Teach me Right, and I’ll Do you Wrong

That Night

“Can I see some ID, please?” the bartender asked, his tone polite but firm as he eyed me curiously.

I smiled faintly and handed him my ID. Somehow, that made me feel good, that he still thought I looked young enough to be questioned. When he finally nodded in approval, he started pouring the drink I ordered, the amber liquid catching the dim light before sliding into my glass.

I took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in my throat. Around me, the place was alive: laughter, music, the rhythmic pulse of a bass that seemed to echo through every bone in my body. Some people were dancing wildly, their bodies lost to the beat. Others were pressed against each other, kissing like the world was ending. A few were simply talking, smiling, drinking. Everyone seemed so… free.

I’d been to bars before, but never one like this. Back home, there were always rules, what to wear, how to act, when to leave. Even the bars there felt like prisons with dim lights. But here, here in Manchester, the air felt lighter. I could almost taste freedom in it.

“I’m guessing you’re new here,” a voice said beside me.

I turned to my left. A man was leaning casually against the counter, his glass resting loosely in his hand. His hair was a soft brown, slightly wavy and perfectly tousled, like it just naturally fell that way. His eyebrows framed his face sharply, and his lips… God, his lips were pink and full, the kind that could make anyone stare a little too long.

He was wearing a crisp white polo, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms, and navy trousers that fit him a little too well. Judging by his build and the confidence in the way he carried himself, I guessed he was somewhere in his twenties, definitely not older than twenty-six.

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. To be honest, it’s my first time here.”

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his green eyes. “First time where exactly?”

That accent, smooth, charming, a little playful, sent a small flutter through my stomach. He sounded like he’d just stepped out of a movie, a prince who somehow wandered into the wrong world.

“My first time in Manchester,” I said. “And in this bar. I got here maybe six hours ago.”

He smiled, then pulled out the stool beside me and sat down. “So you’re a freshman? A newbie, huh?”

I smirked. “I know… I know that I’m always fresh.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and easy. “I could tell.”

The way he said it, slow and deliberate, made my heart skip. His eyes swept over me, lingering just long enough to make me nervous but not enough to seem rude. I caught a hint of his scent when he leaned closer, spicy lemon, warm and addictive. I wanted to breathe him in again.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Young Man,” I teased, offering my hand with mock formality.

Instead of shaking it, he lifted my hand gently and pressed his lips against it. His touch was warm, almost dangerously warm, and his lips were soft against my skin. “The pleasure is mine, young lady,” he murmured.

We both laughed, breaking the sudden tension, and he raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I echoed, clinking my drink against his.

We talked after that, about Manchester, about how different life was here compared to the small town I came from. Everything he said sounded easy, natural, and I found myself leaning in without realizing it. I liked listening to him. I liked the way his voice dipped low when he spoke.

“So,” he said after a while, swirling his drink. “What brings you here?”

I bit my lip, meeting his gaze. His green eyes caught the bar lights, almost glowing. “I got accepted into a scholarship at Manchester University. I’m taking a program that… feels right for me.”

He smiled, and for a second, it felt like he was seeing right through me. “I teach there,” he said. “Music and biology. Human reproduction, to be exact.”

The corner of my lips lifted slightly. His tone was teasing, but there was something else in it, something heavier. The air between us thickened, slow and electric.

I bit my lip again, my heart beating faster. His eyes didn’t leave mine, not even for a second. We were sitting close enough now that I could smell his skin, clean and warm with that same lemon-spice scent that made my head spin.

“In human biology,” he said quietly, his voice dropping lower, “we do this…”

He placed his hand on my thigh, his fingers tracing slow circles against my skin.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I just sat there, heart racing, wondering if maybe this was what it felt like to be alive. To be seen. To finally be me.

Back home, everything had been rules, prayers, curfews, expectations. Even my old boyfriend treated me like some fragile glass figure, too holy to touch. But here, no one knew me. No one cared who I was supposed to be.

Maybe tonight, I could try something new. Maybe tonight, I could stop pretending.

We leaned in slowly, almost as if time itself was holding its breath, and when his lips finally met mine, I forgot everything else.

He drag me into his apartment, where we continue tasting each other’s lips.

“Wait…” I stop him and look at his eye. “It’s my first time…” I said and he grin like an evil guy who got his jackpot. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.” We continue kissing again until he started unbuttoning his polo without disrupting the intense heat between our lips.

He ended up undressing me until we are fully naked and he slowly put me down on his bed. “Are you sure?” He asks me and I nodded. And the night continue and the intense between our bodies didn’t stop, I can feel the warmth skin of his touching mine. I can feel him inside me and I couldn't help but to hold onto his hands tightly as I moaned on his ear.

“I like it when I hear you do that.” His breathy voice echoed into my ears like a music that I do not want to un-hear. I keep touching his body and he keep touching mine, until the night ended with me sleeping on his chest.