by Sj Hooks
"I think it's safe to say that you're the only one who sees me like this," I said.
"You mean naked?" she joked.
"That too, but also as a person who can yell out a dirty word."
"Clit isn't a dirty word, silly. I haven't even started working on your vocabulary yet. You'll see." She grinned wickedly before she lowered her mouth to my nipple and gave it a gentle bite. I groaned and shifted my hips a little.
"See, that's where you could have let out a fuck.”
"I guess I'll have to work on that for next time.”
"Next time?" she asked.
"Yes," I answered immediately.
"Great!" she said, smiling. "Then we can watch the rest of Kill Bill and maybe the sequel, too."
"There's more?"
She smirked. "Baby, you have no idea."
I had the very distinct feeling that Julia wasn't talking about movies at all, and my suspicions only increased when she started placing open-mouthed kisses on my chest, heading south.
"Ready for some extra credit, Professor?" she asked, glancing up at me.
I took a deep breath and nodded. There was no point in trying to deny that I wanted this, and when I felt her lips around my considerably less level head, I forgot about everything except being the most studious man in the world.
Chapter 10
I stumbled out of Julia's apartment at three o'clock in the morning, feeling both exhausted and elated at the same time. My body was spent and utterly satisfied, and my mind was reeling from everything that had transpired in the last couple of hours. I had gone over to tell her that we couldn't see each other anymore, and the exact opposite had happened.
At the end of the night, Julia had again invited me to stay over, but I’d politely declined. I needed some boundaries or I feared that it would be too difficult to distinguish between Julia, the girl I slept with, and Ms. Wilde, the student in my class. She’d been fine with my leaving and had even kissed me good-bye at the door. I’d already agreed to there being a next time and I couldn't bring myself to regret accepting the offer. Sleeping with Julia was, without a doubt, the most wonderful physical experience of my life, and I knew that I wanted to do it again—soon.
The next morning, I was rudely awoken by my phone, and I tumbled out of bed, looking for the offensive object that had intruded on my dream in which I was in Julia’s embrace. I wanted to dive back into the dream rather than face the reality that was now descending, thanks to the sounds of my annoying ringtone. I groaned when it started up again from somewhere in the living room.
"What?" I spat, after locating the phone and picking up.
"Still haven't figured out how to get rid of that awesome ringtone I set for you, huh?" Matt laughed. “Sex-ualll heal-ling!”
I knew he’d set the song to tease me about my supposed celibacy. If he only knew. In my ear, Matt kept singing the chorus in a deep baritone.
"I’m going to kill you," I growled, flopping down on the couch.
"Easy, I'm just calling to let you know that I'm running a little late for the gym."
"What time is it?" I asked, looking around for my watch.
"It's almost eleven. Wait, you're not there yet?"
"No, I guess I overslept," I mumbled as I walked into the bedroom to pull out my gym bag.
"Again?" he asked incredulously. "You're not sick, are you?"
"I'm fine. Look, I'll leave in a few minutes. See you there?"
"OK.”
I quickly packed my bag, threw on some clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. We were going out to lunch afterward so I didn't bother with breakfast. When I arrived at the gym, Matt was already waiting for me outside.
"What happened to you?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"What do you mean?"
He grinned. "Well, to put it plainly, bro, you look freshly fucked.”
Freshly—wait, what? He can tell I’ve had sex by just looking at me? No, don't be silly. He's just joking…I hope.
"What are you babbling about?" I asked, hoping that I sounded surprised.
"You've got the worst case of sex hair I've ever seen," he said, eyes fixed on the mess on top of my head.
"I, um, I need to get it cut soon," I said, quickly trying to smooth it down.
“No, it looks good that way, it’s just not like you at all. And you're not even wearing your glasses."
I'm not?
I brought my hand up and sure enough, my face was bare for the first time in ages.
"I don't know why you wear them all the time anyway," Matt continued as we walked inside. "I mean, you only need them for reading and writing."
"I guess that's pretty much all I do. It's just easier to always wear them."
"So, what did you do last night?" he asked me.
"I just stayed in," I lied, hitching up my bag. "Um, how was your date?"
I didn't actually care about his latest conquest but I was eager to move the focus away from myself and my activities last night.
"Predictable," he said with a bored expression. "We met, we ate, we fucked."
"Oh, that sounds…err…" I trailed off, not exactly sure how one responded to something like that.
"But she totally blew me in the car!"
He sounds like Julia.
I let out a laugh because of the similarity, and Matt gave me a strange look.
"You find it amusing that I got road head?"
"I guess so." I shrugged and started undressing.
"Really? No lectures on traffic safety? Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"
I decided that it was probably best to simply ignore his question and hope he would drop it. But after a few moments, he was still looking at me with narrowed eyes as if he were trying to solve a math problem.
"What?" I asked, keeping my tone light.
"Something’s going on with you," he stated.
"No.”
"I don't know what it is, but I will find out, Stephen," he said, grinning.
No, you won't. No one else can know!
