Professor William Cameron's gaze always locks onto the upper-left corner of the back wall of the classroom when he lectures. Cameron only looks directly at students is when one asks him a question. The rest of the time, his eyes narrow as his head cocks to once side and his hands move as he speaks. Sometimes he sketches a ridiculous, nonsensical object on the chalkboard and stops when the chalk shatters by the wrath of violent and comical creativity. And the students laugh when he anagrams T.S. Eliot into "toilets".
Elizabeth sits in the back row with a heavy book open on her lap and a notebook of occasional scribblings upon the tiny writing platform attached to her chair. With her legs crossed she swings her foot and sometimes lets the shoe fall so that it hangs by her toes.
Cameron glances at the clock above the chalkboard.
"So, finish the last half of The Awakening, and start brainstorming your essay topic for next week."
Eighty students stand and file out of the room as Elizabeth finishes jotting something in her notebook. When she finishes packing all her things, the tail of the crowd leaves the room. Cameron lingers at the door of the empty classroom.
"Can I see you in my office for a minute?"
"Sure," says Elizabeth. She glances in the reflective glass of the door and teases her hair. Elizabeth lifts her bag to her shoulder and follows at Cameron's heels to his incandescent-lit office next door to the classroom. The four walls of Cameron's office are shielded with dusty literature. A dying plant sits at the far left corner next to a desktop computer shoved to the side. Cameron lifts the chair across from his desk and places it at the side of the desk beside his own chair.
"Close the door."
Cameron holds out his hand and motions to the chair. Elizabeth lays her heavy bag in front of the door and sits across from Cameron.
"How do you like Kate Chopin?"
Elizabeth shrugs. "A little dark."
Cameron smiles. "Hmm." Cameron drums his fingers on his desk.
"I wanna talk about your last essay."
"What about it?"
"It was two letter grades lower than your average in my class."
"Elizabeth, did you even read the poem?"
"A couple of times."
"You called Sylvia Plath the original emo kid. I don't even know what that means."
Elizabeth smiles. "That's because you're so fucking old."
Cameron reaches his fingers to Elizabeth's forehead. He brushes the bangs away from her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ears.
"I'm only forty-five, you little bitch."
"You're fucking ancient." Elizabeth fumbles with the buttons of her jeans and pulls her shirt over her head. Elizabeth eases away from her chair. She backs into Cameron's lap. Cameron clasps the back of Elizabeth's neck. He rests his forehead on her shoulder blade and caresses the soft skin of her back with his lips. Cameron unlatches the hook of her pink bra. The straps slide off her shoulders and tumble to the ground as she strokes his thigh. She hooks a finger behind his belt and pulls him as she stands and presses him up against her back and places two palms on the desk. Cameron helps her dance out of her jeans and reaches around her to her left breast. His belt clunks to the ground and takes his jeans with it.
Cameron squeezes Elizabeth's hips. Elizabeth bites her lip and Cameron enters her. He muffles her moans with his hand. Elizabeth lays her head on the desk and Cameron lifts his hand from her mouth just to hear the small gasps and moans rush past her lips. Elizabeth comes first and Cameron soon follows and he collapses back onto his chair and she collapses onto his lap. He rubs her clit because he likes to feel her tremble on top of him, and he likes how she digs her nails into his thigh, and she likes that he refuses to stop even when she begs him to. Elizabeth comes again and Cameron's hand lingers there to feel the warm wetness seep between his fingers and he likes what happens to his cock when he puts his fingers to her mouth and she sucks herself off his fingers, one by one. Elizabeth's shaking knees slide to the floor. She reaches down and scoops her own juices and spits in her hand and layers the cocktail onto Cameron's cock and twists her wrist with each jerk. Elizabeth licks the tip and licks the shaft and slides the whole thing in her mouth and Cameron squeezes his eyes shut because even better than the total ecstasy is the warmth of her mouth and the way her teeth only skim the skin of his cock. Cameron comes harder than before. Elizabeth waits for the last second to slap his cock against his stomach and the warm wetness spills onto his stomach and his chest but he can't care less and nor can he move and Elizabeth giggles and she reaches for her bra and she wipes semen off her breast and then wipes her finger on Cameron's pants and she's dressed while he still can't move.
"I'm going to the library to study."
"And to pick out your next essay topic," breathes Cameron.
Cameron pulls some tissues from the box and watches the particles of dust dance into the air. He wipes his chest and stomach. Clumps of tissue mingle into his chest hair.
"I really wish you wouldn't do that. It's all over me."
Elizabeth shrugs and smiles. Cameron pulls his jeans from around his ankles and with trembling fingers zips his fly.
Cameron stands. "I want you to get an A on your next paper."
"Whatever you say, professor."
Cameron bunches Elizabeth's long raven hair into his fist and kisses her hard and tugs at Elizabeth's bottom lip with his teeth. Cameron pulls away and smiles. "You've got a Post-It stuck to your cheek."