Page 18 of Full Service

He bites the corner of his lip and his eyes sparkle, like the blue of the Pacific Ocean in the summer. Blue and glistening. I could get lost in there, just drown in their depths.

“That’s a good age. Thirty-five.”

“Almost thirty-six, and this is not something we should be discussing.”

He clears his throat and sits back, his eyes slipping from me, and I feel the loss of his gaze palpably.

“I didn’t say anything wrong,” he says, a little too confidently. And truth be told, he didn’t, not really, but the innuendo was there. He thinks that thirty-five is a good age for him. But I know something he doesn’t. It’s most definitely not.

I have almost fifteen years on him. A lot can happen in that time.

The truth of the matter is, we have nothing in common. Besides biology and my newfound love of strip clubs.

“I have office hours now,” I tell him, and he nods in understanding.

“Yeah, I get that. That’s why I’m here. To help out. This is why you have a TA, right? To lessen your workload?”

“Correct,” I say as I take another sip of my coffee. Damn, this’s good. It’s something I’d never get for myself, and yet I find my eyes nearly rolling back in my head from the sugary sweetness of it. Today I’m letting myself enjoy the treat.

My usual cup of black coffee can wait until tomorrow.

“Well then, let me help you, Dr. Sinclair.”

The way he says my name, the way it rolls off his tongue, makes my dick perk up in my pants.

Good fuck, I need therapy.

Dick therapy.

“Fine, you can use the desk in the corner and we can split up students if we need to. Sometimes I have a line a mile long.”

He nods and then moves to his spot in the office, setting his backpack down and pulling out an iPad. Within minutes, students start to appear, and just like he said, he helps to mediate the rush of them. I find my eyes straying to him when students are speaking to me, watching the intent way he leans forward and listens to what they’re saying, how easy it seems to be for him to interact with them, and how well he explains concepts.

I wish I’d had that ability early on. There are still times where I want to pull my hair out in frustration trying to explain concepts that are so easy to me and yet students struggle with. But I’m paid too well to do that. Plus, I happen to quite like that I still have all my hair. It’s my best feature at this age.

When my office hours end a few hours later, Everly stands up and stretches, his shirt riding up a bit and showing off the smooth tan skin beneath. I saw that skin the other night, watched it ripple in the lights of the stage, and came in my pants like a rascal.

I need to stay away from him. He’s far too dangerous. In so many ways.

“Alright, I need to get to class. Biostatistics,” he tells me.

I force my gaze to move away from his sexy abdomen. I will speak to his face, I will make eye contact.

“Ah yes, such fun.”

He grins at me, those white teeth flashing. “Yeah, it kinda is. I’m a nerd like that. Anyways, see you tomorrow, Dr. Sinclair.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and disappears from view, and I’m left to sit in my chair and try to fucking control myself.

“You will behave like a gentleman,” I tell my dick.

It just hardens from the reprimand.

I’m fucking hopeless.

My dick does not behave.

Of course it doesn’t. I’m walked all over. I’m unable to stand my ground.

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