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I laughed, but paused in returning his text. How did I answer that without telling him I was currently trying to masturbate to his words?
So, I didn’t.
I gave my fingers a couple more minutes, but quickly gave up with a growl of frustration and went to the shower instead to hopefully slough off the arousal that was still simmering my blood.
When I got out fifteen minutes later, I found another message on my phone.
Professor Harlo: I apologize. That was too much information. Forget I said anything.
No! He mistook my silence for being uncomfortable with his admission. I couldn’t let him think that. Was I willing to tell him the truth to make him feel better? Oh God…
Me: No, it wasn’t that. I was…busy.
Heck, that didn’t make sense without context.
Me: I mean, my hands were busy.
There was a long few minutes of radio silence before my phone finally dinged. I hoped he understood without me having to say the freaking words.
Professor Harlo: Glad to know I wasn’t the only one.
My mouth dropped open, eyes sliding shut to picture it in my brain. Owen, laid back and stretched out against his pillows, naked… OhmyGod! Eyes closed in pleasure, perfect white teeth crushing his lip between them while his hand wrapped around his—
I dashed toward my laptop and flipped it open.
Hello Muses. Thanks for the inspiration.
He told me not to come in on Wednesday or Thursday. No word from him except the simple text to tell me that he could take care of the few papers he had and that I should take the time to work on my own homework, and that he’d see me on Friday.
I felt like I’d done something wrong. Surely I had. What possessed me to tell my boss that I was freaking masturbating to his admission? If my mother knew, she’d string me up by my big toes!
It was the longest two days I’d ever endured.
When Friday finally arrived and the meeting with the resident plagiarist arrived, I stepped into the classroom ten minutes before two in the afternoon so I’d be there before Ms. Grey. Also, it felt really weird to call a girl younger than me by any title besides her first name, but Owen insisted on it. To keep things professional, he’d said. Which made no sense why we called each other by our first names…unless…
“Good afternoon, Miss Miller,” Owen said as he arrived at the classroom just at two.
Five minutes for Ms. Grey to show up.
“Good afternoon, Professor Harlo,” I countered, which made him narrow his eyes on me.
“What did I say about—”
He stopped mid-sentence when the door opened again, showing the woman of the hour, who was literally shaking in her boots.
“Ah, Ms. Grey. Please, join us up front here,” he called to her, switching immediately to ‘professor mode’ while he took his seat at the desk.
I took my seat just to the side of his desk and opened the notebook in my hand. My purpose was strictly for witnessing the event, so I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. I’d decided that I would look busy instead of looking like I was eavesdropping.
Owen pulled her paper from his briefcase, marked up to hell with the illegal quotes and plagiarism cut from ‘The Mist’.
“I assume that you know why you’re here, Ms. Grey,” Owen said, looking her right in the eyes.
She was shaking even harder now, clasping her fingers in her lap so hard they were starting to turn white.
“I-I’m so sorry,” she started out, admitting her mistake. “I was so busy with math homework and biology, and I’m taking food science too which has so much work! ‘The Mist’ is my favorite Steven King book, and I loved that part…I don’t know what I was thinking! It just seemed to fit, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to say it better than the man himself so I…”
Ms. Grey was crying, fat teardrops falling down her pretty face.
