PROFESSOR’S VIRGIN
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
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Chapter One
Natalie
I stared at my laptop screen, taking in the newly completed schedule for my semester ahead. It was looking a little full, but that was how I liked it. I turned my gaze away from the screen as a call came in on my cell phone.
“Mom!” I exclaimed, glad to hear the sound of her voice. “Hi.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Of course not,” I insisted. “I was just looking through my schedule.”
“Excited?” she asked. “This is your senior year of college… only two more semesters left.”
“I can’t quite believe it,” I nodded. “It feels like I moved into campus just yesterday.”
“Funny, your dad and I feel the opposite,” Mom replied. “We miss not having you around the house.”
I smiled. “You guys should have had a couple more kids,” I countered. “Then you wouldn’t have missed me so much.”
“That’s one of my biggest regrets in life,” she said unexpectedly.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you and dad have more kids?” I asked curiously, shocked that I had never really asked the question before.
“We couldn’t afford to,” Mom replied, and instantly, I felt foolish for not figuring that out on my own.
Throughout my childhood, Mom and Dad had both worked double shifts and we still had to rely on food stamps. Our clothes were always purchased at secondhand stores, and when we went shopping, Mom always carried a bag full of special discounts and coupons that she’d spent months collecting.
“It’s not too late, you know,” I said teasingly.
She laughed. “You’re funny.”
“I’m thinking of becoming a stand-up comic after I graduate.”
Our conversation was cut short as the door to my dorm burst open and Missy walked in with a harassed look on her face.
“Sorry, Mom, got to go,” I said. “Speak to you tomorrow?”
“Whenever you’re free, honey,” she replied.
“Love you,” I said, before I hung up and turned to Missy. “What’s wrong?”
“I am so over college boys,” she sighed, collapsing onto her bed. “Seriously, they’re all immature pricks.”
“What happened?” I asked, in amusement.
“Dalton.”
“Oh,” I said. “Him again.”
“Yes,” Missy nodded. “Him again. I finally caved and decided to give him a second chance.”
“I take it he disappointed?”
“More than you know,” she responded, with her standard eye roll. “We went back to his dorm and had sex on his desk; five minutes later, it was all over. I mean, how rude is that?”
“I don’t get it,” I said seriously. “How was that rude?”
“I didn’t even have a chance to reach orgasm,” she complained. “It was all about him.”
“Oh,” I said lamely.
“He zipped up his pants and looked at me all smug, too… Like he had done me a favor,” she continued.
“What did you do?”
“I told him that I could barely feel his penis inside me,” Missy replied, with a wicked smile. “Then I made a dramatic exit.”
I smiled. “You were never one for subtlety.”
“Subtlety is so boring,” she agreed, as her smile relaxed a little.
Sometimes it surprised me that Missy and I had become friends at all. She was the stunning, green-eyed redhead with the outgoing personality and the sharp tongue, and I was the shy, bookish nerd who hid behind glasses and loose clothing.
“So… I take it you and Dalton are definitely done?”
“He doesn’t deserve me,” Missy said, with finality. “Whatever… I have other fish to fry.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning there’s this hottie who sits in front of me in Spanish class – and he looks like he knows his way around a woman’s body.”
“This is based on…”
“My keen intuition,” she replied.
“Funny that your keen intuition let you down with Dalton,” I pointed out.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Sometimes it’s really annoying to have a smartass for a best friend.”
I laughed. “Forgive me for pointing this out, but shouldn’t you be in class to, oh, I don’t know…actually learn something?”
Missy shook her head at me. “You are so disappointing, Nat.”
I adjusted my glasses and pretended to look hurt. “You wound me.”
“Can I ask you a serious question?” she asked, looking me straight in the eye.
“Um, no thanks?”
Missy narrowed her eyes at me, making it clear that she expected an answer from me. “How many guys have you kissed in the nearly four years we’ve been in college?”
I sighed. “Missy…”
“Answer the question.”
“Um…”
She cleared her throat pointedly.
“All right fine,” I conceded. “None.”
“And, how many guys have you dated since we started college?”
“None,” I replied reluctantly.
“And, how many guys have you slept with since we started college?”
“None.”
Missy kept silent for a moment, almost as though to drive home her unmade point. “So, what exactly do you think you’ve gained from the college experience, Nat?”
I rolled my eyes. “Um…a degree.”
Missy waved away my answer. “Fuck that,” she said. “College is more than just about credits and assignments and study groups. It’s about the experience. It’s about living life and experimenting with different things. It’s about getting drunk and partying hard and fucking a bunch of random guys who you don’t have to see or speak to the next day. It’s not like you can do that shit when you’re forty. So why are you depriving yourself?”
“I feel like we have this conversation every year,” I said, desperately trying to wriggle my way free of the topic.
“And every year, you avoid it,” Missy said. “But this year is different.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s our last semester,” she said forcefully. “We’re never going to be young and hot and carefree after this. In less than six months, we’ll graduate, join the workforce, and assimilate into adulthood. And then it’ll be too late.”
I smiled. “I’m going to miss these dramatic little soapbox speeches of yours.”
“You’re trying to change the subject,” she said.
“I am,” I agreed firmly. “And, you’re making it really difficult.”
