Office Hours Ch 02 4

All characters are at least 18 years old.

------

Hank

Jean and I stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. She looked petrified, and from what I could tell, the only thing stopping her from fleeing from embarrassment was some strange form of pride. That didn't mean she was about to play this off, though.

"I kind of... wasn't expecting to see you here," I finally managed, and that seemed to snap her to her senses.

"What are you doing here?" she said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

I was unprepared for the question. I was unprepared for this entire situation, really. I stammered, trying to come up with something to say when a large man from the next table yelled over at Jean.

"Hey, gorgeous! If you're not helping him, why don't you come sit in my lap!" he demanded. Just the thought itself made my stomach churn, and it clearly flustered her as well.

"Is something the matter?" A well-dressed staff member stopped next to Jean, surveying the situation. The manager, presumably. He had a European accent of some sort, and he turned to Jean expectantly.

"No, sir," Jean replied, setting my drink down on the table.

"May I remind you, Miss Minerva, that you 'ave certain obligations at this job," the manager stated, looking between me and the other man.

"Yes, sir." It looked like the manager was making her choose who to entertain. I took another look at the other customer, and though I didn't want to be unkind, his weight made me hopeful Jean would choose me. Not to mention, I wasn't going to make her sit in my lap.

Ahh, it'd be nice, though.

Hesitantly, she set her tray down and slowly shuffled into my booth. Then to my surprise, she sat herself on my thigh awkwardly. The manager nodded in approval before walking off, and the other patron grumbled a bit before turning back to his drink. I gaped up at Jean, who was avoiding eye contact with me.

"I'm just doing this to get off the hook with my manager, alright?" she hissed.

"Of course," I murmured.

She felt off balance on me, and I raised a hand to the small of her back to support her. She flinched at my touch, instead teetering the other way and catching herself by putting her arm around my shoulders. Eyes growing wide, she bashfully drew back and leaned into my palm, though she left her arm where it was.

"Did your manager just call you Minerva?" I said out of curiosity.

"No real names in front of clients," she explained, watching the dance floor.

"Any reason for that particular name?"

"No."

Well then. "What are you even doing here, Jean? You're a smart girl. You shouldn't have to be doing... this."

She clenched her jaw, frowning. "Girl's gotta eat."

Time to back off. I had no idea what her family life was like, but from the sounds of things, they were going poorly at best.

"Still, I don't like it. You have more things to offer the world than your body," I said firmly.

"It's the only thing that pays this much without credentials," she countered, turning her head toward me but keeping her eyes downcast. "Besides, it's not like I'm having sex or anything. I'm more like a geisha or something." Her mouth pulled into a small smirk. "You worried about me, prof?"

"Of course I am," I affirmed, and she finally met my gaze in surprise. The moment seemed to drag on, until suddenly I was struck with the question of whether this was appropriate. An immensely stupid question, really. One of my students was dressed up as a sexy schoolgirl and sitting in my lap while we were in a night club. Nothing about this was appropriate. But we were in uncharted territory; we had to make up the rules as we went.

"The real question is," Jean began, and for a second I was afraid she had read my mind. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Is this what you do after classes, prof? After your office hours?" While I hesitated, the mirth suddenly left her expression. "Did you follow me here?"

"I..." Would she even believe me? No matter my intentions, this looked bad.

"...You really do care," she whispered, catching me by surprise. I looked up, and she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. After my initial shock had passed, my other hand cupped her waist as I kissed her back. She jerked back suddenly, and abruptly got to her feet before fleeing without a word.

Oh God, I'd just kissed her.

I was wallowing in self-loathing when the manager came back around with an inquisitive look. "Miss Minerva 'as taken 'er leave?" he asked, and I nodded. "Mm. I 'ave been told she requested a change of station. You seem disappointed,

monsieur.

"

"It's a bit more complicated than that," I stammered.

"Whatever the case may be, I will be speaking with Miss Minerva about 'er station. If the gentleman so chooses, coming back tomorrow night may not be amiss," the manager suggested.

"No, I... I probably shouldn't," I said weakly.

The manager nodded again. "As the gentleman wishes. Enjoy the rest of your evening,

monsieur.

"

As he left, the sexy nun came back and asked me if I needed anything. I declined and gulped down my drink, scanning the dance floor one more time for Jean before hastily leaving. Ugh, class was gonna be so weird now.

--

There was a knock at my door, and I turned and called, "Come in!"

The door cracked open, and Jean sidestepped into my office. "Um, I just wanted to--" she stammered before catching herself. "Oh. It's you."

The flirtatious blonde sitting across from me turned and gave her classmate a small wave. "Hey, Jean."

"Lexi just had a couple of questions about class," I explained.

With a twitch of her eye, Jean's expression immediately soured. "It's alright, it wasn't important anyway--"

"No, no, it's okay," Lexi insisted. "We were just about done here." She lifted her bag onto her shoulder and stood. "I'll see you guys in class tomorrow, then." She gave me a wink before leaving, making no effort to hide it from Jean, who glared at her as she left.

