“You’re giving me whiplash. You said we couldn’t... I don’t want to be this girl.”
“What girl?” he asks, with genuine concern in his eyes.
I shake my head.
“What do you want from me?” I whisper.
“Everything,” he says. He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, considering me carefully for a moment. “Will you have dinner with me? Please?”
“I... um, maybe? I need to think about it,” I say. My voice is stronger than I anticipated as I finally remove myself from his warm, cozy embrace. I need some time to clear my head right now.
Ben
After Lina leaves my office, I try to concentrate on work as much as I can. Most semesters, I take the week before the start of classes to really organize my materials and make some final tweaks to my lesson plans. But I’ve been preoccupied this last week since I met Lina and was lucky to have even a vague idea of what I’d be discussing in my classes today. Now that I’ve seen her again, I could concentrate a bit more on my actual work.
Sort of.
But instead of being distracted by whether or not I made a mistake and if I’d get to talk to her again, I am now distracted by the memory of her in my office. If I close my eyes, I can still smell her there—it’s something light and floral, playful but not immature. I am instantly addicted. Even though I technically have office hours right now, I keep my door closed, mainly to trap the scent of her in here as long as I can. But also so that I can gaze off into space and daydream about her without someone spotting me. Besides, it’s the first day of classes—my office hours today are a mere formality. Most students won’t even remember I have office hours until they get back their first midterm.
I let my mind wander to last weekend. Sure, I’ve been thinking about it a lot this past week. But I had specifically not allowed myself to focus on any of the details for too long, because I knew I’d drive myself crazy if I did. Instead, I just kind of let the feeling of the night consume me from time to time. I made the mistake, that first night, of fixating on the memory of her lips, on the way her smiled pulled slightly to the left—an adorable imperfection that somehow made her more perfect, or the way she looked when she was dancing—first, when she didn’t know I existed, and second, when she was dancing for me. Both times were sexy as hell.
But I couldn’t let myself think about those things. Otherwise, I would have probably tried to kick my own ass for being so stupid. And then I’d go over to Dev’s and kick his ass for getting so fucking drunk and interrupting our tryst in the alley. Truthfully, I know it was probably for the best because I was not in the right place to be making decisions that night. All I could focus on was getting every inch of her naked and spread out for me. I wasn’t thinking about my job, or our tiny school, or how gossip spread like mono through campus. Dev’s rowdy ass pulled me back to reality, and I both hated and appreciated the wake-up call.
Now that I know how to find her and am pretty confident in my ability to convince her to give me a second chance, I let my brain wander and zoom in on all of those little moments from our night together. Like how she teased me about not dancing, or how she felt grinding against me. And how she pouted when she admitted what her real name was. Or how tight her nipple felt through the light material of her... what was that called? Was it a onesie? That didn’t sound right, but whatever it was called, it was fucking phenomenal and gave amazing access for sliding my hand up her pants and—
A sharp knock on my door causes me to literally jump in my seat, my dick throbbing and pressing into my slacks. Shit, why did I let myself daydream at work?
“One minute,” I call out to whoever is on the other side. I swear if it’s a student I’m going to lose it.
Deep breaths, calm the hell down. You’re a professor. You have to talk to students.
I reach down and adjust my dick so it’s sticking up against the waistband of my pants. Not the most comfortable position for it, but better than scaring whoever is on the other side of the door with my massive erection.
Unless... it could be Lina? I instantly dismiss the thought, knowing she wouldn’t want to seem inappropriate by coming here twice in one day.
Another knock sounds and now I’m just annoyed. Seriously, a double knock? Who does that?
“Come on in,” I say in what I hope is a neutral professorial tone, and not an annoyed and horny one.
Surprise surprise, it’s a student, and it’s definitely not the only one I care to see right now.
Claire the brown-noser struts in, her eyes working overtime to take in everything about my office like she’s going to put my stuff up on eBay.
“Hi Professor,” she says, and she sounds... breathy? Winded?
“Hello Claire,” I say, and apparently that was the wrong thing because she lights up.
“Wow, you remembered my name! So cool.”
I shrug, not really wanting to admit that I only remember her name because of how much she annoyed me when I was trying to keep my eyes on Lina.
“Sure. How can I help you?”
Claire takes a seat in the chair Lina was recently in, and I know I can’t tell her to get up but god do I want to. Shit, I’m really losing it. It’s just a chair.
“Well, Professor, I was wondering if you could maybe give me some extra tutoring this semester? I already know I’m not going to understand half the stuff we discuss,” she says, and there’s that breathy voice again.
For a split second, I grow concerned that I messed something up in class or on the syllabus. But, it’s the first day of class, there’s no way she knows she needs tutoring already.
And then I get it. She’s hitting on me. It’s sweet, I guess, if not a bit annoying. Lots of students have taken a liking to me over the years, usually out of some secret submissive fantasies or authority figure kinks. I’ve never ever been tempted to act on anything with a student. Until Lina, of course.
I’m pretty sure Claire is an underclassman, and I certainly don’t want to embarrass her or shame her, but the last thing I want to do is encourage this crush of hers.
