Next Friday, I sit in my office in the hour before class begins. I'm drinking my morning coffee and I've got a smile on my face.

The week has been a stressful one so far, and I need to see Rose again. Getting on a plane to take my mom to the Mayo Clinic, in combination with still teaching classes, has me swamped. But when I feel my anxiety hit I just think about how strong my mom has been through the whole process. Plus, leaving the Mayo Clinic gave us the peace of mind that our local doctor in Blackwell is administering the right treatment.

I scribble a note for Rose. She's been so good the first two times, she's earned a reward. And tomorrow I'll be giving it to her.

My cock aches thinking about what she's earned and what I want to do to her. All week I’ve been wondering how my cock will feel buried in her tight little pussy. Shit, it's fifteen minutes until class and I've got a full blown erection in my office. Clearly the girl is sexy as fuck.

I've got plenty of memories in the spank bank from last weekend. Hell, maybe I'll just go ahead and rub one out right now.

My door thuds as I close it, making sure to turn the lock. After closing the blinds I sit down. Even before I take my cock out, Rose’s beautiful eyes flash in my mind. And that pink-rose colored hue her ass turned last Monday when I spanked her as she screamed in pleasure. Damn good thing I have this wing of the department all to myself until noon every day.

I'm at the brink of unzipping my pants, of performing my patented 10 finger shuffle, when I hear keys jingling on the other side of the door. Adrenaline surges through me. Just like that I shift from ‘turned on’ mode to ‘who the hell is breaking into my office’ mode.

A key turns in my lock and the door opens. Dean Meryl Allison is stunned when she sees me.

“Good morning!” I smile, saluting her with coffee.

“Awful dark in here,” she says as she busts through the doors. “And locked?”

“I meditate in the mornings,” I explain. Meditate, masturbate, same thing.

My smirk is evident, though, revealing nothing. Hey, you don't get through a PhD in Psychology at Harvard without picking up some Machiavellian tricks along the way. “Can I help you with something? Or were you just wanting to break into my office to make sure everything was neat and tidy?” I don’t know why she wants to break in, but the more time I spend with this woman, the more she freaks me out.

“Professor Hanks.” She speaks confidently as she strolls into my office, sets her purse down, and puts her hands on her hips right in front of me. “I believe I may have come on too strong before.”

I scoff. “So your idea of rectifying coming on strong is randomly breaking into my office?”

“I was going to leave you a note.”

“You have email.”

“What I want, Professor Hanks, I cannot have a digital trail for.”

I slip a hand into my pocket, slip out the phone, and open the recording app, making sure to keep eye contact with Dean Allison so she doesn’t see what I’m doing.

I hit record, then lean back in my chair and put my arms behind my head nonchalantly. I’m beginning to think this woman is bat shit crazy. But she's my boss. And, to be honest, I'm curious what crazy fucking idea she has in that head of hers.

“And what is it, exactly, that you don’t want a digital trail for?”

“I want, no, I need you to fuck me, Professor Hanks. And I want you to do it while my husband watches.”

I take a long, slow pull of coffee as I process what the fuck she just said to me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard,” she quips. “I want Hung Hanks to fuck the everliving shit out of me while my husband watches. Oh come on, Cole. Don't act so naive like you haven't thought about it, or heard of it. My husband and I haven't fucked in four years. We have an agreement. And you, sir, are the Bull of Blackwell. That's blatantly obvious.”

I swallow, then stand up. “Don't get me wrong. I've done some crazy shit in my life. I don't judge. But what you are proposing just isn't my thing. I'm a one woman kind of man.”

She takes a step closer to me. “Pity. The things I could do…I'm very limber, Professor Hanks. I bend in all kinds of directions.”

“With all due respect, Dean Allison, I believe this is very inappropriate, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

She doesn't flinch. “As you wish. But I want you to know, Professor Hanks, I can be very discrete. Extremely discrete. You let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won't.”

She smiles fakely, turns, and walks out.

And, we’re back to Blackwell being the craziest fucking town out there. Who would guess that a small town in middle America could be so fucking nuts?

In class that day, Rose is absent.

I’m a little sad she’s not there. I pass out a quiz anyway to start the day. Rose’s little friend is there, though, Elizabeth I think her name is. She’s got on quite a skimpy outfit, and I can tell she’s giving me the eyes.

