by Ally Vance
His shoulders relax and a bright toothy smile spreads on his face. “Oh.”
“Come on. Let’s go inside.”
With a quick nod, he walks over to the front of the restaurant, holding the door open for me. He has some smooth moves; I have to give him that. He knows how to work his magic to seem charming. I enter, and immediately, the delicious aroma of Spanish cooking wafts over, filling up my senses. The scent of garlic being cooked has my stomach grumbling with hunger. Rose isn’t one for garlic, and even though she’s a chef, she only uses a touch of it in her cooking. It’s one reason she does most of the cooking. She thinks I’m too generous with it. I keep telling her it’s the normal amount anyone would use.
I close my eyes for a moment as I take it all in. “Are you okay?” Trevor asks. His body practically flush against my back.
“It smells amazing. I can’t wait to eat; I’ve suddenly realized how hungry I am.”
“You’re going to love it here. It’s my favorite restaurant.”
He takes my hand, leading me to the front desk, never letting it go as he talks to the hostess. His hands, just like his lips, are soft and inviting. It feels comfortable and warm and right. It feels easy and manageable. It feels as if this is how things should be. Except it’s all wrong. I think back to that day in the office. When Professor Matthews’ hand brushed against my nipple, setting my body on fire. The way my body seemed to ache for more attention, when my brain knew how wrong it was. How wrong my brain knows it is still. The power of the mind, they say. With the power of the mind, you can overcome anything. You’re not suffering from pain, you just think you are because you’ve talked yourself up that much you’ve tricked your brain into thinking you’re suffering. It isn’t all too powerful, though. It can’t seem to shut off these inappropriate feelings. The way my body instantly reacts of its own volition, to the man that has played a pivotal figure in my mind and dreams. If the power of the mind was as strong as everyone claims it to be, then it should be so easy for us to walk over to the switch and flick it off. See, the real strength in our human design, and one riddled with flaws, are our feelings and emotions. One a beautiful sister to the other. Emotions are drawn from feelings and feelings control emotions. Right now, I should be telling myself that Trevor is the kind of guy I should date—in a casual sense. He’s good looking, smart enough, and is the same age. Yet, with his light touch, I’m pulled back into the events of the past again. Where it was just the professor and me in his office. The way his breath held a steady beat. It was pummeling and intense. I’ve never felt or looked at him romantically, so to have those feelings and reactions be yanked out from deep within me was shocking.
I shake him out of my head before those memories lead down the erotic path of the dream I had of us the night before. I’m here with Trevor, who is so far nice enough to deserve all of it. His eyes shine brightly as he looks at me. We follow the hostess, as we’re shown our table on the second level of the restaurant. Through the glass doors and out onto the balcony. On this beautiful warm night, with the light breeze flowing through, lifting small strands of my hair, brushing it up against my face and tickling me. I nod my head in thanks at the hostess as she sets two menus down and walks away.
A single lit candle sits between us, creating a dim glow. “This is rather romantic, don’t you think?” I ask with a playful smirk. He rushes to pick up the candle, but I grab his wrist. “It’s okay. I like it.”
With a light chuckle, he clears his throat. “I’m glad.”
“I’m surprised it took you so long to ask me out,” I say, picking up the menu and looking through the dishes available. Instantly picking out what I want. I’m a simple person when it comes to food and am not that adventurous. You won’t ever find me eating snails, frogs legs, or haggis. I’m a meat and potatoes girl and I’m fine with being that way.
“Why?” he asks, as if it isn’t obvious.
“I know the kind of person you are. Do you really think I would have believed you when you said that you were shy?” I ask.
His eyes go wide, quickly composing himself. “I… I—”
I hold my hand up. “No need to continue on with the act. I know your reputation. I’ve seen you flirt with all the girls. The campus isn’t so big that someone with the player status such as yourself would go unnoticed.”
He gives me a genuine smile. “Can you blame me for trying?” He shrugs. Stripping himself of the character he was playing before, he sits relaxed and confident.
“No, I most certainly can’t. Tell me, why did you feel the need to pretend to be a different person? Did you not have any confidence in your ability?”
“I figured you probably heard about my reputation and thought I would change tactics, go down a different route.”
“Was it really a different route though? Or just different lyrics to the same tune? By the sounds of it, you were plagiarizing your own moves. I’ve seen you flirt, but I’ve never seen you ‘close the deal’ as they say. I can infer from your personality, behavioral traits, and the little I’ve witnessed, that you use your incredibly good looks—”
“You think I’m good looking?” Trevor smirks.
I shoot him an unimpressed look. “We both know that you are. Don’t play that pitiful attention seeking game with me. Even though it’s clear that you could get most women you seek just by looks alone. You like to test your abilities. Things have become a little stale in the art of picking up, so you try certain moves to see if they work on the opposite sex. In the beginning it’s worked, and you’ve mastered the art, however, you then came across someone who wasn’t buying what you were selling and you had to change tactics once more. When it didn’t work with that one girl, you moved onto someone else. That someone else being me—although this is purely an assumption.”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” he asks playfully, although there’s a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Observing. It’s amazing the things you find out about people when you just sit back and watch. Too many people are far too content in using their words when the best way to get to know a person is through silence.”
