I sat in class and felt Professor Kent's eyes weighing on me like a pair of boulders pressing on my shoulders. If I could get away with it without drawing more attention to myself, I'd have ducked under my desk for the remainder of the class until he had left. The tension I felt alone was nearly unbearable. What made it worse were the hundred other students piled in their seats to the left, right, and before me, completely oblivious to the looks he gave me in passing or the torturous feeling I had inside me.
"Now, what this leaves us with is a dichotomy of thought," Professor Kent lectured the classroom as he walked in slow and methodical circles at the front of the class, as was his way. "What is truth? Is the truth what we believe to be so? Or is the truth something else? Is there an arbitrary truth?"
I sat in my chair with my laptop open in front of me like dozens of other college kids had. My left foot was tucked into my crotch as I found myself leaning forward and grinding the crotch of my pants into the heel of my foot over and over again as I listened and dazed off simultaneously. It had been a week since I last saw him. A week since his fingers had ravaged my sex in his office.
Leaning forward, I bit my lower lip as my clitoris brushed the edge of my heel, and I felt my stomach drop. The ninety-minute class had gone on for too long for me to keep control of my needs. The first fifteen minutes of the class I was too embarrassed and ashamed to even look Professor Kent in the eyes. I felt naked, sitting before him. Every time he looked my way, I knew that he had seen me. The real me. The me with an inhaler. The me who orgasmed from a simple kiss (but was it just a kiss?). The me with soaking wet panties. In those first minutes, there was a brief moment when I considered just dropping out of college--it was all too much.
Then something changed. The more I looked at his form-fitting shirt that hugged his massive arms and watched as he pointed at the screen as he taught, I felt a stir inside me. Chewing the corner of my lip, I found myself unable to look away from his wide back or his hard chest as he moved. The lesson, mine as well, had been on mute.
Rocking imperceptibly faster on my own heel, I felt the pressure building. I knew this was wrong. The thought of Professor Kent or one of the college students to my left or right noticing me masturbating on my own heel in the middle of class like some little slut was enough to make me want to die, but I couldn't stop. It felt too good.
God, it feels almost as good as when he abused my vagina with his rough...
I thought.
I didn't know he was like this. How rough he was with me. How commanding... No one had ever talked to me the way he had. No one had ever touched me the way he did.
But he doesn't know the truth, Beth. He still doesn't know the real you. Will he still want you when he knows...
The orgasm was so close. It was within reach. I rocked a small circle in my seat as I neared the edge. I mash my lips together to keep from moaning out loud and close my eyes for the briefest of moments. When I opened them, he was gone.
Where is he? Where's the Professor?
I realized too late that the older man was walking a circle around the room. He was directly behind me.
"Stephanie," Professor Kent's gravel voice boomed behind me. "Why don't you read the paragraph at the bottom of the page."
Stephanie, the girl who sat immediately to my right, cleared her throat and started to read as the orgasm rocked a tremor through my body. I leaned forward, feeling Professor Kent's body heat and presence looming behind me, looking down on me. My hair fell forward, draping my face, and I allowed it to hide my bright red cheeks and pained face as the orgasm wouldn't stop.
Between Stephanie's words as she read, I heard a muted sound of fabric rubbing together. It was the sound of me squirting in my jeans.
Oh god!
Parting my lips, my face hund inches off my open curriculum book as I screamed in silence, and a drop of drool ran over my lips and fell to my page.
"Good," Professor Kent said when Stephanie had finished, and I started to breathe again.
Looking up from my book, I felt a swell of heat flood my face as I saw Stephanie to my side, shooting suspicious glances my way. She looked at me like I was a freak.
Because you are! You are a horny slut who can't control herself even in the middle of class!
The rest of the students in the classroom seemed none the wiser, but Stephanie's stare persisted. One person looking at me was one too many. I couldn't take it. Squirming and turning away from the girl, I tried to free myself of her eyes grasp but only felt the burn of her stare on my back. It didn't help that the squirt of juices that had left my vagina was dampening the clothes that covered my sex.
Hyperventilating in silence, I tried to paw through my book bag but I couldn't find my inhaler. In a sudden outburst of panic, I snatched my bag and bolted for the door. Like rifles aiming at me, I could feel all the eyes turn on me as I shoved through the door, including his. My backpack squeezed into my chest like a life preserver as I floated down the hall in a lost haze; I ran without thought or direction but just away from my life.
I was pathetic. This restrained, repressed mess of a teenage girl who couldn't stand to be in public without panicking and yet, was a filth of repressed horniness that leaked from me like an overshaken soda can. And no one shook me up like he did.
