Dark Academia

"Listen... Professors were students once. They have to know what they're doing. Think about it."

It was nine p.m. on a Tuesday night, and the library had started to clear out - meaning Georgia and Steph had stopped caring about how loud they were talking, or how deranged they might sound. Georgia was nodding in agreement to Steph's theory. A lone girl from two tables over looked up briefly, her face betraying a glimmer of agreement.

"Say more," Georgia encouraged.

Steph was getting worked up now, the ideas coming out in a blur of enthusiasm. She was joking, mostly, but there were gems of truth in it and they both knew it.

"Well every student I know finds at least one professor hot, and professors must have wanted to get their PhDs and MFAs and what-have-yous solely to be hotties. Like, they're passionate and smart, but they went for that advanced degree purely for the endorsement and clout."

"So true," Georgia agreed. "Like, you know they say they're an expert in their field as a pick-up line."

Steph raised her hands to the sky as if thanking some unseen god. "YES Georgia. You get what I'm saying. And if, on the off chance, they really just got it because they're a nerd... they have to realize that being a professor is the only chance they have at being hot. Because when they were students they must have had professor crushes that subconsciously steered them towards this path."

Georgia continued nodding. "Wholeheartedly agree."

Steph was on a roll. "So, like. I go to Nick's office hours. First off - why does he tell us to call him Nick? Because he wants to be a 'cool' professor? That's suspicious. He was wearing this like, wool sweater with little leather patches on the elbows? He had like a stack of papers on the table that he was actively grading and a cup of what was clearly black coffee, which I think was like... really unnecessarily stereotypical because I would have respected him even if he was drinking a frappucino.

I was asking him all these questions and we got talking on a topic he was clearly stoked on, and he was grinning, he lent me this book, and said he thought I'd like it, etc. Now, I'm NOT saying he was flirting. That's critical. Like, that's the issue. It was a totally innocent, professor-student conversation based on a shared passion about medicinal herbs in ancient Greece"

"Hot," Georgia laughed.

"But it's the cultural context, ya know? Nick has to know he's a hot, young professor with tenure and that I'm intimidated and desperate for his validation, and overanalyzing every single word he said. Like he has to know that as a student I'm automatically enamored - I want to be him, I want to be with him, I want him to give me validation - it all gets jumbled."

"But what do you want him to do? Not share educational information with you and ignore you all the time?"

"Obviously not! I'm like frothing at the mouth for this kind of educational experience. But, that said.... I don't have a crush on the professors who ignore me. I'm just saying that he has to know what he's doing, or the effect it's having, even if he's trying to be chill and totally normal."

"Yeah I hear you, like the very act of being a professor is suggestive."

"Exactly. I love that you get what I'm saying. Like, if you're going to be a professor you can't dress hot, be cool, and let us call you by your first name. Like, I need to be calling you Professor, you need to be old, and you have to wear clothes that look like you forgot to do your laundry because you were finishing up research - not dress like you're spending your exorbitant salary on clothes that can't go in the dryer."

They dissolved into laughter together, and Georgia lectured Steph on the importance of doing laundry correctly. Steph waved her off.

"It's not about me. It's about wool sweaters and peacoats and leather briefcase bags. It's about the principle of the thing. They need to be held accountable for the effect they're having."

Georgia thought of this conversation with Steph often. She almost always laughed when she talked about Willem, her bisexual European poetry professor who had once complimented her poem by saying it had a "lifelike whimsy"- whatever that meant.

Her experience in her college algebra class crept up differently. So differently, in fact, that she didn't realize what was happening until she was sucked in. Despite her typical queer read on everything in her life, she hadn't been thinking of women when she spoke with Steph. She'd been focused on the typical culprits: white men with PhDs, and midlife crises, and drinking problems, and the hots for younger women.

Professor Hall taught an entry level college algebra class with nearly 100 students crammed into a giant, abrasively illuminated lecture hall. She had two TAs to help her manage the desperately lost students just trying to meet the math requirement for their degree. She was quick and clear, and probably the best math teacher Georgia had ever had.

