Teach Me Better

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who favorited/rated the last chapter! This took a bit longer to get out than I wanted, but I had to take care of my health. Also, I've decided to change the story from past tense to present tense, so the tense change between this chapter and the first one isn't just an oversight. Again, please leave any suggestions you have. I hope you like it!

-Lamb

Chapter 2

My pillow nearly suffocates me as I press my face into it. Scenes from the night before cycle through my mind like some twisted play, and a long groan escapes me. There is no denying it. I fucked my professor. And then I ran. I had yanked my clothes back on and fumbled with my phone to call an Uber. He had tried to stop me, telling me everything was all right, trying to comfort me. I don't remember how I responded, if I responded. I just knew I had to go.

I tug on a long, frizzy curl just enough to hurt but not actually pull any hair out. Honestly, I don't know why I ran. In my mind, I did something wrong, so I did what I do best when I'm certain I'm going to get in trouble. Like a child afraid of consequences.

But is it wrong? Or does everyone just tell me it's wrong? When I was little, my mother slapped my wrist and made me hold soap in my mouth after I used a new but not-so-great word I had learned at school. Now, curse words are as common as greetings. I'm a big girl now. I can sleep with whoever I want to. Including my professor... right? No, probably not supposed to do that. It was nice, though.

My phone vibrates at my side. It takes a minute to convince my body to roll over, but it eventually does and I check my messages. Sidney's mad that I haven't responded to her two texts from thirty minutes earlier asking if we're going out tonight. A small part of me says no. I should stay in bed and wallow in my shame. A larger part of me thinks I need a distraction. And, still, the rest of me wants to think I don't have anything to be embarrassed about. Well, maybe the whole running away thing. If anything, I should go back to Professor's house.

Knowing Sidney, she'll never forgive me for bailing on her again after missing our girls night out last weekend to cry over my ex, something that seems so trivial looking back. I can't bring myself to break her party-loving heart, so I fire back a text asking when and where. She chooses some bar that isn't all that popular with our classmates because of its expensive drinks, and I agree to being picked up at seven. One night of splurging won't kill my bank account. And, to be fair, I need a few good drinks.

I glance at the time. I don't usually stay in bed past noon, but today is an exception. Besides, there's still plenty of time to get my homework done before Sid shows up. Maybe finishing some work will make me feel better about myself. I roll my eyes. There I go again. I shake the thought from my head. What's done is done, and I can't pretend I didn't like it. He was so kind, so gentle, so good. I pull a pillow to my chest and give it a firm squeeze. Something so good can't be bad.

By the time night rolls around, I'm feeling marginally better. The battle between my regrets about breaking a taboo and my fond memories of the event has caused dark circles to form under my eyes. Nothing a bit of makeup can't fix. My stomach growls as I carefully apply the final touches to my eyeliner, and Sidney's on-the-way text comes through right on cue. Giving myself a once over in the mirror, I decide to throw out a few affirmations. I don't really get them, but Sidney says they're good for self-esteem and, at this point, I'll do anything to increase mine. Eva Marie, you are pretty. You are worthy. You are horny for your professor. I groan and frown at the mirror. Oh, Eva, what are we going to do with you? My reflection returns my pout.

I throw on a coat over my navy blue minidress, the kind of dress my mother would tell me to change if she caught me trying to go out in it. But it makes me feel cute, and I don't mind the attention it gets me, the glances directed at my smooth tan thighs. I toss my drying hair around to fluff it. I've decided to let my curls breathe for the night, leaving my hair down so they can fall how they please. Once I'm pleased with my appearance, I head out into the night.

Thankfully, this apartment complex doesn't have any children living in it because Sid would definitely get us yelled at by some mom with the music she's blasting. She waves her arm out the window as she pulls up to the sidewalk, as if her arrival isn't obvious enough.

"Eva," she calls out to me.

"Hi, Sid," I say and slide into the passenger seat. She pulls away from the curb before my seat belt is latched.

"You know, I thought you wouldn't come out tonight."

"Yeah, same. Figured I could use the fresh air, though. Plus, I missed you."

