“You back there.” I look up to see his eyes piercing into me. Looking around at the other students, surely he cannot mean me. I didn’t raise my hand, I didn’t even look interested in the slightest. I know because I had my head down on the desk, half asleep. I’m not even sure why I looked up but I did. To him staring directly at me, pointing his pen at me in that very professor like way. His forefinger extending with the pen.
Like Lord Voldemort pointing a wand. Unpopular opinion but Voldemort is sexy. I don’t care what anyone says, he has that dark lord villain sex appeal thing going for him.
“… so, what do you think?” Oh shit! He is still talking, to me. Shit. “Ummm…” I stare at him, he stares at me, the whole class stares between him and me. I glance at the slides projected on the screen behind him, looking for a clue as to what the hell he is on about.
He clears his throat. My shoulders immediately release the tension I’ve been holding, knowing he is going to move on and let me off the hook.
“What I asked, Ms. Dacampo, was…”
My mind freezes. I try to listen, I really do but there is this uncomfortable humming filling my whole head and I can’t, for the life of me, hear anything over it. And wait, he knows my name? A question that jumps to the forefront of my mind. This incredibly sexy teacher that I have spent a semester trying to avoid acknowledging how hot he is, knows my name.
My cheeks flush red, I know they do because I can feel the heat spreading over them and down my chest.
“He asked if you think political organizations like the United Nations are effective in preventing conflict.” The person sitting to my right leans in like an angel on my shoulder. Thank you freakin gods.
Except, how the fuck do I know. I haven’t been paying attention. And it became very clear very early on, this isn’t my subject at all. A tense moment passes. Then another. His eyes boring into me, waiting for a response. Jeez fucker, get a hint. I’m not going to answer. I know my eyes grow rounder when that statement crosses my mind. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do, not answer. I’ll sit here until we’re all uncomfortable. Fuck it and fuck him.
He waits, I wait, the class waits. Silence pulls through the class until everything around me disappears. Everything but him and me. All the students disappear, the room goes black, and it’s just us here. Him and me. A weird tension starts to creep from the nape of my neck down my spine, pooling between my legs. My thighs clench, my nipples pebble, my skin hums. Am I fucking serious right now! Am I really getting turned on by this. He my professor, for Gods’ sake. And a jackass.
My ridiculously attractive jackass professor. I can admit that he is attractive and wears a suit like they were invented for him but still, it doesn’t mean he deserves to be a jackass. Said suit with the sleeves rolled up just enough that I can see his corded forearms. I wonder if other places are just as veiny. My mouth waters at the thought. But my mouth isn’t the only place that getting wet thinking about it.
Biting my lip I watch as he runs his tongue along his lower lip. The move framed by the thumb and forefinger he has cupping his chin. His eyes still honed in on me. But the look on his face has gone from taunting to something completely different. Something dark.
I snap out of the trance at the sound of him clearing his throat. My eyes darting around the class, noticing most students have checked out. Clearly oblivious to whatever the fuck just happened.
“So as I was saying,” his voice lower and huskier than before, “political organizations have the potential” the last word more pointed than the others, “to prevent conflict. However,” his eyes finding mine every few moments before traveling back over the class room, “it depends how much the nations involved want it. If they really want it, it can work.” His eyes now locked on mine, the way he said ‘really want it’ coming out extremely suggestive.
“Reminder, your paper is due at midnight Friday. If you have questions, office hours are posted on the class page or you can email me.” At that, the students starts to gather their stuff and get up to leave. Myself included. I can’t get away fast enough. But before I am even fully standing, “Oh, and Eleanor, please stay after a moment.” Fuck!!!!!!!
Why is he having me stay after? Is that even allowed in college? I know it is but still. And why did he use my first name this time? How does he even know my name? I drop back in my seat so I don’t block the aisle. A few sympathetic looks are tossed at me as students push past my desk.
