The Professor
“"This is a tits only establishment Professor." "Show me," he repeated, his eyes unblinking.
"We don't get paid to take our panties off here." "Then I won't pay. Show me," he insisted.
"Touch me," I countered.
"No." "Why not?" I removed my hands and sat up. Frustrated. "Why will you look at me naked, fondle me with a teabag but not your hands. Why is all of that okay but actual touching isn't?" I stood up facing him.
He looked up at me, a thin smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.
"I don't understand these games," I continued. "And if it's the University you’re worried about, I can't imagine that they would understand either." He stood up, his body skimming mine as he rose. He lowered his head, his lips grazing the strands of hair that curtained my ear.
"Fuck the University," he whispered. "We went past what the University would deem acceptable that night in the Laundromat.
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