaged in a scene together and apart from his growing sexual desire for her. His offer to help with her thesis proposal came from a more altruistic urge than it had been before. He wanted her to succeed in this department. He wanted to be her friend and her champion.

  “Have you had lunch?” he found himself asking.

  She looked surprised. “No.”

  “Let’s discuss it over lunch. Some place a little more public, where you can’t torture me.”

  Her lips parted and her gaze dropped to his crotch, where his cock bulged against his jeans.

  He stepped forward and turned her shoulders so she faced the door. “Out,” he said sternly, giving her ass the tiniest smack.

  Her back straightened and he had to work to keep a smirk from his lips.

  “What are you in the mood for?” he asked as they walked out together.

  “Anything. You decide.”

  Spoken like a true submissive.

  “Let’s walk down to University Street for Pei Wei?” he suggested, naming a popular Chinese food chain.

  “Great,” she said, flashing a broad smile. She had one dimple and freckles that splashed across her nose, giving her that girl-next-door kind of sweetness. He had to wrench his eyes away or he would’ve continued to stare down at her, fascinated.

  Off-limits, Todd, he told himself firmly.

  Her heart skipped double-time walking next to Dr. Daniels. Part of her hoped every student in the department saw them leaving together, because she wanted to be associated with his superstar status. Part of her wished their meeting was a secret rendezvous, with a spanking, of course.

  And she kept thinking about his hard on.

  Knowing she had tweaked him sent her on a power trip, erasing all the hurt and disappointment from their earlier conversation. He hadn’t rejected her. He just had a stronger sense of ethics than she did. Which she would admire if it didn’t put a serious crimp in her goal to fulfill her deepest fantasy with him.

  It was still hot in Tucson; “Fall” or temperatures below 90, didn’t hit until after the first week of October. Dr. Todd kept their pace brisk, but the heat didn’t seem to bother him. The cool air of the restaurant came as a relief, and they both ordered a large iced tea with their meals.

  “So,” he said when they sat down at a small table in the corner. “Shall we try again? Explain your thesis to me.”

  Part of her wanted to sass him again, just to get a rise, but she shouldn’t push her luck. He seemed like he set firm limits, even when they weren’t backed up by spanking. And frankly, she had more to fear from his non-spanking discipline. She needed him in her corner if she was ever going to get through this graduate program.

  She took a breath and launched into her explanation. As he asked questions—some clarifying, some challenging, she began to see the holes in her theory to which Snelling had alluded. He didn’t tell her how to fix it, he didn’t even make suggestions, but somehow he led her by the nose until she arrived at the answers to his questions and a much clearer understanding of what she needed to do to improve her proposal.

  The thrill of being in the presence of his intelligence, or having his mind applied to her project was possibly as exciting as knowing he was a spanker. Maybe even more. Her mood had completely lifted—about her research, about her professor, and about life in general. She beamed at him. “Thank you so much, Dr. Daniels.”

  His brows came together with quizzical amusement at her persistent refusal to call him by his first name. Smirking, he drawled, “It’s professor, to you.”

  Her breath hitched.

  He was playing the game with her.

  She watched as he transformed into “dom” mode before her eyes, piercing her with a searing gaze as he leaned forward on his forearms, his expression stern. “So. I expect you to remain professional and respectful, despite what we know about each other. Understood?”

  Breathless, she nodded. “Yes, professor.”

  He sat back, looking satisfied. “Thank you.”

  She shivered, his little demonstration only making her hungry for more. “And if I don’t?” she asked, against her better judgment.

  He raised an eyebrow and gave such a forbidding look that she questioned whether he had been playing a game at all. Perhaps he had been dead serious. “Don’t test me.”

  She swallowed. “No, sir.”

  He continued to hold her locked in his gaze while her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her palms turned clammy.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered, desperate to break the silence.

  He kept it a moment longer before he nodded and moved to stand. “Let’s get back.”

  He foolishly thought their lunch had resolved their tension but Lucy, the sexy scientist, had no intention of dropping things. In fact, she had a brilliant understanding of the slow burn.

  In the week that followed, he noticed she put an effort into her appearance, wearing lipgloss and mascara, dressing in short, flippy skirts and fitted tank tops.

  On Monday, when she walked in the lab looking like she stepped out of the pages of a magazine, Ryan, one of the other graduate students whistled. “What are you all dolled up for?”

  She tossed her hair back. “I’m not.”

  “Uh huh,” Ryan said, devouring her with a look that made Todd want to punch him in the mouth. “Were you wearing that when you taught your class?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Do you know your students call you the Sexy Scientist?”

  Todd snorted.

  “What?” Lucy asked, looking from one to the other.

  He couldn’t help himself from outing Ryan. “Her students? Or her graduate program colleagues?”

  Ryan tipped back in his chair and grinned, not looking as embarrassed as he should.

  “Do you guys call me that?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. Her expression held a mixture of annoyance and pleasure. She picked up an empty plastic water bottle from the recycling box and threw it at Ryan’s head. “How lovely to be objectified in the one place where my intellect o
ught to be the thing people respond to.” She flicked a glance at Todd, her cheeks turning a pretty pink.

  “Oh no—we call you the smart scientist. Daniels is confused,” Ryan said, laughing.

  He irrationally wanted to fire Ryan and flunk all the other grad students who had ever ogled Lucy. But no, those were the young men with whom she should be flirting—not him.

  He ground his teeth and went into his office, burying himself in his research project.

  The next day Lucy looked equally charming and had found an interesting method of teasing him. She left a large wooden hairbrush lying around the lab all day—on the supply shelf, beside her desk, at the copy machine. It seemed like every time he turned, the brush stared at him.

  “Hey, who left their hairbrush here?” asked Ding, the other graduate student who worked in his lab.

  “Who do you think?” Ryan said.

  Ding looked blank.

  “Who has long hair around here?”

  “Lucy?” Ding asked, picking up the brush. “Is this yours?” he said politely, bringing it back to her.

  “Oh yeah, thanks,” she said. She didn’t look at him, but a tiny smile played around the corners of her lips.

  He wanted to take her by the elbow, lead her into his office and test that brush out on her sweet little ass. But of course, he ignored her antics.

  The following day, she did even better, bringing in two ping pong paddles and a ball.

  “What’s this for?” Ryan asked, picking them up. Before long, he heard the sound of the plastic ball bouncing through his room as the boys played a wild game of lab pong. He buried his head in his hands for while, but eventually joined them, making a show of whacking the paddle against his leg and his palm to make a loud slapping noise.

  The flush on Lucy’s face made it worth playing her game.

  On the fourth day she left a change of clothes neatly folded beside her workstation, with a wide leather belt loosely laid across the top.