I watch him as he busies himself with whatever he’s doing. Not even giving me a courtesy glance. Students are still filtering out of the room as I continue to stare at him. I want to be annoyed or angry or anything but the stupid thrill I feel deep in my stomach and between my legs at the idea of being alone with him. I pull my phone out and start scrolling, distracting myself and also silently praying it makes me look aloof and detached.
The classroom is empty now, I don’t need to look, I can feel it. He still hasn’t addressed me but I refuse to talk first and give him the satisfaction. Clearly, he is playing some sort of game or this is a dumb power move on his part. I continue to stare at my phone, not really processing what I’m looking at. The room is tight with tension.
I no longer hear him shuffling things around. Complete silence engulfs the space. It’s entirely too tight with tension now. It’s suffocating. I’ve never been one who could sit in an uncomfortable silence, always talking to fill the space, or playing music, turning on the tv, literally anything to not be in silence. This silence is deafening.
When my determination breaks, I look up to see him leaning against the front of the desk, his legs long and crossed at his ankles. One arm wrapped around his lean waist, the other reaching up with his finger and thumb cupping his chin like earlier. His mouth a straight line. His eyes searing directly into my soul. He’s staring at me, unmoving except for the one finger tracing his jaw. He’s not just looking at me, he’s studying me, appraising me with intent.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair at the attention. My eyes darting to every where but him. Still he just watches me. Why am I still here? Why am I not just getting up and leaving?
Because a part of me likes it. The realization sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. I’m intrigued and aroused and more than a little curious.
“Eleanor.” My name like velvet as he finally breaks the silence. I just stare at him. “Can I ask you something?” It’s not a question. He begins walking towards me. I suck in a deep breath as he plants himself directly in front of me towering from above. For a moment I’m face – to – what is most definitely not his face. Rather, his very prominent bulge. His pants aren’t necessarily tight but they do fit well and this close, I can see a lot more than I would if I was say, more of a natural, distance from him.
After what felt like entirely too long, I look up at him, his face this time. Amusement set across his whole face as he stares down at me. He tips his head up, looking towards the ceiling and away from my gaze, attempting to hide the very obvious smirk across his very sculpted lips. With a deep breath, I watch as his chest rises and falls. It seems he is able to school wherever his thoughts were going. Enough that he brings his eyes back to mine and our eyes lock. His beautiful amber eyes seem to soften just a touch. “Fuck” it’s almost a whisper. “Eleanor, I’m going to be very honest with you.” He pauses for my reaction. He doesn’t get one. “You are not on a path to graduating this class.” I still don’t give him any reaction. I already know this.
“But” he pauses again, this time appearing to be at war with himself before setting his jaw, “I have some ideas for, let’s say, extra credit.” There is no hesitation in his words now. No, there is a glint of roughish charm.
I swallow heavily, his eyes briefly falling to my throat before returning to my eyes. “And what would that be?” My voice shaky with apprehension. An observation that seems to please or maybe even excite him.
“Well, Ms. Dacampo,” okay, so back to my last name, “I’m just going to be blunt.” His face set with determination. He reaches out his hand, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His thumb begins to trace along my lower lip, his eyes full of what looks like hunger and need. “I would like you to be my pet.” The words slam into me. Is he for real? What is a pet? I’m speechless, me, who always fills the space with talking has nothing to say.
“But you need to decide now, Eleanor, indecisiveness is an unbecoming trait and will not be tolerated by me.” His eyebrow lifting with assertiveness. “Um” I hesitate. “Speak clearly, Eleanor.” I swallow again, this time with resolve. “Yes, Professor, I’ll be your pet.” Whatever that entails, I don’t add at the end. “Perfect. Oh, and Eleanor, call me Master or Sir.” A wicked grin, “Unless you’re screaming with pleasure, then you can call me your God.”
