Chapter 2
“Hey, Austin, how’s life?” I greet the guy who works at the coffee cart on campus. His dark copper hair is combed neatly to the side and his freckles seem even more pronounced in the sunlight. How that’s possible, I don’t even know. But the dude is super cool, quiet and shy as hell but makes an amazing cup of coffee. Probably whispers some kind of magic spell into each cup he makes. I swear, I’ve never tasted anything like it.
“What book are you reading today?” I ask. I met Austin last fall after I noticed him reading a book on his break. And hell, I do love a good book.
His cheeks flush and he glances down, looking a little embarrassed. “Oh, just the same thing I usually read.”
“Yeah, but like what kind?”
This guy. I swear, he reads a book a day. And let me tell you, those romance novels are raunchy as fuck. He lent me one a few months ago from his reading app with a few of the sluttiest lines highlighted, and I read the hell out of it. Couldn’t put it down.
Got hard too. Never read about sex like that, and I was there for it. The way the author described dicks…very inventive. And the number of times the guys came was inspiring. I wish I was so virile.
Like Dr. Sinclair. He came untouched.
Is he just super sensitive, or did I make him do that by just existing?
The thought of it is thrilling.
Impressive was one word for it. I had to leave after that dance and jerk off in the bathroom before the next set.
My co-workers knew exactly what I was doing in there too. They mocked me relentlessly.
But I digress, back to romance novels. I’m a sucker for them, even if I don’t believe in the concept. I’m not a romantic guy, not like Austin seems to be, given all the swoony lines he highlighted. But I sure do love the smut in some of the books I’ve read.
Lots of jerk-off fodder.
Like that buttoned-up professor I’m working for, who’s totally off-limits, but I can’t help but think of when I put my hand down my pants.
“A monster romance, actually.”
“Oh yeah? That’s cool. Does he have a monster dong?”
“Two actually,” he says, and I let out a loud, unexpected laugh.
“Damn, that’s one lucky partner he has.”
“Yeah. Anyways,” he says, his cheeks flushing red. “Same thing you normally get?”
“Yeah, man. Same,” I say and then lean forward. “But serious talk now, you got any of the good stuff for me?”
His cheeks darken, and he bites his bottom lip. I sound like I’m asking for drugs and it kind of feels like it too. I have an obsession with smut.
“I do. Let me make your drink, and I can give you the name of one. Wrote it down just for you.”
“Awesome,” I reply and then move to the other side of the counter to wait. As I do, I watch people in line, captivated by how people behave. Humans are such fascinating creatures.
“Here you go,” Austin says, turning my attention back to him. His eyes are lowered as he hands me a piece of paper and the coffee. I clasp both tightly.
“I’ll download it and read the fuck out of this,” I tell him, and he peeks up at me and grins.
“Enjoy it. Or at least I hope you do.”
“I will,” I reply before making my way outside.
It’s sunny here, even in late winter. That’s what I love about Southern California. It’s always blue skies, with the occasional rainstorm that sends everyone into a panic. We had one last week and the strip joint closed up shop for the day. I may have spent the entire day jacking off to thoughts of Dr. Sinclair instead of studying.
What a fantastic day that was.
I imagined all the different ways we could fuck each other.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder as I make my way toward class. It’s my senior year and I only have one semester left. I transferred to Franklin U my sophomore year and have really enjoyed my time here. But at the same time, I can’t fucking wait to be done. Because, while I’ve enjoyed the experiences I’ve had, I can’t wait to have a degree in something useful so I can quit stripping. Not that I’m not thankful for the opportunities that job’s provided me, but I’m just kind of over it.
Unless it’s Dr. Sinclair who is sitting in the audience. I’d dance for him any day.
Honestly, you could say I have a little bit of a crush, and have since I saw him on campus last sophomore year. When he showed up at the club, I about died.
I had to fight to be the one writhing on his lap that night.