I decide to power through and act like I don’t suspect anything. That’s pretty much all I can do at this point.
“I promise you, it won’t be that difficult. Before midterms, I’ll go over everything we’ve learned thus far, and then if you’re still confused, we can talk about some extra resources at that time. But seriously,” I say with a smile, “I doubt you’ll need them.”
Claire frowns and stands up from the chair. I relax for a beat, thinking she’s about to leave, but she walks toward me, around to my side of the desk.
Well, crap.
“Uh, Claire? Everything okay?”
She shakes her head. “Professor, I need your help. Only you can fix this,” she says, as she inches her already short skirt up several inches, revealing more of her slim thighs.
Shit shit shit. She’s got to stop this, there’s no part of me that wants any of what she’s trying to offer me right now. How can I get her to stop? I feel like a scumbag already, and I’m not even looking at her or touching her. I can’t.
God, what if Lina walked in right now? It’s that thought and not the thought of say my boss walking in that propels me into action. I stand abruptly, which causes Claire to stumble just a bit. I reach out and pull her up enough to steady her on her feet and then pull my hand back like she’s a hot stove.
“That’s enough, Claire. I’ll need you to leave my office now, okay? We’ll put this behind us.”
I chance a look at her face and see her eyes brimming with tears. Ah hell.
I hand over a box of tissues from my desk and she snatches it from me. She blows her nose dramatically and glares at me.
“Hey, Claire, it’s... okay. I appreciate it. Hell, I’m flattered. But there’s tons of boys your age who would be better suited for you. Trust me, I’m old and not fun. And I’m your professor.” Just leave it there, that’s enough, she seems to be calming down. Stop talking, Ben, st
op it.
“Besides,” I say, casually, “I have a girlfriend already.”
The moment I say it, I know it’s the wrong thing. Completely disregarding the fact that in no way has Lina agreed to be my girlfriend, I know I’ve fucked up because of Claire’s reaction. Her eyes flash like she’s trying to discern whether I’m lying. Oh god, she’s angry now. Really really angry.
“Who is she?”
I take a moment to decide how I want to play this. I definitely will not be mentioning Lina, but do I try to be calm and soothing, or do I get authoritative and threaten to report her to the dean? The thought of that makes me queasy, and I don’t have it in me to ruin this young girl’s life just because she made a mistake.
“Claire, unfortunately, it’s really none of your business who I see or what I do in my personal life. I look forward to having you in my class, but I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave now. Thanks for stopping by.”
To my never-ending relief, she listens to my request and runs out of my office. I’m pretty sure I hear a muttered curse at me as she leaves, but I can’t even find the energy to be upset.
Lina
“Remind me again why I was excited to come back here?” I whine, plopping down on the couch next to my roommate, Ashley. She and I have been best friends since freshman year when we were assigned to the same suite—our rooms were connected by a toilet and sink. The other girls in our suite were fine, but Ash and I bonded and haven’t lived apart since.
She raises an eyebrow at me and takes a sip of wine. From a real wine glass. Which is enough to distract me because who is this fancy bitch?
“Um, is that a glass? For wine?”
Ashley grins at me. “You bet your sweet ass it is. I stopped by Ikea on my way in.”
I bound into our tiny kitchen and see that she’s procured us a whole set of six stemless wine glasses. “Good god, they’re beautiful,” I say.
“Now pour yourself a glass and come tell me what I missed,” she demands.
Even though I’d been back in Woodburgh for over a week now, Ashley just got in late last night, because she actually likes her family and was soaking up all the time she could get with her baby nephew. She didn’t have a class today and, by the looks of things, she spent most of the day getting our apartment in some semblance of order.
I plop down next to her again, careful not to slosh my wine FROM A WINE GLASS.
“Hi friendo,” I say, getting too close to her the way I know she hates.
“Why did I ever miss you?” she wrinkles her nose and lightly shoves me.
“I dunno, cause I have great boobs?”
“Mine are bigger,” she says, and we both laugh because, while Ashley is a knockout supermodel gorgeous girl, she’s always been terribly self-conscious about her small boobs. I’ve tried explaining to her multiple times that I would sometimes kill for tiny boobs so I didn’t have to wear a bra every second of the day, and she basically just looks at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. But it’s true! Grass is always greener, yeah yeah.
Ashley stares at me from over the rim of her glass.
Oh no. She knows.
A downside to being so close is we notice changes in one another that would seem almost imperceptible to anyone else.
I shift and reach for the TV remote. “Wanna watch something tonight?” I ask, hoping to take the pressure off of me. I can tell she’s looking at the side of my face, which is currently a blooming magenta color, I’m sure. I quickly try to settle on a story that won’t make my best friend worry about my sanity.
Ashley grabs the remote and shuts the TV off. She takes my wine glass and sets it far away from me. When I pout, she gives me a pointed look. “Start talking and you can have your wine back.”
With a longing glance at my glass, I settle into our comfy couch and decide to share a somewhat tame version of the events that transpired between me and Ben the past week. I tell her I met a guy at the bar and had explosive chemistry with him. I tell her we made out on the bar patio and in the alleyway where anyone could see us.
