In Session

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “Yes,” Foster whispered against my ear. “Very good at following directions.” Foster slipped the finger out. I groaned, disappointed to lose him. Soon I felt his presence again, but I knew it was definitely not his finger. I gripped the wood, preparing for Foster.

  He slid purposefully inside of me. The sensation was too overwhelming and I released my grip on the wood. His powerful thrusts deepened until he bottomed out inside me, and my nails made soft noises as I scratched the desk.

  “How’s that?” Foster asked. I groaned in reply. “Hmm… I don’t know what that means. Perhaps I’m not deep enough?” Foster pulled out of me before ramming himself inside. He hit so hard I yelled, “Oh God!”

  I turned my head to the side, wanting to get a better look at Foster. The hard wood of the desk cooled my hot forehead and from my angle I could see his tattoo, fully exposed. It was a howling wolf.

  “You’re improving, Miss Starling,” Foster growled. He continued the fast, torturously deep rhythm until I was screaming his name—at least I think I was screaming his name; it could have been gibberish. He was making me come so hard and so, so well that I nearly blacked out on the desk.

  The waves of my orgasm subsided to shivers. Foster mopped my sweaty hair from my forehead. Leaning in, he whispered, “Well done, Miss Starling.”

  “Professor Khan? Are you available? It’s Ellen from your morning class. I have a few questions.”

  Ellen’s voice was more effective than cold water. I jumped, nearly banging my head against Foster’s. Suddenly everything that I’d just done with Foster came rushing back to me. Shame instead of pleasure. Humiliation instead of joy. I could not believe what I’d just done.

  With cool precision, Foster slid out of me and buttoned up his pants and shirt. He adjusted the tie that only minutes before I’d mussed. I watched horrified as he made his way to the door. He opened it a crack, smiled, and said, “In a few moments, Ellen, I’m finishing up with another student.” Finishing up with another student? I felt like raw meat, used and abused. He’d definitely finished with me, all right.

  “If it’s cool with you I’ll come tomorrow,” Ellen replied, her voice muffled by the door. “I’m running late for my next class. Thanks Professor!”

  “Any time.” Foster closed the door and ambled back to me, smiling. “Where were we?” I gaped at him, too furious to say anything. Scrambling to get off his desk, I reached for my skirt and pulled it up.

  “I’m furious with you,” I said as I fixed my skirt. I was acutely aware that I’d had sex with Foster twice now wearing the same outfit without washing it, including once on his desk! In the school from which I had a full scholarship! When had I gone from nerd to rising porn star?

  Foster adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and smiled. “I like how you show your anger.”

  I ignored the effect his smile had on me and plowed forward. “This won’t happen again, understand? I have a full ride and I’m on track to graduate in—”

  “Three years.”

  I frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I heard you talking to your friend. Remember?”

  “Right, well, never mind how you know. It can not happen again, okay? You’re just my professor.”

  Foster strolled over to me, his cool gait unraveling my composure. As he reached me, Foster touched my shoulder lightly and said, “Whatever you say, Miss Starling.”

  I shot him a glare and dashed out of the office, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity still remained. As I left the building and a breeze blew, I realized I’d left my underwear back in his office. There goes that last shred of dignity.

  3

  Schooled

  Deciding it was better to hide out with Rachael in our dorm, I skipped Foster’s class on Wednesday. I’d filled her in on everything when, after the humiliating incident with Foster, I’d run back from his office to our dorm in near tears. Now it was Friday and I still didn’t know what to do. I could drop his class and squeeze o-chem in to my already packed summer semester, or I could tough it out.

  The idea of seeing Foster every Monday and Wednesday for the next four months seemed more torturous than when I’d had a UTI, a bacterial infection, and my period at the same time. He was just so cute and funny and sexy… and completely off limits. In lieu of deciding, Rachael and I were going out for dinner at our favorite spot.

