Chapter 29 Lila
Lila
Thursday night, our men’s basketball team had a game against the University of Tennessee. A much bigger school with a much larger budget. We were major underdogs, and had very little chance of winning.
But the entire campus was buzzing with excitement and hope all week, to the point that it was all anyone would talk about on Thursday. And not just my students—other members of the faculty, too.
“I’d love to go,” I told Professor Galloway. “I went to one game last semester, but none this year.”
“We have a faculty suite,” he assured me. “Lots of room, less noise. We’ll see you there.”
I finished my classes that afternoon, spent a respectable amount of time at my office hours, then walked straight from my office to the game. The basketball stadium was on the edge of campus, only a few blocks from the bar where Brock worked.
There was a hum of excitement in the air as I walked through the arena, finding the escalators to take me to the suite level. Inside were Professor Galloway, Professor Fairbanks, and several others from the Criminology Department. There were also half a dozen others I didn’t recognize.
“We split the suite with the Astronomy Department,” Professor Galloway told me while welcoming me inside. “Most of them are usually stargazing at night, so that means most of the suite is for us. Everyone seems to have come tonight, though!”
I went to the in-suite bar and poured myself a glass of wine. Then I spent ten minutes doing my least favorite thing in the world: mingling. Small talk bored me, especially with coworkers, but I knew the value of putting in some face time.
“All my classes are great this semester,” I said. “Aside from some embarrassing presentations in my Computer Crime class, I’ve been impressed with my students.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Professor Galloway said.
“There’s one particularly troublesome student pestering me,” Professor Astoria chimed in.
“I bet I know the one,” Professor Galloway said.
Professor Astoria nodded. “Kayleigh Harper. Her father owns Harper Ford and Honda, a fact of which she has made sure to remind me at least once a week. She flunked her first exam. Her written answers were embarrassing, with no coherent points made. I gave her a thirty-five, and that was being generous!”
“I believe it,” I said.
“Since then,” Professor Astoria went on, “she has begun visiting my office hours. Every single day. While wearing increasingly scandalous clothing. She shows quite a bit of cleavage, and I suspect her motivations.” He pursed his lips.
“It is not working, I assure all of you. But if I were a single man, and in my younger days? I must admit, it would be a dangerous temptation.”
“As educators, we must always be vigilant,” Professor Galloway said.
“Indeed,” I said. Suddenly, it felt very warm in the suite. I excised myself and walked out to the arena seats that were connected to the suite. The noise out here was much louder, but the airflow immediately cooled my skin.
And then my phone buzzed. It was a new group text with two of my students.
Jace: You’re looking gorgeous this evening.
Brock: He’s right. You are.
I smiled and tried to discreetly scan the crowd below, but there were thousands of people in the arena.
Me: Kind of creepy, spotting me in this enormous arena and then making me feel like I’m being watched.
Jace: You were on the jumbotron for a few seconds. They’ve been panning through the crowd showing fans.
Brock: How’d you end up in the expensive seats?
Me: A fringe benefit of being a professor.
Jace: One of many ;-)
Brock: Come hang out with us in the student section. It’s more fun down here.
The student section was across the arena, right behind one of the baskets. Everyone was on their feet over there. It definitely seemed more appealing than mingling with my coworkers for two more hours.
“Are you a fan of basketball?” Professor Galloway asked while stepping up next to me.
I forgot all about Jace and Brock while chatting with him, and then the game began. The University of Tennessee wasn’t just a larger school—their athletes were significantly bigger than ours, too. Not surprising since they had better recruiting than us.
But what our team lacked in size, they made up for in spirit. They fought and scrambled on every possession, passing the ball around and slowing down the game. At halftime, we were only losing by one point.
I made myself another wine and nibbled on a little appetizer sandwich from the buffet. I was chewing the last bite when my phone dinged again.
Jace: Come visit us. I promise we’re more fun than those other stuffy professors.
Me: Are you calling me stuffy?
Jace: They’re the stuffy ones. You’re delightful. Which is why we’re inviting you and not them.
Jace: We’re in the fifth row from the floor, about seven people deep.
I gazed around the suite. Professor Galloway was holding court with three others, eagerly explaining some criminology theory that he was using in his classroom. Apparently he was long-winded after two glasses of wine.
While he was occupied, I slipped out of the suite and took the escalator back down to the main level.
I had to fight through crowds of people getting food or using the bathroom during halftime, but eventually I made it to the other side of the arena.
The student section was only half full during the break, so I was able to spot Jace and Brock without any trouble.
“Look who it is!” Jace said with a big smile. “My favorite professor.”
“It was way too stuffy up there in the suite,” I told them.
“Looks like it.” Brock nodded at my glass of wine.
“Shit. Sorry.” I threw the glass back and finished it in three long gulps, which drew a few cheers from the students around me.
“I’ll get us some proper beers,” Jace said, sliding past me to leave. He gingerly placed his hand on my arm in passing, but otherwise was perfectly respectful.
Brock was staring at me when I turned back around. “What?” I asked.
“I thought you were trying to be good while on campus,” he said.
“We’re on the edge of campus,” I said. “Besides, we’re just watching a basketball game. Nothing else.”
He raised a challenging eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
Jace returned with fresh beers right as the second half began. I sipped the cold alcohol and sighed happily as the students began cheering and heckling the other team. This was how college sports were meant to be watched.
As spectators crammed back into the student section, we had to squeeze closer and closer. Eventually, I had towering students on all sides of me, screaming and gesturing at the game without noticing me at all.
Which meant it wasn’t suspicious that Jace and Brock were pressed tightly on either side of me.
At first, Jace’s fingertips lightly grazed my ass. Tucking into my back pocket and giving a little tug to let me know he was there. Then he was sliding his entire hand down my pocket and squeezing my ass.
The beer tasted great, and the crowd gave us privacy, and I was feeling great.
Brock’s shoulder brushed against mine, but he didn’t make any other moves. Eventually, I leaned a little closer, allowing my hand to hang down by his crotch. Brushing my knuckles against the front of his jeans. He soon hardened, and I allowed my fingertips to glide up and down his hard length.
Around us, the roar of the crowd and the back-and-forth of the game shielded us from sight.
I leaned forward, sticking my ass out to the side to grind against Jace while my fingers tightened around Brock. Both of them groaned, but then their pleasured sounds were carried away by the cheers of the crowd. We had just taken the lead.
But the three of us didn’t care.
As the game wound down, we continued our private little party. Brock’s hand dove between my legs and he began rubbing me through my jeans. Everything felt so good, yet so inadequate at the same time.
Brock put his mouth right next to my ear and whispered, “If you keep going, I’m…”
Suddenly everyone was screaming and jumping up and down. We turned our attention to the game: our star player, Joshua Davenport, had stolen the ball from Tennessee and was running down the court. We were losing by two points, and there were only a few seconds left.
Joshua dribbled the ball, slowed down and waited for his teammates to catch up. He faked a pass, stepped up to the three-point perimeter, and shot the ball.
It arced through the air, a perfect swish right as time expired.
The way the students around us reacted, you would’ve thought we had won the national championship. Beer flew in the air and popcorn rained down. I couldn’t hear anything, but Brock and Jace were both jumping up and down and grinning widely.
I celebrated with them, throwing my hands in the air like I was a student again.
“Now what?” Brock asked. “My bar’s only two blocks away if we want free drinks.”
“Here’s a counter offer,” I said, glancing between them. “I have beer back at my place. Let’s go home to celebrate the win. All three of us.”
The two of them shared a glance, then smiled.
“I like that idea,” Jace said.