Page 8 of Dear British Professor
I squeeze the inner muscles and flex my hips. Simon instantly realizes what I'm doing, and suddenly it's a game between us. Who can stay quiet? His hands move up to my bare breasts, and using his thumb and forefinger, he pinches and rolls each nipple. The sensation amps up the pleasure already near its breaking point inside me. I lean in and bite gently on his shoulder, and nip my way up to his ear.
“Fuck me, Simon,” I breathe out. If he’s not going to play fair, then neither am I.
The footsteps are nearly outside the door. I don’t remember seeing if Simon locked it, but we are beyond the point of no return. If someone comes in, there is going to be no explaining away what we are doing.
As soon as it’s clear that the footsteps have moved past the door without slowing down, I give myself over to the orgasm that I’ve been trying to hold back. The pleasure the comes with my release comes with a moan I can't control. Simon is quick to crush his mouth to mine and smother the sound as best he can, just as his release takes over him.
We ride the wave together, each holding on to the other and not wanting to let go. Our movements slow, and finally, we settle together as one.
“That was,” Simon sighs, trying to catch his breath. “Unexpected.”
“That’s an understatement.” I laugh, grabbing my shirt and pulling it on over my head.
Simon wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him. “Who would have thought this all started with the letter you sent me?”
6
WILLA
I pull back to look at him, unsure I just heard him correctly. “What did you say?”
"The letter you wrote to tell me about your feelings," he says as if it's no big deal. "I had no idea."
I cover my face with my hands, too embarrassed to look at him. “Kill me now.”
“Why are you embarrassed?”
“Because that letter was never supposed to be sent out.” I stand up and adjust my skirt.
The only thing stopping my urge to run out of the office is the fact that I can't let anyone see me in my post-sex dishevelment. I pick up my bra off the floor and stuff it into my bag.
“Wait,” Simon stands up. “Why are you leaving?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious.”
"Willa, stop," he orders me. His tone is authoritative, and it breaks through the cloud of mortification that surrounds me. "Look at me, please."
I glance up at him and meet his gaze. He runs his fingers into my hair and pulls me in for a kiss. It isn't quite like the frenzied kisses we shared before. While still filled with passion, this one is slower, sweeter, like he's cherishing me.
“What was that for?” I ask, swaying slightly on my feet.
“I’m trying to get you to understand that I'm so glad you sent that letter," he says. I try to turn away, but he cups my face in his warm hands and makes me look at him. "I didn't know what I was missing. I was moving through the motions of my life but not really living it. And then you came along, and I still didn't realize it until the letter, but I'm so grateful that you were able to take that leap.”
His words sound like something I’ve imagined him saying to me so many times before, but never daring that he would actually say them to me. I need to make sure that I’m understanding him completely. I can’t take the chance that I’m misinterpreting his words.
"What are you trying to say?"
“I’m saying that I want you. I want us. I never knew that I could feel this way about a person before, and now that I do, I don’t ever want to let you go. I’m saying that I love you too.”
It feels like the weight of all the anxiety I’ve been carrying around about this letter is suddenly lifted off my shoulders. No one has ever said that they loved me before. I've always pushed them away before I could let them get too close and break my heart. It's an odd blessing that my letter was sent out. I would have probably sabotaged everything before either one of us could get to this point. But now that we are already here like he said, I don't ever want to let him go.
SIMON
It’s hard to keep my hands off Willa whenever she is close to me. In class, I’m grateful for the podium I have to stand behind as I lecture. Willa likes to test my resolve by wearing short skirts and dresses and pulling up the hem so only I can see all the glory that is hidden beneath.
We start to get careless over the next few days. Any moment that we find ourselves alone, we can’t keep our hands off each other. We make out in the dusty stacks on the second floor of the library. We’ve had a few quickies in one of the study pod rooms. And I am currently giving her some personal attention in my office.
“Oh fuck,” Willa moans, knocking a pile of papers off my desk as I go down on her.
