Dominant Professor

by Mia Luxe

  I have never been so nervous in my life. I bite my lip, looking around and feeling exposed in the open air. My stomach jumps and turns with eager butterflies.

  Like clockwork, a sleek grey car pulls up. I recognize the logo at the front as a Jaguar, but this car does not look like the elegant old Jaguars of the past. It looks taut and predatory, like a hunting cat. I can tell that it can go very, very fast. The tint on the windows is so deep it must be illegal, and I can only make out the outline of the vague figure inside. The window opens a crack and I see his smiling face.

  “I would be a gentleman and open the door for you, but stealth takes priority over manners.”

  I laugh and walk to the other side of the car, and he pushes the door open from the inside. The leather seats are cool under me.

  “You look good enough to eat,” he says, leaning over and kissing me deeply. Desire rises through my body and I feel hidden and safe from the outside world in his luxury car.

  “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  It’s an understatement. He is wearing a beautiful tailored obsidian suit. His classic fitted white dress shirt and expensive watch complete the look.

  He could be wearing anything and I would find him handsome, but wearing his suit he looks natural and distinguished. Many men look out of place in a suit. Professor Harrison is in his natural habitat.

  “Why thank you.”

  “What if someone recognizes the car?”

  “Impossible. I drove it off the lot today.”

  The engine purrs as we make a tight turn, leaving the dorms and hitting the main roads. He slides in and out of traffic easily. He drives completely focused and in the moment. Watching him in control of the high-powered sports car is mesmerizing. I wonder where we are going, but I don’t want to break the spell of his flawless motion with questions.

  We merge onto the highway and he speaks.

  “I’ve been looking forward to tonight since we last saw each other.”

  I can’t help but remember the circumstances that we last encountered. The hot, passionate sex in his private office, papers pushed aside in his lust for me. I wonder what it would be like to fuck in his car, his bed, anywhere.

  “Me too,” I say softly, reaching over and brushing his hand.

  “You’re going to enjoy where I’m taking you.”

  “If it’s anywhere off dorms, it will be new to me. Since I moved in I’ve barely left the campus.”

  As we approach Seattle, I see the city in all its beauty. Anticipation is building up in me. I cannot wait to see where he takes me.

  We get into the city and he steers us in front of a restaurant that I recognize from the picture in his office. It is the one that he was standing in front of with his younger brother. Caffé Tuscan.

  A valet opens my door, and I step out into the cool evening air. Bruce tosses the valet the keys and I see that they know each other. I feel a small surge of jealousy, wondering if the last time he came here it was with a different woman.

  “Mr. Harrison, so pleased that you’re returning.”

  “Thank you, Paul.”

  So he must come here a lot if they know his name! Don’t jump to conclusions, maybe he really loves Italian food. It just seems too romantic of a venue to come alone.

  The thoughts fly out of my brain as his hand rests on the small of my back, sure and secure. He leads me into the restaurant, opening the door and as soon as we enter a wave of noise from the full restaurant hits me. There’s not a single free table.

  This place is completely bustling. Is Professor Harrison crazy? What if someone sees us! How are we even going to get a table?

  The Maître D appears as though summoned, smiling at Professor Harrison with familiarity. He guides us to the side and into the coat room.

  “May I take your coat?”

  He asks me the question politely. I undo the belt and allow him to hang it up, though I am wishing it was Bruce who unwrapped me.

  At the back of the coat room is a small door which leads to a hallway. The noise of the busy restaurant recedes as we enter the back hallway, replaced by the sounds of pots and pans clanging and the tantalizing scent of cooking. There is a little shelf to the left of the hallway where employees have put their bags, and to the right is the busy kitchen. Bruce takes a second to look inside and wave at the chefs.

  The Maître D opens a set of doors at the end of the hallway and leads us into the next room. I gasp as I walk into a large, empty dining room.

  Empty except for a table for two.

  I hear the door close behind me, reducing the bustle of the restaurant and kitchen to a murmur. I turn and look at Professor Harrison. For once in his life, his smile is warm instead of cocky.

  The Maître D pulls a chair out for me and I sit down, stunned.

  “This is… this is all for us?”

  “It’s all for you,” he says with his bold smile, sitting down in front of me.

  “Can I get the lady a drink,” says the Maitre D, and I was so shocked by the fact we have an entire dining room to ourselves that I did not notice there is no drink menu in front of me.

  “A glass of dry Riesling - you know the one. And for me, the Vidal Blanc.”

  The Maître D leaves, and I look at Professor Harrison in a new light.

  The waiter didn’t even ID me, and I won’t be 21 for another two years! It must be the dress.

  “You know the wine list like the back of your hand, Professor Harrison.”

  “I should hope so. I designed it myself. And please, call me Bruce.”

  “Then you call me Olivia.”

  “Olivia,” he says, tasting the name. I thought it would sound strange for him to call me by my first name. He is always very formal in class, making sure to call every student by their last name.

  When he says my name, it sounds natural. I love hearing it on his lips.

  “Bruce, you’re more mysterious than Bruce Wayne!”

