Page 30 of Falling for Roxanne

I pushed the pasta around on my plate listlessly and took another drink of my water. Cathy was talking about her Tort Precedents class, and I wanted to be supportive, but tort law was so boring to me. She was very into it, and when she started listing the compensatory damages, I think I glazed over.

“Are you listening?” she asked, exasperated.

I looked up from my plate apologetically. “Sorry, I’m just having trouble concentrating.”

“Because you’re crushing on your professor,” she said sagely.

“I’m not just crushing.”

“What?” she asked, dropping her fork, suddenly interested. “Are you saying that the two of you did the nasty? Oooh—where’d you do it? Was it in the classroom after everyone was gone? A supply closet? Wait—that’s on General Hospital. Do universities even have supply closets?” she asked, giddy.

“Shhh!” I said, cringing.

“We’re at home, Rox. No one can hear us except the noodles you’re not eating, which is suspicious all by itself. When have you left a carb uneaten?”

“It’s been a while,” I admitted.

“Details! I don’t mean about carbs either. Give me details about Professor Hamilton Bell, specifically, is that dick as huge as I think it is?” she asked. “Because not to be crass—” she waggled her eyebrows, “but I saw the outline of his junk in his jeans and wanted to fall on my knees.”

I shook my head, my face flushing.

“Oh my God. It’s bigger?” she said, interpreting my blush correctly.

I abandoned my fork and buried my face in my hands. “Yes,” I said, my voice muffled by my fingers.

She hooted in victory. “Yes!” she said. “Was he incredible? He looks like the kind of guy who’d be an amazing lover. Please, for my sake, tell me he was crap. That he was a two-pump chump with no idea that it takes more than boring thrusting to make a woman come.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, “but I came three times with him. It was unreal. I’ve never felt that kind of pleasure in my life.”

“Are you shitting me? Rox, if you’re shitting me, I will get you back. Such a man does not exist. There is no magic dick like that.”

“Yeah, there is. And the problem is, I was already halfway in love with him before he ever kissed me. Well, I kissed him. I swear he would’ve just stood there looking at me all day and never made a move. Because it’s wrong or whatever,” I huffed, aggravated.

“Well, speaking as a future attorney, it is kinda wrong. His position of authority is de facto coercive. Not to mention the fact that you need to tread carefully and think of your own career. You don’t want people to talk, because you and I both know you’re brilliant, but there would be people who’d think you got good grades or the internship because you were fucking the professor.”

“That would make a killer romance novel title. Fucking the Professor,” I said ruefully. “Maybe if I get disbarred, I can fictionalize our affair and live off the royalties of the novel. Erotica for sure,” I said.

“You can’t get disbarred. You haven’t even graduated.”

“Right.” I agreed. “The thing is, he said it was all a terrible mistake. He wished it never happened and he has not even talked to me since we hooked up. It’s—awful,” I said.

“You poor thing,” Cathy said, getting up and giving me a hug, “you deserve better than some guy who regrets sleeping with you. He should be thanking his lucky stars you’d even consider riding his wrinkled old man dick,” she said loyally. I laughed.

“Nope. Not even close. We’re talking nine inches plus of smooth, perfectly formed—”

“Stop, okay? I feel despondent. You know Rob said we should just be friends, which means we can still fuck but he won’t have dinner with me. I think he freaked because I asked if he wanted to come to yoga with me. That was like the beginning of the end. Then he stopped asking me to hang out unless it was late at night hang out was code for fucking. So I quit answering his texts that came in around one in the morning. But he didn’t want to go out anymore at all. It was like I pressured him by casually inviting him to the class I’ve been going to for five years, where he would see people who know me, and be treated like my boyfriend.” She sighed. “Total fuckboy.”

“I hope his dick falls off,” I said idly.

“That was harsh,” she snort-laughed.

“I’m not wrong. He wooed you—attention, dates, affection—then when you wanted to actually define the relationship or take him somewhere that he’d be introduced as your boyfriend, he wanted to be a friend with benefits, heavy on the benefits, hold the friend part.”

“Okay, you’re not wrong, but that’s still harsh. Although since you got some very above average dick recently, I’m going to assume you’re not sentimental about any average dicks.”

“True, but I truly hope that Rob specifically never gets laid again or that if he has the opportunity, his junk won’t work. And that he has really embarrassing diarrhea the next time he likes a girl. Like, in his pants. Sudden diarrhea,” I said straight faced.

“You’re diabolical, you know that?” she giggled.

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