a student, and I’m a teacher.
It’s forbidden.
It’s illicit.
And I want it.
I close my eyes and take a series of deep breathes to try and calm my growing nerves and the hard-on growing in my pants. Just thinking about Laura gets a rise out of every part of my body. The hair on my arms stands on end in anticipation of seeing her today. My heart beats faster than average, knowing she’s on campus, sitting in class, and hopefully thinking about me. My fingers twitch with the eagerness of touching her later, and the thought of touching makes my cock jump because he wants to be near her, rubbing against her in any way he can.
After a few minutes of unsuccessful mediation, probably because the inside of my Jeep still smells like Laura, I realize I could sit in here all day and be content, but unfortunately, I must be an adult and instruct other adults in the fine art of computer hacking. I finally shut off the ignition and get out of my car.
As I walk across campus, there are a couple of young women who say hi to me. I smile and wish them a good day. My co-workers like to give me shit about being the hot guy on campus, but I don’t see it. I’m average, at best. I wear specs, can’t get my hair under control, and for some reason, my mother insists on buying me tweed sport coats to wear, and for whatever reason, I still wear them because I’m too lazy to buy anything else. Yep, it seems I’m the man-child that depends on his mommy for clothes. Hell, she’d probably make my lunch for me if she lived closer, and I’d probably let her.
The entire walk to my office, my head is on a swivel looking for Laura. I know I could text her, ask her where she is right now and put myself in her path, but I rather like the idea of running into her or waiting until I get to class later. I’m not sure how the class is going to go or how I’m going to be impartial. Laura can do no wrong in my eyes, and I’m not sure how I’m going to grade her papers effectively.
With those thoughts, I think about my next move. Or hers, instead. Does Laura really need philosophy this semester, or can she take it in the winter? Am I the only one who can teach this class, or is there another professor? Something has to give, though, because I’m not sure I can go into a relationship with her if she’s my student. Although, that sounds hot. I never thought I’d be on the other end of a student/teacher relationship.
When my dreaded philosophy class arrives, I’m standing at the podium, looking at the list of students who didn’t turn their homework in. Such a shame, but the rules are in place for a reason. I glance over my shoulder, look at the clock, and watch the secondhand tick down until it has passed the twelve.
“Good afternoon. I take it everyone has the textbook I assigned.”
There are a few grumbles.
“Who would like to dissect chapter one?” Multiple hands go up, but my eyes are all on Laura. She shakes her head. It’s subtle, but I notice. The temptation to call on her is strong, knowing full well she hates to be called on in class. I point to the woman next to her, who starts to ramble away.
Each time I motion for another student to start talking, I groan. I hate philosophy and wish I never minored in it. And yet, I can’t help but love it because it has given Laura back to me. When the bell rings, my mouth drops as Laura exits the class.
“What the fuck,” I mutter as she disappears from the room. Color me confused. I guess I thought she’d want to talk to me, or maybe she’s upset that I haven’t texted her today. Did I mess up? I reach for my phone and am surprised to see Laura’s name showing on the screen with a new text message.
Laura Parrish: Meet me in the library. Third floor.
Library. Third floor.
I swallow hard as I look at her words. I remember what used to happen in the library when I was a student and let me just say, it’s not reading, and the only subject people tend to study is biology.
Fuck it.
I gather my things and head across campus