Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

20 - Tipsy

Alison
***

The cold breeze of the night hurt my bones. My leather jacket was useless against the elements. I lit up a cigarette to try and keep me warm as I waited for Chris to pull up. With my bag over my shoulder, I considered getting out the clothes I had packed to add a few layers for warmth. That's how cold I was.

I always did this, dress up in a short skirt and a barely-there top to look sexy, knowing perfectly well I'd freeze to death outside of the club. At least I had worn old sneakers this time, and socks. Bless socks.

As I finished my cigarette, Chris' car came into view. I hurried to him, wanting to get out of the cold.

As I stepped inside the car and slammed the door shut, I didn't even give him time to speak.

"You know what would be great? If they invented some type of clothes that knew when you wanted to be cool and when you wanted to be warm. 'Cos like, outside is freezing and the club is a sauna! I mean, for fucks' sake, we live in the twenty first century, we have artificial intelligence, can't they make smart clothes? And make them cute as well." I blurted out.

Chris just stared at me, not saying a word. He had a weird look on his face as if he was trying not to laugh.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? I'd be a billionaire if I made clothes like that. The gays would love me, that's for sure. Some of then wear fishnets as t-shirts, which is a look, but like, they freeze out here in these streets. They don't deserve that."

The professor covered his face with his hands and shook his head. "Oh my God, you're so drunk."

"Hey, can't a girl celebrate in peace? I'm a grown woman, I can take care of myself. Who do you think you are, the booze police?" I said. I was so drunk my words just fell out of my mouth, out of my control.

"At least you aren't on drugs this time, because if you were, you'd be as quiet as a mouse."

"I'd be passed out as a poisoned mouse, you mean." I added. I burst out laughing at the absurdity of what I was saying.

"Alright, let's get you home." Chris turned on his car and drove away. "But just so we're clear, you can't call me at this hour Alison. It's so fucking late, I need to sleep."

"Said like a true old man!" I said, cackling. "Ok, now I'm serious. I know it's late, but I just... I don't know, I wanted to text you. But I didn't ask you to come pick me up Chris, you got out of bed because you wanted to."

He didn't make a remark about me calling him Chris. He assumed correctly that I was too drunk to go along with his games.

I noticed he was driving to my apartment. I reached for his upper arm, alarmed. "No no, not my apartment! My friends aren't home and I can't stay there alone."

He chuckled. "I thought you were a strong, independent woman who could take care of herself."

I huffed, crossing my arms. "I am, but I like your shampoo and your soft couch and your toasts and your Advil. I even got stuff this time so you don't need to give me clothes."

He sighed and shook his head, unable to hide his smile. "Sober Alison is gonna love hearing what you just said."

"Yes, she is." I waved a finger in front of his face. "And tell sober Alison that drunk Alison thinks that you've indeed fulfilled your duties as a noble knight on this cold, cold night. Maybe she might give you a reward."

I giggled at the hidden meaning of my message. Then I noticed Chris had detoured. We were now going in the direction of his apartment.

"Oh yeah, and what reward might that be?" He asked, amusement and sleep laced in his voice.