Stephanie

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"Mmm," I hummed. The light was creeping through the drapes. I was still so warm. I didn't want to open my eyes. Not yet.

I did, however, want to enjoy my situation just a little bit longer.

Trevor did feel a lot fluffier than he was before, but damn if he wasn't super comfy to lay on anyway. He had wrapped me up like a blanket, and just remembering all of our fun throughout the night before was enough to make me let the night last a little longer.

Maybe I could wake him up with my mouth. Caress him. Then get up and just go at one another full speed one more time. I mean, we eventually had to take a shower anyway, so may as well get even messier beforehand.

Knowing that bastard, he was probably already rock hard for me.

I roamed my hand down his torso, looking for that delightful baseball bat he called a cock of his.

There was nothing there. Not even something limp that I could bring to life.

My eyes opened, and I soon realized I was about to jerk off a pillow.

It was a good thing I noticed before I moved onto the next step of my plan and I ended up giving my pillowcase a blowjob.

Stopping my linen molestation, I yawned, and looked up at the ceiling. I still had that good, powerful, 'I just fucked like a maniac the night before' ache. It helped my memories of everything that had happened before remain so absolutely vivid. Pushing myself up, I scooted to the edge of the sofa, still a sweaty mess.

"Trevor?" I said aloud, wondering where that man had gone off to. He was probably just in the bathroom or something.

Getting to my feet and stretching, I glanced around, and noticed the bathroom door wide open. Either he had no manners or he wasn't in there.

I confirmed it was the latter.

"Trevor? You around here?"

Not in my bedroom. Not in the kitchen. His pile of wet clothes was gone too. The only trace of him left behind was that scent of him, and even that was mashed up with the moist lake water smell.

Did he seriously fuck me and just take off without another word? Did that just happen to me?

Going back to the sofa, I plopped myself back down on it. I should have expected as much. I fell head over heels with some random douchebag at a bar, and the next morning he acts like a random douchebag from a bar.

My heart was sinking. Why did I expect so much more than that? Did I really think he was super special, that I had just happened to run into my soul-mate or something just then?

I glanced at the clock.

Eight in the morning.

This was supposed to be my first day under the professor and here I was, already late.

I bolted up, panicking, wondering if I really had time for a shower. I smelled myself, realizing I reeked of sex and that reeking of sex was just as unprofessional as being late.

Hopping in the shower, I knew I had to make up for lost time. I had to beg for forgiveness, and do what I could to convince him that this wasn't who I was.

I was the utmost professional. I'm not going to cause any problems for him, or anything else. This was just a one-time mistake, and this would never happen again.

With my little briefcase full of files and miscellaneous stuff that they said I would need, I was barreling through the hallways. Having a short commute paid off, and it wasn't even 8:45 yet. I looked at my instructions, and was finding his room. I needed to get there before 9:00, that's when he had his first lecture.

I was expected to be there at about 7:30, to discuss what I should be doing and given a sort of orientation.

Professor Hatch. This was his office.

I barged in. "Sorry, so sorry, I overslept and everything. Really, it's nothing I won't do it again, I promise."

"Calm down, calm down, please," the man went on. He was an elderly sort. If he wasn't completely bald he could have definitely played Santa Claus without any props. "I assume that you're my new assistant professor, Stephanie Casey?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me sir, this isn't the military." He sighed. "It's okay, I know, life happens. Just don't make it a habit, Ms. Casey."

"Thank you," I said, coming into the office. "What do you need me to do? I'm here to get experience and shadow you, sort of. Learn what's expected of me as a professor of fine arts and literature." I approached, and offered a handshake. "It'll be an honor to learn from you, sir, er, Professor Hatch."

He shook his head. "Right, right. I was going to have you just sit in on my lesson for the day, but something far more pressing has come up."

"What would that be?"

"Come, Ms. Casey." He stood, and waved at me to follow him. I did just that. "Occasionally lectures and standard classroom procedures aren't enough to reach certain students. We may need to take a more direct and personal approach at times."

"You mean tutoring?"

"In a way, yes. I'm technically charging you with teaching this student the material he has missed due to his high amount of absences."

I let out an approving breath. "It's good to hear this university cares about the individual students."

