Samara sat frozen at her desk, the weight of the professor's touch still lingering on her skin, her fingers curled tightly around the folded post-it note. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a long moment, she couldn't even breathe, as if the air itself had thickened around her. She watched as the professor moved toward the door, each step laced with an effortless confidence that seemed to pull Samara's gaze against her will.
It wasn't the note that had her so rattled, though. It was everything else.
Samara's mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions. She had no idea what to think, what to do, or even how to feel.
Oh, how her voice had dropped to a tone that rasp, her big eyes staring right through her.
Her voice was firm yet so soft, it felt like a secret was whispered directly into her soul. The fleeting touch of her fingers against skin, the smallest, most seemingly insignificant gesture, had ignited something in her, something that both terrified and exhilarated her at the same time.
It wasn't just a gesture.
It was the meaning behind it.
'What was she offering?' Samara's thoughts spiraled, but they couldn't find a clear answer.
Finally, her mind blanked. And landed on one word...
Power was what the professor had over her.
The power to drop her grade.
The power to get her in trouble, possibly even put out of school?
Take her hopes and dreams from her...
But no, professor Harris wouldn't do that, she was a prosecutor herself, she's a law-abiding citizen 'right'
The way Samara's body had reacted to her presence, simple proximity compelled to look at her, even as her head swam with a million reasons not to.
And the more Samara tried to process it, the more a panic began to rise within her—a panic that was more than just confusion. It was something deeper, something raw and unfamiliar. The kind of panic that made her face flush hot, her chest tightens, her skin prickle with heat. The kind of panic that made her want to hide but also made her want to lean into it, to get closer. To see if there was more of that strange, intoxicating pull she seemed to exude only to you.
'No' Her mind screamed as she tried to push those thoughts away, trying to tamp them down before they consumed her.
She couldn't be feeling this way.
It wasn't possible.
This was her professor.
Her professor.
You were her student.
The boundaries were clear. She was just a student—her student—and this was just... this was wrong.
But despite her best efforts, the desire to understand what had just happened—what the professor had really meant, only grew stronger. And the more she tried to rationalize it, the more her own body betrayed her, her breath shallow and uneven as her heart raced faster.
Samara bit down on her lower lip, her gaze flickering toward the door where the professor had disappeared, she clenched the note harder in her hand, a small protest against the chaos swirling inside her.
For the first time, she was caught between two answers. It's been years since she'd felt conflicted like this.
She didn't care about the offer. Samara realized, her thoughts finally gaining a little clarity.
She cared about what the professor was really offering to her. Not the words or the note.
The bell rang, snapping her out of her daze.
The thought made her stomach flip—was that what she wanted?
No. She couldn't. She had to get a grip. She had to ignore it.
The drive home was quick, but Kamala couldn't quite shake the feeling of satisfaction that buzzed in her chest. She'd done it. She'd spoken to Samara.
Actually spoken to her, not just the usual classroom exchanges.
She'd even given her the number, her number, a little lifeline that could easily become a reason for Samara to reach out again, for a reason to keep talking. The idea of that small gesture felt like the first crack in the wall between them, something she could work with.
Kamala hummed as she drove, tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of Jill Scott's Golden, letting the music fill her car as she sang along, a small smile curling on her lips. She couldn't help herself—finally, after so many silent, frustrated months of wanting something more, of watching Samara from afar, she'd done it. She'd made the move.
But as the song played on, her smile began to fade, replaced by a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't stop imagining the possibilities.
Had she come on too strong? The girl was forty years plus her junior, she had to have spooked, well she hoped no.
She gripped the wheel tighter, her gaze focused ahead as the highway stretched out before her.
'Had she misread the situation?' She thought about Samara's reaction to the note, to her touch.
Had she scared her?
What if it had been too much, too soon?
Kamala didn't mind taking risks, but this was different.
This was Samara.
Everything she wanted, and more...
She had to get this right.
