Page 35 of Bad Professor

I had sex with my English professor. I think that might be illegal.

“Dammit.” I throw my purse onto the table, only to have it tip over and fall, the contents dumping out to spread my things everywhere. Bella jumps at the pen rolling under the table.

I burst into tears. I start crying for a man I slept with once—technically twice—and thought I’d never see again.

I told myself I was okay with that, until I wasn’t.

And now I’m going to see him once a week because he’s my professor.

I push back the tears and reach for my phone to call Juliet. This is best friend territory.

Juliet is at my door in twenty minutes, bottle of wine in her hand. “I didn’t understand a word of what you said on the phone,” she announces, pushing past me and straight to my wine glasses. “Girls aren’t here?”

For some reason, that almost starts me again.

“At Carlos’s,” I say in a choked voice. “He gets them during the week.”

“Ah, yes. Asshole. Okay—let me get this straight,” Juliet says as she’s opening the wine. It’s a screw top, thank goodness, which means it won’t take too long to be in my glass. “You hooked up with your professor.” She does a good job hiding her incredulousness, but I can tell I’ve surprised her.

I’ve known Juliet for almost twenty-five years. There’s not a lot I do that surprises her. “I hooked up with my professor,” I concur.

Juliet stares, holding the bottle of wine in both hand like she’s afraid she might drop it.

“I hooked up with my professor,” I repeat.

I can hear the words, see the reaction on her face. And then I laugh. “I hooked up with my professor,” I say again, this time doubling over with peals of laughter tumbling out, taking the place of tears and loathing of earlier. “I had sex with my English professor.”

“What. The. Hell?” Juliet demands.

Juliet has been my best friend since we met in university. She knew me before Carlos, stayed strong during my marriage, even though admitting later she didn’t think it was a good thing for me, and she was there every step of the way through the divorce.

Which is why after she pours two glasses of wine, a generous pour that goes right to the rim, and we settle on the couch, Bella on my lap, I tell her everything.

Everything.

“Let me get this straight.” Juliet takes another mouthful of Ontario Baco Noir. Her glass is half empty, while I’ve only taken a few sips because I’ve been talking so much. “Twice. In one night. And how many times did you orgasm?”

It doesn’t escape my notice that this is the first time in our friendship that we’ve given details on a sexual experience. We’ve commented things like, “Good,” “Adequate,” and “Never again.” But I’ve never once thought to mention how easily I could be brought to orgasm because I didn’t know.

It’s never happened to me like that before.

I hold up my hand, with five fingers extended. “Holy shit,” Juliet mouths and take as a gulp.

I lean forward, folding over my lap like I’m protecting the place of orgasms. “I know.”

“Who is this guy? And does have he a friend? Or a brother?”

“Bennett?” I remind her of her new boyfriend.

“Yeah, but five.” She gives her head a shake.

“I know, it was amazing—truly, earth-shaking amazing, but then I find out he’s a professor at the university. My professor.”

Juliet leans back and studies me. “Part of me thinks this is super sexy, but the other part—the grown-up part— thinks it’s super sketch. This is his career, Tilly. You—there’s nothing on you, but…What did he say when he told you?”

“He didn’t. He walked into the lecture hall and all I could think of was—oh my god, he looks so good and I can’t believe I had his penis inside me.”

Juliet lets out a high-pitched giggle. “Did you say that?”

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