“Yes, Sir.” Staring up at him snagging my lip between my teeth. His eyes are trained on my mouth. “As much as I’d like to take you over my desk right now, and one day I will.” He finds my eyes again and winks. “Today is not the day for that. Unfortunately” regret actually seems to flash across his face before quickly disappearing. “I will pick you up at 7pm, an outfit will be delivered to your home that you will wear tonight,” no room for argument, “and we will proceed with my plans. Does that sound good, pet?” Not a question but a test. “Yes, Sir.” I can see in his face that he is pleased that I passed. “It appears, you’ll be much more suited for this than political science.” Another wink with the tease. But I don’t mind because he is right. I’m much more excited about this, whatever it is, than I’ve ever been for political anything.
A while later I’m sitting in my last class for the day, not at all paying attention, when it dawns on me. “How does he know where I live?” A question that should’ve stayed in my mind and not coming out of my mouth like it actually did. My classmate and pseudo-friend, I suppose, next to me leans in towards me, while a few people around us take quick glances at us. “Who?” His eyes concerned and probing. “Oh nothing, um, never mind. No one.” I quickly answer focusing on the teacher like I have any idea what she is talking about. I can still feel his eyes on me but I blatantly ignore him.
As the teacher wraps up class, he asks me again who I am talking about. I lie and tell him an old friend. Stating it’s no big deal. But he seems intent on making it a big deal. Following me out of the class into the common area, “I can come over, if you’re worried he’s gonna come over uninvited. You didn’t invite him right? If you had you wouldn’t be surprised he knew where you lived? Because you would’ve told him. Wait, did he already come to your place uninvited? Is he giving you a hard time?”
Ok, whoa this guy is bombarding me with questions. What’s his deal, anyways. I try to take a moment to figure out what is going on, but I can feel his eyes on me. Not my classmates but his. I look up searching for him. Alec, my classmate and pseudo-friend, steps into my space, directly in front of my line of sight. He’s taller than me, most everyone is, and not a narrow guy either. I can’t see around him at all when I try. “Is this friend” the word comes out more of an incrimination “giving you a hard time?” Geez, what is Alec’s deal. I look up to study his face. So, I guess, he is really more pseudo-friend than just classmate but hardly. We kissed like one drunken night at the bar. Months ago. Hung out a couple of times. Always in groups of people. He’s never even asked me on a date.
I push back from him trying to get some distance. He’s a good looking guy, chivalrous, I suppose. Albeit a little possessive. But my mind isn’t there. It’s with him. Where is he? I can still feel him. “No, it’s really ok. Everything is fine” I add on to drive the point. “Ok,” Alec continues skeptically, “just, if you need me, call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” I don’t doubt he would. “Thank you.” I give him a forced smile and take off to my car, anxious to get home. More than a little anxious to find out what tonight will be about.
He said there would be an outfit delivered to me but I don’t see anything as I walk towards my door. However, it is only mid afternoon and he’s not going to be here until 7pm. There are a few hours until I have to start getting ready. I’m sure the outfit will be delivered soon. Besides, I doubt he already has the outfit, meaning he will need time to shop for it. Plus, I know I didn’t see him but I felt him before I left campus. That means he couldn’t have left yet. Sighing at myself, I’m really overthinking this.
I unlock my door, toss my bag next to my console table, and head to the kitchen. Not sure if his plans tonight include food but I’m famished. Looking through the fridge, I settle on something light. I don’t want to be bloated for the evening. Speaking of which, how does he know what size I wear? Sure he could guess but women’s bodies are an enigma. Clothing labels are even more of an enigma. Even I don’t know my what size I wear in every brand.
I finish my snack, noting that there wasn’t a delivery while I was eating either. Maybe he’s waiting until the last minute so I can’t protest. Honestly, that’s pretty intuitive. I would definitely protest, even if I like it, purely out of principle. Groaning to myself, why am I like this? Maybe if I wasn’t I’d be headed into a normal evening instead of whatever this is.
Around 5pm, no package has arrived and it dawns on me, this probably isn’t even real. I’m so freakin dumb. Why would I think a sexy professor would have any interest in me for his ‘pet’ as he called it? Why would anyone for that matter? I’m not destined for exciting taboo relationships. I’m… I’m just a boring basic college chick. The revelation upsetting.
