Here I am, in class that's about to end in a few minutes. Mr Hart back to his original: "don't talk to me!" personality. He never looked in my direction for the whole session which disappointed me a little.
"Okay, students. Come prepared for tomorrow's class cause we'll be moving to the next topic and there might be a surprise quiz." The students groan and mumble as they pack their belongings and exit the class. As usual I pack up slowly so I can be the last one to leave to catch his attention. I know his secret now. He goes to strip clubs. I feel bad for Mrs Hart but, what she doesn't know won't hurt her.
"Ah Ms Thompson, come meet Johnathan. He agreed to tutor you for the semester. I'll leave you guys here and talk. I'm in a rush." He states as he rushes out of the class. He doesn't recognize me right? But how? My mask covers all of my face. Calm down Elena he's probably, actually in a rush and is not avoiding you.
"Hi I'm Johnathan, you are Elena right?" I look at him. A bit annoyed right now but, I don't want to hurt him since he did nothing wrong to me.
"Yes, nice to meet you Johnathan." I smile politely. "So, the tutoring... When will it start to commence?" I look up at him. He was quite tall but not as tall as professor. He fell more on the slim side.
"Uh... Today? If its okay with you. Or tomorrow... You can pick a date. I have nothing to do anyway." He stutters as he awkwardly scratches the back of his head, avoiding eye contact. I internally laugh still maintaing my composure.
"Please tomorrow, I have to go to work to work soon. Is that fine with you?" I ask him. I can see his face change a bit showcasing disappointment but, he quickly replaces it with his smile.
"Okay tomorrow it is. Um can I have your phone numbers (he pauses). So we could discuss the venue and time." He states nervously, making me giggle a little which calms him down. He smiles again, revealing his dimples.
"Sure." I give him my phone numbers. "Well, see you tomorrow." I walk to the door, turn around, wave goodbye and he immediately waves back. Then I walk out.
It is already in the evening and I am already in the room. I used the backdoor to avoid to be seen by the hungry men. The owner called me yesterday telling me that he made 10x the money the club makes from only him and told me he's returning again. I knew professor had is a rich man but, not this rich. I am excited.
My professor is sitting across me again. Same chair, same distance and same position. I am using the same long jacket I wore yesterday to cover the tantalizing, provocative outfit under. This one is only for him. Of course I am wearing my full mask. He can't know who I am yet.
The music starts: "Renegade" by Aaryan Shah.
As I stand at the door, the jacket draped over my shoulders, I can feel the weight of his gaze, intense and hungry. He is seated on a chair, his body tense, his eyes never leaving mine. I start to reach for the jacket, intending to take it off, to reveal the provocative outfit beneath. But before I can even touch the fabric, he stands up slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled.
He walks towards me, each step measured, his eyes locked on mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in the air, the unspoken promise of desire. As he approaches, I can see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his restraint and his primal need.
He reaches out, his hands gentle but firm as he takes the jackets belt from me, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. With a slow, deliberate motion, he ties the jackets belt around my waist once more, his movements careful and intentional. His fingers lingering on the knot, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.
As he steps back, his eyes roam over my body, taking in every curve, every line, every inch of skin that the jacket now conceals. I can see the hunger in his gaze, the need, the desire, and it sends a thrill of power through me, knowing that I have this effect on him, that I can make him lose control.
He reaches out, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing gently against my masked skin. "You're too tempting, Ballerina." he murmurs, his voice a low growl. "I can't resist you, but I also can't let you go. Not yet." Faking his russian accent again. I understand him though but, I think its pointless since I know who he is.
I lean into his touch, my eyes locked on his, feeling the connection between us, the unspoken promise of what's to come. I know that he wants me, that he desires me with an intensity that matches my own. But he's choosing to hold back, to savor the anticipation, to draw out the pleasure.
I reach up, my hand covering his, my fingers intertwining with his. "Then don't let me go," I whisper, my voice laced with desire. "Keep me here, with you. Make me yours."
He leans in, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot on my skin. "I will," he promises, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I will make you mine, completely and utterly. But first, I want to talk. Get to know you better." He says. Guiding me to the king sized bed. We take a seat. I'm shocked but at the same time happy that he wants to genuinely gets to know me.
"Whats your name ballerina." He asks and places his hand on my covered thigh. I can't tell him now.
"I can't tell you yet." He smirks and nods with understanding. We talk about other stuff. Nothing personal, just simple stuff like favorite color, flowers, restaurant, pets and more. We shared jokes here and there.
He comes so often that I stopped stripping and started coming in my normal clothes. Still in my mask though. He still pays a lot of money just to talk to me. Same time, every night and I enjoyed every second of it. He would even bring food, causing me to reveal my lips only but I didn't mind.
I realized that there's more to my professor than his looks. I start to fall for him even harder. He never wears his ring whenever he comes. He's been coming here for a month. I don't only look at him with need anymore but love.
I still went to consultations, bringing him snacks and more but he would oddly decline and I get it, he has a reputation to uphold and a family to care for. He would pretend to not know me at campus but, cuddle with me in the strip clubs beds at night. It hurt a little but that won't make me loose hope.
I've grown closer to Johnathan as well. We are good friends right now. Since we have the same classes, we would walk together. Since I get used to people easily, John knows why I work but, he doesn't know what I do.
We are currently in Mr Harts class as he lectures. The class ends and we pack to leave. I don't pretend to pack slow so I can be the last one to get out of class now since I get to talk to him every night now.
As I was still seated laughing with John as I'm still packing my stuff, I feel like someone is watching me. I look in that direction I'm feeling the gaze from and it is Mr Hart. His gaze is intense and dark making me instantly regret why I looked at him in the first place.
His face is void of emotions but, his eyes are dark, like he's warning me. I quickly pick my bag out and follow John as we are heading out.
"Ms Thompson, may I have a word with you." Looking at me as I look at John.
"I'll wait for you at the hallway." John states as he heads out. Suspecting nothing. He doesn't know its me right.
With a sudden, fluid motion, he steps closer, his body pressing against mine, trapping me between the hard, unyielding surface of the classroom door and the solid wall of his chest. I can feel the heat of his body, the strength in his muscles, and the rapid beat of his heart against my own. His breath is hot on my skin, with his usual cologne.
His fingers find the bare skin of my thigh, exposed by the pencil skirt I'm wearing. I gasp as he touches me, his hands rough and demanding, tracing the curve of my leg, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. He grips my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me closer, deeper into his embrace.
"Professor? We are in a classroom." I whisper but he ignores me gripping my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me closer, deeper into his embrace.
I can feel the wetness between my legs, the ache of need, and I know that he can see it too, can feel it in the way my body responds to his. My breaths come in short gasps, my chest heaving against him, my nipples hardening beneath the fabric of my bra.
He leans in, his lips finding mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. His tongue explores my mouth, tasting, claiming, devouring. I can feel the hunger in his kiss, the desperation, the raw, need. His hands on my thighs, his touch rough, possessive, as he explores the skin I've bared for him.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmurs against my lips, his voice a low, ragged growl. "I've been holding myself back, ignoring your advances. Now I can't anymore."
I moan, the sound caught in his mouth, as his hands move higher, his fingers brushing against the edge of my panties. I can feel the heat of his touch, the promise of more, and it sends shivers of anticipation down my spine.
I arch against him, my body pressing into his, seeking more, needing more. His hands continue to explore, to touch, to tease, driving me to the edge of madness with desire. I can feel the hardness of his erection pressing against me, a promise of what's to come, and I ache with need, with the desire to have him, to feel him, to be filled by him.