Professor Hall had been hired on the tenure-track the year prior - one of only two women in the male-dominated department. Her age was a mystery to her students. Dark, shiny hair without a single gray indicated she was on the younger side, but faint crows feet hinted that she was older than they might assume. She dressed nicely, always wearing a loose button up and slacks with black boots. Her long, straight hair usually fell loosely behind her back, but some days she wore it in a tight knot at the top of her head. Georgia occasionally got distracted by Hall's jewelry - an ever-changing array of rings, bracelets, and necklaces that glinted off the fluorescents.

Georgia hated math, had never found her groove in it, but Hall's class had been going smoothly until now. It was week 5, the midterm was scheduled for the following week, and Georgia was starting to panic. Something wasn't clicking in this chapter, and, for the first time, Georgia decided to go to office hours.

She planned to go near the end of the day on a Friday, when she knew that the TA Elliot would be there (since she found his counterpart Linda to be annoying and bad at her job). She almost decided not to go - it was Friday after all, and there had to be better things to do with her time. Though, ultimately, she decided it shouldn't take too long. Then, she could actually enjoy her weekend.

When she arrived in the math department there were no TAs to be found. She asked the front desk staff where the TAs were, and the desk attendant shrugged.

"Elliot called out, but Professor Hall said she would just help out anyone who came. People usually don't come."

Georgia balked. She certainly didn't want to look her professor in the eyes to admit she was completely lost, fearing failing the midterm, and fearing failing in her life because she couldn't pass college algebra. She especially didn't want to do that if students never came to ask for help, and she would be singled out.

"Her office is back in the far right corner," the desk staff encouraged.

Georgia steeled herself and walked the short hall, turning right and walking until she found the slightly ajar door marked as Marina Hall. She knocked gently on the doorframe and peeked her head in the small office.

Professor Hall looked up from her desk and smiled. She was wearing rectangular black-rimmed glasses and a gray sweater over a white collared shirt. She was grading papers. She was drinking black coffee. Her leather briefcase was laying open on top of a pile of books and papers. Dear god, Georgia thought. Will she ask me to call her Marina next?

"Georgia," Marina smiled. "Are you here for office hours?"

Georgia smiled, somewhat in shock. "Hi, Professor Hall. Yes. I didn't realize you knew my name," she laughed awkwardly.

Marina laughed too, but hers was a sound filled with joy that washed over Georgia with an intoxicating warmth. "Oh, you can call me Marina. Math is so serious! Everyone "professor"s me and honestly, I hate it. I just got the degree so I could say I was really good at math. And I can't claim to know all my student's names, but I remember the fun ones on occasion. There's someone named Winifred in my calculus class - hard to forget that!"

Dear god, Georgia thought again. Her eyes flicked around the room, taking it all in. A few bookshelfs stacked with well worn copies. Feminists essay collections were nestled between math textbooks, and Georgia's eyes settled on a copy of a familiar queer memoir. Her mind was in places it definitely shouldn't be. She settled into a seat as she formulated a response. Weakly, she agreed. "Winifred does have a charm to it."

Marina smiled warmly. "Georgia too."

Georgia almost blushed, offering a small smile of gratitude.

"So, how can I help you?" Marina said, clasping her hands. Georgia had a thought she didn't dare articulate. She tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Well, I'm really struggling with this chapter, and I was hoping to talk through it more..."

Georgia spent over an hour in Marina's office, during which she was grateful to actually absorb the information instead of just staring at the way Marina's hair cascaded onto the desk when she looked at Georgia's work. Georgia made a lot of jokes, her go-to social strategy, and had the pleasure of hearing Marina's laugh each time. By the end of the office hours, they were both grinning and had thoroughly enjoyed the time together.

Georgia got up to leave. "Thank you so much," she said emphatically.

Marina nodded as she began to slide papers into her bag. She stood up and slid casually into her long black jacket. "Truly any time. I really enjoy these opportunities to help things make sense. Here, let's walk out together."

Georgia walked out the door, nervously tucking her curly reddish hair behind her ears. Marina turned off the light in the office and walked alongside Georgia. The department was dimly lit and very quiet; almost everyone must have left for the day.

"Are you headed home now?" Marina asked when they were outside in the cool air. It was six p.m., and it was already dark out.

"Oh, probably," Georgia replied with a shiver. Marina looked at her with concern and Georgia's face flashed with anxiety. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I left my coat in your office..."

