Page 2 of Yes! Professor Hendrix
I walked over, grabbed the field trip form, filled it out, and came back to my desk, re-reading my scene.
“You're so fucking wet, Hera... Is that all for me?" I rasp, pushing my finger inside her.
She gasps, lets go of my dick, and digs her teeth into my shoulder, clinging to me. I rub her pussy, nice and slow.
"Don't stop, Zaysh...I want you so bad," she moans as I slide two fingers deep into her pussy.
“I’m gonna fuck you so slow your legs forget how to walk.”
“Hmm,maybe not now for the last sentence,” I said, still thinking through the best lines in my scene.
Before deciding whether to cut it, I copied the entire section and opened my editing software. Without thinking, I pasted the text and hit send.
And then… silence. My eyes widened as I stared at the screen.
“No. No. No. NO!” My voice cracked.
Panicked, I tried to click undo but Gmail’s tiny grey “Message sent” was final. The kind of final that ruins lives.
My erotic scene was now in the inbox of Mr. Nolan. My daughter’s fourth-grade teacher.
I dropped my forehead to the keyboard. “I’m going to jail.”
I sent a second email as fast as I could.
Mr. Nolan,
I am so sorry. That message was meant for another document and sent in error. Please accept my sincere apologies.
– Lena Morrow
I hoveredover my inbox like it held the power to end me. Minutes later, he replied. Just one word.
OK.
– Nolan Hendrix
What the helldid that mean?“Okay, you’re forgiven? Okay, you’re a disgusting human? Okay, I’m reporting you to the school board?”
I didn’t sleep that night. I kept replaying everything, twisting under the sheets like a worm on a hook.
The next morning, I woke up with dark circles and no dignity.
I dropped Marisa off at the gym for morning prayer — St Gabrielle tradition, where all the kids gather class — which meant her teacher was alone in the classroom. That was exactly what I needed.Or didn’t. Depending on how badly I wanted to embarrass myself again.
When I saw him, I froze.
I’d only caught a glimpse of him from across the parking lot on the first day of school. Marisa’s father had insisted on doing drop-off and pick-up that day—the one rare time he chose toshow up, just so he could bring it up for the next three months. I barely got a look at Mr. Nolan from the entrance. Didn’t register all...this.
Hell, he was fine as fuck. The kind of fine that creeps up on you, slow and dangerous, like realizing you’ve been staring too long and can’t remember when it started.
He stood just inside the classroom door, sorting papers. White shirt stretched across broad-ass shoulders, tucked into dark slacks that clung to his waist. Sleeves rolled up just enough to tease the tattoos slipping out. Black ink curling around his forearms, veins popping every time he moved. My eyes went there first. Stayed there too long. His skin was rich and warm brown like caramel kissed by sunlight. Sharp jaw, low beard trimmed just right, and lips so full it was disrespectful. The kind of lips that made you wonder how they’d feel on your neck. Then on your pussy. Then everywhere else. He was sex wrapped in discipline. Danger in a white shirt and polished shoes. He lookedlike the kind of man who’d fuck you against a chalkboard and still help your kid with their homework after.
Our eyes met.
And I— I paused.
Shit.
