Page 8 of Dad's Best Friend Professor
I don’t point out the other naughty thing she did because I didn’t want to embarrass her.
Her face reddens. “Oh, I…err was looking at some online notes about… the Revolutionary War.”
No doubt she’s lying. “It doesn’t matter. No cellphone is allowed in my class.”
“I wasn’t aware of the rule.”
“I’ve just come up with it. Can you follow it?”
“Y-yes, sir,” she mumbles, lowering her eyes.
“Very well,” I say. “And just to make sure you follow the rule, you must sit in the front row from now on and right in front of the podium.”
Her pretty eyes widen. “Is it necessary?”
“If you want to pass my class, yes,” I say in a stern voice, although all I want to do is kiss those pouty lips.
Chapter 7
Anna
I’m sitting in the front row of the lecture hall, waiting for my history class to begin. It’s still early, and Tony is reviewing his notes behind the podium, getting ready for the lecture.
I still can’t believe I let Tony talk me into taking this class, but here I am. Two weeks have passed since he spoke to me after class on the first day, and I’ve been behaving like a good student. I keep my cell phone off my desk and try to pay full attention to his lecture, even though it isn’t an easy task. The man is simply too hot not to let him distract me. Even now, when I don’t have a full view of his handsome face and his body is half-hidden behind the podium, I find him breath-taking in his fitted black shirt.
I’m lost in my fantasies again when he clears his throat. I straighten my back.
He glances at the class, his eyes meeting mine briefly before moving away.
He seems to be distracted momentarily, but then he speaks. “Last week, we had an overview of major Modern Wars. Starting today, we’ll study the major warfare theories and see how historians use them to analyze the causes of war. There’re two main schools of thought: social and biological…”
Tony is enthusiastic about the topic, and I recall from our first conversation that he’s more interested inwhythanwhatin history. He steps out of the podium and lectures without notes or PowerPoint slides, and paces from one end of the classroom to the other as he speaks. His enthusiasm is infectious, and soon I’m engrossed in his lecture, although I can’t say I can process everything he says.
Halfway through the two-hour-long class, Tony comes to stand right in front of me and doesn’t move. He’s so close to me I have no choice but stare at his crotch. Shit. Is he teasing me? His shirt is tucked into his pants. He doesn’t have a tent, but I know what’s beneath the fabric. The image of his picture flashes in my head, sending signals to my lady bits. I can even detect his musky scent, which could be his cologne or his manly essence. I recall the white streak on his shorts the other day, and my thighs tingle right away. Shit. I can’t take it anymore. My mind drifts like usual, and this time, I can’t gather it back.
As soon as he leaves me and returns to the podium, I take off my hoodie and drape it over my thighs. I then pull out my cellphone in my pocket quickly, put it on my lap and hide it under the hoodie. I position the phone so it’s standing up and only I can see the screen, and then I slip my hand under my skirt.
When Tony lectures again, I look at him as if I’m listening while my finger glides over my wet folds.
I can vaguely make out what he’s talking about anymore. Tony paces in front of the podium again and steps to the other side of the classroom. Thank God. I take a peek at his photo. Oh, the burly arm and the long fingers that are gripping his thick shaft! I imagine the same fingers touching me while the giant wood is filling me. A powerful wave roars inside me, and I rub my swollen nub harder, getting ready to come.
Needless to say, the professor’s voice drowns out as I focus at the urgent task at hand. I barely even remember where I am when a hand suddenly appears in my vision and snatches the phone away from me. I gasp and look up. Professor Ryder glares at me for just a second before he glances at the phone screen.
“No!” I whine in frustration. My impulse is to jump out of my seat and fight for my phone, but I can’t because of the position I’m in. I slowly pull my hand out from under my jacket and hope my screen will fade before he sees what’s on it.
But no luck. The professor’s face turns red as he glances at the screen. But he doesn’t speak a word. He narrows his eyes on me for a moment longer and returns to the podium with the phone in hand.
“No cellphone usage in my class from now on,” he announces the rule to the class with a stern look. And then he goes on to speak as if nothing extraordinary has happened.
Getting aroused in Tony’s class isn’t unusual, but getting a blue bean is extremely frustrating this time because I am so close. I seriously consider sneaking out into the bathroom next door to finish what I started, but I don’t want to draw more attention.
So I’m glued to my seat for the rest of the class, praying Tony hasn’t seen the picture. I’m so ashamed of myself. What would he think of me? And have I offended him as well? Now he thinks of me not only as a slut, but also a stalker and a thief. He must hate me.
I’m so deep in my own thoughts that I’m not even aware of it when the class ends.
Students stand up around me and leave the room in groups. Soon the classroom is empty. I watch Tony as he takes his time to erase the board and organize his notes.
He acts as if he’s forgotten me. And then he walks past me, all the way to the back of the classroom, leaving his briefcase on the podium. I’m puzzled, so I stand up and clear my throat, “Mm, Professor Ryder!”