Marina smiled, and put a comforting hand on Georgia's arm. "Don't apologize, you should see how often I leave things all over the place. Let's go back up so you can grab it."

"Are you sure?" Georgia asked nervously. She was so anxious she couldn't think straight at all. Embarrassing, she thought. Utterly embarrassing.

"Of course," Marina said. "Seriously, it's not a problem at all."

When they reached the office, Marina unlocked the door and let Georgia in. Georgia could see her coat through the illumination from the hallway. She grabbed it, turning around quickly, and bumped into Marina, who had stepped into the room. Marina laughed, grabbing Georgia's arm to steady her. "Oops, sorry. That's on me! Just fumbling in the dark." She reached to her side and pulled keys off a bookshelf.

"See, thank god you forgot your coat. I might have walked all the way home without realizing I left behind my keys."

Marina dropped the keys in her pocket. Her right hand was still on Georgia's arm, squeezing gently. They both seemed to notice it at the same time and Marina retreated quickly, but didn't say anything. She looked at Georgia with slightly apologetic eyes, but there was a look underneath which sent a thrill through Georgia, and Georgia realized Steph really had been right. Professors had to know what they were doing, had to realize the effect they could have.

Georgia felt a real blush rising to her face and she averted her eyes. Marina was inadvertently blocking her access to the door. She was watching Georgia carefully, and when Georgia turned her eyes back to Marina, she realized they were at a standstill. Georgia wouldn't make a move, wouldn't be the desperate co-ed stereotype. She was sure Marina wouldn't make an unsure first move - she wasn't the kind of professor to be interested in playing some game of cat and mouse with a student. Marina seemed to realize the predicament, and her lips parted as if she was about to say something. Georgia felt a tingling of anticipation, hope, intrigue. She touched the front of Marina's coat, tugging at the edge innocently.

"This is a nice coat," she said simply, no hint of flirtation, but the very act felt suggestive.

Marina let out a sharp breath. She spoke in a low voice. "It's very dark in here, should I turn on the lights?"

Georgia shook her head. Was Marina trying to defuse the tension, or get a better look at her? What was going through her head? Whatever casual vibe had been between them had slipped away, leaving a weighted heat between them.

"Should we leave?" Marina asked. She seemed nervous, but she didn't back away from Georgia.

"Should we?" Georgia replied. Not a game of cat and mouse, but a game of chicken.

"Do you want to leave?" Marina asked more clearly.

"No, do you?"

Marina slowly shook her head. "I've got nowhere to be, but..."

There was a question in her eyes, a doubt of what was happening. Georgia felt the same doubt - just because they'd been having fun didn't mean Marina wanted to mess around. This was probably a bad idea, right? Though, underneath the doubt Georgia felt very self assured. Marina's body language, the tension holding them back, the way they were lookin at each other. It felt very clear. There was no way to misinterpret this.

Marina's hand carefully lifted to touch Georgia's waist. Georgia felt a rush of anticipation and she tugged on the coat again, pushing Marina back gently and watching the office door close softly behind her. They were in near-complete darkness, only a small beam of light shining under the door.

"God damn," Marina said, and it was like anything keeping them logical had gone out with the lights.

They were fumbling in the darkness. Or rather, Georgia was fumbling. Marina was all expertise, her mouth finding Georgia's quickly as Georgia's hands reached under the coat and her thumbs found the curve of Marina's chest. The kiss lit a fire in Georgia, and she was grateful the darkness meant Marina couldn't see the flush rise to her cheeks. Her hands crept up under Marina's hair to dance along her neck and clasp there as Marina tightened her own hands in the fabric of Georgia's sweater. Georgia made a little noise of enthusiasm, and Marina pulled her even closer.

Marina smelled of perfume, of balsam and vanilla. The hint of coffee was on her tongue. Georgia felt enthralled just by the story - she couldn't believe she was kissing Marina. They were pressed together, lips and tongues meeting, but Georgia knew it wouldn't stop there. She didn't want it to, and if Marina's heavy breathing was any indication, Marina felt the same. There was warm in their mouths, heat between them, and Georgia was practically melting into Marina.

