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

23 - Touch

Alison
***

As I walked down my professor's street to the bus stop, panic was rushing through me like a tsunami. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my emotions under control. I knew why this was happening, but I couldn't admit it to myself. The pain was too great, too fucking embarrassing to even acknowledge.

When Chris said those words, all the shit came back like a storm and hit me hard, like a slap in the face.

You're worthless, you're nothing without me. Look at you, you're a disgrace. I'm the only one who loves you.

Bile rose up to my throat. No, I had worked too hard to let this shit get to me.

As I sat down at the bus stop, I wiped my tears away, embarrassed by the people staring at me.

I pulled out Chris' drawing of me, tracing the lines with my fingers. He lied to me: it was impossible for him to draw that good and not enjoy art, to abandon it completely like he told me he had. The shading, the dimensions, the expression on my face... My portrait was delicate and sensual and I couldn't believe he had just drawn it. Chris was so sweet, why did I have to ruin it?

The look on his face as I decided to leave sent daggers through me. I was honest with him, I was in fact feeling extremely overwhelmed, but I didn't specifically tell him why. Just the thought of telling him made me want to vomit.

I put the drawing away as the bus pulled over. I took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp morning air. I was calmer now, with my emotions at bay. When I got home, however, all I could do was lay in bed and go over the night before, how happy I was when Chris picked me up, how he waited for me when I took a shower, the way he hugged me as we slept, how much he loved my breakfast, his sweet-sounding moans and I touched him, the attentive way he drew me.

This wasn't supposed to happen, me having feelings for a professor, him obviously having feelings for me. This was all so fucked up, and yet all I could think about was him, even after hurting him and leaving.

I texted him saying I was sorry once again. I wasn't sure if he'd reply, but when he did, my anxiety subsided considerably. I didn't deserve to be treated so kindly.

***

On Monday, as I made my way to Dr Damon's morning class, I was filled with dread. We hadn't spoken during the rest of the weekend, which on the one hand allowed me to distract myself from what happened, but on the other hand made the anticipation of seeing him worse. Not even Maddie could cheer me up. I was a nervous wreck.

"Hey, everything okay with you?" She asked as we made out way inside.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." I lied. "I worked til late last night. After this I'll be heading down to the studio if you want to join me."

Maddie rolled her eyes. "I hate that you make me work..."

I chuckled to hide my nervousness. Just as she was saying that, Professor Damon walked in, striding to his desk and putting down this things. His suit was impeccable as always.

"Good morning everyone, hope you had a nice weekend." He said, not making eye contact with the class. Yeah, I had the best weekend ever.

"Today, we're doing something a little different." He said, turning on the projector. "I want to assess your knowledge of the most important artworks of the last few eras we've discussed in the lectures so far. What point is there in knowing what defined an artistic period if you can't identify the pieces?"