  He laughs. “I didn’t take you for a superhero fan.”

  “There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

  He fixes his intense blue eyes on me.

  “I’m going to find out as much as possible tonight.”

  Hiding in Plain Sight

  Bruce Harrison - Friday Night

  If you’re going to risk it all, the payoff needs to be huge.

  As she sits in front of me, nothing else matters. My reputation. My career at the college. Hell, even my restaurants, every business I own, every penny in my bank.

  Worthless.

  “I’m glad you could make it tonight,” I say, and I barely recognize the words.

  Most dates I would be running game by this point. Playing, flirting, doing everything I could to get the night back to my king-size bed.

  I want her with every inch of my body. I want to throw the silverware and bread plates off the table and take her here and now. I want to know everything about her.

  “Well, you can’t spend every night with your nose in a book,” she laughs, and there is an easiness between us that shouldn’t be there yet. In my restaurant, secluded from the entire outside world, she is not my student, and I am not her Professor.

  “Especially not when you’re celebrating. Coach Feldman told me you played incredible last game.”

  She blushes, looking down.

  “I have good coaches.”

  Coaches. Plural. She isn’t just talking about Feldman.

  Lucas enters the room with two glasses of wine. He has been working at my restaurant for five years providing impeccable service.

  “Mr. Harrison, so glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Always a pleasure.”

  She takes a sip and I know she loves it. She says “Mmm, this is so good. I normally don’t even like wine!”

  “What do you prefer?”

  She looks embarrassed, unsure of herself.

  “I don’t drink much. I tried Smirnoff Ice the first week I came here and… oh God, I f
elt terrible the next day! It was so sweet, and tasted… I don’t know, cheap. This tastes fancy!”

  I am reminded instantly of two things. My first week of college, and the fact that it was over a decade ago. The second is the memory of her perfect body in my office, and I can imagine every inch of her underneath the tight black dress.

  It excites me. It excites me that society would crucify me for wanting… for needing this beautiful, young creature. Fuck what they think. Fuck what anyone thinks. I don’t care that she’s my student and that she’s 12 years my junior.

  “It was the perfect year for that grape. In 20 years, they have only created imitations of that vintage.”

  As I say the words, we make deep eye contact. We are both aware of the fact that the wine she is drinking is a few months older than her.

  It excites her too. But what if that’s is all it is to her? An exciting fling with her Professor, the first in a list of college trysts with jocks, other students…

  I never think like this. Jealous. But I want her all to myself. The thought of her with anyone else is painful.

  I have to take a deep breath, the wine glass close to shattering under my tightening grip.

  “And how is it that you had a hand in designing the wine list, Bruce? And getting this dining room all to yourself? You didn’t exactly have time to plan a reservation, and this place is so packed it must be booked up weeks in advance.”

  “Try months,” I can feel myself bragging, but I can’t help it. “This is the first restaurant I owned outright, so I should know.”

  “The first,” she says, and I can see her pondering my words.

  “Yes, the first one I didn’t have to put up someone else’s money to open, and the first one I got to reap all the rewards.”

  “A college Professor with a brand-new car, multiple restaurants - something tells me you have a very interesting story. There’s more to you than just being a Professor, Professor.”

  I asked her to call me Bruce, but the way she says Professor makes my cock jump. I watch her take a careful sip of her wine, her eyes fiery and challenging. She goes from meek, cautious student to temptress in a split second, her anxious exterior slipping away to unveil something animalistic and fierce below.

  I think back to start of my story. The lumpy bed, the electricity shutting off when my mother could not pay the bills. A time in my life I learned so much from.

  “And what do you think that story is?”

  “My best friend Zoe thinks you got millions from doing porn,” she laughs.

  She catches me off guard, and I can’t help but chuckle as well.

  Lucas brings in the first course, Caprese salad. He knows how to read a room, and he knows not to say a word as he sets down the food to avoid any interruption.

  Olivia perks up. She takes her first bite and sighs in pleasure. “This is so good.” She washes down the bite with a sip of wine.

  “Let me think.” She taps her finger on the table as she studies me.

  “The first day of class you told us that a good rule of business is to do what you know. Not what you love. What you know. I think you probably grew up here.”

  I give away nothing as she scans my face for confirmation.

  “You’ve got quite the poker face!” She takes another bite, thinking hard.

  “You don’t,” I say with a laugh as she squints her eyes suspiciously at me, trying to probe me for information. I have sat across the table from guys who wanted to take everything I had, and there is no way she is getting a shred of info.

  “Alright. Hmm. You said that this is the first restaurant that you owned outright. So, that means you had pieces of restaurants in the past, investments that were mostly other people’s money. You worked in finance, and must have moved up like lightning if you got to where you are today… Unless you were born rich. But you have… A hunger in you that tells me you didn’t. Aha! You looked down!”

  That was incredible. How does she know me so well?

  First Course

  Olivia Abernathy - Friday Night

  Aha! I was close to the mark!

  “Impressive. You’re quite perceptive.”

