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First Look | In Service to the Professor



I tend to do my best writing when I'm laser-focused after a traumatic event.

My Falcons lost and during my birthday weekend on top of that, so, rather than deal with the mess on social media (especially from them Aints fans *kneegrow bye*), I do what I do best, I come up with new material to soothe the ache.

What you see here is a snapshot of what I came up with tonight during a furious sprint over a two-hour time frame. It has spawned into what I'm deciding is my next "In Service" installment, In Service to the Professor. I hope you like the burst, I'll have to see where SIobhan takes me in this journey.

As Professor Renfro sauntered his way through my IT class, handing back the first major test I had taken since beginning my senior year at Southern, I felt the butterflies forming in my stomach. That soon turned into anxiety before transforming into outright panic, the regret from all night partying and taking the test with a raging hangover seeping into my psyche. What was I thinking? I hadn’t done something so stupid since freshman year, and I almost regretted it then. Considering I was having trouble with coding to begin with, this was the last thing I needed to have happen. I didn’t want to lose my scholarship by failing this class, and the prospect of telling my parents I needed some extra money to take a course over again was a fate worse than death.

I crossed my fingers out of the view of anyone who might have been paying attention, a silent prayer racing through my mind as his footsteps halted at my desk. I glanced up, searching his face for any hope that I’d at least presented a marginal effort, enough to keep my fading chances at anything above a failing grade alive.

The disappointed look in his eyes was enough to shatter any designs I had of thinking I passed the test. Looking down at the paperwork and gasping in horror at the C- looming in the upper corner of the paper, I was forced to watch as he made his way to the front of the class. How in the hell am I going to pull this grade up? I have to keep my scholarship.

I felt the best way I could possibly work this out to my advantage was to talk to him after class to see if there was a way I could get some extra credit or something to help bolster my grade. I scolded myself at the thought; this wasn’t high school, and he didn’t have a vested interest in needing to help me out of this mess. He was going to get paid whether I passed or failed, that was the reality of the situation.

I bit my bottom lip as I watched Professor Renfro working through a code through the projected screen on his laptop, trying to figure out why I was suddenly feeling so aroused. He looked so serious and so…so fucking sexy. I mean, the way his arms flexed as he keystroked the coding that I was supposed to be paying attention to and taking notes like the rest of the class had me in a severe state of arousal.

Why the fuck am I having these thoughts about this man? He damn near flunked me on this test! I shook my head at the lunacy of the fantasies—the debauchery—crossing through my mind right now. The thing that really confused me was for the first time in my college career, I actually saw one of my professors as more than a means to an end. He was flesh and blood, and I consistently found myself wondering what lay beneath the perfectly creased slacks and tailored shirts.

The images I had of dropping to my knees in front of him swirled, taking my body through all sorts of changes I wasn’t ready for in that moment. I pictured myself slowly unbuckling his belt in his office, springing his bulging girth for my own personal coding presentation. Before long, my thighs squeezed together to try to quell the heat rising between them, and I tried to apply some common sense and logic into the naughty thoughts crossing my mind.

He’s a respected, tenured professor on campus, there’s no way he would allow himself to get caught up in some tawdry affair.

I thought back to when my roommate, who graduated last year, explained to me how she’d managed an A in her psychology class. She couldn’t stop laughing over it. “It only took one time, and I wore him out in his office, but what he didn’t realize was that I had my phone recording the whole thing. He was so scared that I would post it on social media that I didn’t even take the final. He was worried too much about his reputation and his marriage.”

I licked my lips as I stared at Professor Renfro again. The longer I ogled at him, the

sexier he became. He might as well have been Chadwick Boseman, especially after he played the Black Panther recently. Oh my God, I would surrender to him in a heartbeat!

Get a grip, Siobhan, focus. You have a grade to worry about.

My libido and my logical mind were at war, and my body became the battleground. The more my libido made a strong case, the hotter my body became. Eventually, there was no way to make a case against what my body wanted, especially when I could have sworn he was staring at me as I struggled to come back from the lustful thoughts imprisoning me.

When class was finally dismissed, all the students found the exits as fast as they could, but I was still glued to my seat. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he continued to gather his things and make his way toward the exit. Fuck! I’m so busy eye-fucking him that now I have to see him in his office.

As I gathered my things to head out of class, my thoughts bombarded me over what I was actually considering. What was more, what in the world would I have to do to get him to even look at me in that way?

His office was in a different building, maybe a hundred yards from the classroom, and as I trudged toward it, I felt my heart fluttering. I still couldn’t believe what I was preparing myself to do, and oddly, I felt a bit naughty by the implications. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, glancing down for a brief second at my blouse. Well, if I’m going to go through with this, I might as well look the part, I thought as I unfastened a few buttons in the few seconds I figured it would take before he answered.

A moment later, his voice bellowed from behind the thick wooden door a little louder than I’d expected. The way the response sounded, I could have sworn it resonated more like a command than an invitation. “Come.”

My God, the way he said it, I almost wanted to right there on the spot before I slowly entered into his office.


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