We met in a required writing class freshman year. I still wore glasses and college sweatshirts back then. But, after Sid got ahold of me, I grew to like dressing up and switched to contacts. She's the type of extrovert that chooses a quiet person and latches on to them. I was her unlucky target. Or maybe it was luck that brought us together.

There isn't much to look at outside as we drive. The urban sprawl, filled with shops that have seen better days and roads that should be repaved, is rather depressing. I look over at Sidney instead. She is wearing her hair down, too, the auburn waves covering her freckled shoulders. Her short black skirt and knee-high boots tell me she's probably looking for trouble tonight.

'So," she says slowly, "how are things?"

She's talking about my break up. I'd almost forgotten about it after last night.

"Honestly, I'm kind of over it. It's not like our relationship was that great anyway. I have... other things to worry about," I say.

She nods and presses her lips together thoughtfully.

"Right, right," she says. She continues with caution. "How is your dad?"

That's a bit sorer of a topic. A sour taste settles on my tongue, and I make a face.

"I don't know. It's hard to judge. We have to wait for more news," I tell her. I really don't want to go over it. Fortunately, Sid's best quality is her perceptiveness.

"I get it. You know I'm here for you, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Sid."

The bar is lively but not overly packed, which means finding parking close to the building is easy enough. And that means our heeled feet won't be too mad at us later. We make our way to a table towards the back so we can eat before hitting the dance floor. Our typical shenanigans.

Sid's theory is to go hard on Friday night, taking shots and terrorizing the town with a gaggle of other girls. Saturday nights are for chilling while having fun. I guess I'm good for that. Maybe I'm still a little boring even after everything Sid has taught me. Is that why I did what I did? Was I just looking for excitement? Or was there something more to it? Do I want something more out of it? He seems so nice and understanding... But if fucking your professor is bad, surely dating him is even worse.

"What are we getting?" my pretty friend asks, even though I know she'll pick some burger like she always does when we go out. I don't have much room to talk, though. If there's a spicy chicken sandwich of any kind on the menu, that's what I'll be eating.

Dinner passes uneventfully. Sidney talks about whoever she went home with the night before. I forget if it was a guy or girl. And I don't even tangentially mention what I did. Though my mind does wander to revel in a few memories before I drag it back to reality. After eating, I have a few drinks, enough cocktails to want to dance with a stranger. It's when I'm scouring the room for a potential partner that my plans for the night fall apart.

Even in the dim lighting, I can see him clearly. He hasn't noticed me yet. He's leaning against the bar, talking to some woman closer to his age. She's totally into it. Her body is turned fully towards him, and she's giggling at almost everything he says. A hot bubble settles in my chest when she reaches out to touch his arm, her little black dress riding dangerously high up her leg.

"Hey, isn't that your literature professor?" Sidney asks, licking some ketchup off her thumb.

"It is," I mumble. I shift in my seat and shove my hands under my thighs. Am I staring? I'm totally staring. I direct my gaze to the table in a miserable attempt to appear uninterested.

Sid snorts out a laugh. "Careful, Eva. You look jealous. Are you trying to fuck your professor?"

I can't hide my guilty expression, and Sid could be a professional people reader.

"Eva Marie, you did not fuck your professor," she practically shouts.

"Be quiet! Someone is going to hear you."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Look, I'm not judging. He is pretty hot. I just didn't expect it from you."

"It's not like I did it for a grade or something. It just happened," I say.

The sly grin on her face doesn't fade. It's annoying, really. But I've brought it upon myself.

"Ugh, whatever. I'll be back. You can have the rest of my fries." I get up from my seat and make a beeline for the bathroom in the back corner.

I need somewhere to breathe. My nerves are on fire. Getting grilled by my friend while watching some woman put her hands on... on what? On who? My wide eyes stare back at me in the bathroom mirror. Why am I angry? I'm not allowed to get angry. He's my professor. I just made a mistake. He's not my boyfriend. It's not like he can be my boyfriend. But maybe he doesn't have to be. Maybe I can just sneak off to his house every so often and scratch any itches. No. Bad Eva. You can't think of him like that.

A blast of cold water on my neck knocks some sense back into me. The bubble in my chest is a bit smaller and cooler than before. But now there's an ache that spreads up to my throat, and my reflection is frowning at me. Maybe I should go home. Be a good girl.