Professor Kent. The looming shadow cast over me was terrifying and intoxicatingly arousing at the same time.
How did he know I was like this? How did he find me out of all of his students? It was like he could smell the whore inside me oozing from my skin.
It didn't matter anymore. I wasn't going to return to his class. I couldn't face the students ever again, that was for sure. And I would email the Professor, respectfully, and... tell him that... I would thank him for all he had done, but... I'd let him know that I was leaving the college and pursuing an online college. Yes. Online college. The knots pulled so tight in my belly that they ached and seemed to slowly loosen at the simple proposal of the idea. It seemed so perfect. I didn't need to face my fears. I could just continue to hide from them.
I ran about a hundred yards, zig-zagging through the halls before I reached the exit doors that led to the bus stop. Collapsing to my knees on the concrete outside, I gasped at the cool fall air that seemed to open my airways without my inhaler's help. It bridged the gap long enough for me to empty my book bag on the curb and find my inhaler. Two long puffs of the white plastic device and I collapsed in a tense moment of relaxation into a slump. No one really looked at the weird girl sitting on the pavement with all the students either lost in their conversations or walking with their headphones on. I still folded into a ball to hide the dampness I felt between my tender thighs as I slowly gathered the pieces of my backpack.
It was when I grabbed my cell phone that I felt it vibrate. The unknown number that had texted me was waiting for a reply.
Unknown Number
'1800 Hemmingway Blvd. 60 minutes.'
It was him. I knew it was him. Every knot that had loosened in my belly had gone taut again. I had urges to run away and run into traffic at the same time to avoid what came, and yet both those parts of me weren't as large as the one that wanted more. More of what I had before I ran from my classroom. More of what Professor Kent had done to me before another student interrupted.
I needed to be punished.
Chapter Two
I got on the bus five minutes later, thankful that the bus pulled away before any of my classmates I had just fled could get on as classes were ending for the afternoon. It took forty minutes, and two bus transfers to get close to what I assumed was Professor Kent's address. My belly felt as though it was filled with a fish bubbler the entire way. I wished I could put on a mask for protection from his gaze. Even make-up. Perhaps my roommates could teach me how to put on makeup someday.
Oh, what does it matter? There won't be another time. I'm just going to tell him I'm taking online courses, and that's it.
After nearly a twenty-minute walk, clutching my arms to my chest against the cool fall breeze, I arrived at the address with only minutes to spare. The house was modern and two stories. The front lawn was trimmed well and sprinkled with red and yellow leaves in the process of dying. Windows that seemed to spy on her at every angle almost looked like mirrors from where she stood at the front door. It wasn't long after five in the afternoon, but still, it was getting dark already. There was something scary about being there. Professor Kent's house was at the roundabout dead end of a road on a sizeable plot of land. The colors of fall surrounded her, and looking back down the road, she couldn't even see the driveway of the next house.
Should I have told someone I was coming here? My roommates? I doubt they would care...
I pulled out my phone to send a text anyway, but before I could type a message, the door opened exactly sixty minutes from when he had sent the text. To my unnerving relief, Professor Kent stood in the doorway. His professional clothes were gone and in place of it, he wore a black t-shirt that hugged the bulges of muscles on his chest and neck. He looked me up and down for a moment.
"Come in," he said, leaving the door open as he disappeared inside the house.
Chewing on my thumbnail, I nearly passed out from the wave of dizzying euphoria that washed over me before I finally put away my phone and took the plunge. Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me.
The open-style kitchen, dining area, and living room were one large L-shaped interconnected room with vaulted ceilings and the walls were an inviting light gray. The canvasses decorating the walls were of Orcas, grizzly bears, and lions that were done in such a way that I questioned if my Professor might've been the one who took the photographs. The many pictures of international travel populating his shelves beside his couches and large-screen TV confirmed that belief.
"Can I get you something to drink?" his voice echoed from the dark wood floors to the walls.
"No, thank you," I squeaked. My voice didn't echo because the Professor's footsteps from down the hall covered it.
"Very well. In here," he said. I followed his voice around the corner and into his bedroom.
The walls were painted a dark gray in there, which looked light compared to the black comforter and pillows that covered his bed. The wall of windows overlooking the woods at the back of his property gave his bedroom a strange dichotomy of light and dark that unsettled me. Professor Kent closed the door. His footsteps thudded as he walked in front of me. Gently and graciously, he removed my book bag from my shoulders, brought it to a chair in the corner of the room, and set it down.
"Stand here," he ordered and pointed to two black footprints adhered to the hardwood floor before the baseboard of his bed.
