2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Mila
The dim lighting and the black and dark purple décor help the Aubergine Affair maintain an air of sophistication and secrecy. I’m tickled that Belova finally agreed to come with me. I guess she saw safety in numbers since several teammates were coming for Drinks and Dicks .
She’s so cute in her buttoned-up librarian dress. Her air of innocence is no fa?ade. That’s part of the reason I dared her to take up the next offer she gets from a guy. And as any good friend would do, she countered with a dare for me to hit on two of our professors, one of which is my ex’s dad, Professor Sterling.
If only I could be as lucky as another girl in town, Madison, who ended up hooking up with her ex’s dad and his friend. Neither of them were her nursing school professors though. I accept the line where fantasy ends and reality begins.
I thought I did anyway… If it wasn’t weird enough to take classes from my ex’s dad, who I’ve had a massive crush on ever since I can remember, he just walked into the sex club with Professor Rutherford, his cocky colleague.
Given the dead-end nature of Belova’s dare, I took it. I also only give her about a two-percent chance of actually taking a guy up on an offer. If she doesn’t complete the dare, I don’t have to, either.
Although, I need to do something. My pent-up sexual frustration is getting unbearable.
An idea bigger than the dare is brewing. I grab Belova’s arm. “Maybe we should lose our virginity here, like those women did on Virgin Night —with guys who know how to please a woman. Set our expectations high.”
“Not stopping you.” Belova reinforces her statement by playfully holding her hands up and backing away.
It all happens so fast, I don’t have time to warn her that a man is walking up behind her. She crashes into him, losing her footing, but he steadies her. He flirts with her. And he does the one thing that strikes fear in me… makes her an offer.
“I’d like to buy you a drink.”
Being a properly selfless friend, I wink at her. “That’s a nice offer.”
But if she accepts the drink, I have to hit on my professors. I swallow the lump in my throat.
My jaw goes slack when she takes him up on it.
Crap. She did it. I’m excited for her, but I’m also cringing hard.
Needing to clear my head and to give her space to flirt, I make myself scarce. Will I ever have the sexual bravado of the people openly having sex here? My ex did a number on me. We’d been childhood sweethearts, turned prom king and queen, but it was all small town. Too confining.
I should have listened to the kind souls who cautioned me about only having one boyfriend my entire life. The second he got out of town and flapped his wings, he flew away. And I didn’t even get sex out of our long-term relationship.
And here I am in a sex club watching couples and larger groups. It looks so fun, so intimate, and so… hmm, judging by the couple using a swing in a nearby room… athletic. In any case, thanks to visits to Aubergine Affair , I’m certain sex is better than the boring textbook descriptions.
The real stuff is way hotter. I pull at the front of my shirt to get air circulating.
“You showed up for Drinks and Dicks .” Professor Rutherford’s tone hints that he’s testing how the straight-A student will respond as he approaches. And it doesn’t take a genius to know that guys don’t see me as anything more than a good friend. Let alone older, sexy, swagger-licious guys like him. Leave it to the cocky professor to push the boundaries of propriety once we’re off campus.
I smile as he stops beside me. The dare begs me to play it out, and I could knock out two tasks at once if I really want to have sex for the first time with an experienced guy.
His five-o’clock shadow, leather motorcycle jacket, and broad chest strike me as even more sexually appealing than his classroom attire of a button-up shirt and slacks.
When my brain stops fantasizing long enough to take note of him staring at me, the rest of reality threads itself back into place. Professor-student relationships are strictly forbidden.
Deescalating my hormone rush, I say, “Just here to celebrate our victory.”
“By yourself?”
“If you can’t party with yourself…” I let the rest of my thought taper off. It sounds lame at best, wrong at worst.
“If you don’t want to party alone, I’d be happy to party with you.” His eyes trap me in battle of wits. I’ve seen him do it with students who think they’re more clever than him, but never with the sexual undertones he just unleashed.