“No wonder you’re Professor Matthews’ TA.”
A smirk plays on my lips as I bring the glass of water up to my lips and take a sip.
Chapter Seven
Ian
My intention was never to spy on your date with Trevor, but my mind raced uncontrollably and I was going crazy just imagining the kind of things you would do with him. Would you like him so much that you started going out with him? Would you end the date, your body entwined with his, and screaming out his name as you came? The thought of him getting to taste you had me falling into the darkness, allowing it to take over my body and push me to follow you to your date. You look so beautiful tonight. Ethereal beauty you are. I can never get enough. When I’m with you, I find it hard not to look at you. Stealing glances where it’s apropos. You would be appalled to know that I have a picture of you saved on my desktop, and when I’m doing my work, I have it up, just so I can always be looking at you, even when I’m not with you. It’s utterly ridiculous and obsessive, but that’s what you do to me. I was given the scent of you and it instantly had me drunk with desire. When I touched you in a way that was inappropriate, that’s when the addiction set in and now… were someone try to take you away from me, they would probably cease to exist. You would never approve of my actions, no matter how much I hope that you would, because you’re a good wholesome woman. You’re delicate like a flower but as intelligent as an… well, you’re as intelligent as me… or as intelligent as I used to be before you showed up in my life. I don’t regret you. I don’t like the things I’ve done thus far, but I don’t regret you or despise you for it. My life has become a monotonous cycle of working and going home and watching political debates or documentaries because having to deal with a class of mostly dimwitted children has me wanting to blow my brains out. Now that you’re in my world, I feel alive again. Spirited, even.
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Parking across the road, I watch as he dares to land a kiss on your cheek. My cheek. It belongs to me, as does the rest of your body. I grip the steering wheel tightly as I watch this. He leans in, tentative when he kisses you. His lips I just want to rip clean off his face and force him to eat them for touching you in such a way. It angers me even more when I see that you liked it. Your smile afterward, the light shining around you, as you accept and approve of his action. I imagine myself storming over there and slamming his head against the concrete wall of the building, watching his blood slither down it. You both head inside and I watch, the time ticking away excruciatingly loud in my head as I wait for you to find your seat, praying it’s the window so I can see. I would hate to have to go in there myself without the safety of the dark street and car. I let out a breath of relief when I see you two walk out onto the balcony section, where I can observe you clearly.
It doesn’t take long for Trevor’s ridiculous facade of innocent boy to drop, and he leans back with arrogance. A smile spreads on my lips. I was scared that you couldn’t see who he truly was. The playboy that acts like a man to get girls. I don’t know him from Adam, but I can read the signs. I know plenty of boys just like him in the past and present to know that they’re the dangerous kind. They change themselves and play the part for the intention of manipulation. You have enough people in your life that are like that. You don’t need more. I ease up when I see that the dinner isn’t as romantic as it would appear from the outside. This is the moment I should go home. Really, this shouldn’t be the moment at all, I should never have come here. Never should have gone down this path again. Once again, I find myself conflicted. Wanting to go home because it’s the right thing, and stalking someone on their date is not the kind of man I am. Yet, no matter how much I will myself, I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot, unable to look away from you on the off chance something does happen, not because I think I can or should do anything about it, but more so that not knowing is something I can’t live with.
I lean forward in my seat as I watch you both exit the restaurant. It’s eight thirty p.m. I’ve been sitting here for nearly three hours, just watching you. Watching as your lips touched the glass you drank out of. The way those same lips took the food you ate, throwing all kinds of wild thoughts around in my head. Of you taking my hard cock inside of you as you sucked me dry. The way I wished it was me your mouth was taking, instead of the food. The way I stroked myself until I came all over my hand at seeing you do all that. And the fact that it was a much better stimulation than seeing you strip in your bedroom. The thoughts of you are blown into oblivion when I see what Trevor has the audacity to do next.
He kisses you.
White hot rage boils in my chest at seeing what you have the audacity to do next.
You kiss him back.
I entertained your friendly acceptance to his invitation to go on a date. I shook off the kiss he gave you on the cheek. But I will not stand for this. Clearly, you don’t understand that you are mine, but rest assured, I will make you understand that I’m not a man to be messed with. Do you realize that this is what sluts do? This is what loose women do? Do you want to be seen as a slut, because you’re heading in the right direction. Everyone knows that if you kiss on the first date, you are willing to fuck on the next. Is this how you see yourself? Like every other woman out there? Fucking everyone they can get their hands on?
This will not go on any longer. You, Viola Auld, need to be punished for what you’ve done.
Chapter Eight
Viola
Things with Trevor never continued. I thought we had a good date. Thought that we had formed a chemistry from an understanding of each other. Maybe I had imagined it. I waited a few days until I messaged him and he never wrote back. When I had yet to see him in class, I became worried. Maybe something had happened to him that I didn’t know. I hadn’t wanted to be that girl who obsesses over a guy not calling or texting her back, but I had to know if it was me or not. I received my response loud and clear when I went to speak to his friends earlier today, who not so nicely said that he was ghosting me because he had such a shit time on our date, to quickly be replaced with them hitting on me. This is why I never dated anybody like him before. The way in which they present themselves is humiliating for the human race and makes them look like a bunch of buffoons. I took a chance on Trevor because I thought he was a decent person, outside of his playboy persona.
