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Red Strokes
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2025-12-03 08:16:13The morning sun pours through the tall windows of my studio apartment. Golden light floods every corner. It dances across the cluttered canvases stacked against the walls. It spills over the paint-streaked hardwood floor. It even warms the worn leather couch where I wake up. My body buzzes from a night of fitful dreams. The air carries the sharp tang of turpentine mixed with the rich, earthy scent of fresh oil paint. Those smells wrap around me like an old friend. Hailey left last night, but her lavender perfume still lingers as a faint whisper in the room.
I stretch slowly. My joints pop with the motion. The soft, worn cotton of my oversized shirt brushes against my skin. My phone vibrates on the rickety side table. The screen shows an unknown number. I swipe to answer. My heart skips a beat when a smooth voice cuts through the line.“José, this is Marcus from Horizon Gallery. Your work is gaining serious traction. Are you interested in a solo show?”I fr
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In My Professor's Arms Red Strokes
The morning sun pours through the tall windows of my studio apartment. Golden light floods every corner. It dances across the cluttered canvases stacked against the walls. It spills over the paint-streaked hardwood floor. It even warms the worn leather couch where I wake up. My body buzzes from a night of fitful dreams. The air carries the sharp tang of turpentine mixed with the rich, earthy scent of fresh oil paint. Those smells wrap around me like an old friend. Hailey left last night, but her lavender perfume still lingers as a faint whisper in the room.I stretch slowly. My joints pop with the motion. The soft, worn cotton of my oversized shirt brushes against my skin. My phone vibrates on the rickety side table. The screen shows an unknown number. I swipe to answer. My heart skips a beat when a smooth voice cuts through the line.“José, this is Marcus from Horizon Gallery. Your work is gaining serious traction. Are you interested in a solo show?”I fr
In My Professor's Arms Hailey
(José’s POV)Morning sunlight pours through the high windows of my studio apartment. It spills in thick golden waves across the cluttered canvases and the paint-splattered floor. I wake up stiff, my back aching from another night crashed on the worn couch. The air carries the sharp bite of turpentine mixed with the earthy depth of drying oil paint. Underneath it all lingers the soft floral trace of Hailey’s perfume. She was here last night, and the scent clings to everything. This is my new rhythm, the one I’ve carved out since Lily walked away. I stretch slowly. My joints pop. The faded cotton of my old shirt brushes against my skin like a familiar friend.My phone buzzes on the rickety side table. The screen lights up with a text from Hailey. It reads, “Morning, babe. Coffee at yours?” A small smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. A quiet sense of normalcy settles over me like a warm blanket.I roll off the couch. The cool hardwood bites into the soles
In My Professor's Arms Like Fresh Orgasms
The air carries the faint vanilla scent from the candle that burned out on the nightstand. It mixes with the crisp freshness of a brand-new morning. I stretch slowly. My joints pop with relief. The sheets feel cool and smooth against my bare skin. I turn my head and look at Victor. He lies beside me. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His face looks peaceful while he sleeps. The chaos of Clara’s arrest feels distant now. The apology and the social media firestorm seem like memories from someone else’s life. I smile to myself. My heart finally settles. I savor this quiet moment with him.I slip out of bed carefully. The hardwood floor creaks under my bare feet. I grab his shirt from the chair. The fabric feels soft and warm against my skin. His woody scent wraps around me like a comforting hug. I pad into the kitchen. The cold tiles shock my soles at first. I turn on the coffee maker. It gurgles to life and breaks the morning silence. The bitter aroma of fresh cof
In My Professor's Arms Zero Fucks Given
Morning sunlight pours through the wide windows of my new apartment. It casts a soft golden glow over the scattered moving boxes. The light also warms the couch where I have been sitting since dawn. My mind still reels from Clara Holt’s wild confession yesterday. The air feels lighter today. It carries the faint scent of vanilla from the candle I lit last night. A crisp breeze sneaks in through the cracked window. The breeze brings a quiet shift after the storm of her arrest.I stay wrapped in Victor’s shirt. The fabric feels warm and soft against my skin. His woody scent comforts me like a private embrace. My phone buzzes on the coffee table. A text from Victor lights up the screen. “Clara’s issuing an apology. Watch it live.” My heart skips a beat. Relief and curiosity finally mingle inside my chest. I reach for the remote. The TV hums to life with a soft click.The screen flickers. There she is. Clara sits in a stark room. Her face looks pale. Her hair is tamed
In My Professor's Arms Crazy Delusion
The morning sun slices through the wide windows of my new apartment. Golden beams streak across the scattered moving boxes. They also light up the couch where I’ve been pacing since dawn. My heart pounds with raw anticipation.The air feels thick. It carries the bitter ghost of last night’s coffee. A crisp new-day breeze sneaks in through the cracked window. Everything contrasts sharply with the knot twisting inside my gut.I’m still wearing Victor’s shirt. The fabric brushes soft against my skin. His woody scent clings faintly now. It’s the only comfort I have while I wait.My phone buzzes on the coffee table. An unknown number flashes on the screen. I snatch it up. My fingers tremble as I swipe to answer.A gruff voice cuts through the line. “This is Officer Patel. We’ve arrested Clara Holt. Can you come to the station?”My breath snags in my throat. Relief slams into shock. I nod even though he can’t see me. I rush to yank on jeans. Th
In My Professor's Arms We Find that Bitch
Morning sunlight pours through the wide windows of my new apartment. It spreads a soft golden glow over the scattered moving boxes and the leather couch where I spent the night tossing restlessly. My body stays tense from dreams packed with shadowed threats. The air hangs still and heavy. It carries the faint woody scent of Victor’s shirt, which I draped over myself like a blanket. The crisp bite of dawn sneaks in through the cracked window and mixes with everything else.I wake up to the sound of my joints popping as I stretch. The leather creaks beneath me. I rub my eyes and stand up slowly. The cool hardwood floor presses against my bare feet. My phone sits on the coffee table and suddenly glows. A new text lights up the screen from Victor. It says he is out of the hospital and on his way to me. A massive wave of relief crashes over my body. My heart starts pounding with pure hope.The door clicks open a moment later. Victor steps inside. His broad frame hunches
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