Seduction After Class

Tension

✤ Sera ✤

It felt like the class ended too quickly. Professor Thorne closed his notebook and collected the essays. His tone calm as always. Everyone else packed their bags, chatting among themselves as they drifted toward the door. I took my time as I slid each pen into the case one by one. I folded my notes neatly, even though they didn’t need folding. I glanced over and saw him at the front of the room. He was focused on everything else, except me. I wanted him to look at me. But he didn’t. I remained seated, and soon only a few students remained. Then only two. And then it was just the two of us.

“Miss D’Amour?” Professor Thorne called out, his voice soft. “Is there something you needed?” I looked up and forced a small smile.

“I just wanted to ask you something about the reading list, Professor,” I said, and he hesitated. I saw it. The brief flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he glanced at the closed door. But then he surprised me when he nodded.

“All right. I have a few minutes before my next appointment. Walk with me,” he said, and my pulse picked up, steady and fast.

“Sure,” I whispered, and we left the lecture hall, our footsteps echoed down the corridor. It was late in the afternoon already, and most of the students were outside or heading home. He kept a polite distance, one hand in his pocket while the other carried his briefcase. When we reached his office, he opened the door and stepped aside.

“Come on in,” he offered, and I stepped inside. His office was exactly how I remembered it. Quiet, warm, and with the scent of old paper and ink. Books lined the walls, and every shelf was packed. His desk was cluttered with pens, notes, and even a half-empty mug. I stood near one of the chairs, but I didn’t sit. “So…you wanted to talk about the reading list?” he urged as he moved behind the desk. I met his eyes.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he raised an eyebrow, patient but waiting. “Actually, that isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” I revealed. Professor Thorne didn’t move.

“No?”

“No, I wanted to ask why you think people are so drawn to stories they shouldn’t?” I questioned, and his brow furrowed.

“I’m not sure I follow,”

“You know,” I continued as I tilted my head. “The ones that are supposed to be taboo. Forbidden,” I was slightly amused when he snatched up a pen from his desk and started to fiddle with it.

“Ah,” he said slowly. “You mean like the subject we discussed last week?”

“Exactly,” I remarked with a slow smile. He set the pen down and sighed, as if he was trying to decide how to answer.

“Literature explores the boundaries of morality and desire,” he began, and he sounded every bit the Professor he was. “It allows us to look at what we aren’t meant to do, without actually doing it,”

“That sounds safe,” I protested as I watched him carefully. His gaze met mine, and my breath caught.

“It’s meant to be,”

“Do you think restraint makes it more interesting?” I couldn’t help but ask, and he frowned.

“Interesting?”

“Yes,” I said, my tone lighter now. “Isn’t it more appealing when something is restrained…when it’s not allowed? When it’s just out of reach?” his jaw tightened, barely noticeable, but I saw it.

“You are talking about tension,”

“I’m talking about desire,” I corrected softly. The silence stretched. I felt it in the air between us, that faint crackle that neither of us wanted to name. He should have told me to stop. He should have reminded me that I was his student, that this was inappropriate. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his eyes unreadable.

“Why do you like those kinds of stories?” he questioned, and I smiled, because I had been hoping he would ask.

“Because they are honest,” I explained. “Because restrained desire is more appealing than outright expression. When two people want each other but can’t say it…it’s more real than any confession,” he didn’t say a word, and yet, the air suddenly felt thick. I could hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the scratch of rain against the windowpane. Finally, he sighed softly.

“Do you think wanting something you can’t have is honest?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said simply. “Because it’s human,” once again, his gaze met mine, but then he looked away. It was too late, though. I had seen the conflict in his expression. The tug between reason and curiosity. That was what made this man so fascinating. He lived by the rules. By structure. And yet, here he was, allowing this conversation to continue. He wasn’t a fool. He understood. I moved slowly as I pretended to look at the framed diploma he had hung up on the wall. “It’s strange,” I continued quietly. “How people like to pretend they are above temptation. But they aren’t. Not really,” when I glanced over my shoulder, his gaze was already on me.

“Miss D’Amour,” he said carefully, his tone measured. “You should be careful what kind of thoughts you share so openly,” I smiled as I turned to him, closer than before.

“Maybe. But it’s just literature, Professor,” I whispered. He studied me without a word, and the tension hummed between us like a wire pulled too tight. I didn’t know what I wanted him to do, to push me away or pull me closer. Maybe both. Then, without warning, the door swung open.

“Adrian,” a voice called out. “You wouldn’t happen to have—oh,” Professor Julian Cross stopped mid-step. He was taller than I expected, and he had jet black hair and green eyes that flicked between us quickly. The sudden intrusion shattered the moment, and I stepped back. Julian gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,”

“You didn’t,” Professor Thorne said too quickly. He straightened slightly. His professional tone snapped right back into place. “What do you need, Julian?”

“Just that book you borrowed…the Kiernan collection,” Professor Cross said. “The one you swore you would return last term,” Professor Thorne laughed, and the sound washed over me.

“Of course. I’ll bring it to your office later,” he said, but Professor Cross’ gaze shifted to me curiously. “I think that’s enough discussion for today, Miss D’Amour,” he said to me, and I hesitated. I wanted to stay. I wanted to continue to push his boundaries. But I merely nodded and forced a smile.

“Of course, thank you for your time,” I said, and for a moment, our eyes met again. His expression was neutral, but his pulse, visible just below his collar, told a different story. I didn’t look back as I left the office, but there was no way I could hide my smile. I had ruffled his feathers, and I loved it. I hadn’t imagined the tension, the spark, and the shift in his eyes when I had mentioned desire. Professor Thorne felt it too, and he could pretend all he wanted, but I knew. The line between us had thinned. And I wasn’t going to stop until it broke.

✤ ✤ ✤