Pixies Place Forums - View Single Post - Art history and Professor Jack

What's this? Oh yeah, the role, right. Name and phone number. I don't think so. I may be easy but I'm not *that* damned easy. Sure I'll sign my name professor, but if you want my phone number you'll have to work for it just like anybody else. I don't car how bloody sexy you are.

Class is over. Time flies...

"He's so gorgeous. I bet he's just yummy— ya know— I mean I bet he's really good at *it*."

This from the cheerleader. Okay, I know I'm a bitch but I just can't resist. I'm not a nice person in the morning. "Little girl, I can just about guaran-fucking-tee you'll never know."

"Excuse me?"

"I doubt he has much of a taste for cherry lip gloss honey."

She glares at me for only a moment, deciding her time is better spent in flirting with the newly christened "Professor Jack." I shake my head, sliding books into my back pack. You're watching me. I turn, bend down to lift my bag up, over my shoulder. A wicked smile curving my lips. Little one, if you can't say sex I doubt you'll get any from him. The giggling stops abruptly. I lift my head, look in their general direction. Well, Well. The cheerleaders stand behind you for a moment angry, completely forgotten. I have to force myself not to wave at them as they disappear out into the hallway. You leaning against a desk, obviously positioned between me and the door. That's just fine. We'll begin the game. I'm shocked to realize I can't wait to play. Shake hands. There's the bell. Round One. No one said anything about fair play.

"You didn't put your phone number on the role. Afraid I'll call you?"

That was subtle. Do you always hit on students the first day of class. Irrelevant isn't it? Eyebrows arched, laughing softly. "Professor Jack," my voice saccharine, sweet as cherry lip gloss. "I already know you'll call." I don't have to issue more of a challenge. It's clear— and it annoys you. I can't help but smile at the quick, wicked thrill.

I'm all but out the door. "I can get your number from admin. if I want it, little girl." Your voice a growl so near my ear its almost a caress. Busy hallway— that'll work fine. So close when I turn that you very nearly stumble into me. A deep breath from either of us and my breasts tease your chest. Perfect. Not one step back. You get credit for that. Most men wouldn't dare. My smile is genuine, my voice merely a whisper.

"You could— and I could say no when you ask." we both now for what. I don't have to say it. Your eyes resting in the deep V-neck of my sweater, then traveling slowly up to mine again. A sweet momentary caress. "You could, that is *if* I ask." Cocky son-of-a-bitch, even if you do have a nice ass. One slow, wicked smile for an answer and I'm turning away melting into the sea of backpacks and baseball caps. I won't say no. You know that— Bastard.

Round II

Coffee in the sunny little cafe down town. Indulging a smaller, less demanding addiction. I look up, you're there, just inside the doorway. My pulse quickens at the sight of you. How utterly female. God you're beautiful. Not looking at me, but aware of my presence. A wink for the cashier, and you have your latte. "Your usual Jack. Have a nice Day."

My text book closed, I straighten my shoulders. You moving toward me. I fight the urge to run my fingers through my hair. You're watching. It won't do to give you the satisfaction of primping. You, stitting in the seat across from me without asking if its taken.

"Hi Chelle." Turn on that smile and damn you but I can't help smiling back..

"Hey Jack." My eyes meet yours. I keep my smile steady and my voice light despite the flutters in my stomach. You absently stroke a finger down the spine of the textbook on the table. Its me that shudders.

"How are classes going?"

I laugh, taking a long sip of my coffee. "Well professor, all business today?"

You shake your head, a warm chuckle rumbling up out of your chest to shiver along my skin like a caress. "Its called conversation— you know, small talk. Should we switch to the weather?"

"Better Idea. Let's switch to what you're doing at my table." I smile, leaning back in my chair a little. I wink at you over the rim of my coffee cup.

"I don't know" eyebrows arched, you become interested very much in your coffee. How fabulous. You're annoyed I know, that I've already decided. I was wrong about the girl with the cherry lip gloss. You do have a taste for it— for her. You'dd tell her to get down on her knees and open her pretty pink mouth and she'd do it, without question. Parted lips murmuring "Yes professor. Anything you want professor." Don't like the fact that I might end up on my knees giving everything you want because I chose. I wanted...I want. Oh god, I want you.

