Page 37 of Playing By Their Rules

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Ethan

When Maisie arrives at my apartment on Saturday night, Chance lets her in and gives her a hug. I haven’t seen her since last weekend, because a TA taught my class this week. So now, I take a good look at our angel.

She’s a wicked angel. She’s wearing that little outfit she wore during my first class of the semester, the pleated skirt and white, buttoned shirt. But the shirt isn’t buttoned to the bottom; instead it’s tied up, exposing her smooth midriff, like she’s walking onto a porn set.

I didn’t think I had a schoolgirl kink.

Something about Maisie in that outfit, though. New kink unlocked.

She glances around my apartment, the open plan which mirrors Chance’s, living room and kitchen and dining area all together. With a smile, she says, “You’re right, it’s the same, just the colors are different.”

Someday I hope we’ll live together, all three of us in one place. But I hold that thought inside. It’s too fucking soon for that kind of talk.

“Thank you for coming over,” Chance says with a warm yet professional grin. “We’re looking forward to your special tutoring session.”

Maisie’s eyes open wider. She licks her lips. That magenta lipstick she wears is criminally sexy, especially in combination with her slutty school outfit.

I walk up to her and pull her into my arms. She fits against my chest like she belongs with me.

“Come into my office, Miss Kanne,” I say in a low voice as I let her go. “Professor Wexton and I need to speak with you about your paper.”

Turning around, I don’t wait for her to agree. I simply walk into my office and take a seat at my desk. Maisie follows me in and stands awkwardly in front of the desk because I don’t have any other chairs in here. This office isn’t generally used for meetings.

Chance leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes watchful.

I point to a stapled stack of papers in front of me. The pages are a behavioral psych article, the first thing I had on my screen to print out. Just a prop. “Miss Kanne, your citations need work.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Maisie says, “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor Carlisle. I’ll do better.”

“You need guidance,” I say. “Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll show you where you went wrong?”

“Oh—okay.”

As she comes around the corner of my desk, I meet Chance’s gaze, and he gives me a short nod of approval. He likes where this is going. We didn’t plan out a script or anything beforehand, but he did tell me about the “tutoring” plans he’d made with Maisie earlier in the week.

Maisie stops about two feet to the side of me. I breathe in her sweet, candied apple scent. Intoxicating.

“A little closer, so you can read this,” I say, gesturing her over.

She steps close enough that the hem of her skirt brushes against my pants. I have to restrain myself from touching her bare thigh and sliding my hand up that skirt.

All in good time.

After peering at the article for a moment, she says, “I…I don’t know where I went wrong, exactly?”

“Look at this,” I say, pointing to a random paragraph. “It’s a simple mistake with the APA citation. Miss Kanne, we know that you know better.”

“I’ve been a bit distracted, I guess,” she says. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

“Distracted, you say?” Chance asks from his place at the door.

“Um, yes,” she says.

“Yes, sir, or yes, professor.” Chance’s voice is low. “Elaborate on the distractions, Miss Kanne.”

“Yes, sir.” She squirms in place, wringing her hands together. Fuck, she’s perfect. I love how she’s playing along. “There have been things going on in my social life, distracting me.”

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