Chapter Two: A For Effort

JASON CONSIDERED CALLING IN sick the next day. Instead, he shaved his face and splashed aftershave on his cheeks. He cleaned his glasses and combed his hair. It was still too long; he tied it into a tiny ball at the nape of his neck. He studied his reflection, wiping irritably at the lock of hair that kept sliding out from behind his head and falling in his face.

Jason squared his shoulders and glared at his reflection.

She was just a girl.

He’d put her straight yesterday.

Today would be different: she wouldn’t dare pull a trick like that again.

He gave himself a curt nod and left the house. When he arrived in his office, he stepped on a note inside his door and sent it skittering over the tiled floor.

Jason leaned back and glanced down either end of the hallway. There was no one sight. The only sound was a distant murmur of faculty members divulging their evening’s entertainment while they waited for their coffee to kick in. Jason retrieved the note and sat behind his desk. He set his briefcase down on the table as he flipped the folded paper open.

Chemistry is hard.

But is it as hard as you were yesterday?

I can’t wait to find out.

“Professor Lorye?”

Jason’s hand snapped into a fist, crumpling the note between his fingers. He blinked up at the woman standing on the threshold of his office. She wore glasses on a chain around her neck, their frames resting comfortably on her large breasts.

“I’m Samantha,” she said, walking forward and extending a hand.

Jason, acutely aware of the massive bulge he had in his pants, gave the woman a stricken smile. He didn’t dare stand up and shake her hand; today he didn’t have the luxury of wearing a bulky sweater.

Her lips parted in confusion. She retracted her hand and pressed her mouth closed as she lifted the files she’d been holding in her hands to her chest.

“I… just wanted to say ‘hello’. It’s always so strange, starting somewhere new.”

“Th-thank you,” Jason managed. “I’m sorry, you caught me off guard.”

He moved his briefcase over the table and stood, extending his hand. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be able to see anything untoward from where she was standing. Samantha smiled warmly and stepped forward to close the distance, accepting his hand in a firm handshake.

“Good to meet you, Professor.”

“It’s just Jason, please.”

Samantha nodded, her eyes flicking to the note he still scrunched in a fist.

“You should be careful, Jason.” Samantha cocked her head to the note. “The students here can be… brassy.”

Jason’s heart struck up a frantic beat in his chest. “Brassy?”

Samantha shrugged. “They love their jokes. Anything to get a rise out of you, you know? Just ignore them. They’ll get used to seeing you around after a week or two. At the moment you’re just fresh meat.”

She gave him another smile. Her brown eyes twinkled.

“I’d best be off.” She tapped her fingers against the files. “Term papers are my vice; I’ve left them for far too long.”

“Sure. Okay. It was good meeting you, Samantha.” Jason cleared his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time.” Samantha gave him a small wave and turned around to leave.

Jason’s gaze fell to her ass. He couldn’t help it: she wore tight jeans and the button-up vest cinched over her white blouse ended above the curve of her buttocks.

They were spectacular.

Samantha turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot—”

Jason looked up at her. A blush stained her cheeks. She took a hurried step back, mouth opening as closing but words unsurprisingly absent.

“Uh… the…” Samantha began, but she fled before she finished speaking.

“Shit,” Jason whispered. He slammed his fist into the top of his briefcase, further rumpling the note in his hand. His fingers sprang open and Wine’s note fluttered to the table.

“Shit.”

Wine wasn’t in his class that day.

At first, Jason was relieved. It was so easy to concentrate without the flash of white panties to continually throw him off stride. But, when she hadn’t arrived by the end of the lesson, he wasn’t feeling relieved any more.

“Sorry… Adam, is it?” Jason called out.

One of the students who’d been on their way up the auditorium stairs turned back to him with a vague, “Yeah?”

“Uh… do you know if Wine’s here today?”

“Wine?” Adam frowned. “Nah. Haven’t seen her. She had Biology too, today, and she wasn’t there either. Maybe she’s sick.”

Jason nodded and Adam continued up the stairs. The door swung shut behind him. Jason slumped into his chair.

It was better this way. With Wine not here, he’d been able to keep his shit together long enough to conduct a decent class. It was his job, after all. The last thing he needed now was to get fired because he’d slept with a student.

Jason snorted and shook his head, swinging around to face the blackboard. A white haze covered it, evidence of the equations and notes he’d scrawled over it during the lesson.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He hadn’t thought about sex for months. Okay, he had thought about it, but not like this. Kate’s announcement — that she wanted a divorce — had caught him as off guard as Samantha walking into his office that morning. More. He’d been flabbergasted.

She’d had a list of reasons, of course. That was Kate: OCD freak, born and bred. And she’d read them calmly to him over the last dinner she would ever make him.

He was boring.

He didn’t pay enough attention to her.

He didn’t shave often enough.

His hair was too long.

He was boring.

She’d felt the need to list that twice. For emphasis.

Boring?

Jason swung his chair from left to right, staring absently at the faded equations on the board. Hadn’t he pleased her? Hadn’t he done exactly what she’d asked every time they were in bed? She knew what she wanted, and he’d given her exactly that. Nothing more, nothing less. What was wrong with that?

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.

Two slim hands covered his eyes.

Jason sat bolt upright, reflexively gripping at a pair of wrists, trying to pull the hands away. The tang of bubblegum, fused with vanilla, wreathed him as the air beside his head stirred.

“Guess who?” Wine whispered in his ear, her lips brushing his earlobe.

Jason gripped her wrists tighter, but he couldn’t force himself to pull her hands away. Her fingers were so soft against his skin. She was caressing his cheekbone with her thumb, the touch sending flickering tongues of heat down his body.

“Wine,” he said in a thick voice. “You shouldn’t—”

“Mmm,” she agreed wordlessly, releasing him and turning his chair around.

