Page 10 of The Professor
It’s true. I’m usually only in the library if I need to be, but I’ve been here for hours now. The material he gave me yesterday in preparation for his study group tomorrow is just fascinating. There are case studies from different studies that psychologists have done. It’s amazing how the human mind works.
“Wow, sounds great. I was going to head home, but I can wait until you’re done if you like,” she says, switching her heavy backpack to the other shoulder.
I close the folder and stand up. “I’m done. Come on let’s get home, I’m starving.”
Once we get to the dorm, I drop my stuff on the table and Makena heads to her room. Opening the fridge I look to see what I can eat, but before I even get a chance the front door slams closed.
Jerking my head up I see Bexley with tears in her eyes. “Shit, what happened?”
“What happened?” She throws her purse against the wall and turns to face me. “What happened is Professor Kidman is a bitch. She told me if I don’t get an A on my research paper I’m going to fail for the semester.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I somehow manage to keep them focused on her. “Well, are you failing the class now?”
Stomping past me, she rips open the fridge and grabs a water out of it. “Yeah, but you don’t understand I can’t fail. If I fail I lose my spot on the cheer squad. I just don’t know how I can get her to give me a passing grade. It’s not like she’s a man.”
“You could bust your ass and get an A on your research paper for starters. Maybe see if there is some extra credit or something she’ll let you do.” She rolls her eyes at me as she drinks down her water. I think about what she just said. “But now I’m curious, what if she was a guy?”
I’ve heard countless rumors about professors sleeping with students and I thought it was just that, rumors.
“You can’t be that naive, Emma,” she says, with a grin.
Oh I’m definitely not, but now I want her to say it and tell me more.
“Maybe I am that naive, Bexley.”
She unbuttons the top two buttons of her shirt and the bottom few. Grabbing the bottom she ties it into a knot exposing the top of her tits and her stomach. She moves closer to me, a little too close, and chews on her bottom lip. “Professor, I need some help.” Running her finger down my chest, she bites her lip harder. “Think you’d be able to help me?”
Stepping back when her hand gets down to my jeans, she starts to laugh.
“You sleep with them and they give you a better grade?” I shout.
Laughing, she begins to fix her shirt. “I don’t need to sleep with most of them. Most are perfectly happy with a blow job. This one professor just wanted to eat my pussy.”
I’m completely taken aback. I’m busting my ass and all she needs to do is shake hers. It’s unbelievable, it’s disgraceful, it’s unethical...it’s what I fantasize about with Professor Grayson. But wait, there’s a difference between fantasy and reality. In reality I’d never cross that line, not for a grade. No way.
“Bexley, how many professors have you done this with?” I need to know just how corrupt this school is.
“Relax, it’s only been a handful.”
“Are you the reason Professor Brown was fired? Are those rumors true?” I ask in shock.
Grinning, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’ll never tell.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I really thought it was all just rumors, but knowing it actually happens, and Bexley is in on it, is discouraging. She has a boyfriend, one she is overly territorial about.
“You don’t feel bad cheating on Chase?”
She snaps her head to me and I think I see daggers in them. “It’s not cheating, Emma, it’s working for a good grade.”
I stare at her like she’s lost her mind, because obviously she has. I try to hold it in, I try to not just spat out what I’m thinking, but it’s impossible.
“Bexley, you can try to rationalize it in your pretty little cheerleader head all you want, but fucking another guy, professor or not is cheating. Sucking another guy’s dick, that’s also cheating. Letting a guy eat your pussy, yep still cheating. He has no idea you’re doing this, does he?”
The tears return to her eyes, but she quickly blinks them away. “Of course not and if you’re thinking of telling him I will make your life hell.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask. I’m passed shocked and moved on to pissed.
“That’s not a threat, sweetie, it’s a promise,” she whispers, flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking past me.
