The Professor's Secret

29. The Bitter Aftertaste

I chewed on angry thoughts, laid on Sycamore's couch, throwing a ball up and catching it again as it fell on my chest. So this is what it was like to face him after sex: a turmoil of anger, embarrassment and the annoyingly influential lingering feeling of having his member filling up my insides; the tissues that had been touched, rubbed and pushed against burned in physiological memory, my legs were weak and trembling slightly, and – specially now – I had quite the pain in my lower stomach.

And how unnerving, and how slightly painful and awfully scary it was when he simply invaded me with fingers without prior announcement or the least preparation! How daring of him, how burning against my pride when he pushed so hard, moaned so loudly... when his fingers buried deep in my flesh enough to leave marks! I wanted to get up and scream at him for thinking I was a child, or some sort of pet he could just punish for behaving badly... But how could I, after moaning and melting, and steaming and burning so much? I covered my face with my palms suffering from a moment's intense embarrassment by remembering it... If only I had contained myself better!

"Professor Sycamore..." A voice quickly followed two small knocks, and inside came one of his assistants.

The woman was startled upon seeing me as she reached the doorframe - she froze in place for a second.

"How many times have I told you to wait after knocking?" The Professor sighed impatiently, without raising his eyes from his desk.

"I...I'm sorry, I..." she lost her words, her eyes moving quickly from the professor to me, trying to make some sense out of it.

I looked her way in my annoyance and recognized her as the same assistant I had met before, – the first time I was left alone with him - the one that uttered that unfortunate comparison that would never leave my impression... specially now!

"Miss Anne is feeling unwell at the moment and has decided to rest here for the remainder of the afternoon." He dryly explained, having noticed her lag and promptly attributing it to my presence there.

"Is there something I can do for her?" Her voice came out, bolder and edgier.

"I have it under control, thank you so much!" he quickly replied, then raised his head to smile – probably remembering that his charming manipulation didn't work without faking one. It wasn't as effective though: his ill-humor leaked.

"Maybe I should call her mother..." she insisted.

"As I have said before, it is well under my control. Now what was it you came here to do again?" he inquired with the shallow smile he had put on before.

The woman sighed. Her eyes looked into mine and expressed something like "sorry, kiddo! I tried!", which only made me more annoyed that she should see us there, and that she should know I had fallen, even though she tried to warn me against it. My pride had really started bleeding that day!!

"Johto's research center representative would like to schedule a meeting."

"Set it for tomorrow..." he busily replied, returning to his papers and his keyboard.

She nodded and left the room, stopping to throw a last peek my way, probably hoping I would explicitly ask for her rescue.

I threw the ball up and down again.

"It is so curious..." he sighed out of the blue. I looked his way: bent over his desk, eyebrows tensed over the research, firm and pale fingers holding the paper with the usual gentleness they possessed. His lips were red – I had established they looked particularly so after kissing for too long – and the collar of his shirt was largely open, dissipating the heat his chest possessed just an hour ago. How irresistibly beautiful he looked! How that unnerved me!