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After Class & All You Can
Eat
    Megan Hart
    Smashwords Edition.
    Copyright 2010 Megan Hart
    Smashwords Edition, License
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    After Class
     
     
     
    "Ms. Damron, can I ask you to stay
after class for a few minutes? I'd like to discuss your
essay."
     
    Karrie stopped in the
doorway, her back stiff. She'd been anticipating those words. In
fact, she'd deliberately made certain she was the
l ast person to leave the room for just
that reason. She turned to face Professor Allen with her face a
carefully expressionless mask, but she couldn't keep her voice from
sounding as sharp as nails from a gun. "Of course, Professor. What
would you like to discuss?"
     
    The professor looked at
her over the tops of his half-spectacles and glanced toward the
door in a silent request to close it. Karrie took a deep breath and
shut the heavy wooden door and, for good measure, slid the bolt
shut to lock it. She'd bee n waiting for
this, but now that it was here, nervousness vibrated in her
stomach. She'd written her final essay on the subject of "The Role
of Female Sexuality in Traditional Fairy Tale Literature."
Professor Allen, a well-known misogynist, was probably going to
flunk her.
     
    "Please, Ms. Damron, have a seat."
Professor Allen's languid British accent brooked no argument as he
indicated the chair across from him, but Karrie shook her
head.
     
    "No, thanks. I think I'll
stand."
     
    He took off his glasses
and set th em down on the wide wooden desk.
Standing this close to him, it was impossible to ignore the color
of his eyes, a muted, unusual greenish-gray. She could also smell
his cologne, something spicy and masculine and just as impossible
to ignore. She returned his stare boldly, measuring him as he'd so
many times measured her.
     
    He broke the silence before she did.
"This will only take as long as you want it to."
     
    His voice was like honey.
She fought the shiver threatening to ripple up her spine and peak
her nippl es against the thin fabric of her
sweater. She lost the fight, but that defeat was something she'd
grown used to over the past nine months of sitting in Professor
Allen's classroom.
     
    "I'd like to discuss your
premise regarding symbolism and feminine power. "
     
    "I'm sure you would." The words
blurted out of her and earned another raised brow, this time
accompanied by one of the smirks she told herself she
hated.
     
    "You seem very sure of many things,
Ms. Damron."
     
    He sat back in his chair,
right ankle propped on the opposite knee,
hands steepled under his chin. His eyes never left hers, but she
felt the weight of his gaze on every portion of her, from her
now-straining nipples to the juncture of her thighs. She kept her
head up, knees locked, even though her legs felt like collapsing
beneath her. Right onto her knees, which was frankly where she'd
like to be in front of him. She cursed her weakness. She was no
Cinderella, no Sleeping Beauty to throw herself at the feet of the
first strong man who crooked his finger at her.
     
    "Tell me something. Did you write that
paper because you believe in it, or did you write it because you
wanted to piss me off?"
     
    That rough language,
spoken in that honeyed voice, made her clit throb in a sudden,
embarrassing spasm. Karrie locke d her
knees tighter together, praying the flush she felt creeping up her
throat stopped before it hit her cheeks. She licked her lips before
answering, and his gaze went to her mouth with the swiftness of a
snake striking at a mouse.
     
    "I believe it," she
s aid, her