1. Playing with the Professor (Excerpt)


    Date: 11/11/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: Dahlia, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    head. “It’s all right, white men don’t always find me… appealing .” “I didn’t say that,” he said quickly, alarmed that she’d taken his evasiveness the wrong way. “You didn’t have to.” “Claire, you’re beautiful!” he said. “Spectacularly so.” “Spectacularly?” Her eyes opened wide at the compliment. “Yes.” She leaned in close and pressed herself slightly against him. Thomas’ heart raced. “You should take the ’92,” she said handing him the bottle of wine she’d grabbed from behind him. “It was a good year.” *** She’d been toying with him, he realised that now. He couldn’t tell what made him angrier; that he’d fallen for it completely or that for a few minutes, he’d actually forgotten about the loneliness that had informed his life after the death of his wife. He hadn’t so much looked at another woman since his wife had gone. He didn’t even look at porn anymore. It wasn’t that he felt guilty because he knew that his wife would have been okay with him moving on. And after a year and a half, many people would have encouraged him to. He was just disinterested. Thomas knew he wasn’t bad looking, for his age. That was made painfully obvious to him by a lot of his female students and a few of the male ones too. And yet he just didn’t have the — what was it, energy? — to pursue anything. And even if he wanted to, he couldn’t; at least not with his students. And then Claire Holmes happened upon him in that cellar. What was she playing at? Not once in the three years he’d taught her, had ...
    she ever expressed, even subtly, that she found him attractive. And she probably didn’t. Her behaviour in the cellar was probably just designed to embarrass him. He tried not to let it sting but he couldn’t help it, especially not when she’d walked into his History class that morning looking as gorgeous as ever. It was a struggle to get through the hour but he somehow managed. He did his best not to look to the upper right of his classroom, where she was sitting but every once in a while, he would, and she’d be staring at him with an intensity that made his stomach do summersaults. He was thankful when the class was over and hurried to his office where hopefully, marking essays would distract him. He marked the papers and opened his desk to find a folder to place them in but finding none, he stepped into the cupboard where he kept his supplies. There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he shouted, thinking it was his TA. He kept looking for a folder as he heard the door open and shut. “Can you take over for me on Thursday, Frank? I’m going to Illinois but I don’t want to cancel the class.” He was still rummaging for a folder. Where the heck did he put them? “You gave me a B.” The voice startled him and he looked at the door. Claire Holmes. She’d retrieved her paper from the pile. She looked at him and placed it on top of the other essays. He frowned. “It could have done with a little more depth.” “I know,” she said, stepping into the cupboard. “I’ve been fucking up my essays on ...
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