The Billionaire Professor (2015)
I had a 9 am class the following morning. The entire walk to class my roommate Carly tried to pull information from me. I wasn’t about to tell her anything. She wouldn’t believe me had I told her the truth.
We walked into class and I immediately chose a seat in the front row. Yes, it was a geeky choice. But it was an art history course. My future major. My passion. I didn’t want to miss a single word.
Carly wanted no part of the front row and I can’t say I blame her.
I got my laptop out and readied myself to take notes. Even though I had been up half the night I felt energized about this class. It was with well-known art historian who also happened to be a prestigious fine art collector.
Slowly the class filled and I was the only person in the front row. Go figure.
Then the professor Maxwell St. James walked in. The class got quiet. I nearly died. I could feel my cheeks flush. They felt as if they were fire-engine red. I slinked as low as I could in my seat. It was the man with whom I had sex.
I felt trapped. I looked around. There was no gracious way to leave. Just when I was hoping he wouldn’t notice me (despite my prominence in the front row!), he whipped out an attendance sheet.
“I’m going to call roll,” he announced, “at least for the first week or so of class until I can learn your names. Please bear with me in this elementary action. If I could think of a better way to get to put faces with names, believe me, I would.”
He called only a few names before he got to me. “Jazmin Donovan,” he said and looked around. I answered meekly. “Here.” Did he pause a bit longer over my name or was it merely my imagination. I felt as if the entire class were scrutinizing me, wondering who the hell I was. His dark chocolate brown eyes bore into m soul, yet again and I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I had to be quite a site. Guilty as charged, I thought.
Oh how I wanted to run and hide! Then I saw my chance. “Any student taking this course because they think they’re going to get ‘an easy A’ can leave right now.” A few of the known jocks on campus filed out. I began to pack up my computer and was about to stand when he said, “Everyone but you Ms. Donovan. I do believe you’re far too smart of a student to believe in easy ‘A’s.’ Please stay for the entire semester.”
I could hear an undercurrent of laughter ripple throughout the class. I sighed and sat down. I was almost relieved. I did want to take this class almost as much I wanted to make passionate love to Professor St. James again. I just wasn’t sure how I could do both. If I stayed in his class I feared it would end our relationship or at least put it on hold.
What the f? My mind wasted no time. It caught the thought and chastised me. What relationship? One sex-charged night did not make a relationship. Right. Right. I answered my brain. You’re absolutely right. I took a deep breath and convinced myself that a well-rounded education in the field I loved was more valuable and vital than one or two nights of wild and wanton sex that was unlikely to end in any long-term relationship. Regardless of how much I wished it would.
My heart leaped with unbounded joy! Once again my sleeping beauty gave me hope in a hollow world. What are the chances that the shy but exponentially sexual beauty from the night before would be sitting in the front row of my first class of the day – my first class of the semester. The Universe, no matter what anyone thinks works in mystical, magical ways!
Her name is Jazmin. What a beautiful name for a sleeping beauty like her. How was I supposed to keep my mind on the subject matter?
I also knew I needed to stand behind the podium at all times. This was no time to be walking around. Not the time to let people know how sexually charged I was. I rushed through my expectations for the semester and gave those less than motivated students an opportunity to walk out with dignity before they flunked out with no options. Ms. Donovan, Jazmin, that she was going to walk out of my life. I urged her to stay. It would break my heart. I spent literally my entire life looking for her. I felt she was a gift from the angels.
After class I called her to the podium. Another coed immediately appeared next to her. I pretended to fool with my notes until she left. Then I gave Jazmin my full attention.
“Come,” I told her, “we need to talk in my office.” She looked up at me – I never realized until moment that she was five foot two – at the tallest – nervous. I wondered if she knew just how nervous I was.
As soon as we walked through my office I instinctively locked the door. As the lock clicked shout, I lost control of my sexual urges. I feverishly began clearing my desk. I had a quick image of Jazmin lying on it.
I stole a quick glance at her. My penis immediate hardened – for like the fourth time since I walked into my classroom. She smiled back. I knew there was no fooling her. She waited patiently, not saying a word. I knew she knew what I was anticipating. The touch of her supple breasts, her hardened nipples, he low sensual moans.
She slowly moved to my side without me even suggesting anything. With the desk cleared I lifted her atop it, spread her legs and was surprised, pleasantly so, to see she wasn’t wearing underwear. I could feel her legs tense the moment I touched her. So responsive.