Once we were alone, an awkward silence settled between us. She had her hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans, and was once again avoiding eye contact. I likewise had no idea how to proceed; there was no protocol for situations like this. Except... to completely ignore it.

"What can I help you with, Jean?" I said as professionally as possible.

She was silent for a moment longer, still standing by the door as if she planned to flee any minute. Adjusting her glasses and visibly steeling herself, she dropped herself into the seat opposite me. After taking a deep breath, she met my gaze.

"What were you guys talking about?" she asked nonchalantly.

So that's how we were doing this. "Lexi comes in every so often to talk about class. Just now she was asking about conditioning."

"Hm." Her jaw clenched for an instant upon hearing the frequency of Lexi's visits.

I leaned back, affecting a more relaxed posture. "She actually seems to grasp the concepts on a practical level. Just wants to make sure she understands all the technical stuff, I suppose." She scoffed lightly, and I sighed when silence lapped over us once more. "Is there something you wanted to discuss?"

"I'm not a whore," she said suddenly, which of course caught me completely off guard.

Trying to make sense of things, I replied, "Have I done something to make you think I think that?"

"I just..." She gulped and adjusted her glasses. "I don't want you to think less of me."

I leaned toward her, feeling a worsening feeling about what she was going through at home. Was I reading too much into it, or was she so lacking in her support system that she relied on my approval? That her first concern wasn't that I would tell anyone, or that I'd take advantage of her, but rather what I thought of her?

"Jean... Of course I don't think less of you. Frankly, what you do outside of the classroom is none of my business as long as it doesn't involve academic dishonesty, right?" She was coiled up like a spring, arms crossed and leg bouncing restlessly. "But... I just wish there was something I could do to help."

She looked pained, staring at somewhere on my desk as she bit her lip. "There is nothing you can do," she stated quietly, her voice almost monotone.

Before I could say anything, she rose and strode out of my office. "Jean!" I called after her, hurrying to my door to watch her walk her way quickly down the hall, pulling her backpack close to herself as she left. I sighed and closed my door, pondering the situation. I already knew what I was going to do. I just wondered if I was doing it for the right reasons.

--

The manager of the night club approached my booth wearing a polite smile. He bowed his head slightly before speaking. "Good evening,

monsieur.

May I be of service?"

I looked past him nervously, having second thoughts about coming here again. "I, uh..."

"Would you like me to send over Miss Minerva?" he inquired, his expression giving nothing away.

"You could do that?"

"If the gentleman wishes, she can be assigned to accompany you for the entire evening."

"The entire evening seems a bit excessive," I stammered.

"I understand. She will be with you momentarily,

monsieur.

" Before I could protest, he was off, presumably to fetch Jean. I leaned back and sighed, angry at myself for returning here. I looked over at the adjacent booth, and the fat man from the previous night was scowling at me. And suddenly I was glad I came.

"I thought I told you not to come here."

I turned to face Jean, who had her hands on her hips, which complemented her schoolgirl outfit scrumptiously. I tilted my head up as I appraised her, something foreign stirring inside me. It wasn't protective. It was territorial. I inhaled sharply, and the thought faded, bringing me back to the present.

"Then you remember incorrectly," I replied, a small smirk intruding into my expression. She shifted on her feet, huffing in frustration. Nonetheless, she slid into the booth next to me. "Did you just start your shift?"

"Yeah," she said stiffly. "Listen, about last night... Can we just forget... everything that happened?"

I smiled. "Do you regret it?"

"I mean..."

"That's not a no," I pointed out with a chuckle, making a mess of her expression, and she adjusted her glasses. "Of course, we can go back to us never having kissed."

"You saying it out loud like that kinda defeats the fucking point," she grumbled. I looked past her to the man in the next booth again, who was watching us.

And there it was again. That caveman instinct.

"Yes, yes. All forgotten." I brushed her shoulder-length hair away with my hand before cupping her face, and she froze as I leaned in. Her body was still rigid when I kissed her, but her lips were soft and welcoming. She turned herself toward me, angling her face up for better access, and the booth absorbed enough of the pounding music that I heard her moan once.

What in the world was I doing?!

When we parted, I noticed the other man was gone without a trace, as if a figment of my imagination. Jean quickly recovered and shrugged out of my hand, straightening her glasses and visibly trying to collect herself as she watched the dancers.

"I'm... sorry if I crossed a line," I murmured.

"You did," she said, voice cracking. She cleared her throat and tried to look strict, but the shy glance she cast my way betrayed her. "Did you... wanna cross it again?"

I blinked. "Jean..."

"Minerva," she corrected, standing. Putting her hands on the front of my shoulders, she used me to maintain balance as she threw a leg over my lap, setting herself down so she was straddling me. "Here, I'm Minerva."

She took my face in her hands, pushing her chest out erotically as she pulled me to her. Our lips met once more, and I wrapped my arms around her waist.

Here, in this secret garden of flashing lights and pounding bass, she was my goddess.