Speaking of, my eyes pivot to the science center that I’ll be working in for the rest of the semester. It’s a tall, sleek building with state-of-the-art technology that was built five years ago with a donation from one of the rich alumni who attended the university.
I stop walking and my eyes swivel around the area just out front. And there he is, sitting under a tree on a blanket, his laptop out, his khaki-clad legs stretched out before him. He’s wearing a fitted suit and tie, his dark beard neatly trimmed, his hair perfectly combed.
I’d like to run my fingers through it again. Just like I did that night. Mess it up a bit. See him a little mussed and ruffled. I want to lay him down on the blanket and rut against him and watch him gasp as he explodes in his pants.
My dick starts to swell at the thought, and I force my gaze away. I should not go over there and make small talk with him. I definitely should not. I have a class in thirty minutes. I need to focus on my studies and graduating with honors, not flirting with a man who’s out of my league.
But despite my internal protests, I make my way over to him, skirting past Jay, another student who happens to be in biology club with me. He’s protesting something, wearing a whale shirt and chanting about oil drilling. Fuck me. That’s a mood right there. It’s the first week of class and these activists have endless energy. I swear these people never sleep.
Although, if I were an activist for something, I’d be a Dr. Sinclair activist, and I wouldn’t sleep either.
I’d be too busy trying to activate that man right onto my cock.
Without another thought, I plop down on the blanket right next to him. My presence startles him, and he gasps softly.
“Mr. Winslow,” he says, that rough voice making my skin tingle. He should absolutely not call me Mr. Winslow. It does things to my libido. Actually, Dr. Sinclair does things to my libido just by existing. He is an obsession of mine.
Has been ever since I laid eyes on him. And even more so after he came just from me dancing over his dick.
I’ve always wanted what I can’t have. It’s an issue.
“Hi there,” I say, my lips pulling up into a smile. My fingers trail across the wool blanket, skirting past his leg. “I just saw you out here, catching some rays, and I wanted to say hello.”
“Hello,” he mutters and turns his gaze down to his laptop. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t see where he’s looking, but I sure as fuck hope it’s at me. I wouldn’t mind being ogled by this man. He did it that night, his eyes dark and hooded. Needy.
Lust.
So much lust.
I know it’s unprofessional, and I said I’d behave and be professional, but fuck, I sure did like making him come. If he wasn’t a professor and technically my boss, I’d give him a private lap dance right now.
But that’s off the table.
Dr. Sinclair seems like a rule-following man. I have very little confidence I’d be able to help him break any of them. Seems that night at the club was a bit of a fluke.
But like I said, I always want what I can’t have, so it looks like my obsession is settling in for the long haul.
“How are your classes going?” I ask and lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees. He glances at my arms and then at me.
Hm, caught him. Fuck yes.
“Fine.”
I take a sip of my coffee, knowing I should leave him in peace, but I can’t quite make myself. I want to stay as long as possible and just watch him.
“What are you working on?”
“Answering endless e-mails.”
“Ah, yeah, I bet you have a lot coming in since it’s the beginning of the semester.”
“I do.”
I grin at him and his lips twitch slightly.
“So, what does your day look like? I have two classes and then I’m off to work.”
He dips his chin slightly, his cheeks turning a little pink. Could be from the sun, or he could be remembering.
He’s so remembering. I’m unforgettable.
“Just classes and then back home.”
I should not ask, I should close my mouth and let it go, but I can’t help myself. “Anyone waiting for you there?”
He cocks his head and shakes it. “Just my fish, who happens to despise me.”
A small laugh bursts from me. “Just a fish. No handsome man or beautiful woman?”
“No, and I don’t discuss my private life with students.”
“Yeah, but I’m technically not your student. I’m your TA.”
“Hm. Same thing.”
I mean, it’s not, but I don’t argue. I get where he’s coming from, and while part of me doesn’t want to push him too much that I end up fired, the other part of me wants to see how far he’ll let me go.
He let me go pretty far the other night. All the way actually.
I gave him the full service.