“You’re going to be twenty-one next month, you realize.”
“I remember,” I said.
“What are you planning?”
I had wanted to go to the movies and then dinner with her and a few other girls, but I knew this plan would thoroughly disappoint Missy.
“Um… I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Well, I have,” she said immediately.
“Oh no…”
“Very funny,” she said, glaring at me. “Trust me; you’re going to love what I have in store for you.”
“See, all that does is make me really, really nervous,” I admitted.
Missy turned to me with a serious sort of curiousness. “Tell me honestly,” she said. “Do you really feel as though you haven’t missed out on anything?”
The question made me feel sad, and I realized instantly that I wasn’t as content as I thought I was. I had hidden behind denial because it was easier to settle for my safe little corner of the world rather than jumping into Missy’s.
“Nat?”
I looked up to find my friend staring at me. Her face was patient and kind, and I realized that I could tell Missy anything and she would be more than willing to help me. That was why this unlikely friendship had worked so well. We were different, polar opposites in fact, but what had bonded us from the start was the fact that we were always willing to look out for one another.
“I know I’ve missed out on a lot,” I admitted. “And sometimes it does bother me. But… It’s just…easier…”
“What is?”
“Sitting here in this room,” I tried to explain. “Rather than putting myself out there.”
“You wouldn’t be alone,” Missy pointed out. “I’d be with you.”
“Babysitting the loser, while you miss out on a good time yourself.”
“You’re not a loser,” she said instantly, and I loved her for the vehemence with which she said it.
“You pointed it out yourself,” I reminded her. “I haven’t even kissed a guy yet.”
“That doesn’t make you a loser,” she said immediately. “That just makes you different.”
“Since when has being different ever been a good thing?”
She smiled and came to sit on my bed beside me. “It’s a good thing to me,” she said. “It’s the reason I liked you in the first place.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every other girl in that lecture hall looked like some version of what they thought men liked. You were the only one who wasn’t looking around hoping that someone would notice you. It was obvious you didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about you. That was the reason I chose to sit next to you that day.”
I smiled. “You’ve never told me that story before.”
“I never had a reason to before now,” Missy replied. “You’ve worked harder to get here than any other student on campus, and I understand why you’ve had blinders on this entire time. But I think it’s time to concentrate on more than just the degree you came here to get. Life is not just about a piece of paper.”
I smiled. “You’re quite the philosopher you know?”
She smiled. “Does that mean you’ll hand over all planning for your twenty-first over to me?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know…”
“Aw, come on, Nat,” Missy said impatiently. “It’s not going to be excessively wild.”
“But it is going to be partially wild?” I asked, my eyes going wide.
She laughed and shook her head at me. “Will it help if I told you what I have in mind?”
I nodded emphatically. “It would.”
“I was thinking of a bar crawl—”
“A bar—”
“Just a little one,” she said quickly, cutting me off. “I’ll be with you the whole time. It’ll be a great opportunity for you to get out there and meet some new people.”
“Urgh,” I groaned. “I’m not good with people.”
“Well, you will be. I guarantee it.”
I frowned. “How can you guarantee that?”
“Because I’m going to give you the one thing you’ve been missing all this time.”
“And what is that?” I asked, intrigued.
“Confidence,” Missy replied firmly.
I raised my eyebrows. “Confidence?”
“Precisely.”
“Umm… I’m not sure I understand. How exactly can you give me that?” I asked. “Have you been mixing potions in your free time?”
She wagged her eyebrows at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Come on,” I insisted. “Tell me.”
“I’m going to transform you,” she admitted.
“You mean, you’re going to give me a makeover?” I asked, feeling a little nervous already. I didn’t like to venture too far from the clothes I was accustomed to wearing. My wardrobe consisted of comfortable jeans and t-shirts that were a couple of sizes too big.
“Do you have contacts?” Missy asked, answering my question indirectly.
“No,” I said, a little too quickly.
“Liar.”
“I like wearing my glasses.”
“You like wearing your hair in a ponytail, too,” she pointed out.
“What’s wrong with my ponytail?” I asked defensively.
She laughed. “After I’m through with you, every guy in that bar is going to want to fuck you.”
I felt a little spasm of what could have been fear or excitement. More likely, it was a combination of both. “That’s not what I want,” I was quick to say.
“You want to be a virgin for the rest of your life?”
“No, of course not,” I said. “I want to have sex, but… I want it to mean something. I don’t just want to sleep with any idiot frat boy who comes my way.”
Missy raised her eyebrows.
“I…uh…didn’t mean…”
She smiled. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know what you mean. And you’re right; your first time should be special. But I just want to point out, it can still be special, even if you never see the guy after that night.”
I wanted to believe her, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to agree. How could sex be special if the guy disappeared right after the fact? I wondered. Maybe it was fine if sex was all you wanted, but I knew I wouldn’t be content with an empty bed and the memory of the guy who shared it with me.
I wanted to know his name. I wanted to know him. I wanted him to want to know me. I wanted it to be about more than just the moment. I wanted it to mean more than just the physical.
It was a romantic notion, and I wondered if it was too old-fashioned to be realistic. I hoped I wasn’t just dreaming of a fairytale that no longer existed.