  We’d had dinner there every week for the past four years. After meeting Rachael freshmen year of high school, we’d made it our tradition to eat at the Blue Spoon. During the most boring freshmen orientation ever, wherein Rachael and I both had no friends to sit with in the huge auditorium, we coincidentally sat next to each other and had been inseparable ever since.

  Rachael came from a pretty affluent background while I came from a string of worse and worse foster homes. I made it my mission to get out and help others, while Rachael made it her mission to, well, be Rachael. Still, I loved her to death. She was the funniest, nicest, and sweetest person I’d ever known, and she always paid for my meal at the Blue Spoon.

  I tried to pay my own way, but Rachael figured out sneakier and sneakier ways to take care of the tab before I could. One time she pretended to be sick. I thought she was rushing to throw up in the bathroom, when in reality she was going to pay. I eventually gave up and accepted that Rachael paid the bills.

  The hostess seated us at our usual table. The water glasses weren’t even poured when Rachael half-screamed, half-whispered, “Oh my god!”

  “What?” I asked, peeking at her over my menu.

  “Khan is here!” Her whisper was so excited it jumped to a shout, like a hiccup. My eyes widened and I followed her gaze. Sure enough, seated alone only a few tables from us, was Foster. I set my menu down as emotions swirled around my stomach.

  It had only been a few days since I’d seen him. I’d been avoiding him like the plague, but he was literally everywhere. Before I could think better of it, I marched up to his table, which was obscured slightly by shadows. I demanded to know what was up.

  “Are you following me?” I mean, he was in my diner. Rachael and I had been going there for years and now suddenly Foster was there? I wasn’t buying it.

  Foster lowered his menu, glancing at me with no more interest than you would a fly that had landed on your food.

  “Oh, hello Miss…” He squinted as if forgetting my last name. I felt blood rushing to my cheeks—whether from embarrassment or anger, I couldn’t discern.

  “Cut the crap, you know my name.”

  Foster pursed his lips, like he was trying to hide a smile, and then his eyes widened. As if suddenly remembering, Foster said, “Oh, right, Miss Starling from my Monday morning class. I was sorry to see you couldn’t make it Wednesday. I hope you got your notes.”

  His morning class? More like his morning fuck.

  Foster returned his gaze to his menu, like I wasn’t hovering over his table completely pissed off. It was one thing to avoid a person, and another entirely to pretend they didn’t exist. I wasn’t pretending what we’d done hadn’t happened, I was just choosing it avoid it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Foster looked up at me again. “I’m on a date, Miss Starling. Did you need something?”

  A date? I muttered something incoherent, then stumbled back to my seat. Of course he was on a date. I sat back in the cushy, leather booth just as the appetizers arrived.

  “So?” Rachael pressed. “What did he say?”

  “He’s on a date,” I replied, confusion seeping from my tongue. It made sense on just about every level for my professor, a man whose only contact with me should have been in the classroom, to be on a date with a woman who wasn’t me. But inside, where my cells were being made and my blood was pumping, it felt wrong.

  I felt wrong.

  I picked up a fry and chewed it with enough force to make myself feel better. I punished that fry, because I couldn’t exactly bitch to my friend that my professor was sleeping with so
meone else. I mean, he was a single, red-blooded male. He could do whatever he wanted.

  I’d made it clear to him that we weren’t going to happen. So he’d listened.

  “A date?” she exclaimed. “What an asshole!”

  Yeah! Asshole! Wait—no, not an asshole. He was being a good guy. I shook my head, trying to get on the right track mentally. My friend meant well, but Foster was my professor. If we dated, it would be bad news for both of us.

  “No,” I said, taking a fistful of fries and shoving them in to my mouth for comfort. The words that came out next were barely audible over the sound of ten fries dying inside the cavern of my mouth. “It’s good.”

  “Good? He slept with you not even a week ago!”

