Read The Professor for Free Online

look was dead sexy, feminine and romantic, and I agreed with Charlie that it was exactly the sort of thing that should get an English Professor's blood pumping.
    When I walked into the classroom, however, it appeared that someone else had already raised his blood, and not in a good way. The Professor was standing in front of the desk, his back to me, growling into his phone.
    "No. Absolutely not. It's out of the question and I'm astonished you would even ask," he said, his voice low and cold. "That was a gift from my parents and I hardly think it's--" he turned, and stopped talking when he saw me. He wore tight tailored grey slacks, and a black suit jacket over a fitted blue dress shirt that caught the color of his eyes. They glowed, impossibly blue behind those sexy rimmed glasses.
    "I can't talk now, I'll call you later," he said and hung up. Slipping the phone into his jacket pocket, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking with irritation.
    "Jane Trouble Rascal Claremont nee Danger," he huffed, and ran both hands over his forehead and into his hair, disrupting the thick brown waves. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?"
    "Nice to see you too, Professor." I smiled at him as I walked to the seats at the front of the classroom, set down my bag and began unbuttoning my coat.
    "Tell me Jane are you a Wizard? Because I cannot go anywhere it seems, on this campus without you—"
    I took off my coat and threw it on the chair next to me.
    "Turning up..." he trailed off, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the edge of the desk behind him for support. "Oh you...you are..." he breathed.
    "Yes?" I asked sweetly.
    "Calamitous," he answered, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his pants, his eyes traveled frantically over my body, landing, finally, exactly where I wanted them to.
    I walked towards him, a slow sashay that sent all my fun bits jiggling softly for his gaze. "So now I'm also Calamitous?" I asked. "Every time I see you, I gain a name." I stopped in front of him, his eyes were glued to mine now. It was painfully obvious that he was trying very hard not to stare at my chest, and I found his discomfort adorable. "This name you have for me is getting awfully long," I teased, taking another step forward.
    "Yes," he jerked up from the edge of the desk and moved around it, to the other side, away from me. "Yes, your name...," he said, his tone was distant, distracted. He reached for a leather case on the desk and removed a folder, flipping through the papers inside.
    This wasn't going exactly as I hoped. He was supposed to succumb, to fall rapturously in lust with me the moment he saw me in this spectacular dress. Instead his head was buried in a stack of papers. I usually have no problem reading men. I figure out what they want and give it to them, which in turn gets me what I want. But the Professor was so confusing. Just when I thought I had him taking a step forward, he took two steps back. Literally! At a loss, I fell back on small talk.
    "Hey. Who was on the phone?" I asked while he shuffled papers. "It didn't sound good."
    "No, it wasn't good. Not remotely good. In fact it was very, very bad." He must not have found whatever he was looking for, because he threw down the stack of papers, and stalked to a door on the near side of the room, exiting to a hallway that led to the offices of the English department. Surprised, I chased after him, and followed when he disappeared through a paneled wood door into an office at the end of the hall.
    "Get out," he said curtly, his back was to me and he was rifling through a filing cabinet.
    "No," I said simply, dismissing his command. I walked to the desk and perched on the end, taking in the room.
    It was an over-decorated mess of Professorial cliché's. The desk was huge and obviously an antique, the windows were covered with brocade curtains, oil paintings of fruit and pastoral landscapes adorned the walls. Two sides of the room