The Professional Lover II (18+) | [Complete]

04 : Learning It

I'm only two weeks in and school is already annoying as hell. I just finished standing in line for nearly an hour at the bursar's office just to sort out my payment schedule for this semester. I wanted to do quarterly, but they hadn't taken out the first payment, 24 hours away from a late fee I couldn't afford. All I wanted to do was give them money, and they acted as if I was trying to give them gonorrhea. Fucking bureaucracy bullshit. I am giving you all my fucking money, why can't you do me the courtesy of taking it out on time?

After dealing with that bullshit, I ended up making it to Anatomy & Physiology twenty minutes late and had to sit in the back with the soon-to-be dropouts. My class is huge; the auditorium sits at least 200 people. You'd think that halfway through my sophomore year my classes would be smaller, but not in pre-med. They start them big, and they flunk students out until there's nearly no one left. Two-thirds of this class would be gone by midterms, but I would still be here.

When the class is over, I decide to take the time to meet face to face with the professor's aide. Though I know plenty about the human body and how it works, I didn't necessarily know it on the level they'd like me to. Knowing to massage the balls and corkscrew the shaft only gets me so far.

I trot up the stairs towards the faculty offices. They squish all the assistants in a single office at the end of the hall. I find the correct room, and see him sitting alone at one of three desks crammed inside. My tongue slides over my lips as I gaze upon him.

He looks so fucking delicious with his cinnamon-colored skin, his perfectly black hair that frames his handsome face in loose waves, his lashes so dark he looks like he's wearing eyeliner. He's slim and tall, with long fingers I find myself staring at when my eyes aren't tracing his sharp jaw or plump, sculpted lips. God, I just want to lick him!  

I knock lightly on the open door. "Deven?"  

He looks up at me with his amber eyes and smiles. "Yes! Come in," he waves me inside. "It's Magdalena, is it not?" he asks in his mild accent; a melodic mix of Indian and British influences.

"Oh, please call me Maggie." I hold out my hand and he grips it with his. My breathing stutters when I feel those long fingers against me.

He lets go of my hand and gestures to a chair in front of the desk. I sit and remind myself to blink. "It's nice to officially make your acquaintance, Maggie. How can I help you?" He laces his fingers together and leans his elbows onto the desk. He smiles as if he's excited to have someone ask him something.

"I just wanted to introduce myself since I'll probably be here often. I'm already feeling overwhelmed in lecture, and I'm afraid I'll get lost in your lab as well."

His eyes widen and his smile drops. "Is it my accent?"

I laugh at his presumption of judgment. He doesn't know me yet. "No, of course not. It's just ... my stupidity, I think."