Jason stared at her, his breath coming too fast through his parted lips.

She wore a t-shirt dress, something he’d seen around once or twice, but never on a woman this young, and never on hips as curvy and breasts as round as Wine’s. Wine shifted her weight, one hand on her waist, the other toying with the piece of bubblegum in her mouth.

“What’s wrong, teach? You’re acting like you ain’t never seen me before.”

“Your… dress. It’s nice,” he said.

“You like it?” She turned around, pausing with her back to him and grinning impishly at him over her shoulder. “How about now?”

“Wine, you have to—” he began, overly aware of how hoarse his voice was.

“Got to nothing, teach.” Wine wriggled her wrist. The small bird on its white thread caught a stray beam of light and sparkled. Jason shook his head, mentally preparing the reasons why she couldn’t be here, why she had to leave.

Wine tapped a pink fingernail against the empty space on her wrist where – had she been wearing one – a watch face would have been “That was your last class, Professor. Ain’t no one but us left. Maybe a few extra-curriculars, that kind of thing.”

She stepped closer, moving soundlessly today. Sneakers. Had she chosen them specifically to sneak up on him? Had she planned this?

He was hard again, for fuck’s sake. It seemed effortless for her to arouse him. Even just thinking about her last night had nearly had him cumming in his boxers. Thinking of her and those white panties—

“Professor Lorye?” A voice called out.

“Fuck,” Jason yelped. He shot out of his chair, clutching his briefcase in front of him like a soccer player at the goal line. “Samantha! What are you doing here?”

Wine swung around, winding her pink bubblegum around a finger, and watched the teacher approach without expression.

Samantha walked closer, glancing curiously between them. “Sorry to disturb you—”

“Extra lessons,” Jason said, much too loudly.

Samantha blinked at him, her brown eyes round and taken aback. “Um… excuse me?”

“This,” Jason said, flicking his finger between Wine and himself. “She’s got extra lessons with me. For chemistry.”

“Oh, well—” Samantha began.

“Because it’s hard.” Jason felt heat in his cheeks. “For her.” The heat intensified. “Chemistry, that is.”

“Oh, okay—”

“Heya, Sam,” Wine said. “You still going to those yoga classes in the park?”

Samantha turned away from Jason and gave Wine a long look as if wondering what she was talking about. Eventually, the teacher nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Oh, yes.” She pointed at Wine. “I saw you there. Now I remember.”

“Yeah,” Wine said. “Had to stop going with exams and stuff. They’re really hard.”

“So they are,” Samantha said. She glanced at Jason, who was keeping his mouth shut in case he had the urge to shove another of his feet inside. “Well, I’m sorry to barge in on your lesson. I just wanted to let you know that there’s a staff function this weekend. We’re going bowling.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “You might not have received the memo, so I just wanted to make sure you knew about it. It’s compulsory,” she added with a wince.

Then, with a last glance at Wine and another of those warm smiles for Jason, Samantha gave them both a small wave and trotted up the stairs again.

“Fuck me,” Jason breathed.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Wine said.

“Last warning, young lady.” Jason held up a hand as Wine approached. “You keep up this behaviour and I’ll have to inform the chancellor.”

Wine halted and studied him for a moment, leaning her weight on her back foot.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Jason pressed the briefcase harder against his dick, fervently hoping his erection would subside before he had to walk outside.

“Okay, then.” Wine turned around as if to go. Then she lifted a finger and twisted back to face him, a sly smile playing over her lips. “Quick question,” she said.

“Yes? What?”

Wine glanced over her shoulder and walked back to where Jason was standing. She reached down and slid her hands under her dress, lifting the fabric up to her belly button. It was pierced.

She wore the same, or perhaps a very similar, pair of white panties. They had a yellow smiley face on the front, above where the fabric folded into her pussy.

Jason gawked, physically unable to lift his gaze.

Wine hooked her fingers into the elastic and tugged the panties down; the folds of her dress maintained what little remained of her dignity as she slid them down her legs. She stepped out of the underwear and dangled them casually to one side as she closed the distance between them.

Her tits brushed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his ear.

“Will you keep these safe for me? They’re extra-special.” She skimmed her hands down his back and tucked the flimsy fabric into the back pocket of his jeans. “I was thinking of you the whole time I wore them.”

She licked his ear and stepped back while he was still forming a protest somewhere in the cloudy regions of his cognitive brain. Then she was gone, the door of the auditorium swinging shut behind her.

Jason collapsed into his chair.

“Oh, God.” Jason ran his hands down his jaw and squeezing his lips closed. “I am so fucked,” he mumbled.

Jason removed Wine’s panties from his briefcase much later that night, after he’d had two glasses of whiskey. He’d thought that the alcohol would have put a damper on his vehement manhood.

He was wrong.

While still in the auditorium, he’d transferred the panties from his pocket and into his briefcase. Then, on the long walk to his car, he’d had recurring visions: of his briefcase’s clasps failing, spilling its contents all over the Uni’s slick floors, spilling the lacy white underthings in front of the chancellor as the man happened to walk past. Jason had been a twitching ball of nerves when he’d finally thrown himself into his car.

Now his briefcase sat on the kitchen counter, handle grinning at him. Daring him to open it. Daring him to remove its shameful treasure.

Jason decided he needed a third drink since even contemplating opening the briefcase had brought a sluggish stirring from his dick.

The third drink had the desired effect: Jason flicked open the briefcase and drew out Wine’s underwear with a surprisingly steady hand.

He considered lifting them to his nose, but was too unsure if he’d enjoy the experience or not. Instead, he dropped the underwear in his trash can and slammed his briefcase closed.

That night, sleep came reluctantly, and it was haunted with the scent of Wine’s pink bubblegum.