Surely, it’s just banter. He wouldn’t hit on me. The good news is that I think I can count this as making good on the dare.
I survey the room to escape his gaze, and to find Belova. She happens to look my way. We’re both surprised.
A firm but gentle finger tucks along the side of my jaw. “Feeling festive?”
Yep! The streamers are hung, I’m blowing the noisemaker, and all guests have arrived—in my mind.
“If you want to party solo, that’s fine.” He glances at a nearby sex room where a woman is watching a man jack off. “Some people are entertainers. Others prefer to be entertained.”
I can’t decide if I’m humored, horrified, or horny at his continued play on the terrible analogy I started. The room sways slightly. I clamp my eyes closed and when I reopen them, Rutherford’s waiting patiently. Struggling to keep my expectations in check, I say, “We shouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Do you have something against parties?”
I dart my eyes to the ground. “No.”
“I get it…” He shakes his head. “You’d rather just show up. I don’t mind doing all of the work. Are you a party-hard girl, or would a quiet, intimate gathering be more your style?” He manages to give the polar opposite options without making either sound bad.
The Aubergine Affair is a safe space. No one can talk about what happens here. And no one would give a second thought to a conversation. I go for it, having fun with the dare even though I’m still scoring my actual chances with Professor Rutherford at zero.
I’ll deal with the aching, electrical zings going through my body at home.
It’s crazy to realize I never felt like this with boyfriend. But even if we were never able to mentally get out of the friend zone, he should have broken up with me, not ghosted me.
Here’s my chance to practice having fun. I offer a tease. “I’ve never partied with anyone else, but I think I’d like it.”
Rutherford’s lips slide into a smile. His fingers wrap around mine, which makes the room sway again. In nothing less than a skilled dance move, he spins me, landing my back against his chest with his arm wrapped securely around my waist.
Swoon.
Any part of my body that somehow hadn’t been turned on already is now a raging five-alarm fire. In my entire time as a student, cumulative since preschool, I haven’t had as much contact with a teacher as I’m having right now.
I’ve also never been so certain that this is the man I want to teach me about sex. Josh couldn’t have done that spin on his best of days. Then again… Who’s Josh?
And last semester’s anatomy class isn’t necessary to understand what the rock-hard length pressing into my backside is. Again, the textbooks don’t do reality justice. Even with my ass, I can tell that my professor’s erection is way harder than the educational information lets on.
Professor Rutherford’s lips brush against my hair. “Never?”
Never what? It takes a second for me to remember that I said I’ve never partied with anyone. “Only solo soirees for this girl.”
Dang it, that sounds goofy, but silliness might be the only thing keeping me from combusting.
He cups my shoulders. “If I invited you to party, would you come?”
Dare I try a little more humor? “As many times as I could.”
His laugh rumbles from his chest against my back. His grip tightens as he trails his hands down my arms and laces his fingers with mine. That has me riding quite a high, then he leads my hands to my center, stopping in front of my sex.
A gentle nudge with his finger sends electricity shooting from my clit. Textbooks don’t explain that properly.
Someone steps in front of us. For a split second, I expect the intruder to continue past, but I recognize the patches on the leather jacket. The tight t-shirt gives me a better view of the curves of his chest than his classroom attire. More of what I used to see every time I visited his son.
The stern, disapproving expression on Professor Sterling’s face serves as a giant firehose dousing my inferno. He’s like a father figure to me, and I’ve never seen him so upset.
I wiggle to free myself from Rutherford’s embrace but he tightens his grip.
“I should go,” I say, loudly enough a few heads turn. It’s clear they will support me if he doesn’t understand that no means no.
Rutherford releases me. I don’t stick around to get chastised by my ex’s dad. Sterling and Rutherford are like brothers, they’ll deal with each other. But that makes Rutherford like an uncle. Yuck. Time to get rid of that analogy.
They’re my professors, and I’m just a horny coed. Great.
I’m out the door and don’t text Belova that I’ve left until I’m safely inside my car.