Kamala didn't care about losing her job. She was confident she could find another one if it came to that. But the thought of Samara pulling away from her, switching classes, dropping out, anything that would take her out of her orbit, sent a cold wave of panic through her.
Her pulse quickened. The idea of Samara slipping through her fingers was unbearable.
She wanted her— badly. And Kamala knew that, deep down, she would have Samara. It was only a matter of time. It didn't matter what barriers were in the way; she had the patience to break through them.
But if Samara didn't feel the same way?
Kamala's smile faded. That thought made her stomach tighten. She would make her feel the same. She had to. It wasn't just about teaching her; it was about looking into her eyes and knowing that she'd gotten who she wanted, and she couldn't lose her.
Not because of her own actions or by anyone else.
Kamala's mind raced as she maneuvered the car through the streets, each turn bringing her closer to home. If she had to change Samara's class schedule, if she had to make it clear that something between them was inevitable... she would. It would be different now.
She wasn't just watching from a distance anymore; she wasn't just some figure in front of the classroom.
No.
She was closer now.
So much closer.
She leaned over in her seat, keeping her eyes on the road, but her hand instinctively reached toward the glove compartment. She opened it, the small click echoing in the quiet of the car. There it was. Her gun. Kamala smiled at the sight of it, an almost predatory glint in her eyes as she closed the compartment with a soft click.
This was just in case she needed it.
Midnight.
A sharp buzz came from under Kamala's pillow as her eyes fluttered open. The sun was gone, and the room was pitch black as she reached under the pillow and pulled out her phone. She rested her head against her hand as she looked at the screen, trying to figure out what it was that had woken her.
She wasn't disappointed, either.
It was an unknown number, but Kamala knew all too well who it was, she didn't have to read the message to know, she just knew.
She bit down hard on her lip as she clicked the massage and waited for it to show.
Unknown -
Would the sessions be in the lecture hall or somewhere else? I'd like to know in case I need to drive there, wouldn't I want to be late?
Kamala -
Sometimes yes, depending on the day I've had. But I have my free evenings on Fridays
She texted, watching as the bubbles appeared and disappeared in the corner of her screen.
Kamala -
I think we'd be able to cover a lot more if we held these sessions at my home, you wouldn't need to worry about driving all over, I know how expensive gas can be especially going to school
Unknown -
I still would have to drive to your home?
Kamala -
Yes, I'm going to invite my student to my home for lessons that I suggested they take, during their own personal free time. And make them drive there in a separate car?
Unknown -
?
Kamala -
No!That would be terrible, but then again it would be terrible of me to drag you across town, and you live on campus. I'll figure something out for you, I'll work something out.
Unknown -
Damn, I forgot about that!
I can catch a Lyft home, it's cheaper than buying gas for the week
For a moment, Kamala pauses, staring at her phone in slight disbelief.
'Damn' she whispered, the word seeming to slip out as if she was a child again cursing under her breath. 'So vulgar, she thought'
Kamala -
Oh?
(Damn, I forgot about that) — Such language is unbecoming of a scholar
Unknown
I am so sorry that won't happen again!
Got a little carried away
Kamala -
That's alright darling, I'll handle that another time
But any who, enjoy your break, I hope pleasant time, well begin the week after we come back, Friday, I leave for my home around six, come to the lecture hall and well leave together.
Got it?
Unknown -
Got it
Kamala -
Good
Now go to bed, you shouldn't be up this late anyway
Unknown -
Yes professor
Kamala stared at the screen for a moment longer, the words "Yes, professor" lingering in her mind.
She quickly liked the message and then shut her phone off, plunging the room back into complete darkness. The silence seemed almost deafening now, with only the soft hum of the city outside filtering in through her window. She let out a deep breath, as though trying to shake off the tension that had settled in her chest.
Laying back in bed, she closed her eyes, but the image of Samara, kept creeping into her thoughts. Kamala hadn't expected this level of attraction. She'd been so controlled, so deliberate in her approach, but that single phrase, "Yes, professor," had stirred something deep within her.
