Seduction After Class

Temptation

✤ Adrian ✤

I had been dreading this class all week.

The last time I had seen Sera was the day I drove her home in the storm, and I hadn’t been able to shake the memory since. I had done everything I could to avoid thinking about her, the sound of the rain, the way her soaked blouse had clung to her skin, the look in her eyes when she pressed my hand against her chest. I told myself it had meant nothing, that it was a moment of weakness brought on by circumstance. For a few days, it almost worked. I buried myself in papers, faculty meetings, and lectures. When her name flickered through my mind, I redirected my thoughts to anything else. Marina. The gallery. The next department review. But no matter how many distractions I built, they crumbled every time I imagined the way her lips had parted when she said my name.

And now, there was no escaping her.

I arrived at class early, hoping the quiet might help me regain my composure. The room smelled faintly of old books and chalk, the same familiar scent that usually steadied me. I set my notes out on the desk and arranged them into neat piles, but I already knew that I would barely glance at them once the class started. My pulse was already too fast. Students trickled in one by one, and the usual chatter filled the room. I nodded politely when they greeted me, but I kept my eyes on the desk, as I pretended to be preoccupied with the attendance sheet. But then I heard the soft click of boots against the tile, and I just knew it was her.

Sera.

She walked in like she always did, unhurried, confident, and aware of herself. She wasn’t late, but she made sure to arrive after most of the class had settled. Her long hair was down, still a little damp from the mist outside. She didn’t look at me right away, and I was grateful for that. Then I saw what she was wearing. A tight white top that left very little to the imagination, paired with a short black skirt and boots that reached just below her knees. It was casual enough to pass as normal but deliberate enough that I knew exactly what she was doing. My throat felt dry. She took her usual seat in the middle row, close enough for me to see her clearly, far enough that no one would suspect how much space she occupied in my mind. I told myself to look away, to focus on the notes in front of me, but my eyes betrayed me. She glanced up, and our gazes met for a second too long. The faintest smirk curved her lips before she looked back down at her notebook. I cleared my throat and adjusted my tie.

“All right,” I said as I willed my voice not to betray me. “Let’s begin,” I started the lecture, reading from my notes, but the words blurred on the page. Something about tragic romance, moral boundaries, and forbidden desire. It couldn’t have been worse timing. The irony wasn’t lost on me. As I spoke, I made the mistake of glancing toward her again. She was listening or at least pretending to. Her pen tapped lightly against her notebook. She wasn’t taking notes, but it was clear to me that her attention was fixed on me. I tried to focus on the discussion, anything to keep my voice steady. But then she shifted. It was such a small movement, so subtle and almost innocent. She crossed one leg over the other, her skirt riding up just enough for my pulse to spike. I blinked and forced myself to look away, turning back toward the board. I wrote a few lines of text that I couldn’t remember seconds later. When I turned back, she was still watching me. And then she did it. Slowly, deliberately, she uncrossed her legs. My breath caught before I could stop it. The flash of red lace beneath her skirt was brief, no longer than a heartbeat, but it was enough. The air left my lungs all at once.

I froze.

She knew exactly what she was doing. The movement had been graceful, casual even, like she hadn’t done anything at all. She crossed her legs again, smooth and unbothered, then looked down to scribble something in her notebook. My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. The room felt too warm. I looked around quickly, checking the rest of the class. No one seemed to notice. Most were half-distracted, whispering, scrolling through their phones. No one saw what she had done. No one saw the way my composure cracked in real time. When I finally spoke again, my voice was strained.

“Can anyone tell me how restraint contributes to tension in a narrative?” I questioned, and a few students raised their hands, thankfully oblivious. I pointed to one of them and forced myself to listen as they stammered through an answer. The sound of their voice gave me a moment to recover, though my heart was still pounding. I risked one more glance at her. She was smiling, barely, but enough for me to see. It wasn’t a challenge. It was a statement. A quiet reminder of the line she knew I wouldn’t cross. I hated that she was right. I swallowed hard and turned back to the board. “Good,” I said as I interrupted the student halfway. “Let’s move on,” the rest of the class passed in a blur. My sentences ran together, and my focus slipped in and out. Every time I thought I had regained control, I could feel her watching me. The memory of that flash of red lingered behind my eyelids. When the clock finally struck the hour, I closed my notebook and dismissed the class. The students filed out, chatting, laughing, unaware of the chaos that burned in my chest. I busied myself with erasing the board as I pretended not to notice that she was here. She didn’t move until the last student left the room.

“Professor Thorne,” she said as she approached, and I shivered as I slowly turned to face her.

“Miss D’Amour,” I said quietly. “Class is over,”

“I know…I just thought I would wait until the others were gone. It’s easier to talk that way,” she said, and my jaw tightened.

“There’s nothing to talk about,”

“Are you sure?” she asked, and the question itself was so innocent that for a moment, I hesitated. But then I shook my head.

“You need to be careful, Sera,”

“Careful of what, Professor?” another fairly innocent question, and I opened my mouth to answer, but I wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s what I thought…see you later, Professor Thorne,” she said, and then she walked out. I closed my eyes and breathed in the lingering scent of her perfume. The room suddenly felt empty without her, but not in a way that brought relief. I sat down and buried my face in my hands. This was getting dangerous. I could tell myself that I was in control, that I could stop this whenever I wanted, but that would be a lie. Because the truth was simple. I didn’t want to stop. And I had a feeling Sera knew the truth as well.

✤ ✤ ✤