Page 13 of Her Professor's Valentine

Chapter 8

Professor Elliot

After droppingPenny at her apartment, I sped to the university. I had some legwork to do before starting my lecture in my eight forty-five class.

Sarah’s red Porsche sat in its usual spot. She’d probably come straight to school after busting in at my place and trying to spook Penny. It didn’t work. Even after I’d told Penny how deep my interest in her went, she’d stayed and showered with me.

My cock began to stiffen at the memory of soapy bubbles flowing down her body, and I switched my attention to my plans for Sarah. That got the situation in my pants under control.

I grabbed my laptop from the backseat and took the stairs leading to the law school. The wind had grown colder, but the sky shone a clear blue overhead. I ducked inside the staff wing and passed Sarah’s office. Her voice wafted out in the hall; she was excoriating a student over a paper of some sort.

I sped my pace, passed my office, and pushed through the double doors to the classroom corridors. A couple of faculty members walked past and gave me nods or hellos. I returned them and turned the corner toward Sarah’s classroom. The hall was thankfully empty as I ducked inside the empty lecture hall. The lights flickered on, automatically set off via motion sensor. There was no lock on the door, so I had to run the risk of discovery. It was worth it.

I had fifteen minutes before her next class—and mine—was set to start. The smart board took up the entire wall behind the podium, and I knew Sarah always taught class via prepared slides on the classroom laptop.

Kneeling down, I opened the bottom of the podium and found her setup already in place. I flipped open the laptop and entered her password. Voices from the hallway froze me for a second, but the steps and sounds receded. Hurry, hurry. Flipping open my laptop bag, I pulled a USB drive out and waited for the computer to boot up. Time ticked away, and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across my forehead.

When the desktop finally pulled up, I slid the USB in and copied the file I wanted into her teaching folder. She kept meticulous files, each lesson labeled with date and time. I deleted the one she’d prepared for the upcoming class, and gave my planted file the exact same name. She’d open it, and set it to play without giving it another thought. And that’s when the fireworks would begin.

Once the file was in place, I removed my memory key and closed her laptop. I hurried out of the classroom and resumed a normal pace in the hallway. A few students passed, but they avoided my gaze. I preferred it that way. Better to be feared than loved.

I wound through the hallways until I came to my classroom. Five minutes early, I set up my notes and my book on the lectern and waited for the class to start … and for word to spread.

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