"We try to, but this one is a special case. He's a major player on the foosball team."

"Foosball? You mean the thing with the levers and bars? With the pool table?"

"No, no, not that. What is it they all care about?"

"Football?"

"Ah yes, or soccer as they call it." I was doubting he was actually meaning soccer, but what sport this student played was irrelevant so I didn't press further. "He's vital to the college team's success. Even as an academic, I can't deny the money that the sports bring in, so I will show my school spirit by assuring the success of this student."

"That's awfully kind of you."

"By assigning you to do it, Ms. Casey."

"You want me to tutor some jock?" I knew I would be dealing with jocks again. It was just part of being a teacher. I wasn't especially feeling enthusiastic either, right after getting fucked and ditched by a jock in the past twelve hours.

"More or less. I have lessons to give. I can't be dealing with individual students. Show me your prowess as an educator by not making me regret assigning you this task."

He was leading me along down a hallway, and soon we stopped in front of a seemingly empty lecture hall.

"Your student is within. I suggest you establish a rapport with him. I will send details of what he must be taught through e-mail."

I wonder what kind of douchebag I'd be forced to be a private tutor for. Probably some idiot with a hair gel Mohawk and who was soaked in cologne. Probably thought he had a catch phrase or something that made him really cool.

Looking through the window, I really, really wished it was some random douchebag like I had described.

Instead of such a person, the guy in there was trying to shake dry his phone, sitting at one of the study desks waiting patiently.

Trevor. Trevor was in the lecture hall. Trevor was the guy I was supposed to tutor.

Trevor was a student at the school I had just been hired to teach at.

"Um, uh, yeah, I can't do this."

Professor Hatch crossed his arms as he stared down at me. "Excuse me, Ms. Casey?"

"I can't teach the guy in there."

"Ms. Casey, you show up late on your first day and now you're refusing your assignment? You are not making a very good first impression at all."

"I'm sorry, it's a really bad idea. I, um, have history with the person in there."

"That should help you establish a more effective rapport with him then."

"You don't get it. It's not good history."

"Not good history?" He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Has he... committed a crime against you?"

"No!"

"Has he deeply offended you on a personal level in the past?"

"No, no, he's hasn't."

"I hope he isn't a former lover or ex of some sort?"

"No!" Did fucking him for one night make him my lover? Was that any sort of relationship at all?

"Well, that's good. I know you're young, Ms. Casey, but fraternization between faculty and students is strictly forbidden at this university."

"Yes, I understand." I nodded, knowing this all too well. I was barely older than the students, so when I had my interview, I got that lecture pretty strong.

"What is he then?"

Since I was already late and wasn't getting on his good side, I definitely didn't want to say he was a guy I fucked last night. I tried to think of some creative way out, but the fact of the matter was? As his assistant, I was his to do with as he pleased. If he wanted to delegate this to me, I had to deal with it.

"Oh, um, nothing. I think I confused him for someone else. Nope, don't know who that kid is."

The way Professor Hatch was looking at me, I really wasn't sure if he was buying what I was selling. "Good. His name is Trevor Richards. If you help him catch up where he's fallen behind, it will do great strides in producing a fine recommendation for you in the future."

"Yes, si... Yes, Professor Hatch."

He patted me on the head, which I really wasn't expecting. "I've heard good things about you, Ms. Casey, and I hope you have the determination to last longer than my last assistant who couldn't even finish the semester. But you should do fine, and I hope this leads to a bright future for you."

The professor then began to walk back to his room, and left me with the daunting aspect of facing the man who had ditched me this morning before I even woke up.

Of course he was a student here. Because I needed to feel worse about all of this.

Deep breaths. Meditation. I took a yoga class once, and I was remembering all that mindful breathing stuff.

I wish it helped me more than it did.

Well, he ditched me. He obviously doesn't have any feelings for me. I shouldn't have any feelings for him. It should be simple to keep it professional.

Easier said, or rather thought, than done. I reached for the doorknob, and I noted that my hand was shaking.

Don't even mention him. Act like you take guys like him home all the time.

Yeah. Me. The slut who brings home big-dicked hunks every single night. That's me all right.

Opening the door, I walked though.

"Good morning," I said, trying to force a smile.

