In Session

Ellen’s voice was more effective than cold water. I jumped, nearly banging my head against Foster’s. Suddenly everything that I’d just done with Foster came rushing back to me. Shame instead of pleasure. Humiliation instead of joy. I could not believe what I’d just done.

With cool precision, Foster slid out of me and buttoned up his pants and shirt. He adjusted the tie that only minutes before I’d mussed. I watched horrified as he made his way to the door. He opened it a crack, smiled, and said, “In a few moments, Ellen, I’m finishing up with another student.” Finishing up with another student? I felt like raw meat, used and abused. He’d definitely finished with me, all right.

“If it’s cool with you I’ll come tomorrow,” Ellen replied, her voice muffled by the door. “I’m running late for my next class. Thanks Professor!”

“Any time.” Foster closed the door and ambled back to me, smiling. “Where were we?” I gaped at him, too furious to say anything. Scrambling to get off his desk, I reached for my skirt and pulled it up.

“I’m furious with you,” I said as I fixed my skirt. I was acutely aware that I’d had sex with Foster twice now wearing the same outfit without washing it, including once on his desk! In the school from which I had a full scholarship! When had I gone from nerd to rising porn star?

Foster adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and smiled. “I like how you show your anger.”

I ignored the effect his smile had on me and plowed forward. “This won’t happen again, understand? I have a full ride and I’m on track to graduate in—”

“Three years.”

I frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I heard you talking to your friend. Remember?”

“Right, well, never mind how you know. It can not happen again, okay? You’re just my professor.”

Foster strolled over to me, his cool gait unraveling my composure. As he reached me, Foster touched my shoulder lightly and said, “Whatever you say, Miss Starling.”

I shot him a glare and dashed out of the office, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity still remained. As I left the building and a breeze blew, I realized I’d left my underwear back in his office. There goes that last shred of dignity.

3

Schooled

Deciding it was better to hide out with Rachael in our dorm, I skipped Foster’s class on Wednesday. I’d filled her in on everything when, after the humiliating incident with Foster, I’d run back from his office to our dorm in near tears. Now it was Friday and I still didn’t know what to do. I could drop his class and squeeze o-chem in to my already packed summer semester, or I could tough it out.

The idea of seeing Foster every Monday and Wednesday for the next four months seemed more torturous than when I’d had a UTI, a bacterial infection, and my period at the same time. He was just so cute and funny and sexy… and completely off limits. In lieu of deciding, Rachael and I were going out for dinner at our favorite spot.

We’d had dinner there every week for the past four years. After meeting Rachael freshmen year of high school, we’d made it our tradition to eat at the Blue Spoon. During the most boring freshmen orientation ever, wherein Rachael and I both had no friends to sit with in the huge auditorium, we coincidentally sat next to each other and had been inseparable ever since.

Rachael came from a pretty affluent background while I came from a string of worse and worse foster homes. I made it my mission to get out and help others, while Rachael made it her mission to, well, be Rachael. Still, I loved her to death. She was the funniest, nicest, and sweetest person I’d ever known, and she always paid for my meal at the Blue Spoon.

I tried to pay my own way, but Rachael figured out sneakier and sneakier ways to take care of the tab before I could. One time she pretended to be sick. I thought she was rushing to throw up in the bathroom, when in reality she was going to pay. I eventually gave up and accepted that Rachael paid the bills.

The hostess seated us at our usual table. The water glasses weren’t even poured when Rachael half-screamed, half-whispered, “Oh my god!”

“What?” I asked, peeking at her over my menu.

“Khan is here!” Her whisper was so excited it jumped to a shout, like a hiccup. My eyes widened and I followed her gaze. Sure enough, seated alone only a few tables from us, was Foster. I set my menu down as emotions swirled around my stomach.

It had only been a few days since I’d seen him. I’d been avoiding him like the plague, but he was literally everywhere. Before I could think better of it, I marched up to his table, which was obscured slightly by shadows. I demanded to know what was up.

“Are you following me?” I mean, he was in my diner. Rachael and I had been going there for years and now suddenly Foster was there? I wasn’t buying it.

Foster lowered his menu, glancing at me with no more interest than you would a fly that had landed on your food.

“Oh, hello Miss…” He squinted as if forgetting my last name. I felt blood rushing to my cheeks—whether from embarrassment or anger, I couldn’t discern.

“Cut the crap, you know my name.”

Foster pursed his lips, like he was trying to hide a smile, and then his eyes widened. As if suddenly remembering, Foster said, “Oh, right, Miss Starling from my Monday morning class. I was sorry to see you couldn’t make it Wednesday. I hope you got your notes.”

His morning class? More like his morning fuck.