My knuckles turn white as my grip tightens on my backpack strap. Tachibana Sensei’s eyes take me in, roving up and down my body, lingering on my crotch where despite my concentration I can’t stop the growing bulge.
“At least now I have some idea of your interest.” She hums to herself, pleased, and props an elbow in her hand as she runs a dainty finger over the side of her face. She slips her pinky between her lips and gently tugs her lower lip down at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes burn with desire as lava courses through my veins.
She doesn’t look much older than me, but knowing she’s a professor adds ten years in my mind. Still well within my range. Her breasts spill over her pale forearm and even sitting down, her wasp waist remains. Her proportions don’t seem physically possible, but unless she has the world’s best body contouring underclothes, which I know she isn’t wearing, she has the body most women, and men, want.
The hall quiets as students escape into the cold, leaving the entire building empty for another half hour. A few professors amble down the stairwell, but no one is interested in our classroom at the moment. Except perhaps Tachibana Sensei.
“Did you need something? . . Sensei?” I load her title with meaning, letting her pick what she wants to hear. I try not to think about what I’ve seen online, even with all her explicit suggestions.
Her eyes linger on my package a moment longer before she looks up at me, not quite remembering the question, judging from her slightly furrowed brow. “Yes,” she says airily as she looks to me, though they remain distant, as if she’s seeing something that isn’t there.
She sighs as a blush warms her cheeks. Blinking rapidly, she drops her gaze and clears her throat. “I’m concerned about how you will do in my class. You didn’t seem fully engaged and seemed separate from your peers. Are you feeling alright? I know you hit your head.” At this last mention, she smirked briefly.
“Sumimasen, Sensei.” I bow both respectfully and a tad mocking, though I’m able to suppress my grin. “I didn’t intend to raise any concern. I will be more aware of my behavior in class.”
Sensei eyes me closely with a slight pout. “If there is anything I can do to help you or to make my class more enjoyable, please tell me.”
I saw that look, Sensei. “Please, don’t worry about me. I am well and I did enjoy your class.” I know what you meant, but you look at me like something to devour. I won’t be your plaything, if that’s what you are thinking.
“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow and immediately I know my mistake. “I wouldn’t have guessed. What did you enjoy about my. . . class?” She drops her high-heeled foot and places her hands on her knees held slightly apart, enough that I think I can see lace, but narrow enough that it could just be a shadow and my mind filling it in with what I know to be there.
I glance up from her skirt shadow and feel sweat bead at my hairline. I give her a quick compliment on the actual lesson, showing that I did pay attention. She sniffs and eyes my lingering bulge before giving me a questioning look. “Is that all?”
Before I can respond, she pulls the pin out of her bun and lets her silky, dark hair fall over her shoulders. She shakes out her mane and eyes me seductively as she then pulls it into a tight ponytail, the end of which reaches her waist. “Come here.”
I stiffen, just my back, and frown. “Why?”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” All the heat from her eyes has disappeared and only cold calculation remains.
“No.” I’m actually confused at this point.
She points at the floor in front of her with a glossy nail I only now realize is rather long and sharp. “Now.”
Reluctant, I shuffle forward and stand a pace from her. She glares at me and inclines her head with her finger still pointing at the spot right before her toes, expectant. I take a hesitant step forward as she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and watching me impassively.
“I do not tolerate lying in my class.” Her pout has turned into a tight purse, thin lips nearly disappearing.
“When did I l—”
“You will not speak unless I ask you a question, and if you continue to withhold the truth from me, it will only make things harder.” She emphasizes the last words, and I think I see a hint of amusement in her glare as our eyes lock for a moment.
“I’ve seen how this scene ends. I’m leaving.” I turn to escape and a well-manicured hand grabs my crotch in a vise. Shock only makes me hesitate a second before I try to rip myself away, but her grip restrains me as my hips are unable to turn after my feet.
“Excuse me?” A chill runs down my spine as I seem to turn back to her against my will. Her eyes pierce me with fury. My brain empties itself of any understanding as I stare back, dumbfounded and mute.
Sensei leaps to her feet and stands an inch from me, still holding my package in her small hand. “Eyes forward,” she shouts as I try to turn my face down at her. Instead, I stare blankly over the top of her head. She has me on my back foot and now it takes all my effort just to keep up with what she is demanding. There isn’t an ounce of me that thinks about disobeying or even questions what is going on.
“I told you not to speak unless I asked you a question.” Is that what she’s mad about?
Her grip tightens and I feel my sheathe retract under the pressure. My waistband barely keeps me from standing at full mast. If my head pops out, this ship is sinking before I can grab a dingy. Bad word choice.
“Now.” Her breasts press against my abdomen and her chin digs into my sternum as she raises her face to me. “What was that about a scene?”
I can’t see her expression, but I can hear that all-too-familiar look in her voice. How the fuck does this happen to me? While a small part of me, well maybe not that small, wants to see where this goes, my brain is working again and I do not want to get caught in this situation. The door is open, and I’ll have little warning if someone is coming while Sensei keeps me in her fist.
“I think you need some disciplinary action,” she whispers against my throat. My pulse almost deafens me to the footsteps approaching. In desperation, I rip her hand from my pants and shove her back as I step away.
“Kya!” Tachibana Sensei yelps as she barely hits the chair and falls to the floor on her ass. Her legs are wide open, exposing her soaking wet lace mound to the world. She props herself up on her elbows and gives me a thirsty grin.
A male professor steps through the doorway and almost bumps into me, his eyes on his phone. He looks up at me and we exchange apologies as Sensei quickly closes her legs and pulls her skirt over her thighs.
“Sakura, are you alright?” He asks as she turns to her sitting on the floor. Her knees are together, her hands holding her skirt taut in her lap, and her feet are splayed to either side of her. It’s perhaps the second most embarrassing position she could be in.
The male professor helps her up with a gentlemanly hand as I back toward the door. Tachibana Sensei is crimson as she gives quiet thanks to the other professor and a glare attempting outrage at me, but there’s a shine of embarrassed tears in her eyes.
She tries to pass the male professor with an outstretched hand reaching for me, but I slip away, grateful to pass her off to him. As I turn the corner, I can hear her trying to get away. I reach the top of the stairs as students filter into the building. I weave against the current, with Sensei calling after me. Using the students to make my escape, I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it outside.
Sensei will be an interesting woman to see over the rest of the semester and as exciting as the potential with her is, I’m not sure I’m ready for her just yet.
Now where the fuck are you?
