An Evening with Artists

"What the hell?" I heard him shout from inside.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair, feeling jagged, and growled back, "No pancakes for you, you fucking dipshit."

I turned on my heel and walked naked back the way we had come. Along the way I dumped Paul's clothes in a trashcan. It was the least I could do.

When I got back to my classroom I found the Professor and skinny maintenance man. They turned in surprise and the maintenance guy's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped as he got a good look at me.

"Ms. Drake! What are you..." the Professor started.

I explained what had happened, leaving out the detail about Paul going down on me. The Professor's expression went from curious, to alarmed, to something that went beyond simple fury.

"Trent, thank you for unlocking the door. Would you be so kind as to recover Mr. Hopkins from the supply room and take him to the meeting room on the fourth floor? I'll meet you there. I think he and I need to have a little chat."

Trent, who had been staring intently at my tits and grinning, nodded and bustled out of the room.

Professor Stephens ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head, "Why don't you get dressed?"

All good things come to an end, I guess. I went into my dressing room, put my clothes back on and stepped into my flip flops. My powder blue top and baggy pants suddenly seemed entirely too concealing, but I supposed the feeling would pass. I wasn't sure I wanted it to, though. There were six texts waiting from Jamila, each one more worried by my lack of answer. I dashed off a message that I was fine and would talk to her later, and stepped back into the classroom.

"Well, Professor, it's been an adventure, but it's pretty late now. Can I go?"

"One more thing," he said, pulling an envelope from his pocket, "I have your money here. I just need you to sign the receipt."

I took care of the paperwork and found myself six hundred dollars richer with my pussy freshly licked and, with luck, Paul Hopkins limping around for the next week. All in all a pretty great night.

As I handed the receipt back a sudden thought popped into my head, and I kissed the Professor on the cheek. He'd been cool as a cucumber all night, but now his face and neck turned a bright red.

"Thank you for everything. It would have been a lot scarier if it weren't for you being all Professor-y."

"It is a noble profession," he answered in a solemn voice.

I snickered and waved goodbye. It had been a good night. Not everyone had a story about being naked in a classroom. It was almost a pity, I thought at the time, that nothing like it would ever happen again.