Turns out, that you only need to be burned twice to know that frat boy meatheads will never change.
I’m rather relieved to see that Professor Matthews isn’t his usually belligerent self. I am not in the mood to be dealing with that Professor Matthews, regardless of how attractive I find it. It appears as though assholes are what I’m into these days, despite my better judgment. Granted, he’s not a Care Bear of happiness, but he doesn’t have a disgruntled expression on his face, nor are there creases on his forehead, so he might as well be a Care Bear.
I’m going through the online chat group, answering questions from students, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Looking up, I see a rather concerned look on Professor Matthews.
“What did the computer ever do to you?” he asks lightly.
“Nothing,” I grumble, because getting into my love life—or lack thereof—crosses all kinds of professional barriers. Well, you kind of blew that out of the water, the day you got turned on by him touching your breast. Thank you, not so much for the reminder, brain.
He places his hands on top of mine and stops me from aggressively typing away on the keyboard in an ill attempt at pushing my ire out.
“You are required to be professional, Viola, and,”—he looks over my shoulder,—“advising someone that they need to go back to the first lecture video and actually pay attention this time, is not the kind of response you should be sending out to the students,” he scolds.
I scoff. “Yeah, like you’re any better.”
There’s no regret, as there should be at speaking to someone of authority in the manner with which I spoke to him. Right now, I should beg for forgiveness in all the ways I can until he does. Except, I cease to care. Because how dare he talk to me that way. How dare he lecture me on the proper etiquette when it comes to conversing with students, when his way is as if he took a large dump on the heads of each student.
Fury flashes in his eyes, and his jaw tightens. “Insolence is not one that is accepted here. Not with me, nor any other professor on campus. You wish to speak to me in such a way, then you can ensure that your time as my TA is going to be ripped from you and handed to someone else.” It’s a warning, which is rather generous of him, considering when I accepted the position, he strictly stated that this kind of behavior would not go unpunished. Every part of me is telling me to stop. To not push the man any further, but I can’t. With all this pent-up anger, I need it to go to something, someone, or somewhere, and right now, he’s that someone.
“Bullshit. You hired me because not only was I the best candidate, but I’m the best student for the job and you know that. We both know that you have nobody else that could deal with your sour attitude and demanding work and hours. To be honest, I’m surprised Jeanine even took the position. I may be on as acting TA, but we both know you won’t be able to find anybody else, and if you do, they’ll run when they realize their fantasies of working for you have turned into a nightmare,” I throw back.
My breath hitches when I’m pushed back into my seat. Professor Matthews is over me in an instant. His body seems large as he invades my personal space. Eyes bore into me. Scorching me with the intensity of his gaze. Darkening as his hands grip roughly onto my arms. The same feeling from before washes over me, and I close my eyes with the throbbing between my legs.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The clock beats out the seconds that feel like hours. It rings out loudly in my ear, and snuffs out all the other sounds. Being in this moment right here, I’ve forgotten everything that happened with Trevor and all t
hat he didn’t do. The anger I felt moments before has gone, leaving me in a state of yearning. Yearning to have Professor Matthews lean in closer. To have his lips on mine. How would they feel? How would he taste? Would it be sweet like candy? I’ve had dreams of the very thing. He would grab me and push me against the door of his office. His eyes glazed over with excitement as his soft lips landed on mine. It would be tender at first, and then swiftly turn carnal as he pressed his body into mine, grinding his pelvis into the sensitive spot between my legs. Dreams of this nature are always dangerous, especially when they seep into reality. Breaking this moment would be the right thing. It would be the ethical thing. The electricity that sparks between us needs to be broken, yet I can’t seem to get the messages to my limbs to push him away. I remain seated, hypnotized by his crushing gaze.
Did he move closer? I’m not certain of this. I’m not entirely sure if I’m just hyper-aware of his presence or if he has moved closer to me. The smell of his intoxicating cologne drowning out the sensible thoughts flying around in my brain, attempting to break through the thick wall that has been erected the moment he stepped over the line of appropriate into inappropriate.
And then he lets out a low growl, and not a moment later, his lips slam onto mine. He cradles me while simultaneously pushing himself into me. Claiming my mouth with his tongue as he dares to declare his desire to me. Kissing me deeply, he lifts me out of my seat and backs me up to the bookcase. It’s completely uninhibited. His pleasure, the driving force of his actions. He pushes himself against me, books rattling around behind as he grinds his erection into me. My head is fuzzy with this intoxicating feeling. It would be easy to become addicted, and I finally understand how addiction finds people so easily. The precision of its efforts is beautiful. The most skilled hunter. It lays out a trap, luring you into its area. Once it’s caught you, it reels you in, showering you with the things it knows you want and you think you need, and just as you’ve delved deeper and deeper into its depths, it grabs hold of you and drags you into the nether. By the time you’ve realized what’s happened, it’s too late, and there’s no hope for you to escape.