As I pace the rows during the quiz, I think of Rose’s brown hair, short stature, and curvy body. Where the hell are you, Rose?

She’s made it crystal clear to me that I’m nothing more than her sexual instructor, and I’m not going to be the one to push over that boundary. What happens in the bedroom will stay in the bedroom between us. Shit, we haven’t even given each other our phone numbers yet. Just a precaution on my part. The way big brother is looking over our digital shoulders these days, you never know when something like that can come back to haunt you. Consensual as we are, and I think Rose is more adult than most, I’m still sure as hell not going to send a student messages about hooking up over email. Or phone.

I suppose I’ll just have to wait until next Monday to make arrangements. Too bad.

I’m aching to get that little body of hers underneath mine. Which will be happening soon enough.

* * *

The next day is Saturday, so after I grade some papers, I head to the hospital to visit my mom. She’s worn out from her treatment, but she likes it when I’m just there, watching her, holding her hand, even if she’s asleep and tired out.

After a couple hours of being with her, she’s in a deep sleep. I walk out of the hospital room to go and look for a vending machine. There’s none upstairs, so I walk all the way down to the first floor of Blackwell Hospital, where the cafeteria is.

In the cafeteria, I go through and grab a turkey sandwich and sit in a chair at one of the tables. Nearby, an older couple is sitting down next together, feeding each other yogurt. I wonder what they did to deserve each other, growing old so gracefully together like that. I strike up a conversation.

“Hi there. How's the yogurt? Is that blueberry? I didn’t see that when I went through the line.”

The old man smiles at me with wrinkles in his eyes. “That’s why I keep this young babe around. She’s got better eyes than I do. Ten years younger.” He winks at me.

“Cradle robbery!” I joke, giving him a little elbow.

The woman blushes, smiling from her eyes. “I know you probably can’t tell, but he was my teacher from way back when. I had a crush on him and, well, after I graduated we got married. The rest, well that’s history! Forty-nine years together.”

I nod in approval as I swallow a bite of my turkey sandwich. “So he was your teacher at Blackwell University? I actually teach there now.”

“No,” she says, and her smile is positively devious. “Blackwell High. He taught my senior history class. I know...this generation frowns on that kind of thing. But we have three kids. Eight grandkids. Like I said, forty-nine years together.”

“She keeps me young.” The man’s phrase is followed by a raucous, hearty laugh, and I can’t help but chuckle along with the two of them. Their happiness is so contagious, it puts a much needed smile on my face.

“You two are absolutely adorable. I’m sure you get that all the time though. So, tell me, did your kids stay in Blackwell, or did they move away?”

“Two of them moved away. Our daughter and granddaughter still live in Blackwell, though. Our daughter Meryl is a Dean, and our granddaughter Rose is a student at the University. She gets free tuition. Isn’t that nice?”

Part of my turkey sandwich catches in my throat. Did he just say Rose was the Dean’s daughter? I cough uncontrollably, the turkey catching in my throat. Suddenly, I’m panicking.

I can’t fucking breathe.

The guy stands, wraps his hands around my stomach, and pulls a couple of times. I cough up a chunk of the turkey and it lands on the table.

“Careful buddy! Was it something I said? Not politically correct enough for ya?”

For the love of God, why did I move back to this damn small town? I should have stayed in Boston. Of course the girl whose virginity I’ve decided to take is the Dean’s fucking daughter, who is also hitting on me. How on earth did I miss that?

Only in Blackwell could something as fucked up as this happen.

I take a deep breath and regain my composure, but I’m outrageously mad. How could she have left this out?

“Free tuition,” I repeat, and suddenly it makes more sense why Rose stayed in Blackwell. “That’s a huge deal. I mean it’s gotten out of control lately. Student loans are crazy!”

They chuckle.

“You know how much Blackwell University cost when I graduated in 1958?” The woman says. “Five-hundred dollars a year. I paid for it by waiting tables full time at the drive-in. Now? It costs fifty grand.”

“Simpler times,” I say. Looking at this woman and man holding hands, I’m sure they were much simpler times to fall in love, too. “By the way, what were you doing here? You don’t seem sick at all.”