I felt bad about keeping this enormous secret from my brother, but I wasn't prepared to face the million questions that he would undoubtedly ask. I knew that Matt wouldn't tell a soul, but I still preferred to keep it a secret. I liked having it to myself—something that was just hers and mine.
Well, that's not entirely true. Her friends know, but I trust her judgment. She isn't interested in this getting out any more than I am.
"Oh, and on a completely unrelated subject, I sent a message to Ms. Wilde's friend," Matt said as we walked inside the gym.
Unrelated? I think not.
"Really?" I asked as we got to the changing room. "On the Facebook?"
He threw his head back and laughed.
Now what?
"The Facebook?" he asked. "Dude, it's just Facebook. You sound like a senior citizen when you say shit like that!”
I shrugged and continued dressing. “Did you get a reply?”
“Not yet. How about you?”
I looked at him. “Me?”
“Yeah, did you set up a date with that teacher mom was talking about?”
“Not yet,” I said, echoing his words. “I’m not sure if I’ll go out with her.”
“Why not?”
Because seeing two women at the same time makes me very uncomfortable.
“I don’t know. I’m not good with dating. You know that.”
“You’re never going to find anyone if you don’t try,” Matt said. “You should ask her out. You’re ready for that.”
“Thanks, I guess you’re right,” I muttered.
"I'm just looking out for you because I love you and I want you to be happy.”
Wow, Matt isn't usually so touchy-feely.
"I, uh, I love you too," I said, feeling a little awkward. "And I know you only want me to be happy."
"Exactly," he said, grinning. "And it's my experience that nothing makes a man happier than a good roll in th
e hay…or at least a hummer."
A Hummer? Isn't that a car?
I decided not to ask since I knew he’d most likely tease me for my lack of knowledge. Still, I was fairly certain that Matt wasn't referring to the SUV.
As we walked toward the treadmills, he turned to me. "You're sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"
I shook my head and stared straight ahead.
"Well, whatever it is that you're doing, I’d keep it up. You smile more now," he said and started walking again.
"Oh," he called over his shoulder. "And the vein is still MIA, by the way."
I touched my forehead and couldn't stop myself from grinning.
* * *
Over the next two weeks, I saw Julia a total of three times outside of class. We’d exchanged phone numbers, and she’d texted me on all three occasions. We’d decided that this was better than talking before or after class, in order to avoid drawing attention to ourselves on campus. I felt certain that no one would suspect that we were more than student and professor if they observed us in my classroom. Julia was still as argumentative as ever and I did my best to treat her as I always had. But it was hard, since I didn’t find her interruptions nearly as annoying as I had at the beginning of the semester. Her contributions were always on point, I liked hearing her thoughts and theories, and I found myself wishing the rest of my students were as insightful as she was, which made it very difficult to scold her whenever she spoke out of turn. I was, however, thankful that she hadn’t suddenly adopted model behavior in class and was acting like nothing had changed.
Of course, that wasn’t true at all. At least, not as far as I was concerned.
I was starting to feel very comfortable in Julia’s company. It was easy being with her when we were alone in her small, untidy bedroom, and we didn't even talk much about school. We had slept together each time I’d visited and it seemed to only get better. I was both stunned and thrilled that I made her climax when we were together, and my own orgasms were out of this world compared to my previous experiences. Afterward, we would watch a movie or simply lie in bed and talk before she went to bed and I headed home. It was simple, uncomplicated, and good. Really good.
I found it slightly disconcerting, though, how much time I spent thinking about her. I still looked at her status updates daily, trying to figure out whether or not I would be receiving a text from her on that particular night. I hadn't mustered up the courage to initiate anything, because I didn't want to seem presumptuous. I realized that it was absurd of me to think that way, but I was still a little worried that she might reject me if I were the one to suggest a rendezvous.
But it had been nearly a week since I had visited her the last time, and I was getting frustrated. On Friday after class, she’d simply told me to have a nice weekend and I hadn’t heard from her at all. Now it was Tuesday and I knew that I would see her soon. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if she was getting bored with me and had decided to stop seeing me. I really hoped that wasn't the case, because I’d never felt better than I had the week before, after I’d spent three wonderful nights in her company. I’d slept better and felt more energized than ever before, my tension evaporating completely.
Now it was back with a vengeance and I was completely wound up with uncertainty. My pent-up sexual frustration only added fuel to the fire. I knew I had to ask her if she was putting a stop to our arrangement, because not knowing was driving me up the wall. I waited nervously at the front of the class, hoping that she’d give me some sort of hint when she showed up—a look, a smile, anything to clue me in to what she was thinking, if this was the end for us. The thought made my insides churn.
