The TA.

Marks for Participation

Prof Smith consults his notebook, shares a look with Nathan and then looks at all of us.
"Are there things we should never write?"
"Yes."
A usually quiet girl who wears ribbons in her hair is responsible for the syllable.
"Okay. What shouldn't we write?"
"Sex," she answers, blushing.
I make sure to look over at Nathan. I see him bite his lip and briefly put one of his palms over his mouth.
"Why not?" Nathan says, half-laughing.
She frowns over at him.
"It's private."
"Says who?" I pile on.
Nathan grins, his teeth deep in his bottom lip. Prof Smith frowns and looks between the two of us.
"Lannie, why do you disagree?"
"Because fiction serves a lot of different functions and two of those are to entertain and titillate."
Girl-with-ribbons frowns harder at me.
"So you think that producing," she blushes and stutters out, "porn, is acceptable?"
"Why shouldn't it be? If we don't write it, guys are just going to keep pumping out -"
Nathan snickers.
I talk over him, "Their unrealistic male-gaze drivel, and that's definitely worse."
Prof Smith jumps in, "By male-gaze drivel you mean?"
"Amateur videos on sites like Pornhub."
The class laughs with me.
"So you see erotic literature as in competition with the video medium entirely?"
"Yep."
Prof Smith nods to himself, seemingly turning my argument over in his head. I wait for the parry, for the weight of his intelligence to crush my point, but he seems to come up empty.
"Does anyone have a rebuttal for Lannie?"
Nathan raises his hand for a second.
"The two mediums are consumed by completely different demographics. I don't see the competition."
"But porn would be consumed by young women if it were better in quality, if it were feminist, which is why erotic literature is winning the competition."
"I think I would need to see research before I believed you."
"There's an essay in all this," Prof Smith says. "If you want extra credit, Lannie."
"Yes sir."
"Alright, we got very off topic there," Prof Smith says. "The answer I was hoping for was the other, how we handle writing experiences that are not our own."
Prof Smith glances at Nathan, "Which Nathan knew, having taken this class."
Nathan blushes.
"I was intrigued by Lannie's argument."
Prof Smith sends Nathan a disapproving look but sweeps us onto another topic entirely.
Nathan keeps his head down for the rest of class.
As I'm leaving after the bell, I feel a hand grab my wrist and pull me to the side. A door snaps shut behind me and I take in the space - a janitorial closet with metal shelves, a stained mop bucket and scuffed vacuum.
"Nath, you scared me!"
He mumbles an apology, skims one of his hands along my cheek and pulls me close. I drop my bag to the floor and put my hands to his chest.
With some of my hair between his fingers, he looks down at me, smirking.
"It makes me so hard when you argue in class."
"What? Really?"
He nods, pulls me tighter against him.
"God I want to fuck you so bad."
He sounds like a bad boy.
And my clit twitches inside my underwear.
"Fuck me here, now," I pant.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Do you need me to shout yes?"
"No but I'll make you scream."
He tugs at my hair as he leans in to kiss me. I receive him happily, nudging my tongue against his. I lift a foot from the floor and wrap my leg around the back of his knee. He takes my hint, groans into the kiss before pulling away. He lifts me from the floor, presses me back into the wall as I wrap my legs around his waist. I feel my clit beating in my underwear as we kiss, push against his hips to feel the bulge in his skinny jeans.
I bring my hands down between us and work his belt free from the buckle, push the tongues aside to get at his button and zipper.
But just as I'm gasping into his open mouth, sliding my hands around his cock, the door opens.
We turn our heads.
A middle-aged man in plain blue industrial clothes has a hand on the door and red cheeks.
I take my hands off Nathan's cock and he is quick to make himself presentable.
In complete silence, Nathan pushes my legs away from his waist and I put my feet back to the floor. I grab my bag, then Nath's hand, and step around the janitor as my cheeks flush red.
As we turn the corner, we hear the janitor mutter to himself, "Fucking kids."
Nathan laughs, "Fucking is right."
I elbow him and hand him my bag to hold as I do my best to pull my skirt down my thighs. I realise we're walking across campus, towards my dorm building.
When we're stopped at the door, as Nath hands my bag back, I say, "You could come up. Julie will be out at class for a bit yet."
I watch him wet his lips, watch his Adam's Apple bob.
"I, um," his voice is raspy. "Not right now, not today."
I growl.
"When?"
I hear the brittle, fragile edge in my voice.
He takes my hands.
"Soon, I promise."
He kisses my forehead and then starts away, footsteps slow.