“Oh, we were just with our granddaughter. She drove us from our home with her mom to stop in and see the terminally ill patients who doctors say have no chance. We’re so close to the edge ourselves, we feel it’s only right.”

My heartbeat picks up. Aside from the fact that I’m dealing with the freaking patron saints of Blackwell, the possibility that Rose could be in the vicinity has me on edge.

Speaking of Rose--and roses--what is that fresh smell? I swear I can sense her close.

I hear a sweet as butter voice call over my shoulder. “Grandma and Grandpa, are you two ready to…”

I turn around to face her, a huge shit eating grin on my face. I might as well play this up. She clutches her chest.

“Oh little Rosey. We’ve made a friend. Such a nice young man here, well you’ve just got to meet him. I’m sorry sir, I can’t recall your name.”

“Hanks,” I smile. “Cole Hanks. And you two?”

“I’m James, and this is Eleanor,” the man says. His handshake is so firm, I have to assume the guy worked in a shop when he wasn’t teaching. Or maybe everyone just shook hands like a man way back when, not like the limp noodles of today. “And this, of course, is Rose. Isn’t she lovely?”

“So nice to meet you,” Rose says in a neutral tone, sticking her hand out for me to shake. “Cole.”

“You two should go on a date together,” Eleanor says. “Are you single, Mr. Hanks?”

Dear God, is she really trying to hook me up with the one who I’m already on pace to deflower? “I am single.”

“Well so is little Rosey. And she never goes on dates. She thinks she’s too good for boys.”

“Grandma, stop.” Rose is blushing as red as a, well, you know. She’s a red flower.

“No, honey. It’s true. You’re beautiful. I know your generation is all caught up in getting your likes from the facegrammer social circle or whatever you use. But you’re gorgeous. Okay I’m sorry. I’ll stop. But you two...oh come on, what’s the harm in a date?”

I’m so amused watching Rose’s reaction to ‘facegrammer,’ I don’t even notice the brooding figure who approaches over my other shoulder.

Dean Allison.

“Professor Hanks would never date a student. That would be a strict violation of Blackwell University’s sexual harassment policy,” she says. My hairs stand on end. I feel like I’m listening to the evil fucking stepmother in Cinderella. Her parents are so nice, how did she end up so entitled?

“You two know each other?” James asks looking at myself and Dean Allison.

“You could say that. Professor Hanks is the Harvard boy we hired this year. He’s come back home. He’s been slipping in where we’ve had some openings this year.” She winks. “Into other professor’s classes, I mean.”

Jesus fucking Christ. This woman is absolutely batshit. I pray to God neither of the other three people here get the innuendo she’s going for.

“Mom, stop. It’s embarrassing. Can we go already? I think Grandma and Grandpa finished their weekly yogurt.”

“Yes, I think so. It’s time.”

“Ohh, do we have to?” Eleanor moans sarcastically as she gets up. “This was such a fun field trip. And we were having such a fun time with Mr. Hanks. Well, how about this. Can we at least have Mr. Hanks over for dinner to your house sometime soon? He’s such a nice man. And a Harvard boy, like you said.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dean Allison says sharply.

“Nonsense.” James speaks up in a terse tone that leaves little room for argument. He raises his eyebrows in his daughter’s direction, and I get the feeling he is a man who commands what he wants. “I think your mother has a very good idea. Plus, he’s a colleague of yours.” He turns to me and places his hand around my forearm. His grip is imbued with the classic ‘old man’ strength. “Come to our daughter’s house tomorrow, Mr. Hanks. My wife makes a mean tuna casserole. You won’t regret it.”

I bite my lip. Rose eyes the exits. Dean Allison clenches her fists, she’s so tense. I don’t know what the right fucking move is here. But I do know that James and his wife are giving me one of the most genuine vibes of anyone I’ve ever met in all of Blackwell. Fuck it.

“James, I would be honored to come to your daughter’s house tomorrow to have dinner with you and your beautiful family.”

And then I can talk with her granddaughter about some new places we can come.

Rose’s face goes ghost white. James has got his arm wrapped around his wife, and a smile plastered on his face. “Thank you Sir,” she says. “It’ll be our pleasure.”

The family walks out together, and I wonder what the hell I just got myself into.