A moment later, the door swung open and she breezed in, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. Her usual bothersome attire had been replaced with something else—something far more appealing. She was wearing a plaid skirt that ended right above her knee and a white shirt buttoned all the way up, and her shapely calves were sheathed in white knee socks. Her outfit was entirely modest, showing off very little skin, and yet I’d never been so attracted to her. For once, she wasn’t wearing the smudgy makeup, which only made her more appealing, and she’d styled her hair in two braids. She looked like a schoolgirl, and while I didn’t understand why, I found it incredibly sexy. Somehow, I found the strength not to ogle her, and instead turned my attention to the rest of the class. All I saw were lusty expressions as the male students openly gawked at her.
Why would she wear that?! How am I supposed to teach an entire class when I don't have a drop of blood left in my brain?
I stole another glance at her as she sauntered past me and took her usual seat in the front. Her outfit had effectively reduced the males in the room into drooling idiots, myself included. I met her eyes and she gave me a smile and one of her winks before I looked away again.
At least she doesn't seem to be angry with me.
Class began and I did my very best to keep my gaze from drifting toward her while the rest of the men in the room—and even a few women—failed miserably at that feat. I barely remembered half of what we discussed about Barry Hannah's novel Ray until we came to his portrayal of women.
"I find it a little unrealistic that the main character has sexual relations with that many women," a girl in the back said.
"Can you elaborate?" I asked.
"Well, it seems like the women are just there for him to take and he doesn't have to work for it at all.”
"That's probably because they're not really there at all," Julia said without being called on. I sighed. Even though I shouldn't condone this sort of behavior, she made an excellent point.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She smiled and leaned forward, resting her chin on her folded hands. "Ray is clearly suffering from a mental disorder because of his experiences in the war. The novel contains all these paragraphs about him flying planes, and that's obviously not the case since he's a country doctor and not a pilot."
"And?"
"And who's to say that all those encounters that he describes aren't just fantasies that he’s conjured up in his mind, like him flying a plane?"
"How would you support such a statement?" I asked, happy that she was able to analyze the novel so well.
"Ray drinks heavily, plus the whole novel is very fragmented so we lose a sense of time and space. Suddenly, he's in an office where the rude tax lady ignores him, and what happens? He decides that he's sick of her ignoring him, walks up behind her, and ends up having sex with her then and there. If that isn't a typical fantasy, I don't know what is," she said, grinning.
I took a breath to calm myself down. Hearing her talk about sexual fantasies was not exactly helping my resolve to keep our interactions professional in the classroom. I noticed that all the boys were watching her intently as she played with one of her braids while smiling at me.
"I mean, isn't that a common male fantasy?" she asked. "Dominating a woman and taking control?"
She’s trying to kill me.
"I suppose so," I managed to say in a fairly steady voice. "Do you think that this reflects the author's view on men, then? That they like to dominate women?"
"Perhaps. But it could also be his view on women," she said. "After all, there are two people in the fantasy." She smiled again and leaned back in her seat. "I don't think that most men and women are strictly like that, but it is fun to play once in a while. Wouldn't you agree, Stephen?"
"You will address me as Professor Worthington or leave my classroom immediately! I will not stand for that insolent behavior, Ms. Wilde! Do you understand?"
Whoa! Where did that come from?
I looked at her shocked expression and felt a rush of fear, suddenly sick to my stomach with worry that she’d be angry. I couldn’t believe that I’d chastised her so harshly.
I've ruined everything. She'll never let me touch her again after this.
Much to my surprise, Julia’s lips curved up into a small smile she qu
ickly hid away. She lowered her eyes. "Yes, I understand. I'm very sorry, Professor," she said quietly.
She's apologizing?
"Just don't let it happen again," I said, drawing a calming breath. "You did make some excellent points, Ms. Wilde."
"Thank you, Professor.”
I looked out over the rest of the classroom, seeing stunned expressions on several faces. I never raised my voice in class. Even the jocks in the back had stopped tapping at their phones. I had everyone’s attention now, and I had to admit that it felt good.
"Any comments on Ms. Wilde's assessment that Ray is actually fantasizing about a lot of the things that take place in the novel?" I asked, smiling to myself as several hands shot into the air.
For the rest of the lesson, Julia dutifully took notes, but didn’t say another word. Class ended and I watched her packing up her things. She lingered as the rest of the students left. The room was dead silent as she walked over to stand in front of my desk, looking down at her feet.
She's ending it. I can't believe I let my temper get the best of me.
"My place in thirty minutes?" she asked, so quietly that I barely heard.
What?!
"W-what?" I echoed my thought.
"I apologize for being such a bad girl," she said in a breathless whisper, a grin tugging at her mouth. "Let me show you how sorry I am, Professor."
“Bad girl”?!
"OK," I said, confused.
"See you soon, Professor," she said and walked out, leaving me flustered and incredibly aroused at the same time.
What the hell just happened? She didn't end it…and she wants to see me now?
Perplexed, I packed my things and headed out to my car. What exactly would she expect of me when I got over there? This was highly unorthodox. We never met in the afternoon, and had never once discussed our arrangement while on campus grounds. I’d finally gotten comfortable visiting her at night. We’d established a set pattern and I knew what to expect.
Now I was being thrown back into the unexpected.