You write something on a napkin, stand, drop it on the small table top . "Dinner. 7:00." Its an order, Prince to peasant. A thousand retorts spring to my mind, quiver on my tongue. Your eyes narrow. The next battle so casually waged. Those accustomed to winning know that occasionally it pays to lose. I say nothing, glance at the address. Black tie, no less. Isn't that sexy. Your fingers, possessive, I knew they would be, slip under my chin and tilt my head up. "Don't be late."

Dinner

I toy with the idea of being late just to push you. Its not in my nature, and there's so very little pleasure to be taken from simply being contrary.

6:55: The restaurant is warm, the light soft. The bits of conversation I catch all circle around art, the theatre. Advantage out. That's just fine. I don't mind knowing we're playing this round in your court. Little black dress, thin satin straps, white shoulders, long auburn hair. I don't turn every head, just a few. Including a woman with long dark hair and coffee colored eyes. Her smile is sweet. I take it with me to his table. Everyone can use a blessing from the goddess now and then.

Evening clothes make you look more dangerous. That suits me, and I'm not afraid. A part of me is tensed, ready for the first volley. Which of us will take that crucial first shot?

"You're stunning." Just a few words, a smile and the tensed muscles begin to relax. Your fingers brush the nape of my neck while you hold my chair. I feel the flash of heat, accept it. I knew it would be there when you touched me.

"I assumed you were old enough to drink the wine." First shot. Nice aim. Eye brows arched, I pick up the glass, tilt it slightly towards yours. The crystal chimes softly as the glasses click together. A long slow sip. Crisp, clean not bad. I set the glass down, wait until your eyes meet mine.

‘I don't drink." Laughter is contagious. Yours spills through me, much more potent than the wine. Fingers close around mine and we're holding hands across the table. God, the electricity that flows at human contact. I pity anyone who doesn't take the time to feel it. That shiver of awareness is yours. How delicious. An impulse wasn't it professor? That's alright won't hurt to shake us both up a little.

Dinner. The food is fabulous. I'm only a little annoyed that you ordered for me. We talk. Don't get me started on Shakespeare. I'll babble for hours, bore you senseless. My favorite poet? God there's so many. Alright, I'll pick one: Rupert Brooke. Who? English, turn of the century. "These things I have loved:" There's laughter now, easy and unmeasured from both of us. Have we called a truce professor, or am I being lulled into complacency. Maybe a little of both. Alright, it feels nice. I'll go with the flow. I'm still a little wary, but then so are you. Who knew we'd actually enjoy each other's company. A walk along the river? Sounds perfect.

"You'll be cold in that excuse for a dress." Quick pout— mine. Soft laugh— yours.

"I have a coat Jack. Besides, you like the dress."

Riverwalk

Its cold out. Not so cold we can't enjoy the night. My wool coat is warm, soft against my skin. Leather gloves a soft boundary as we hold hands and stroll along the river. Little shops, still lighted, still full of shoppers wandering in and out. It's the weekend after all. You look down, notice our joined hands. Shocks you doesn't it? You didn't realize you were holding it. They're good for you professor, those little licks of need. You'll need me before this is through. I promise.

Talk around the edges of things. So much in common. Different enough that there's new ground to explore. Its easy to be with you. That shocks me. I didn't expect to feel quite so easy.

We're window shopping, laughing together, people watching. The light behind us, our image reflects in a darkened shop window. How can we look like we belong together? I tilt my head up to look at you. You're still watching the reflection in the glass. With my heels on my eyes are only an inch away from being even with yours. I like that, just as I'll like stepping out of them later, adding to the distance before pressing my lips to yours.

"Thank you for dinner Jack." more polite conversation, around the edges of things. I'm thinking how much I want you, my fingers are itching to pull open buttons, my mouth watering with desire to taste.

"You're welcome Chelle." You're biting your bottom lip. I want to bite your bottom lip. Its going to happen tonight, we both know it. I can't wait much longer. The words form on my tongue. Drinks at my place. I want you there. In my apartment. I know you want me too. I part my lips to speak. Its your words I hear.