Chapter 2: Lingering Longer

Two days later I was still fucked up from that first office visit. Every time I closed my eyes at the coffee shop I saw her cream blouse straining, the soft swell of her breasts, the wedding ring flashing while she laughed at my lame Shakespeare joke. My dick stayed half-hard through my entire shift, and I burned three lattes because I kept replaying the vanilla scent clinging to my shirt. I told myself it was just a crush. Professors don’t fuck students. Especially not married ones with teenagers and a husband who traveled for work. But the business card with her office hours highlighted in yellow sat on my nightstand like a dare.

I revised the paper anyway. Stayed up until 2 a.m. tightening the arguments, adding the textual evidence she wanted. At 4:15 p.m. on Wednesday I climbed those same stairs again, heart slamming harder than before. The hallway was quieter this time, late afternoon light slanting through the windows. Her door was cracked open like last time. I knocked.

“Come in, Alex.”

The voice hit me low in the gut. I pushed the door and stopped dead.

She looked the same ... but different. The cream blouse was tighter today, hugging her curves like it was tailored for sin. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a deeper V of pale freckled skin and the lace edge of a cream bra that matched perfectly. The pencil skirt ended two inches above her knee, showing smooth, toned thighs that made my mouth dry. Black heels, the same click I remembered, but now they looked sharper, sexier. Her auburn hair was loose again, one strand curling against her collarbone. The wedding ring still glinted on her left hand when she set her pen down.

“Back so soon?” She smiled, warmer than before. “I like a student who actually listens.”

I sat, trying not to stare at the way the blouse pulled across her 36DD chest when she breathed. She took my revised draft and slid off her chair, perching instead on the front edge of her desk. Her skirt rode up just enough that one thigh rested inches from my knee. Vanilla perfume rolled over me again, mixed with something warmer, like skin after a long day.