Georgia brought her hands down to Marina's belly, and tested her hope there. Her fingers brushed bare skin, and Marina reached for her hand, as if to stop her. It seemed the words were on her lips, to say they couldn't do this, shouldn't do this. To say all the right things. Then, their hands touched, and Marina hesitantly led Georgia's hand up to her breast. Marina reached for Georgia's chest in return, sliding up under the sweater, under the bra, pushing the clothes up so one breast fell lazily out. Georgia was almost stunned by the effortlessness of it. Marina's thumb found Georgia's nipple, and gave a small pinch before Georgia could even process. She gasped and Marina's other hand flew to Georgia's mouth to cover it.

"Shh," she said gently. "I'm sorry, but we have to be quiet if we're here."

"Sorry," Georgia murmured through Marina's fingers. She reached under Marina's bra and pinched her nipple in return, earning Marina's controlled exhale. Marina's hand dropped from Georgia's mouth, while Georgia's hand stayed, tugging and teasing just like she had with the coat. Marina reached for the lock behind her and turned it. The click rang with a satisfying finality - no need to worry, it seemed to say. No one will bother you. Georgia felt Marina's body language change. Georgia had almost been leading, holding her there, but suddenly Marina was guiding, taking control. No longer restricted to holding the door closed, Marina carefully pushed Georgia through the small dark space to the desk. She positioned Georgia to sit on the desk, and Georgia carefully felt around, pushing books and pencils to the side as she sat down.

Marina was taking off her coat, Georgia could hear. She could only see the vague outline in front of her. She watched as Marina moved forward again, and felt Marina deftly remove the sweater, the bra, until Georgia was topless in the dark, on the desk. Marina grabbed her hips, and kissed her again, warm and firm. Georgia's nipples rubbed against the soft cotton of Marina's shirt and she reached out to Marina to pull her closer.

"I'm going to go down on you," Marina said in her ear. "If that's all right with you."

Georgia whispered a quiet yes. What a woman, she thought blissfully. She felt a trail of kisses down her body, felt Marina's nose brushing against her stomach. Georgia was wearing a skirt with black tights, and within seconds the tights and underwear were around her ankles, stuck there by her boots, and the skirt was pushed up around her waist. Marina's hands gripped at Georgia's bare thighs, moving them apart. Then Georgia felt Marina an inch away from her, felt the warmth of Marina's breath.

She wasn't a tease, Georgia noted with relief, as Marina's tongue met the wetness between her legs. Georgia was propped up on her hands, with Marina's face pressed into her. It felt divine. Georgia could practically feel her pulse touching Marina's lips, and she moved her body in response. Marina liked that, her hands digging into Georgia's thighs.

Marina did something with her tongue, with her lips, and it was suddenly too much. Georgia moved her hips towards Marina almost desperately, and let out a little moan. Then, the feeling was gone. Marina's face was in front of hers, whispering.

"Georgia, I'm serious. You have to be quiet, or we can't do this here."

Georgia didn't say anything. She reached for Marina, unbuttoning her shirt. She found breasts, her nipples, and then pinched and pulled both, hard. Marina let out a short, vocal gasp.

"Marina, you have to be quiet," Georgia said, clapping her hand over Marina's mouth. Then, removing it, she laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, I know it's serious. I'm just usually kind of... loud."

"Maybe another time we can be loud," Marina said off handedly, her tone betraying how much she would very much like to hear that. "I want you to come on my desk, though. So keep it down." She moved her face back down and Georgia shivered with excitement, laying all the way back on the desk.

Marina's pace was insistent, assured. Georgia felt herself creeping closer to the edge. Marina's hands were everywhere - they pulled at her nipples, grabbed at her thighs. Georgia felt overwhelmed, her whole body tingling. Her mind was on nothing but Marina. Marina's tongue, Marina's hands, the tone of Marina's voice when she had told her to be quiet. Georgia suddenly came in a powerful wave, almost thrusting against Marina's face and clamping her hand over her own mouth to mute the moan that was inadvertently coming out. Marina's mouth moved up to Georgia's and her hands moved down. Georgia could tell how wet she was, how Marina's fingers glided effortlessly inside, curling up as Georgia felt pressed into the desk by Marina's weight on top of her. Georgia came again, but this time her moans were stifled by Marina's firm kiss.

Georgia broke away breathlessly. "You have to stop, it's too much. I want to make you come," she whispered.