  I shrugged. “I told him to screw off. He’s screwing off.” Reaching for the entire basket of fries (screw it, I need comfort), I kept my gaze fixated on Foster. His date had returned and I decided I already hated her. She had long, luxurious, acorn-colored hair and big almond-shaped eyes. She laughed at everything he said. How was that even possible? There was no way everything he said was funny.

  Absolutely fuming, I shoved another handful of fries into my mouth.

  “Dude,” Rachael said.

  “What?” I said through a mouthful of fried potatoes.

  “You’re freaking staring is what.”

  I glared at her, reaching for my soda. “Am not.”

  “Are too! Just tell him you like him.”

  “This isn’t high school.”

  Rachael rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “Well you’re acting like you’re in kindergarten. You guys had sex. He said he liked you and how do you show you like him? By being mean. Grow up, Nora.”

  “Grow up? I can’t have a relationship with him! He’s my professor. That’s illegal… or something.”

  “Are you sleeping with him to get a good grade?”

  “Hey! I do not need to sleep with someone to get a good grade.”

  Khan’s date giggled again, this time loud enough for me to hear over Rachael’s words of “wisdom”. I’d had enough. This dinner was turning in to a trip from hell. I stood up from the table and, speaking loud enough to drown out Khan’s date, said, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  When I walked past their table, it took all of my energy to keep from kicking her chair.

  * * *

  I shut the door behind me, but when I tried to lock it, it wouldn’t stick. So much for going to the bathroom. There was no way I was peeing with the chance of an interruption. Instead, I went to the sink and stared at my face. How had I become this person? I had always been a good student. I had always been a good person. Now I was sleeping with my professor and nearly kicking helpless people’s chairs.

  As I splashed water on my face, there was a knock at the door. I yelled back the cursory, “Excuse me, there’s someone in here.”

  Despite my words, the doorknob jiggled as if someone was about to walk in. I gawked at the turning knob, surprised that someone would attempt to get in when I was clearly using it. Then I remembered that the door didn’t lock and scrambled to shut the door, but it was too late.

  The door was opening.

  “Excuse me!” I started to say, until I saw who was walking in on me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see if you needed any help,” Foster said, closing the door and leaning casually against it.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? This is the ladies’ bathroom,” I paused, gesturing. “That I am in!”

  Foster shrugged. “It wasn’t locked so I figured you couldn’t be doing anything too revealing.” He winked at me, actually winked. Who the hell did this guy think he was? And why the hell was I still attracted to him? I picked up the closest thing to me—a spare roll of toilet paper—and threw it at his head. He ducked and the roll bounced on the ground.

  I huffed. “What is your problem?”

  Foster advanced on me quicker than I could blink.

  “You.”

  Foster grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me to him, crushing his lips against mine.

  “What about your date?” I asked, biting his lip hard.

  “That wasn’t a date,” Foster growled against my lips. “That was a coworker.” Foster spun me around, pressing me against the sink so that the cool porcelain was flush against my stomach.

  “I don’t have much time,” Foster said.

  “So hurry then,” I replied. I realized that my reply meant I was effectively sealing my fate, but I’d already sealed it much earlier. I’d sealed it when I’d internally sagged with relief when he’d said his date wasn’t a date. I’d sealed it when I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off him my entire dinner. I’d sealed it the minute he’d kissed me and I’d realized I needed it more than I needed air.

  I said I’d avoided Foster like the plague that week, but maybe I’d already caught him. I was infected.

  Foster ripped down my leggings and palmed me between my legs. We groaned at the same time.

  “You’re so wet,” Foster groaned. I leaned in to his palm, relishing the feeling of his rough skin against my most sensitive of places.

  “Please,” I begged.

  Foster grabbed my hair and pulled me back against his chest. “I’m sorry we have to be quick,” Foster whispered against the skin of my neck.

  “Just do it!”

  I heard the sound of the condom wrapper ripping and then he plunged into me. Foster and I were one, and there was no going back.