He looked up from his non-working phone. He then pretty much dropped it on the floor. "Ste – Stephanie?"

"I'm Ms. Casey, thank you very much." Smiles. You didn't just get fucked by this guy who gave you the best orgasms you've ever had. "You must be Trevor."

"You're a teacher?"

"I am an assistant professor. Professor Hatch has assigned me to help you catch up on your English studies?"

He stood up. He was in another jersey. Obviously if he was a big football star, he had plenty of spares. Jeans again, the kind that gripped his tight legs, and now knowing exactly how tight they were, I hated that my eyes were drifting down there. Trevor soon loomed over me. "Why are you acting like you don't know who I am?"

"Because I don't know who you are."

"We met last night. You know. You screamed my name a bunch of times?"

"I don't know who you are. I met some guy last night at a bar. I went home with him. I don't know enough about him, outside that he ditched me as soon as the deed was done." I gritted my teeth, my smile very much forced.

"C'mon, don't be like that. Don't tell me you were somehow blackout drunk? Like, if you were, I've never seen a more coordinated drunk person."

"I drink in moderation if I drink at all." He placed his hand on my shoulder. I pushed it away. "That is not proper conduct between faculty and students."

"You're going to act like last night never happened?" Even as he loomed over me, arms crossed, not believing my audacity, I was still struggling with the simple fact that I wanted him. I wanted to feel everything I felt the night before all over again, and then some. Fuck, my legs still ached from everything that had happened between us.

"I'm here to teach you English, not facilitate your hot for teacher fantasies."

"I'm not hot for teacher, Stephanie, I'm hot for you." He had a big ol' stupid smile on his face.

"Too fucking bad." I decided that I wasn't going to be bullied by my own student. Sure, he had an entire foot of height on me, but I stood on my tippy-toes anyway. I wouldn't be intimidated. I had to show my authority,

"You're so cute when you're acting tough."

"It's not cute. I'm your teacher, Trevor. Professor, assistant professor, tutor, whatever, the point is I'm not here to be your fantasy."

He took my bravado as a challenge, and met me. My breasts were pressed into his chest – or well, his gut. "You're my fantasy no matter what you are, Stephanie. Just like I'm yours."

"Sit down. Open a textbook. Study."

He wasn't buying my commands. He was seeing right through me.

Then, he kissed me.

Suddenly, swiftly, his hand at my neck, he kissed me, and he did it deeply. Soon, his fingers slid down my back, and I was bending into it, accepting his kiss, reciprocating.

My hands crept down his back, feeling that incredible flesh of his again. The temptation to damn it all, the career, responsibility, and everything else? Damn, it was strong. I never thought of myself as someone ruled by their clit, but goddamn Trevor was making me wish I was.

Somehow, someway, I managed to push him off me.

Not that he refused to get off me, that I actually made the movement to request it.

"You aren't going to take this seriously, are you?" I was shaking, trying to think of anything but the things that we did to one another the night before. "I'm here to get your grades up. I'm not here to be your slut. I'm here to educate you. Whatever happened in the past is the past, and there's nothing to talk about between us."

"Listen, babe..." He picked up my hand, gently caressing it.

Unfortunately, I had to snap it away. "Don't you dare fucking listen babe me."

Typical jock mindset. Can't believe that the world doesn't revolve around them, that they aren't the sexiest thing in the world, and that not every woman on the planet wants to fuck them. I should have known better after Ryan. I really should have. I guess some mistakes you have to make a few times before their lessons finally stick.

"We're done here. For now. If you come here tomorrow ready to learn things, well, I'll teach you. I'm confident in my ability to be a professional." I didn't think I was lying, anyway. The keyword there was think.

"Stephanie, come on..."

"I am Ms. Casey, Trevor. You don't know me. I am faculty. Show me some respect." I stormed off, throwing open the classroom door, and slamming it as hard as I could. It made a nice sound, but it did little to cool my anger.

Even with all that bravado, I knew that my tutoring session with him should have been longer than the five minutes I was in there with him.

If I stayed in there though, and he kept making those moves toward me, well, I was going to make a terrible mistake again.

What's worse, if I make that terrible mistake again and the college found out about it? My career was going to be over before it even began.