“Anyways, how long have you worked here? I transferred from the local community college sophomore year.”
He glances down at his laptop and then sighs, closing it.
“I’ve been working here for about ten years. Was tenured about five years ago.”
“Oh, nice. That’s a big accomplishment.”
“It is.”
I like watching his mouth move. I want to listen to him talk all damn day, which is something new for me. I usually don’t do much talking when I’m around other men.
Do a lot of sucking though.
“Do you like teaching?”
“I like it better than research, but that’s part of my teaching requirements so I’m forced to do it.”
“Oh shit, yeah, I get that. I mean, I get not wanting to do something but having to.” His eyebrows rise at my comment, but I don’t explain, not really wanting to make this all about me. “And I actually like research. I’d love to teach a class on research methods or something. One day. Right now, I’m just focused on getting my bachelor’s and getting a real job.”
“Good plan.”
He doesn’t ask me any follow-up questions, which is fine. He probably wants me to leave, but I’m not a quitter. And I’m nothing if not determined.
“So, what do you do for fun?” I ask, taking another sip of my coffee. Damn, Austin did real good with this one. He’s a wizard, I swear.
“Hang out with my fish,” he says dryly, and I let out a laugh.
“Yeah, but besides the fish, man. What do you do?”
“Why do you need to know?”
I shrug. “Just curious.”
“Is this some kind of biological research you’re doing?” he asks, his lip curling up in a sly grin.
“Oh yeah, totally. This has been approved by the division.”
“I’m sure it has,” he says, smoothing his blue tie down with his hand. I want to curl my fingers around it and pull him close. Want to grind against his lap and watch as his lips part in desperate pants.
I shift on the blanket and force myself to behave. I can be professional. Mostly. Sometimes.
Never mind. I can’t. Not really.
I totally lied to him the other day in his office.
“I don’t have many hobbies, I guess. I work a lot.”
“I can tell you do, but you have friends, right? I mean, you went to the club with them.”
He glances away and runs a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, I do have friends. I see them occasionally. And probably won’t again for a while, since they seem to get me into trouble.”
“They sure do, and wasn’t it fun?”
His gaze flicks back to me and he frowns. “We said we’d keep this professional and not mention that night.”
I make a cross over my heart and hold my hand up. “I swear, that was just a slip-up. I won’t say another word about it.”
I am such a fucking liar.
He crosses his legs, his ankles hooking together. He has nice shoes, I think when I glance at the shiny leather loafers he’s wearing. I bet those cost a fortune. I glance down at my worn sneakers and make a mental note to get some new kicks soon. Need to impress him in some small way.
“Wanna know what I do for fun?”
“Not particularly.”
Those lips twitch again, and I bite back a laugh. This guy.
“Oh, I know you’re dying to know. So besides dancing, I love to read. Austin from the coffee shop on campus loans me these romance novels that are super steamy.”
“I prefer non-fiction to romance.”
“Yeah, but like, have you ever read a romance novel before?”
Dr. Sinclair shrugs. “No. I have no interest.”
“Okay, but I’m gonna find a book for you to read and you have to try it.”
“Only if you read a historical biography of my choice.”
“Sounds boring as fuck, but deal.”
Dr. Sinclair clears his throat and then stiffens when a shadow falls over us.
“Hi, Silas, can I speak with you a moment?” a male voice says from behind us. I glance up and see a man with styled brown hair, jeans, and a blazer staring at us. He looks young, not much older than me, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s a student here as well.
“Of course. Professor Brooks,” Dr. Sinclair says.
Well, shit. This guy is a professor? Damn, I need to graduate and fast. I have some stiff competition here.
Dr. Sinclair turns his gaze back to me, and I get the hint. I need to leave. Not that I want to. I want to stay here and listen to their conversation. Are they going to flirt? Is Dr. Sinclair going to invite Professor Brooks back to his place and show him his fish?
I sure hope not. For some reason, I’m feeling a little possessive over this guy, and I don’t even know him, let alone own him. And I mean, really, what do I have to offer besides this rockin’ bod?
