Chapter 7: Extra Credit

Mid-afternoon light slanted through the ethics building hallway, turning the scuffed tiles a pale gold. The air hung heavy with the dry-marker tang of lecture notes and the faint bitterness of cooling coffee from the faculty lounge. Alex’s pulse ticked steady as he approached her corner office, the latest response paper tucked under his arm like a pretext. He had texted her earlier with a single loaded line—”Need extra credit before the midterm”—and her reply had come back almost instantly: My door at three. Come prepared.

He knocked once.

Her voice answered clear and composed, but he caught the undercurrent of anticipation. “Come in.”

The office felt smaller today, the heavy oak desk piled higher with midterms, the window overlooking the quad where students lounged on the grass with earbuds and textbooks. Elena sat behind the desk in the kind of outfit that made the professional mask feel like foreplay: white blouse unbuttoned one dangerous notch lower than regulation, black pencil skirt stretched tight across her hips, sheer black stockings gleaming under the fluorescent hum, glossy heels crossed at the ankle. Glasses perched low on her nose, chestnut strands escaping the severe bun to frame her face. She looked up, eyes dark with promise, and gestured to the chair.

“Alexander. Let’s discuss how you can improve your grade.”

He sat. The door clicked shut behind him. Then the lock turned with a soft, deliberate snick that echoed like a starting gun.

They reviewed the paper for all of ninety seconds. Her voice stayed measured, pointing out a paragraph with a manicured nail, but the air crackled between them. She leaned forward, cleavage deepening in the open blouse, and slipped one heel off under the desk. Her stockinged foot glided up his inner thigh, slow and sure, the warm nylon dragging over denim until it pressed firmly against the thickening ridge of his cock.