Anders
I check my iWatch as I push the office door open. Five minutes until class starts, and I forgot the damn file on…
What the fuck?
There, in the glow of the computer monitor, is one of my grad students…Christine? I think? I mean I have so many of them this semester and I haven’t been good about getting to know them yet – with the whole UN Consultancy Program…actually, sorry.
Priorities.
Christine.
Anyway, she’s fucking passed out in my office chair!
And why the fuck is there a grad student in my office?
And then the sound hits me and my eyes jerk to the screen. There, on Facebook Live, is some ugly ass dude who is slurring drunkenly, “If only you put out more, Christine, I wouldn’t have to do this. I don’t even wanna, ya know, I just—”
I hit the power button on my speakers and the computer goes blessedly silent, even if the scene continues to unfold. I jerk my eyes away as another stripper begins shaking her moneymaker in the ugly guy’s face. She must be getting paid a lot of dollar bills to pay that dude some attention.
I turn my attention back to Christine-the-grad-student-who-has-an-asshole-for-a-boyfriend and contemplate what the hell to do with her. I reach out to stroke her shoulder-length brown hair away from her face, trying to see if I can gently wake her up, when I notice the dark red blood trickling down her temple. My eyes flip over to the filing cabinet drawer, pulled out and about head height to someone sitting in my office chair.
&nbs
p; Goddammit, I’d been in a hurry earlier and hadn’t shut the drawer all the way, and she must’ve smacked her head on the drawer when she passed out. I shove the drawer back in and then scoop my arms underneath her slight form and stand up, heading for the door.
I pause at the doorway. Hospital or the nurse’s station? I impulsively choose the nurse’s station. It’s a hell of a lot closer and they ought to be able to at least decide whether she needs further medical attention, right?
God, she could have a concussion.
I hurriedly backtrack to my classroom and bark at a student who’s about to enter, “Tell everyone that class is canceled today,” and then pivot and head towards the elevator. The nurses’ station is on the second floor, but after a quick glance down the hallway towards the elevator, I see people waiting and decide to go for the stairs instead. She hasn’t stirred yet, and god, what if she really hurt herself on that filing cabinet?
I take the stairs two a time, her body so light, I feel like I’m carrying nothing more than a backpack full of books. I look down at her gorgeous body, her silky button-up shirt gaping open in the front, showing me her lacy red bra.
I gulp and stare ahead again, taking the stairs three at a time now. I cannot leer at her while she’s passed out, or that makes me no better than the asshole in the video.
But Jesus Christ.
Did you see that bra?
No. Stop it. My cock is not twitching.
Is she wiggling around? Because I swear, her top parts a bit farther.
It’s like somehow the universe is tempting me to stare at one of my female student’s red lace bra covered tits as she lays unconscious in my arms.
Yeah, perfect scenario to be caught up in, right?
Would not be good for the family name. Although thankfully I’m not like the rest of the family – all caught up in preserving that whole New England façade.
Oh right, forgot to introduce myself – have to do it now.
My name is Anders Trask.
Yes, that’s me sighing. Anders Trask of the Boston Trask family.
The ones who fought in the Revolution and all that, yeah. Made their money before the War of Independence and then again during the Civil War, and then again during Prohibition and then once more after World War II.
Son of the Senator. Nephew of the Governor. The Trask Library – yeah, that’s after my Dad’s gift.