And perhaps a spectacular blow job…and an even better fuck?
In reality, I have a dead-end job, a degree that’s not even finished, and a car that’s falling apart.
I do have excellent taste in food though and can make a mean artichoke.
I snort to myself as I stand up and throw my backpack over my shoulder. If only I could afford the stuff I actually like to eat.
“Alright, I’ll get going. See you later, Dr. Sinclair,” I say, and his gaze flashes up to mine for a second before he dips his chin slightly.
So, not even a goodbye then.
That’s okay. I’ll see him again soon and coax some more conversation from him.
And maybe something more. A touch, a look.
A kiss.
Nah, not gonna happen. I need to nip this little crush I have in the bud and move on.
That’s what I’m gonna do. Starting next week.
Or maybe next year.
Hell, maybe when I’m dead.
“You look happy today,” Mack says, leaning forward in his chair and applying eyeliner under his hazel eyes. He’s tall and lean with a stripper’s body for days. He was in porn before this job, and I may have watched a few of his videos. For science.
He’s a real pro.
Nothing like Silas though.
No, that man gets my obsessive engine going.
“What gives?”
“Just happy to be at work,” I say as I throw my stuff into the locker and shut it. It’s my Saturday night shift at The Back Door, a strip club that caters to both men and women. Well, mostly men. Although, I have been known to strip for women’s night. And let me tell you, the tips are divine. Women really shell out for a good show, and I’m thankful for that.
I need all the help I can get. I refuse to ask my dad for a penny. He’s already done too much for me. And my grandpa has no clue how bad it is for me.
I’m on my own. Stubbornly so.
They don’t need to worry about me.
“You are not. You’re such a fucking liar,” Mack says and then spins in his seat and arches a perfectly shaped brow at me. “We both hate it here and you know it.”
“It’s not that bad. Management could be a little nicer, but it pays the bills.”
“Yeah, but you have a chance to get out one day, Mr. Smarty-Pants. You’re gonna have a real job in the future. All I have is this. I’m going to die on the stripper pole.”
I let out a laugh at his macabre humor. “You quit it. You are not. You’re going to find a hot man and have him sweep you off your feet.”
“Girl, I will not. I’m not as hot as Julia Roberts, okay? I don’t have some rich guy wanting to keep me. And trust me, I need to be kept. I’m far too spoiled for anything else.”
“You sure are,” I say as I change into my jock strap and then proceed to rub lotion all over my body. Gotta make those muscles pop. When I’m done, I put on my chaps, a vest, and my cowboy boots and get ready to go on stage.
This is gonna be a fun one, I think as I hear the music pumping out in the main room. I can see the lights flickering and the smoke starting to be pumped in from the machine. It’s almost time to go put on one hell of a show and my body is prepped and amped up.
Mack stands and winks at me. “You ready, babe?”
“Sure am,” I respond as we make our way onto the stage. The cheers and hollers are nearly deafening as we start to dance, our moves coordinated and perfectly in time with the beat. And slowly, we start to strip our clothes off, teasing the audience. They’re frantic, the men and women in the audience reaching out for us, wanting to touch, but they’re not allowed. Not really. The Back Door might be a little shady, but there are rules.
We kneel to collect the cash they’re waving at us, and when my knees hit the stage floor, I feel fingers start to stuff the bills into the waistband of my chaps. Just wait till those come off. We’ll make bank.
Which will then go to bills.
To a shitty apartment and marginal food.
But it’s fine. I could be doing something else and making minimum wage.
This is more fun and keeps me in shape at the same time. And I’m damn good at it.
I stand up and roll my hips, pulling my chaps off just as Mack does, my eyes moving across the crowd. Bodies, faces, shadows. But in the distance, I see a familiar figure. My heart rate triples, and I find myself losing the ability to breathe from excitement.
My dick twitches and my balls tingle.
He’s here.
Dr. Sinclair.
And he’s watching me intently.