Walked Into Trouble

~Bonnie

I woke up earlier than usual, the pink G-string already on my mind before my eyes even opened fully.

The house was quiet, Mum was still asleep downstairs I guess. I slipped out of bed, showered slowly and hot, letting the water run over me like it could wash away the nerves. It didn’t.

Back in my room, towel dropped, I stood in front of the full length mirror. The pink lace sat low on my hips, thin straps framing my ass, the front barely covering anything.

I turned side to side, heart already racing. Wrong. So wrong. But the wrongness felt like fire under my skin.

I grabbed my phone, angled it behind me, snapped a few shots, back arched, ass out, the pink string disappearing between my cheeks.

Then one from the front, my clothes not on yet, just the lace and my bare stomach.

My thumb hovered over the screen for a full minute. Courage. Or stupidity. I opened the contact card he’d given me yesterday, his private number saved as M and attached the photos. No caption, I just sent it as a view once.

The second the little delivered appeared, I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. Stupid, reckless smile. I didn’t wait for a reply.

I dressed like I was going to war, or maybe to surrender.

The crop top was white, tight, low cut, pushing my breasts up high, the neckline dipping to show the swell of cleavage and a hint of underboob if I moved wrong. Or right.

The skirt was black, ridiculously short, pleated just enough to look like a uniform gone bad. It barely skimmed the tops of my thighs, riding up every time I took a step.

Stockings next, black, sheer, with a thin lace band at the top. No garters today, I wanted it simple, tight, obvious.

There was a sports workout session on campus later, but I didn’t care. The outfit screamed anything but athletics. It screamed for him.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time. Cleavage pushed high, tummy bare, skirt so short I could feel air on the curve of my ass.

I looked like trouble. I felt like trouble. And I wanted whatever was coming so badly it scared me.

I headed downstairs, heels clicking. Mum was in the kitchen, stirring tea, still in her robe.

“Bonnie!” she called, turning. Her eyes went wide when she saw me. “Where are you going dressed like that?”

I froze mid step. “School, Mum. Normal day.”

She raised an eyebrow, smiling slowly. “Normal? You look like you’re going on a date.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing it off. “Please. You know your daughter doesn’t just go out with any man.”

She set the spoon down, came closer, and hugged me quickly. “Speaking of men… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I have someone.”

My heart skipped. “What?”

She grinned, cheeks pink. “We’ve been dating. Eight months now. I wanted to surprise you, make sure it was real before I said anything. We’re talking about marriage soon.”

I stared at her, then laughed, real, happy laughter. “Mum! Why didn’t you say? Who is he? When will I meet him?”

“Soon, baby. Soon.” She kissed my cheek. “I’m happy. Really happy.”

I pecked her forehead. “I’m happy for you. Whoever he is, I can’t wait to meet him.”

She stepped back, eyeing my outfit again. “But seriously, Bon Bon… be careful out there. That skirt is asking questions.”

I smirked. “Let it ask. I’ve got answers.”

I grabbed my bag, blew her a kiss, and headed out the door.

Every step made the fabric shift, reminding me what I was wearing underneath. What I’d sent him.

My phone buzzed in my bag as I walked toward campus.

I didn’t check it yet.

I wanted to feel the anticipation a little longer.

I boarded a cab outside the house, gave the driver the campus address, and spent the whole ride staring out the window, thighs pressed tight under the short skirt.

My phone stayed silent until the cab pulled up at the main gate.

I paid, stepped out, and checked my messages the second my feet hit the pavement.

"Wow, you look so hot. I hope you won't mind if I rip that off."

My breath caught. Rip that off. The same words from the note. But which version? The literal tear of lace, or... more? I didn't know yet, and the not knowing made my stomach twist in the best worst way.

Second message, right below it.

"I would like it if you could reach my office without passing through the field."

I blushed so hard I felt it in my ears. He knew exactly what he was doing, keeping me off the open paths where people could see me like this, skirt riding up, crop top barely containing anything.

He wanted me discreet.

Bianca and I had a shortcut we used whenever we were late to class and didn't want eyes on us, a narrow service path behind the old science block, cutting through overgrown hedges and past the back of the admin buildings.

No one used it unless they had to. I took it now, heels sinking a little into the dirt, skirt flipping up with every hurried step.

The long way felt longer today, my heart pounding louder with every turn.

By the time I reached the literature building, the whole floor seemed empty.

No voices, no footsteps, just the hum of the AC and the faint smell of old books drifting from under doors. If my guess was right, we were the only ones here.

I stopped in front of his office door, hand hovering over the knob. Part of me wanted to turn and run, back to the field, back to normal, back to pretending this was just a fantasy. But my body wouldn't move that way.

I turned to leave anyway, one last second of doubt.

And there he was.

Professor Marcellus stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, black shirt sleeves rolled, watching me like he'd been waiting the whole time.

His dark eyes locked on mine, expression calm but hungry.

I gasped, spun back too fast, my back slammed against his office door with a soft thud. The wood was cool through the thin crop top.

My skirt rode up higher from the sudden movement, the edge of the pink lace probably visible now if he looked down.

He didn't move at first. Just watched.

Then he walked toward me,slow steps.

I stayed pinned there, breathing shallow, heart slamming against my ribs.

He stopped inches away. Close enough that I could smell his cologne again, feel the heat coming off him.

"Bonnie," he said, voice low. "You came."

I nodded, words stuck somewhere in my throat.

His gaze dropped, slowly to the crop top pushing my breasts up, the bare strip of tummy, the hem of the skirt barely covering me. Then lower, to where the pink peeked if I shifted even a little.

"Good choice," he murmured.

He reached past me, hand brushing my hip as he turned the knob behind my back. The door opened inward. I stumbled a step inside from the motion.

He followed, closed the door, and locked it with a quiet click.

He turned back to me.

"Now," he said softly, stepping closer until my back was against the door again, "let's see if you followed all the instructions.”