Bad Teacher

“Last one.” I smirk.

She squeals. “Where’d you guys meet?”

“Just a club …”

“Why didn’t you bring me? Maybe he could’ve introduced me to some of his friends.”

“We were both alone.”

“So he was on the lookout for a chick to bang. I get it. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Exactly,” I say. “We just wanted to fuck. End of story.”

“Except it was your first time. Well done, girl.” She kisses me on the cheek. “Feel any different?”

“No, not really. I thought I would … but I don’t.”

“Heh, that’s what we all think. Just revel in the fact that your banging was awesome. Not all of us are so lucky.” She jiggles Mr. Pink back and forth again. “Right, Mr. Pinky-Dink?”

“Oh, fuck off.” I snatch the vibrator from her hand and throw it backward onto my bed. “Let’s just fucking go and get this first day of second semester over with.”

“Fine, fine, but after class, can we look him up on Facebook? Please?” she begs.

“No. Besides, I don’t know anything about him. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Fuck. Such a shame if he was that good.”

“I have nothing to compare it with, but what I can tell you is that he was much better than any of the boys who ever tried to touch me there. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

“Well, good; you seemed like you needed it, from the number of batteries you’ve wasted on Mr. Pinky-Wink.” She pokes me in the side and grins. “Now, let’s go troll some classes.”

* * *

Minutes later

We shuffle into class behind all the other students and sit down on two seats at the end of the second to the last row. The class is noisy—a lot of students chatting and some even throwing stuff around.

“Jesus, they’re so loud,” Lesley shouts.

“I know, right?” I yell back.

“I wonder where the teacher is.” She stands up and looks around, gaping at all the doors, but only students seem to pour in.

Then a girl sitting a few rows in front of us draws her attention. “Layla!” She waves and the girl gets up to shout back.

I start unpacking my books while Lesley continues to shout back and forth with the girl. I won’t butt in since I don’t know Layla. Besides, I like being in my own little bubble from time to time.

Suddenly, the door slams and a draft of air swooshes through as a man in a suit passes my seat. I look up as he saunters down the steps, the room growing quiet with his arrival.

Lesley sits down as the man apparently has the ability to silence every student in the room just with his presence. She pokes me in the side with her elbow and nods at him. “Nice ass,” she whispers to me. “For a teacher.”

I grin and shake my head.

The man sets his briefcase down next to the table in the middle of the room and walks to the whiteboard. He picks up a marker and starts writing. I can literally hear the swipes. It’s that quiet as he writes down the name of his class.

Hospitality & Marketing Basics

Meanwhile, the class has become a little noisy with whispers, and I catch some from the seats above.

“He’s the new professor, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he looks so handsome!” someone whispers.

“He can hear you,” another one says.

The man suddenly slams his marker back on the board, making me jolt in my seat.

The room is completely quiet again.

That’s when he turns around. “Welcome to class, everyone. My name is Thomas Hard, and I’ll be teaching you how to market your business or product, and how to keep your customers very, very happy.”

My classmates are giggling at his name, but I can’t.

I’m nailed to my seat, frozen, as I stare at the man in front of me.

That man …

Sexy as fuck. Hair short, slick, with just the right amount of edge. Scruffy jaw, cut to perfection. Plump, lickable lips shaped in a small but tempting smile.

Buffed, but not too buff, and all suited up.

Completely different from what I remember.

I suck in a breath as his eyes go around the class. I can’t look away, even though I want to. Desperately. Especially when his navy-blue eyes lock with mine.

Fuck no.

I scramble my books together and shove them back in my bag, leaving a few pens behind as I jump up from my seat.

“Where are you going?” Lesley asks.

“I gotta go.”

I rush up the steps, and the students I pass suddenly look at me instead of him, but I don’t care. I storm out the door without looking back. I can’t, even if I wanted to.

I run away as far as I can until I’m alone in a hallway, where I prop myself up against a pillar and drop my bag on the floor. My heart is racing. My eyes are closed.

I can’t unsee what I just saw.