It was more than just the thrill of her plan unfolding—it was something primal, something that made her pulse quicken and her breath hitch, even now.
Kamala prided herself on being in control. She had always been able to manipulate situations, but Samara... Samara was different. She wasn't a situation, she was sharp, quick-witted, and had an unintentional vulnerability that Kamala found irresistible. It was dangerous, desires that were creeping into her thoughts. Samara was starting to become more than just a student, more than just a project to her. The power dynamic, seemingly set in stone, yet she needed to keep her wits about her, stay calm, stay in control.
But there was that feeling again, a warm throb that spread through her chest and down her spine, the kind of feeling she couldn't ignore anymore. Kamala let out a soft sigh, trying to clear her mind. She just hoped that this would go as smoothly as she planned. It had to. It would. Samara would be in her grasp soon enough, and Kamala couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation at the thought.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but as the minutes ticked by, she realized that it wasn't sleep she wanted anymore. It was something else entirely.
—
Samara lay in bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her mind racing. She kept telling herself that her offer to help her graduate early was rooted in good intentions, her seeing something in her. There was no room for distractions, no room for anything other than her classes, especially now her professor was being so generous.
She had always prided herself on her discipline, her focus, her ability to keep everything in its place, but now, the thought of her professor lingered.
Misplaced?
Out of order.
Brilliant, poised, and ever-composed, a woman who had started to feel like a presence in Samara's thoughts more than just a possible mentor.
She shifted uneasily, trying to shake the feeling. Kamala's offer to help her, accelerate her studies, had seemed so straightforward at first, a gesture of professional generosity, but maybe she was seeing things that weren't there. She rolled over, glancing at the glow of her phone screen, the message from Kamala still open, reminding her of the potential that was so effortlessly offered.
"I'll figure something out for you, I'll work something out."
Her heart raced as she stared at the words, a strange warmth spreading across her chest.
Kamala's kindness had been so... disarming.
Samara bit her lip, her mind trying to reason with itself. It was all about her education, right? She couldn't afford to get sidetracked, not by something as silly as... a crush.
Something so dangerous as a crush on her professor.
Crush.
The word hit her like a jolt, the ridiculousness of it making her pause.
A crush?
On her professor?
Samara snorted quietly, a self-deprecating laugh escaping her lips.
'God, I'm an idiot.' She clenched her fists around the edges of the blanket, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach.
It wasn't a crush, it couldn't be.
It wasn't even possible.
Kamala was older, confident, way out of her league.
Besides, she was just being nice.
The rational part of her brain tried to take charge again, focusing on her goal. But that warmth, that stirring in her chest, wouldn't go away. Kamala's quiet smiles, the way her eyes lingered when they spoke—none of it helped.
And she couldn't ignore the way Kamala's presence seemed to fill up the space around her.
God, she's intoxicating.
The word respect came to her then, unbidden, a reminder of the professional distance they should maintain. Respect. She tried to focus on the meaning of the word, what it should mean, what it did mean. Kamala had earned her respect. She was... a force to be reckoned with. But even as she thought it, her mind wandered again. Respect.
What kind of respect was she talking about, really?
She shook her head, the thought embarrassing, but it stayed. She let out a long breath and threw her phone to the side, a thud cutting through the silence of the room. Closing her eyes, she turned over, pulling the covers tighter around her.
'I'm just tired,' she told herself. 'I just need to sleep.'
But the thoughts didn't stop. Kamala's voice seemed to echo in her head, calm, soothing, and with just a hint of something else. Samara clenched her fists tightly into the blanket, the tension building, but still, sleep didn't come.
Samara lay in bed, her eyes closed, trying to ignore the soft touch of Kamala's hand on her shoulder. She could feel the gentle caress of her fingers, sending shivers down her spine as Kamala's sultry voice whispered sweet nothing's in her ear.
