Tenure

25. James

25

James

My Friday morning tutorial group is . . . okay. Not many students make it this far in the program and this bunch hasn’t been entirely useless. Since there’s so few of them we usually just meet at one of the campus pubs so I can actually eat. I always schedule as many lectures as I can on Fridays because the only students who bother to show up are the serious ones, but it leaves me short on time for food.

I’ve been answering their questions about rational inequalities for the better part of half an hour. They’re good questions, fair questions, and for once I don’t really mind answering them, although I can’t help but compare them to Kiernan. These kids probably have what—five, some of them six?—years of education on her, and I’d bet she’d blow every one of them out of the water. Watching her learn was almost as hot as watching her come.

I patiently run through another sample, turning a notebook around and circling the part that . . . fuck, what’s this girl’s name . . . Denise? Got wrong.

“Here. It’s this. Fix this and everything else will balance. The rest of your work looks good.”

I take a bite of my sandwich and then realize the table has been silent for well over a minute.

“What?” I ask.

The group all look sideways at each other, and I glance down at my shirt. Did I spill mayo or something?

“Are you okay, Professor?” someone asks. I stare at her and then look at Denise whose mouth is hanging slightly open. It’s making me feel bristly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snap.

Someone clears their throat, but I’m distracted by my phone vibrating on the table. I turn it over and can’t help it—my lips twitch. Kiernan. I swipe the screen as I put it up to my ear.

“Can this wait?” I say in greeting. “I’m busy.”

“Who are we torturing today? People or animals?”

Little shit. “ You, if you don’t tell me what you fucking want.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were still an asshole is all,” she says.

I scowl, wiping at the condensation on my glass. “I don’t have time for this. I’m teaching people shit.”

She laughs and my cock twitches under the table. So pretty.

“So, definitely still an asshole then.”

“For you, baby, always.”

I hear her sharp intake of breath and blink, surprised at myself for calling her baby like this. Dropping it in bed in the dark is one thing, but in casual conversation on the phone in front of half a dozen students?

I look up at them and pause, all of them openly staring at me, several downright gaping.

“Call me later?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Please, daddy?”

I close my eyes and send up a silent prayer. I was not mentally prepared for this right now.

“Yes, I’ll call you later. Now fuck off.”

She laughs again and hangs up, and I find myself staring down at the black screen wishing she hadn’t.

“Professor?” Josh says.

“Yeah.”

“Marry her.”

They all rumble in agreement.

“I’m failing all of you, you know,” I gripe, and they chuckle.

But the only laugh I can hear is hers.