Dance for Me(13)

Licking his lips, I see Professor’s hands twitch at his sides, but like a good little boy, he doesn’t touch me. Cupping my breasts again, I squeeze them together and pinch the nipples just as he would do, teasing them into hard points. The soft moans that fall past my lips don’t have to be faked. I feel every tingle down to my core. If I didn’t think Red would mind, I wouldn’t stop at a lap dance.

The professor’s cock is straining beneath me, and I can see from the dark look in his eyes that he’s more than ready to explode. So am I.

Sitting up on my knees, I bring my breasts to his face, cupping them in offering, and drag the nipples across his lips. Seeing the question in his eyes, I bite my lip and nod my approval. We both want this, and without hesitation, Professor opens his mouth and latches onto my right breast. The feel of his hot, wet tongue on my breast nearly shatters me, and I pull free of his mouth with a loud smack. His glare is one of warning and disappointment. It excites me to no end.

Standing, I turn my back to him. Hooking my fingers in the thin fabric of my G-string, I slowly guide material down to my ankles. In this position, Professor doesn’t have to guess how badly I want him. Even in the poor lighting, he’ll be able to see my slick core weeping for him. And so will Red, who is growing more furious by the moment.

Kicking my wet panties aside, I sit down on his lap backward, and begin grinding my naked ass into his crotch. His cock is like a tree trunk between my cheeks, and holy shit, I can’t help reliving what it felt like wedged inside of me this morning. No one save him has ever inspired this kind of reaction in me—this heightened awareness is threatening to kill me.

The slow rotation of my hips and pressure of my ass against his cock draws all kinds of deep, throaty sounds from the professor. I know, from this angle, he can see every inch of my naked form. The thought of allowing him to touch me in return is a temptation unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I refuse to give in to it. I want the professor to crave me like I crave him. I want him to leave tonight and think of me when he fucks his woman. I want to taint him for all others.

So, as I reach between my legs and tweak the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention, I work hard to bring us both to the edge of the proverbial cliff. And then, I jump.

Behind me, Professor Scott’s breath hisses through his teeth and his chest pumps heavily against my back. Heat pours off him, and when he releases a painful groan and his body shudders, a smile grows on my face.

Standing, I bend and gather the pieces to my outfit. As I begin putting them back on, I turn around. My eyes are immediately drawn to the wet splotch visible through the dark material of the professor’s perfectly pressed slacks.

“You’ll find towels behind the bar if you’d like to clean yourself up before you leave, and Kota is out front if you’d like to schedule any future appointments. Just ask for Pussycat.”

I leave before either of them can form a reply. Bernice is walking out of Room Three holding cleaning products in both hands, and I have to swerve to avoid running into her.

“Oh, hey, J,” she calls out, trying to gain my attention, but I don’t look back. Anything she has to say to me can wait. I continue walking toward the opposite end of the club and shut myself in the Employee’s Only dressing room. My heart pounds inside my chest as the reality of what I have just done starts to sink in.

I just dry fucked my professor.





SIX





Class the next morning is tense, to say the least. Although, I’m not sure whose side it’s on more: mine or the professor’s. I’ve kept my head and eyes down since the moment I walked into the room, unwilling to risk the knowing look I’ll see in his eyes if I do.

I spent all night thinking about what happened in that darkened room and I know it was a mistake. I should have turned around and walked back out the second I laid eyes on him, but the temptation was too much. Now, I have to face what happened between us in the light of day, where secrets like ours become painfully transparent.

Despite how hard I have worked to keep the two sides of my world separate, they’ve collided in a way known for its total destruction. This isn’t some J.Lo, Maid in Manhattan movie. It’s a real life rush hour pile-up of epic proportions, and I can tell by the suffocating way the room closes in on me that it’s going to require the Jaws of Life to get me out of this mess.

Even as I contemplate how I’m going to extract myself from this situation, I know my options are limited. This is the only Art Comp class on campus, and Professor Scott is the only professor in employ. Unless I want to change my major and completely derail all the plans I’ve spent the last four years working toward, then I have to suck it up and stay the course.