"Keep those pretty eye closed," Kamala murmured, her breath hot against her skin.
"Just relax and let me take care of you."
Samara tried to focus on her breath, to clear her mind of the thoughts that kept creeping in. But it was no use. Kamala's touch was like a drug, and she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if the other woman's hand were to move lower.
As she lay there, Samara felt her body respond to the imagined touch, her heart racing and her skin tingling with anticipation. She could hear her own moans, barely audible, but growing louder with each passing moment.
Suddenly, Kamala's hand moved lower, her fingers brushing against Samara's heat, although her own hand, it sent a jolt of electricity through her body. Samara's eyes flew open, and she found herself staring into Kamala's dark, knowing eyes.
"You sure you're thinking straight about those private sessions?" Kamala asked, her voice low and sultry.
Samara's breath caught in her throat as she realized what was happening. She was caught up in her own desires, and she wasn't sure if she was thinking straight anymore.
As Kamala's hand continued to move lower, Samara's body began to throb with a growing need. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps.
And then, just as she was about to lose herself at the moment, Samara's eyes snapped open, and she found herself wide awake, drenched in sweat, and throbbing with a desire she couldn't ignore. She looked around the room, half-expecting to see Kamala standing there, but the room was empty. The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner, and the memory of Kamala's voice still lingered in her mind.
As she lay there, trying to catch her breath, Samara couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she gave in to her desires.
Would it have been worth it, or would it have just complicated things further?
She got out of bed, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet. The memory of Kamala's touch still lingered, and she found herself wondering if her instructor had been teasing her on purpose.
She looked around herself, and down at her alarm clock... it was only three in the morning.
December 5th
Samara walked into the classroom, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on the floor. She clutched her books tightly to her chest, as if they were a shield that could protect her from the storm inside.
She refused to look at Professor Harris.
Not only that, but she refused to let herself be drawn into that gravitational pull again.
It wasn't just guilt, though, that gnawed at her, it was fear. Fear of what it meant that she couldn't stop thinking about her. Fear of what would happen if those private sessions crossed boundaries she didn't even trust herself to keep.
Samara took a seat near the back of the room, as far away from Kamala as she could without making it obvious she was hiding. As Kamala began her lecture, her voice as steady as ever, Samara kept her eyes glued to her laptop, typing down every word. She was determined to stay professional, to focus on her studies, and to pretend none of this was happening. She barely noticed the way Kamala's eyes scanned the room, pausing ever so briefly when they landed on her. If Kamala noticed the lack of eye contact or Samara's refusal to engage, she didn't let it show. She continued to teach, her presence as magnetic and authoritative as ever.
When the class ended, Samara was the first to leave the room, her footsteps quick and purposeful. She didn't linger to ask questions or engage in casual conversation like she used to. She slipped out before Kamala could even glance her way, her heart pounding as she made her escape.
This became her routine for the rest of the week. In and out. No eye contact, no small talk, no acknowledgment of the woman who had occupied her every waking thought.
December 9th, Friday Evening
By the end of the week, Samara was mentally exhausted.
Avoiding Kamala had taken more effort than she anticipated, and she was painfully aware of the tension between them, even if it was entirely one-sided. As the class wound down, Samara couldn't stay awake, she drifted to sleep, only waking to the room empty, she quickly began packing her things, eager to leave before Kamala could say anything.
She was just zipping up her bag when Kamala's voice cut through the air, calm and firm, yet tinged with amusement.
"Samara, don't forget, we have our first session today. Be back in my office before six, so we can leave on time."
Samara froze. She hadn't forgotten, but hearing Kamala say it made her stomach twist into knots. She nodded quickly, unable to meet her professor's gaze.
"Yes, Professor," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she turned to leave, her face flushed a deep red, Kamala chuckled silently behind her. "Relax, darling" Kamala teased lightly, her tone warm and almost playful.
"I promise, I don't bite."
