Wet For Teacher 1V

I was a woman possessed as I followed him out of the room, up a flight of stairs, and down a dimly lit hallway. He opened a door and entered an office—his office. Because he was a professor. My professor. When he shut the door, complete silence engulfed us for, oh, about 2.5 seconds. I broke it with my indignant voice.

“You’ve seen him around campus?” I yelled, repeating what he’d said to me that very morning, just a few hours before.

“I suppose we’re a little bit closer than that,” he remarked, a smirk on his lips.

Whatever, Professor Khan,” I spat, doing my best to keep from clawing his eyes out—or his shirt off; whichever, I couldn’t seem to keep the two separated at the moment. I was furiously angry at him, sure, but with his dark blue eyes practically twinkling, I still had to keep my legs pressed tight together.

“I prefer it if my sexual partners call me by my first name, Foster.”

Foster—ahem, Professor Khan—leaned casually against his desk. Arms folded, he eyed me with as much