She moves her hips with an exaggerated sway and walks to the door.
“Wait, your panties,” I say as I snatch them off the floor.
She spins around, blows me a kiss, and says, “They’re yours now.”
Before I can argue, she unlocks the door and turns the knob, so I quickly shove her pink panties in my pocket. She brushes past Rosa, who glares at me with her owl-like eyes from the threshold.
“Is everything okay, Professor?” she asks me.
“Yes, Rosa. What line is the Chancellor on?”
Considering the current size of the unsatisfied monster in my pants, it’s going to be a long day.
2
STEPPING THROUGH THE DOOR
ARIA
The bell rings as I slip into the corridor. What just happened in there has me over the moon. Admittedly, I’ve been planning this for a long time, but I didn’t know how Professor Arrabella would react to my advances. I’ve been practically stalking him since the first time I laid eyes on him last year, but he hasn’t even given me a second glance.
I’d all but given up on ever getting his attention. But then, I saw him out on the soccer field in his tight-fitting shirt and tiny shorts last Friday. That’s when I decided it was time to turn up the heat and see if I could get him to boil over. I must have pulled my phone out in class twenty times before they finally initiated my referral. I was about to resort to screaming obscenities in the classroom or picking a fight with my professor. I’m relieved I didn’t have to escalate to those extremes.
Making the sexy Professor think that I’d lost my mind probably would have been counterproductive.
Now, with the sting on my behind still fresh and my insides still tingling from his exploration, I think it’s safe to say that he wants me just as much as I want him. I smile so widely that it hurts my cheeks as I begin calculating my next move. I’m lost in the idea of it when my shoulder smacks against another student’s chest.
“Hey there, American girl, watch where you’re going,” a male voice tells me and I feel his hands on my arms.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” I try to shake myself back to reality.
“It might have been my fault. I was kind of busy looking at those,” he motions down to my breasts and I suddenly realize that I didn’t button up my shirt.
“Oh, Jesus,” I mutter and frantically button up.
“Damn, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Now you closed the curtains and ruined the view,” the boy grins.
“Not funny,” I reprimand him with my glare.
“No, it’s not funny. It’s heartbreaking. I guess I’ll have to keep staring at your ass now.”
I pull myself out of his grasp and say, “Excuse me.”
“Don’t be mad. You’re the one who flashed me,” he laughs but I don’t find his childish behavior even remotely amusing so I push past him and hurry to my next class.
I suppose I should be grateful for the encounter. It prevented me from walking into a room full of students looking like a stripper.
For the rest of the day, I look for Professor Arrabella around every corner. Surely, I’ve gotten into his head, right? He must want to steal a look at me or share a knowing wink the way that I want to do the same to him. I sit in class zoning out the ramblings of my professors and staring into space as I relive the heat between us when I lay across his lap.
I could get up and run back to his office right now if it wouldn’t mean expulsion and a gross overreaction from my mother. Not that she cares, she just doesn’t want to be inconvenienced by me.
Finally, as the dismissal bell rings, I spot him standing between his office and the front exit. He zeroes in on me as I approach and looks me straight in the eye, but his face is blank and expressionless. My heart thumps and sadness sinks into my belly.
Is it possible that I’ve been wrong about him this whole time? Could what happened between us just be the activities of a typical Tuesday for him? I mean, he is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. I can’t be the first girl to express my interest in him. Am I just one in a long line of coeds who’ve had his fingers inside them? No, it can’t be that. He’s just putting on an act so no one gets suspicious.
As the rest of the students rush to freedom, I slow my pace and hang back a little. Summoning all the courage I can muster, I decide to approach him. Realizing that I’m about to be face-to-face with him, he turns his head from side to side and then looks down at his patent leather loafers.
“Excuse me, Professor. Do you have a moment to speak with me?” I ask him.
