Emmaline
I’m holding my paper for Ethan’s class in my hand like I’m holding a gift or something. I realize how fervently I’m clutching and smooth it out, loosen my grip, and walk into the classroom. I’m early — but so are a gaggle of leggy girls wearing the shortest things that can still be called shorts.
When I realize they are talking about Ethan, even though I want to hide in their presence, I listen in to hear what they're going to say about him.
I don’t catch much, something rumor-iffic was underway but oh well.
Everyone else starts shuffling into class and I realize that I’m not going to catch up with Ethan before class. Everyone is afraid to be late to his class.
“Hand in your assignments, and today’s lecture on voice in academic writing, and other writing, and we'll begin,” Ethan says.
I want to hide behind someone today like I did last class, but I can’t help peaking out from behind them to look at Ethan during the lecture. His sensual voice makes my nipples so hard they are practically blasting through my shirt and the hoodie I’m wearing. I wore something because I like to be able to shove a pen in the hoodie pocket for when the pen I’m using just up and dies during a lecture. I’m furiously taking notes, trying extra hard to pay attention.
“When you’re in that position,” Ethan says and clears his throat. I look up at him for that pause and catch him looking at me. I wait several seconds before slinking back, and I don’t hear a word he says!
I'm instead thinking about the positions I’d like to be in with him. Fuck, why is Ethan so sexy? I feel like my heart is going to stop beating. I missed the last sentence of what he said, and while I don’t want to take too detailed of notes and go into total overkill mode, I would like to maintain the context of the lecture.
Looking around, people are looking terrified or aroused. I must be silly and imagining that Ethan has ever showed any attraction to me. Not when so many people fawn over him. Is it my imagination that thinks he also enjoys the fear? The control?
Why does that turn me on so much?
My pen is in my mouth and I’m imagining Ethan telling me to take off my thong. I’m sitting here in a hoodie and I almost suck on the tip of my pen, imagining one of Ethan’s fingers in my mouth.
God, I have never been so attracted to someone. When Ethan starts listing off readings, I create little checkboxes for each and list them in my notes.
I’ve considered backing up my note taking with an audio recorder before, and I might need one for this class.
I can listen to the tape and make my notes more accurate. And then I can listen to them again and shove my hand down my pants like I wish I could now. I swear my clit is telling me to rub it. I generally don’t get much pleasure out of masturbating without my vibrator. Things feel good, when I touch myself, but I can’t make myself cum without the vibrator. I bite my lip now and listen to Ethan’s voice and I’m squirming in my seat. He gives so much homework, and even that turns me on! He appeals to my nerd side in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I think I might faint.
I look around again. No way anyone can actually smell how aroused I am? I think I can and I’m embarrassed. I feel like my pussy is wet enough to make my light pink sweatpants damp, and that’s just too embarrassing. I may die on the spot. I have to talk to Ethan after class, and not about my soaking wet pussy. I don’t see Aiden in the classroom today. Campus police hasn’t contacted me.
A line forms and plenty of people seem to want to ask Ethan questions. I wait, seeing how they fawn over him. He brushes them off, but Ethan keeps looking at me.
I think this is exactly what Delia would call eye-fucking. The intense look Ethan gives me, the air around us seems to literally heat up. His breath is caught in his chest, Ethan’s face goes still, his eyes narrow slightly, his head cocked a little to the side. How can so much intensity meet me, and then dissipate while he answers inane questions?
I keep waiting, wondering how the hell I’m going to make it out of here with the way he’s looking at me. My nipples are showing through a bra, a shirt, and a hoodie, for fuck’s sake. I had covered them up with my notebook, but when he looked at me the first time, I slid the notebook down. I wanted him to see my nipples and I'm betting that even at this distance he can. The line gets shorter and his looks get longer.
Maybe he really can’t wait to talk to me, as much as I want to talk to him? The thought is fire to my body, sin against my skin.
When it's finally just the two of us in the room, I take a second to try and breathe. The space between us closes to just within arm’s reach, and that realization almost makes me forget what I was coming to talk to him about.
“Thank you so much, Professor Wesley—”
“Ethan,” he corrects me.
“Ethan,” I say, savoring the taste of his name on my lips. I think of him as Ethan already, but I think I actually wanted him to correct me, and I don't know why.
Oh, God.
Because I know that what might be happening between us is wrong. I want to hear him press for it. And even though he told everyone to call him Ethan, or Dr. Ethan, we both know this is different.
“Ethan,” I repeat, knitting my eyebrows. Pursing my lips for a second. “I appreciate you saving me. I haven’t heard from campus police yet about…”
I don’t want to say it.
I don’t even want to talk about this.
Ethan puts his hand on my shoulder, letting it grip around the curve of my upper arm.
I inhale sharply at his touch, licking my lips instantly at just the contact of his hand on my skin.
“They’re gone,” Ethan says.
That’s all he says!
“How can that be possible with no one getting my side of the story? I’m sure that they didn’t confess…”
That’s supposed to be Ethan’s opening to respond. Instead, he’s gathering his bag to leave. “I handled it,” he says with a calm finality.
But I won’t be so easily dismissed. I don’t doubt that he’s taken care of the situation, but I feel like I need to know how. I follow him out of the building.
“Be more observant,” Ethan instructs.
What? I don’t know what that's supposed to mean, but I follow him out the steps of the building, listening to his words in my mind. They’re echoing off the inner chambers of my thoughts.
Ethan starts to walk off and I don’t understand what he means until I see him look back at the building.
Then I look up and see ‘WESLEY’ written on the building.
There’s prestige, and there’s name-written-on-the-building prestige.
“Wow,” I say before I stop myself from sounding like a stupid little girl.
I see a faint grin forming on his lips from the profile view that I have of Ethan, and I don’t know if it's because he’s amused by me or not. Does he think I’m some twit?
I hurry to catch up with him. “Did you get him kicked out?” I ask in a quiet voice, like we’re in some clandestine meeting and not walking through a relatively empty area of campus.
“I have a meeting now, but after your next class you can come to my office if you’d like to discuss it,” Ethan says. I watch his lips as he talks, then follow up his face to the way his eyes are looking at me with that same intense heat.
“Your office,” I say. “Yes.” I pause, then reach out and touch his arm. “I’ll see you there,” I say, and turn because my class is in the opposite direction.
What am I doing? I so need to talk to Delia about this … but I don’t know if there’s really any ‘this’ to discuss. I don’t know if I even should.
Right now, I need to focus on my chemistry class. Later…well, these are matters to discuss with Ethan.
Alone.
In his office.