  4

  Teacher's Pet

  At first, sitting through Foster’s class had been torture because of the embarrassment. Now it was torture because of our secret. I didn’t want to sit up front, because maybe that was too obvious. Then again, I didn’t want to sit in the back because maybe that was too obvious. I chose a seat right in the middle.

  In the end, my seating choice didn’t matter. I was drenched the minute he came in. It didn’t matter that he was talking about the driest science I’d ever encountered, he may as well have been whispering seduction directly in to my ear. I swore he looked at me way longer than he should have.

  He smiled at me too, a secret smile meant just for me. I know it. Every time he mentioned hybridization he’d look back and smile at me. Come on. Hybridization is neither funny nor sexy.

  I watched the clock almost as much as I watched Foster. Class needed to end so I could run up and kiss the gorgeous, smart man sending me secret smiles and flirty glances. I waited and waited for class to end. Then I waited some more, because people just had to talk to Foster. I mean, really, pay attention so you don’t have to ask questions.

  Well, I probably should have started paying attention, considering that since I’d started dating Foster my knowledge of organic chemistry had drastically declined. We all make sacrifices for love, right? When the last student left, I packed my bags and walked toward Foster.

  * * *

  “Professor Khan,” I asked, doing my best to remain nonchalant. “I have a few questions about the lecture. Do you have time to discuss them with me?”

  Foster barely looked up from his work. “I have a few moments, but you know I prefer you come in during office ours.”

  I nodded sagely. “Of course, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” I followed Foster out into the hall, up the stairs, further down the hall, and down a hallway dimly lit by bubble glass windows. It was clear all the other professors were gone.

  Foster put his key into the door, turned the lock, and without wasting a minute, dragged me into his office.

  “Fuck,” he said, pulling me by the hips the minute the door closed. “I know it shouldn’t, but when you call me professor I get so fucking hard.”

  I grinned, feeling wicked. Pressing myself into him so I could feel his stiff cock against my hip, I whispered, “Professor Khan.”

  He groaned, bending down to pull my ear between his teeth. “I’m going to bend you over my desk and fuck you so hard you won’t be
able to walk tomorrow,” he said low in to my ear, causing me to shiver. “I want you in my class Wednesday, sore, still thinking of how I fucked you on this desk. But first…”

  Foster undid the button of my jeans and pulled them down. He didn’t even bother with my panties, opting instead to rip them off.

  “Hey,” I muttered lazily, my protest losing steam when Foster placed his mouth on my inner thigh. He kissed his way further inside, until he was planted firmly on my lips. My eyes popped open before relaxing into pleasure.

  “You taste fucking amazing,” Foster said, his voice rumbling inside me. “I’m going to eat you until there’s nothing left.” Foster grabbed my ass and pulled me closer. When his tongue entered me I saw stars. I fisted his hair in my hands, refusing to let him stop.

  Swirls spun in my eyes as Foster sucked on me. My thighs quivered and I trembled, but he held on to me. He mercilessly sucked until I was a writhing, shaking mess in his arms. When I came, he wasn’t finished with me. He licked me where I was most sensitive, causing me to scream out as the pleasure was almost painful. I fell back on the desk, totally spent.

  He still wasn’t done with me.

  Kissing up my stomach, Foster pulled my shirt off as he went. When he reached my bra, he unhooked it easily and threw it to the side. Taking my breasts in his hands, he massaged them. I groaned as he took a nipple into his mouth.

  I felt like a goddess the way he was worshipping me.

  Carefully, Foster lifted me up so that I was sitting on his desk. I watched rapt as he undid his shirt and jeans. It was my own personal strip show. When he was finished, Adonis stood in his place. I licked my lips as he approached me.

  I’d been naked with Foster before, but I’d never really seen him naked. At least, I’d never studied him naked. He was absolute perfection. From head to toe, he was sculpted and tanned and so delectable. When he gripped my hips and pulled me close, I couldn’t help but smile.