I can tell she’s not terribly surprised by my story. Of the two of us, I’m definitely the one most likely to kiss a guy I just met. But, that’s where my adventures usually end. So she waits, knowing that there must be something more. I reach for my wine and gulp down most of it in one go.
“You’re being so weird right now. Did you like fuck him in the bathroom or something?” she says with a laugh, and the idea is so far-fetched for pre-Ben Lina that I’m supposed to laugh too. Except, I can’t. Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would have absolutely fucked Ben in a bathroom at the bar that night.
“Holy shit, is that a yes?” she squeals.
I shake my head. “No no, it’s not... quite that salacious. But...,” I trail off as Ashley holds her hand up to stop me.
“One sec, Leens, let me get some provisions for this.”
She returns a minute later with the rest of our open bottle of wine, plus another bottle just in case.
We end up killing the ‘just in case’ bottle as I tell her (most) of the remainder of the story, including how Ben fingered me in the alley and how I was ready to go home with him until we were interrupted.
What I haven’t been too forthcoming about is who exactly Ben is, and I don’t know why I’m hesitating, except that I’m scared to have Ashley confirm that this is a terrible idea and I should just put him out of my mind. Okay, so I DO know why I’m hesitating.
“That’s definitely a way to start senior year! You know I’m always for you having some much-needed fun, so I’m on board. What is his deal anyway? Is he a senior too?”
Oh boy.
I shake my head. “He’s uh... not actually a student,” I say.
Ashley frowns. “Is he a...,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “a townie?”
This girl hooked up with a ‘townie’ one time four years ago and she still maybe kind of in love with him, though she’d never admit it. But I know. They broke up for the dumbest reason and I’m hoping they’re able to work past it. Either way, she says townie like it’s going to conjure one for me in the living room.
I hesitate. I guess I could pretend that Ben is a townie and hope Ashley never finds out. No, that’s dumb. Just rip the band-aid off, Lina.
“He’s maybe definitely a professor and he decided he couldn’t pursue things with me but then today he was unexpectedly called in to teach one of my classes and then he asked me to his office after class and he told me he has been thinking about me all week and can’t stay away, job be damned and would I want to have dinner with him soon?”
That’s it, I broke Ashley. She just stares at me with her mouth gaping open like a fish. After some time and considerable effort, she finally speaks. I brace myself.
“Bitch, I can’t believe you didn’t text me last week! Jesus, what are you going to do?”
And so, that’s how we open a third bottle of wine and run through my various options when it comes to Ben. By the end of our conversation, we’re both tipsy, giggly messes. I’ve definitely cried happy drunk tears at being reunited with my best friend, and I’ve whined just a little (okay a lot) about how unfair it is that Ben is a stupid professor and allegedly off-limits.
Ashley grabs her computer and starts scrolling through the Woodburgh code of conduct online, trying to see if there’s anything explicitly stated about student/professor relationships. The code of conduct is nearly 100 pages long, and less than halfway in Ash gives up to go to bed.
I spend the next few minutes tidying up the kitchen and chugging water so I don’t have a massive hangover in the morning. My phone vibrates with a text on the coffee table and I wipe my hands before going to get it. The number on my screen is an unfamiliar one. I feel a slight pulse of excitement as I try to guess who it is. I know who I want it to be, but...
Him: Hi, it’s Ben. I hope it’s okay that I’m texting you.
Me: hey there. yeah, it’s fine. how did you get
my number?
Him: Unimportant.
Me: ...
Him: Alright, fine. It was on the class roster. Technically I have everyone from the class’s number. But, obviously, yours was the only one I care to use.
Me: oh, i see
Him: How’s your night going? Good first day?
Me: my night is going fine. my roommate is finally back so we spent a few hours catching up. and drinking wine :)
Ben: Oooh, girls’ night, very nice.
Me: and my first day was mostly fine, except i haven’t been able to stop thinking about my hot professor
Ben: Is that so?
Me: yeah, i have this new spanish professor who’s just (flames emoji)
Ben: ...
I stifle a giggle as I see Ben start and then stop typing a response. I shut the door to my bedroom and flop down onto my bed, a little giddy from the wine and the fact that Ben’s texting me. Suddenly, my phone is ringing, his number flashing across the screen. I answer the phone, laughing a little bit.
“Lina V’s den of depravity, how can we debauch you today?”
Thankfully, he chuckles and blows out a deep breath. “I like hearing your voice.”
There’s a pause and I just nod like a dummy.
“I am fairly certain you were just kidding about your Spanish professor, but...,” he doesn’t finish his statement, and I decide to take some pity on him.
“Yeah, total joke. I don’t even take Spanish.”
“Hmm, so then the hot professor is...?”
“Quit fishing for compliments. You know it’s you,” I say, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.
“Okay good, I didn’t want to have to fight someone. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely do it, for you, but I’d prefer not to.”
A swarm of butterflies takes flight inside me. I don’t know how to respond.
“Listen, about earlier today,” he starts, and my stomach plummets. Shit, he’s going to pull away again. He regrets calling me into his office. Fuck fuck fuck.
Extra Credit: A Dirty & Diverse Novella Page 4