When I finally build up the courage to leave my safe haven, the worst possible scene is waiting for me outside. The hallway is dim and narrow and Professor Starling is right at the end. He's not surprised to see me. Was he waiting for me? Of course not. He's just going to the men's restroom, obviously.

I force my body to move forward. His paces are measured. I suck in a breath as he gets closer. He'll just walk past me. We can act like nothing happened, and I can move on with my life. He doesn't reach out to grab me. I almost wish he would. A tiny voice in my head begs him to stop me, to say anything.

But he just glides by. The scent of his cologne reaches me and makes my skin tingle. My legs threaten to give out on me. I almost don't hear his voice over the low buzzing in my ears.

"Eva."

I spin around with more speed than intended, and the world tilts. He's leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. One emerges to beckon me closer. I tell myself to go back to Sidney, to leave the building. My body takes a step in the wrong direction. Then another. Suddenly, I'm standing right in front of him. He looks down at me, and I can't bear it, opting to stare at our shoes instead.

"How are you?" he asks. His voice is low. Gentle. It reminds me of why I let him take me upstairs to his room in the first place.

"I'm fine. I'm just out, you know, with a friend." My voice is weak. Like me.

"You didn't have to leave so fast. We can talk about it," he says.

Out of all the thoughts in my head, none make it out of my mouth.

"Was it that bad?" He flashes a small smile.

"No," I say quickly. "I just... it was a mistake."

Professor frowns. "You don't really think that."

"How do you know that?" I huff and attempt a defiant look.

He doesn't answer. He throws a glance down the hall before reaching for me. I let him touch me. He traces a line down my bare arm until his finger hooks with mine. I think about stopping him, but the thought only lasts a moment.

I don't even stop him when my back is against the wall and I can feel his breath on my face and his knee is between my legs.

"Was it a mistake, Eva? Tell me it was, and I'll leave," he says with that soft voice that makes me dizzy.

My breath catches in my throat, and I can barely whisper a response. "It wasn't a mistake."

I've known it all along. What happened wasn't wrong. It was perfect. It felt good. He felt good.

His lips press against mine. His knee moves higher between my thighs. A film of pleasure settles over me, and I let my body respond to him. Enthusiastically. My hands are on his chest. He licks my bottom lip, and I bite his. His hand slips under my dress.

We pull away at the sound of movement coming from the end of the hallway. The pounding in my ears drowns out all noise, and my legs are tensed and ready to bolt. It's a stranger. He doesn't even glance at us as he passes. I'm able to breathe again once the bathroom door shuts behind him.

My cheeks are burning. Professor chuckles at my bewildered expression.

"You should come to office hours," he suggests with a wink. "If you really don't think it was a mistake."

Before I can squeak out a response, he turns and heads back down the hall.

My head is still swimming when I make it back to Sidney. Her mouth hangs open as she looks between me and Professor, who is calmly nursing a drink at the bar as if we didn't nearly jump each other outside of the restrooms.

"Something happen?" she asks. She knows. She couldn't have seen from where she is sitting, but she definitely knows.

I can't lie, so I just nod meekly. She brings her drink to her mouth with both hands and raises her eyebrows at me.

"I think I'm gonna head home for tonight," I mumble, defeated and horny as hell.

Sunday is terrible because Monday comes next.

I don't go to Professor Starling's class Monday afternoon. Hundreds of birds are flying around my stomach, tickling my insides with their fluttering. Nothing settles them. Tea, meditating, loud music. All I can do is roll around in bed and think about five o'clock. Office hours. I want to go. I really do. But everything blurs together whenever I try standing. Am I really going to do this? Yup.

My feet hit the floor at four, and I manage to pull myself together enough to get ready for... whatever is going to happen. I know damn well what's going to happen. I know to put on a lace pair of panties and a skirt and my favorite perfume. And I know to take three deep breaths and count to ten before heading to campus.

The walk takes longer than expected thanks to my dragging feet. My heart is pounding. The cool fall air doesn't reach me through the heat flooding my body. I can still turn back. But I don't.

