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Are you sure?
Completely.
I send the text, not giving myself time to doubt. I’m making a circuit of my apartment, which suddenly feels far emptier than it did before I saw the woman on the bus, my Della.
I would say you can call me Della, she replies.But you already are, LOL.
I smirk.Would you prefer me to call you by your last name?
No, I wasn’t saying that.
I was only kidding.
Only kidding, I write… to a student?
It’s the first time I’ve been anything but completely professional with the students, and rightfully so.
But then there’s the memory of Della in the cafeteria, her curvy body pressed into the jeans and hoodie, as though begging me to peel her clothes away and kiss up and down her naked body.
Oh, okay, phew. I don’t want to make you angry, Elias. You’re pretty much my only chance not to flunk this module.
That reminds me to behave professionally, and I write,What problem do you need help with?
She sends it to me, and I reply with a step-by-step guide on how she can solve it.Let me know if you encounter any issues along the way.
I will, she replies.Thank you. It means a lot.
It’s my job, I type, then delete it.
I’d do anything for you, Della.I type…then delete it.
I’m here if you need anything,I finally send.
Anything?she replies.What if I want you to take the test for me?
I smirk again.They might be shocked if I show up in your place, but we can try.
Again, the niggling feeling touches me, telling me I’ve gone too far.
Haha, I’d love to see that, Elias. Maybe we should do it just to see their faces.
It’s a deal, I reply, dropping onto the couch, staring at my phone, and seeing through it…seeing my woman lying on my bed, her hair messy from the sex we’ve just had, her body flushed red with contentment and another wave of lust.
That’s what I see, this fantasy, instead of the phone in my hand.
I should go now,she texts.
Okay. Let me know if you need anything else, Della.
I will, Elias. Thank you.
Scrolling through the texts, I try to imagine how Jocelyn would react if she read these. I haven’t said anything inappropriate…yet.
We’ve had some banter, nothing more than any tutor might have with a student.
But that doesn’t stop me from reading significance into every message, hoping she feels the same, knowing there’s no way she realistically can.
CHAPTER5
