When a strict Painting Professor develops feelings for one of his students, it leads him to a shameful, unceasing affair. A gripping story of education, adultery, love, and wrong and right.
*Smut warning*
I had always been a bitch. It wasn't as obvious as one would guess, though - I didn't wear false eyelashes or have sex-crazed friends who sent nudes and got into trouble with their parents and teachers all the time. I was a loner kind of bitch. I didn't have many friends, just a couple people who occasionally tried roping me into their personalised social norms. Other than that, I would tell a stranger to fuck off if they even approached me.
My name was Astrid Thomas. My parents were irrelevant to me, because they never truly cared for me - I supposed that one could guess that the rejection my parents treated me with was the reason I turned out to be such an introverted bitch. There were some things I showed love to, though. My main hobby was painting, which was one of the many things my parents often criticised as being an occupation of no use, something that would bring me no joy, no money and no fulfilment. I now stood in my university dormitory, ready to leave and go to my first painting lesson at Rouis University.
The dormitory I lived alone in was considerably large, as I had saved up a shit ton of money to come to this university. There was a small table and four chairs in the entrance room, accompanied by a little kitchen and a minimally decorated space. The second room was my bedroom, which was furnished with a double bed and a desk at which an office chair resided, waiting to be used. The third room came off of the bedroom, and was a small bathroom with a toilet, mirror, sink and shower.
I had looked in the mirror that morning before leaving, and my reflection had stared back, a fresh face, someone who was ready to make a new start at this opportunity-filled place. I had tied my hair into a messy ponytail, the strands of auburn straying occasionally. My earrings were medium sized gold hoops, and my makeup was casual.
(Not this much jewellery, but you get it)
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Carrying my tote bag, I confidently walked out of my dormitory after having taken a deep breath. The campus was breathtaking as I made my way to the classroom I had been prepared to walk to on this day. The sun shone brightly, illuminating my hair to be almost golden. I came across the class that I had been headed for, and found that I was about five minutes early, but not the first one, as multiple independent students had already arrived in the classroom. It was like an art studio but with more seats and desks. Paintings of infinite kinds decorated the walls, which entertained my gaze after sitting down in a seat at the practical front of the class, placing my bag on the table in front of me. The room seemed large enough to seat about thirty people - a small class for a university, I must admit.
"Hey, can I sit here?" An undisturbed voice made itself known. I turned to find that a girl with jet black straight hair and pale skin was talking to me.
I shrugged. "Sure."
"Thanks." She said, sheepish to be thanking someone. I could tell that she, too, was kind of a bitch like me. "I think it's best to know at least one person in my art class this year."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"So that we can trade information. I already have some for you. I know some things about the teacher - maybe you can help me out with other things as they come up." She was so straightforward, it was hard for me to not regard her speech as admirable in my judgemental eyes.