Samara's cheeks burned hotter, and she practically bolted out of the room, her thoughts a whirlwind of embarrassment and something she didn't want to name. Behind her, Kamala smiled knowingly, leaning back in her chair.
Later That Evening
Samara stood outside Kamala's room door at 5:55 PM, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure anyone nearby could hear it. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before raising her hand to knock.
This was going to be fine. It had to be fine.
"Come in," Kamala's voice called from the other side, smooth and inviting.
Samara opened the door, stepping into the room that now felt so much smaller than it had before. Kamala was seated at her desk, her expression calm, but her eyes sharp, as if she could see right through Samara's nervous facade.
"Right on time," Kamala said, standing and grabbing her coat. "Ready?"
Samara nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, Professor."
Kamala smiled, holding the door open for her. "Let's go, then."
Samara followed Kamala out of the building, her steps cautious and hesitant. The crisp evening air nipped at her cheeks, but it did little to cool the heat of her nerves. She kept her head down, aware of the few lingering students scattered across campus. She could feel their eyes on her, some curious, some envious, and it made her stomach churn.
Kamala walked a step ahead, her presence commanding as always. She didn't seem to notice, or maybe she didn't care, about the attention they were attracting. Samara's heart pounded as they approached a sleek black car parked neatly in the lot.
"This is me," Kamala said casually, unlocking the car with a press of her key fob.
Samara hesitated for a moment before opening the passenger door and sliding in. She sank back into her seat, her gaze fixed firmly on her lap, praying Kamala hadn't noticed her awkwardness.
The car was warm, the soft scent of leather mixed with a faint trace of Kamala's perfume. It was intoxicating and only made Samara feel more self-conscious. She didn't dare glance out the window, knowing she'd see more students watching.
Kamala got in, closed the door, and started the car. The soft purr of the engine filled the silence as they pulled out of the parking lot. Samara kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, her fingers twisting nervously.
For the first few minutes, the only sound was the hum of the car and the occasional click of the turn signal. Samara stared straight ahead, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
"So," Kamala began, her tone light, "how was your break?"
Samara blinked, surprised by the question. "It was... fine," she replied quietly, her voice barely audible over the engine.
Kamala glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road. "And your other classes? How are you feeling about them?"
"They're okay," Samara said, her response automatic.
Kamala smirked, as if she expected the vague answers. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice softening just enough to make Samara's breath hitch. "And the material in my class? How's that treating you?"
Samara's stomach dropped. Of course, Kamala had to ask. She hesitated, fumbling for words that wouldn't betray her. "It's.... Challenging," she admitted, her voice tightening with nerves.
Kamala chuckled softly, the sound warm and teasing. "Challenging is good. It means you're learning."
Samara nodded quickly, grateful Kamala didn't press further. She hoped that was the end of it, but Kamala's gaze lingered on her for a moment before returning to the road.
Kamala had noticed, of course. The way Samara's shoulders tensed, the way she avoided eye contact—it was all too telling. But she said nothing, letting the silence settle between them for a moment before she spoke again.
"You've been tried in class lately," Kamala observed, her tone casual but pointed.
"Burning the midnight oil?"
Samara froze, her cheeks flushing. "I guess... just trying to keep up," she lied, though her voice wavered.
Kamala smiled knowingly, a private sort of smile. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against Samara's thigh. "You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft but firm.
Samara's breath hitched as Kamala's hand lingered, her fingers trailing in a slow, deliberate motion. The warmth of her touch seeped through the fabric of Samara's jeans, sending a shiver down her spine.
"You don't need to overthink it" Kamala added, her hand giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze before pulling away.
Samara's heart was racing so fast she thought it might burst. She swallowed hard, staring straight ahead and praying Kamala didn't notice the heat flooding her face.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur, Samara's mind too scattered to process much of anything. By the time Kamala pulled into their destination, her nerves were frayed, and she wasn't sure how much more she could handle.