Beth came out the lift without looking, hurrying, reading as she walked, carrying a pile of assignments. There was someone waiting beside the door, but she didn't notice. She bumped them with her elbow, and dropped everything she was holding. Her students' assignments spilled all over the floor.
It wasn't the best way to end the morning.
She knelt down and swore and started grabbing at the assignments, and only then looked at the person she'd bumped into.
She glanced up, then stopped, and just knelt there, looking long enough to make sure.
It was the guy. It had been a week, and it had been dark, but she wasn't going to forget that easily. She was certain it was the guy.
He was looking at her like he recognized her too. Was smiling, like he'd blown his load into her mouth at a party a week ago and that was his big fucking secret. And also like he thought he'd done pretty well when it had been his turn to try, could get her again any time he wanted.
He probably could, Beth decided. She was wet. Suddenly, instantly wet, kneeling there looking at him. There were times when she hated how slutty her body was.
"Oh fuck," she said. "Oh fuck no, not you."
She didn't know what to do so she went back to collecting her assignments. She thought about it and decided he was probably a student. He looked like a student, and was the right age to be one, and all the college people went to the same bars, so it wasn't surprising she'd run into someone. Unsurprising, and a bit awkward. She didn't want to meet people afterwards, when she'd had a night like that.
The university had a lot of rules, too. So many Beth just ignored them all and got in trouble for unintentionally breaking them. She didn't know most of the rules, and she didn't try to find them out, but she was pretty sure there had to be something about performing oral sex on students. The grey little busybodies who ran the place were bound to have an opinion about that.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" she said.
"Looking for you," he said. Just like that. Like that was a perfectly normal thing to be doing.
"Yeah," she said. "Fuck. Of course you are."
He reached out for some of her assignments.
"Leave them," she said, but he helped her anyway.
Of course he helped her anyway. Like he didn't care she was being a bitch, and like he didn't mind her getting off and then walking away the other night. He got a bundle of assignments, straightened them, and held them out to her.
She knelt there for a moment, glaring at him, then held out her hand. Their fingers brushed and a spark jumped between them.
She jumped.
"You okay?" he said.
She nodded.
It was just static. The weather was dry. There was static in the air, a storm had been building all day. Storms had been happening all summer, so much that even people who never talked about the weather had started noticing. Everyone except Beth who just said yeah, she didn't know, she'd only been here a year, but they usually told her anyway.
The spark was just the weather and the carpet and the building being all charged up. It meant nothing, and by the look of his face, he knew it meant nothing too, but they were both kneeling there looking at each other and getting sparks between them.
Their hands were still touching, both holding the same bundle of assignments.
He reached over and pushed some of her hair off her face.
"Don't," she said, almost ready to make herself angry.
He left his hand on her neck, leaned towards her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she said.
He kissed her.
And she kissed him back. Like she had last time, her mouth open, breathing the air out his lungs. She kissed him for all same reasons she had last time he'd done that, but this time she was kneeling on the floor in the middle of the fifth floor lobby of the math building.
And he was sliding his hand up her skirt.
He kissed well, really well. Much better than a week ago. He must have been off his game last time because of drinking. He kissed like someone who knew he could have anyone, once he'd got his lips on her, and from the way his hand was pulling at Beth's underwear, he was going to make the most of it.
"Fuck," she said. "Stop. Not fucking here."
He did. She was actually a bit surprised, and liked him a little more because he knew when to do his player shit and when to let it go. She glanced around. There was no-one in sight, no-one coming she could hear, but someone else might turn up at any second.
She should tell him to fuck off and never come back. She should, but he kissed like a god.
"Shit," she said. "Shit fuck shit. Come to my office."
He stood up, then looked around. She stood up too, and pushed him, got him going the right way.
There were doors open all the way along the hall. The older people seemed to like to work that way, to be collegial. She hated it, had things she needed to do, wanted to think, not to get distracted by noise and casual visitors. She always closed her door.
As they walked, she tried to look calm and bored. Like she was meeting a student. Like her heart wasn't racing, her breath wasn't shallow, her knees weren't trembling with how intensely she needed a fuck.
She held the door for the guy, gave him an angry look as he went through. Warning him, she hoped. She closed her door and put the pile of assignments down. Then leaned on her desk and looked at the guy. It was summer and warm and she'd been a professor for most of a year, so she'd mostly given up on looking professional and gone back to a singlet and skirt. A short skirt and a strappy singlet, so she probably looked more fuckable and less like a professor than she really wanted right now.
He was standing close to her.
"Hey," she said, and leaned back to make some space.
"I want you," he said in his normal voice.
"Shut the fuck up," she said, angry. Then, "Talk a bit quieter."
The walls were soundproof, but not that soundproof. You could hear music, voices raised for phone calls.
"I really fucking want you," he said softly. "I've been thinking about you all week."
"Stop it," she said.
"I remember how you felt," he said.
She looked at him.
"How you tasted."
She bit her lip. Clenched her hands on the edge of her desk. Leaned back, and looked at him, and wanted him, all at once.
She'd planned to warn him off, to say it was once, sorry, and wouldn't happen again. Go away and leave her alone. She'd meant to say that as nicely as she could manage, and never see him again, but she wasn't saying it. She was just looking at him, remembering the feel of his mouth on her, the taste of his cock in hers. She was turned on by the wrongness of him being here, and by how much he wanted her. She knew she should stop this, should get him out of here, but she didn't seem to be going to.
"Fuck," she said. "You fucking asshole."
She still wasn't sure what to do. She was probably just turned on by the situation they'd been in a week ago. Turned on by the crowd, and the chance of getting caught. He wouldn't be nearly as good this time, she told herself, so maybe it was better just to make out for a while and convince herself of that then tell him to fuck off.
He kissed her. Again. Kissed her mouth and her neck and made her breath get all shallow and her legs a bit weak. She grabbed his hair and his shirt and kissed him back. She tried not to make any sound, but wasn't sure she managed. Like last time, but more and stronger and better. He reached up under her skirt, hitched her forward on her desk and reached up under her skirt and tugged her underwear down. She had a short skirt, so they were pretty sensible, but he didn't seem to notice.
