Corrupting Chastity - Krista Wolf Page 0,2

were both geometric and beautiful.

In reality, all of Dartmouth’s campus was breathtakingly gorgeous. Especially in winter.

The library had always been a source of reflection for me, and as a postgraduate it was no different. I went there to do research, and to read up on things. To open my laptop in the beautiful, book-bound silence and sharpen whatever skills I needed on that particular day.

Today though, I couldn’t think about anything but tonight.

And Senan.

Holy fucking shit.

I still couldn’t believe I’d actually done it. Last night I’d sent a simple email, from a brand new throwaway email address. It had taken no more than a minute. Ten seconds to hammer out the words, and another fifty seconds to read them over and over again before hitting the send button:

I’d like to see you tomorrow evening,

if you’re available. — Chastity

That’s it. It was that quick and easy. A simple sentence that would change my life, or at least my sex life, and hopefully for the better.

Definitely couldn’t be for the worse.

I crossed through the center of The Green, nodding politely to a pretty young woman clutching a stack of books against her chest. My feet crunched noisily against the salted path. It was getting dark fast, maybe faster than usual.

Two hours.

I gulped my way past the little lump in my throat. That’s how long I had left. That’s how much longer I’d technically be a maiden, give or take however many minutes it took to hop into bed with the gorgeous, muscle-bound model I’d been drooling over for so many days and weeks.

Escort, not model. There’s a difference.

The voice in my head was annoying, even if it was correct. Honestly I didn’t care. I was still viewing the whole thing as a business transaction, and getting my virginity out of the way would open the door — so to speak — for future relationships.

How’s that for a metaphor?

I had to get home. Primp and preen a bit. Get myself all ready… to go out and meet up.

And yes, go out. I’d made myself familiar with some of the terms of the escort service industry, including incall and outcall. Senan didn’t offer an incall service, not that it mattered. I wasn’t brave or foolhardy enough to go to a complete stranger’s house or apartment.

Yet at the same time, I wasn’t willing to have him over to my place either. I didn’t know this man, except for his photos. I had no feel for who he was. What he might be like…

For that reason I decided upon a neutral location. Somewhere public, somewhere we could sit down and discuss what would happen. It was the curse of being organized; I liked to plan ahead. I needed to know when, where, what, and why. All of those variables had to be decided before I would finally go through with the whole crazy idea.

And… you’re over-thinking things again.

“Professor!”

I glanced up, looking in about five different directions before I saw the source of the call. A young man was waving to me from the other end of the path. He came hurrying over, sprinting the last thirty yards or so as I stood there waiting for him.

“Professor, I’m sorry, I just…”

Already he was out of breath. Kids these days.

“It’s okay,” I smiled. “Relax. Take your time.”

I recognized him as someone from my Software Design and Implementation class, last semester. He sat in the back. He always carried a giant backpack too, although right now he was empty-handed.

“I wanted to know if you’d look at something for me,” he breathed, and his breath left little puffs of white steam in the crisp winter air. “It’s not from your course though,” he added apologetically. “It’s from my Algorithms class. Professor Hennessey. But I know you’re very familiar with—”

“Of course I’ll look at it,” I said right away.

“Cool,” the young man smiled. “Thanks!” Before I could say anything else he stood up a little straighter, then pointed back toward the library. “Now?”

I stiffened instantly. “Um, no. I can’t do it right now…”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just that—”

“I— I have an appointment,” I stammered.

Yes. You sure as hell do.

“Tomorrow though?”

The young man smiled and nodded. “Whatever time’s good for—”

“Two O’clock,” I told him. “Meet me in the Baker library.”

“Got it.” He grinned and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thanks so much, professor.”

“No problem.”

He ran off across The Green, and I watched him go. For some reason I felt needlessly guilty. Like I was letting him down, for the sake of my own