  Lucas appears like a shadow, clearing our plates. He nods with appreciation when I exclaim over the deliciousness of the first course.

  “I can’t place your accent, Olivia. Did you grow up here?”

  I take another sip of my wine and realize I have finished the glass. Seeing this, Bruce smiles and downs the last gulp of his wine to match me.

  “No, I grew up in a city made famous by a certain Walter White.”

  “Albuquerque! I don’t have much time for TV, but I made an exception for Breaking Bad. So what brings you all the way to the West Coast?”

  Two reasons, but I don’t want to think about that bastard Eric. The first guy to ever say he loved me, when in reality he was just using me while sleeping around. He even fucked my best-friend, for God’s sake.

  Former best friend. Zoe’s my best friend now.

  Let’s stick with the second reason, it’s a little more suited to first date conversation.

  “Scholarships. Scholarships can be a nightmare when you qualify for both athletics and academics. Washington Coast College was the only university that was able to work mine together.

  A bit of a lie, it was the farthest away college that would give me both scholarships.

  I continue.

  “As long as I keep a B+ average and don’t get cut from the team, I can get my business degree and then…”

  And then what? I don’t want to try to make a career in volleyball, and thinking about starting my own business is nerve-wracking. What would make me succeed when others fail?

  Bruce’s voice is pure confidence.

  “And then make your fortune. I know a dozen companies that would be lucky to have talent like you working for them. But you aren’t just going to be some office drone. You’re going to create something of your own. I can see it in your eyes. You have the same drive that I have. To build. To create.”

  Lucas waltzes in with a small wheeled tray. It holds a silver bowl filled to the brim with ice. Nestled in the ice is a bottle of white wine which Lucas retrieves with a flourish.

  You can tell from every movement that he loves his job.

  He wipes the condensation from the bottle and presents it to Bruce.

  “The Charlemagne Grand Cru Chardonnay,” he says formally, uncorking it and offering Bruce a sip. He takes it and motions Lucas to pour two glasses. I fight the urge to ask for some orange juice to mix with it.

  I have no idea how much this wine costs, but it’s a sure bet that my palette is nowhere near refined enough to appreciate it.

  I take a sip. It’s delicious, nothing like the boxed wine that Zoe tries to get me to partake in before she heads out to a dorm party or the bar with her fake ID.

  As soon as Lucas leaves, I think back to our conversation.

  “I wish I was as confident as you, Bruce.”.

  I’m still getting used to calling him Bruce. I’m still getting used to thinking of him as… as what? My boyfriend? A fling? Anything other than my Professor, a man who a week ago I loathed. His arrogance and confidence are charming when he believes in you.

  “This is inappropriate but…”

  That sentence causes him to flash his pearly whites.

  “It can’t be any more inappropriate than a Professor seducing his young, beautiful student.”

  Or what I’m imagining you doing to me right now.

  I giggle, but then turn serious.

  “If you see so much in me, why didn’t you ever give me an A? I’m not asking for one, I just, I don’t understand. What am I missing?”

  He pauses. He thinks, long and hard.

  “I haven’t given out a single A in my class.”

  The lie stings me like a slap.

  Why would he say that?

  “That’s not true though. I’ve seen other students get A’s!”


  “Yes, but not by me. I have my teaching assistants do the bulk of my grading. I only grade the best students, and I grade them fairly so they grow. I want to make you better. You remember your first assignment? B. B with a full page of constructive criticism. Your next assignment? B+, and you took every suggestion to make your work better. It will surprise me if you don’t get an A on your next assignment. Especially since my assistant is grading it.”

  Of course. He can’t grade my papers if he’s… I was going to think dating me, but I don’t think one date counts as dating.

  The next course is even better than the first. Perfectly seared scallops with a buttery flavor that drives me crazy.

  “You know, they say scallops are an aphrodisiac,” says Bruce.

  Your body is an aphrodisiac. Thank God I didn’t say that out loud.

  “How can that be possible when they taste better than sex?”

  “I take offense,” he says in mock chagrin, as if I’ve stabbed him in his pride.

  “Aphrodisiacs for dinner, wine to get me drunk…”

  I’ve only had two glasses of wine, and I am lightheaded and unbound. I have the sudden urge to be alone with Bruce. Not alone in a restaurant, but in his domain, to see where he lives, breathes, and resides. To see deeper into him. To surrender and open up.

  Lucas brings out the next course and before he even sets it down Bruce has stood. He senses my mood and reacts before I can say a word.

  “Lucas, take the rest of the night off. Eat our food, drink our wine, and enjoy yourself.”

  “Thank you!” says Lucas in surprise, momentarily shocked but then his instincts take over and he pulls my chair away as I stand.

  He rushes forward to open the door for us as we walk forward, Bruce’s hand on the small of my back protectively. As we walk through the small corridor I notice a young man with a bright red shock of hair playing Angry Birds on his phone. As we pass by him, I can hear Lucas berating him.

  “We don’t pay you to sit around Gerard! Your break isn’t for another hour… you have one last chance before I fire you!”