Chapter Three
After Hours
Fridays used to be nothing to me. Now, they meant everything.
Because Friday meant I had to see him.
Not because he summoned me—not exactly.
Not because I had more essays to “correct” under his scrutiny.
But because I wanted him to summon me again.
I thought about him every night. Every time I touched myself. I even caught myself daydreaming during other lectures, legs crossed tightly in the lecture hall, imagining his hand replacing my own under my skirt.
I hadn’t stopped aching since last time.
Because nothing I did could compare to what he did.
So when Friday came, I wore something different.
No lace. No innocence.
A short red skirt, no panties. A sheer blouse with a black bra that barely counted. I kept my lips glossy and pink, my eyes dark. I wore
