Prompt: describe a professor coming on to one of his students. (For the sake of my writing, I will be using a teacher’s assistant.)
Britney sat at the desk in the back corner of the library. While she knew she was supposed to be on duty at the research desk, her head was just too far away for her to be there. Pulling at her long gold curls, she tried valiantly to rearrange them in a more flattering fashion. Desperately, Britney begged for the improbable help of a more skillful set of hands, like her roommate Meredith for example. Her fingers tried to shove the bobby pins back into her hair when a noise made her drop a few of them. Spinning, she found that her peace had been interrupted by her poetry professor’s TA Johnathon Darcy.
“Mr Darcy!” she exclaimed, while smoothing down her pencil skirt. In her futile attempts to fix her hair, the skirt had risen to an indecent level around her thighs.
“Call me Johnathon, please. We aren’t in class.”
“I’m sorry Mr Da- … Johnathon,” she corrected herself before finishing his surname. Flustered, her face turned an attractive shade of pink while he cracked a joke about how students calling him that made him feel extraordinarily old. Britney noted with a quick glance, he looked anything but old.
Johnathon looked to be in his mid to late twenties, with slightly tanned skin and dark brown hair that fell rougeishly around his lean face. There was a bit of stubble around his chin, a result of carelessness or perhaps it was intended? Britney adjusted her glasses before taking a look at his warm coffee colored eyes. He’d been staring at her as well; Britney looked away while her face and the tips of her ears turned red. The TA chuckled before asking her a question. She was too embarrassed and ended up mumbling for him to repeat it.
“I asked why you weren’t at the front desk,” he said, his voice full of charming concern.
“Everyone kept asking me questions. I know it’s part of my job to get asked plenty of questions, but I just couldn’t deal with them all today. And to top it off, I feel over dressed and my hair refuses to stay up!”
It was only after she finished her rant that she realized she had just let out all of her frustrations out on her professor’s assistant. She felt like a fol and quickly started apologizing for her lack of decorum. The more she rambled, the wider Johnathon’s smile grew until he stopped her with a wave of his hand. Smile still in place, he took the chair next to Britney’s and sat so that he was facing her.
“Personally, I think your hair looks lovelier down than it does up.”
Britney looked up at him again before she pulled the last three remaining pins out of her hair. It tumbled to the middle of her shoulder blades in all of its golden glory. Cautiously, Johnathon wrapped a curl around his forefinger then let it go, watching it spring back into place.
“Much better,” he said.
Britney’s wide green eyes looked down at her outfit, staring awkwardly at the white button down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the sweater vest with the argyle print in blue, black, and purple and her black pencil skirt and suitable pumps. She still felt far overdressed for the third day back to classes for the spring semester. Johnathon spoke again.
“You know, I like a girl who makes herself look professional, especially in the work place. It gives off a certain air of confidence and credibility and dominance. I really like it.”
Her whole face flushed at the comment was she nodded. She didn’t feel dominant, but the compliment put her a little more at ease. The college freshman thanked him and gave him a rare, pure smile.
“Now, about all that stress, let me see if I can help get it off your mind,” he said while his hand slunk up from her knee, where it had come to rest after he had played with her hair, to under her skirt. It still rested on the outside of her thigh, but the warmth and sudden contact made her breath catch in her throat. He looked confident as his eyes gazed into her’s. Britney felt hunted, but she liked it. She really enjoyed the feeling of Johnathon’s hand on her. His other hand came to rest on her cheek. Her glasses fogged up from the heavy breathing she was experiencing. What would he do, what would he do?
He leaned forward and kissed her neck softly. The feeling of his lips over her pulse sent it skyrocketing as she gasped. He smiled at her and the innocence she held. His hands left her and he pulled away. She whimpered, unsure of her body’s reactions.
“Go back to work my dear Britney. I’ll collect you when your shift is done. We’ll work out the rest of your stress later.” With that he left, leaving Britney realing.