It's after five when I arrive, and the hallway to the literature department is empty for the most part. Not many people come all the way up to the third floor if they can avoid it. A few doorways have people standing in them, chatting it up with whoever is inside. Professor Starling's office is at the very end. He bragged to the class once that some big-name professor had just left when he started working here, so he was spoiled with the nice big corner office with a view. Years later, he says he'll never move.

As I get closer, I can hear Professor talking to someone. He's explaining an interpretation of one of our recent reads, but his voice is distant. Distracted. He's not all that interested in what he's talking about. The other voice pipes up, and it makes me bristle. Red Jen. She probably always comes to office hours. Well, hurry it up, Jen. I'm trying to do things. Things being our professor, of course.

Their conversation peters out a few minutes later, probably due to Professor's lack of enthusiasm, and the sound of my classmate preparing to leave sets my nerves on fire again. I jump when she appears in the doorway, as if I've already been found out. Her mouth is slanted in a half pout that doesn't waver even when she sees me.

"Oh, hey. Missed you in class today," she says. Her feet don't stop moving for even a moment as she addresses me.

I stick my tongue out at her retreating back. But I don't have time to be petty. I turn towards the door. Take a breath. Glance down the hall. And step inside.

Professor doesn't notice me at first. He's looking at his computer, his head propped up on one fist. There's an air of exhaustion hovering over his shoulders, and I can't help but wonder if it's my fault.

I give the doorframe a few soft knocks. That dark air dissipates when our eyes meet. He's happy to see me, and I'm surprised to find I'm happy to see him too. I thought I'd shut down and run. But something close to relief washes over me instead. I don't understand it, but I take a step closer anyway.

"You weren't in class today," he blurts out.

"Gonna take it out on my participation grade?" My attempt to lighten the mood does nothing to slow the beating in my chest. But he smiles, and that makes my heart feel better.

"Maybe. But I know a few ways you might be able to get those points back."

He rises and steps around his desk, sitting on the edge with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"But really. You weren't in class," he says. "I was worried."

"I wasn't feeling the best," I admit.

His eyes soften. A faintly sad but understanding smile crosses his face. He pushes himself away from the desk and moves past me to stand next to the door, his hand coming to rest on the handle.

"You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with," he says quietly.

I shake my head, still searching for a way to explain. "It's not that. I'm just scared, I guess."

"Of what?" he asks.

"What if something happens? What if we get caught?" My weight shifts from one foot to the other. I realize I'm wringing my hands, and they're starting to hurt.

"We'll be careful," he says with a glance out the door.

"What about your job?" I'm looking for excuses.

"Of course I'd prefer to keep it. But I won't say anything--" he pushes the door shut "--if you won't."

And there's that smile that makes me forget about any rules or taboos. He steps forward and reaches out, touching my arm so softly I can barely feel it.

"There's something about you, Eva," he murmurs.

Isn't that what every girl wants to hear? If he's acting, he's good at it. But there's something in those gray eyes and those crow's feet and that lone dimple. And there's something about the way he's touching me. His hand comes to rest on my waist. He waits for me to lean in, to kiss him.

He tastes just as good as before. This time, though, there's no more doubt hounding me. Everything is warm. I melt for him. His hand slips under my shirt and leaves a burning trail as it slides up to my breast. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer. The heat between my legs is quickly becoming unbearable. A soft mewl escapes me as his tongue slips over mine.

Professor guides me backwards until I run into the desk, a handful of papers falling to the floor from the sudden jolt. My legs are jelly beneath me, so I'm thankful for my sudden seat. The hand on my breast drops down and makes its way up my skirt, feeling for my hot center. His fingers find the lacey edge of my panties.

"Did you wear these for me?" he asks, flashing a cocky smile.

"Yes." My voice is light. I'm breathless.

"Mm, such a good girl."

His lips crash into mine again as his fingers begin playing with me through the fabric. His expert movements in tandem with the lace rubbing against my sensitive skin set me on fire.

He pulls back suddenly, but I'm reluctant to release him until I realize what he's up to. I watch him kneel in front of me, sliding my panties off as he goes. Without thinking, I lift my leg and place my heel on the edge of the desk, opening up for him. He gives my thigh a hard squeeze and leans forward. The flick of his tongue against my clit coaxes a soft moan from me. But I don't dare to be any louder.