Page 10 of Bad Professor

And it’s not. I have no idea who Dexter is. Or what he’s into. Or what he might have hidden in his pants.

I mean an STD, not a penis. I’m sure he has a lovely penis… long and thick and ready to go where no one has gone before.

At least not gone in a couple of years.

I can’t put that pressure on him.

But what about the pressure on me? The ache between my legs is not going away. The thrum of desire that he could take care of so easily.

Or maybe not. Easy orgasms have never been my friend, other than those caused by a battery-operated appliance.

He said he wanted to worship my body.

I look at myself in the mirror. At my body, still clad in my pink underwear. There are spots I don’t like, curves that weren’t there years ago, wobbly bits that refuse to stop wobbling. I can’t deny that the whole package is that of a woman who has experienced life.

Why shouldn’t I experience more?

I take off my makeup and think about the question. I brush my teeth and tell myself there’s nothing to be afraid of.

I am strong and brave and I am a woman who still has so many good years left.

It only takes a moment to grab my phone by the bed. I stare at it for a long moment, and then with a hiss of exasperation, my fingers move so swiftly that it’s like they act on their own accord.

Me: Hi.

Me: I’m from the bar tonight.

It doesn’t take long for the … to become reality.

Dexter: Hi girl from the bar. What’s your address?

I give it to him. I can’t believe I do, but I give a stranger who licked my ear my address so he can come over and have sex with me.

Dexter: can I have your name too?

Me: Tilly.

Dexter: I can’t wait to see you again, Tilly. Be there in ten minutes.

I put my dress back on.

7

Dexter

Ihonestly didn’t think she’d call.

Those blue eyes, even with the thin glaze of desire, had been wary and skeptical. I could tell dating didn’t come easily for her, and a man coming on to her wasn’t something she was used to.

I don’t understand why not for either.

And I want to understand.

I should just want to fuck her, because that’s what this will be—one night where we both get to enjoy ourselves, no strings. Not anything else.

The first time I slept with a woman who I’d just met was a strange experience. Physically, it was great—truly amazing, since she had been the most uninhibited woman I’d ever been with—but emotionally, I was left with an emptiness I didn’t understand. I’d been with plenty of women before, and while there had been times when I wasn’t able to share the closeness after making love, there at least had been intimacy. There had been a kiss goodbye, a long hug, a promise to see them soon.

There was an emotional attachment.

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