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FIFTY-FOUR: I'm Smarter Than You All Think
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2025-12-02 23:00:09Rhea is in the living room when I finally emerge. My body stiffens; suddenly I become aware that my eyes are undoubtedly puffy and red, and I don't feel like answering her questions if she thinks someone has hurt me.
I don't feel like mentioning Harlan's name ever again. "Hi," she says softly, closing the book she is reading as she looks up at me. Her expression is full of sympathy and concern. It makes me even more tense. "Are you okay? Lena and Mira said they thought they heard you crying, but didn't want to bother you. I said I'd check on you when you–" "What time is it?" I ask, shutting my eyes. The moment I open my mouth to speak, my head begins to ache, like there is a miniscule miner in my brain, chipping away at the inside of my skull and sending blood pulsing so hard in my ears it is actually audible. "Ten." Jesus Christ. I've spent the last five hours passed out on my bedroom floor. "Okay, look," I reply
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SUBMISSION 101 100 + FOUR: The Girl Or Your Career?
Her eyes narrow as she stares at us: Professor Harlan fully sheathed inside of me, clutching me at the hips. And then there is me; legs spread and skirt pooling indecently at my waist, clutching his arms for support. Professor Harlan barely registers the pain of my fingernails, having burrowed into the skin of his biceps. After a few moments of painful silence, Bazine straightens up, expression calm, eyes empty as they fall upon me, lips almost curled up into a smile. And she politely lilts: “Get out.” “Professor Harlan,” I whimper, staring up at him as if pleading for instruction. But his eyes are locked with Bazine’s. This is his fight. He straightens up, stuffing himself back into his pants, zipping up the fly. “Go,” he murmurs, fingers still trailing my waist as he steps away only far enough to allow me to close my shaking legs and smooth my skirt. He can feel me trembling as I readjust my top to cover myself as much as I can. “Professor
SUBMISSION 101 100 + THREE: One More Thing To Hide
Professor Harlan has become involved with Bazine shortly after leaving the university, and subsequently, after leaving everything behind him. Again. He knows he does not have much of a choice; Bazine has a way of getting everything she wants while effortlessly skirting around the consequences. And Professor Harlan does not have the energy to fight it. And not only that; at the time, he welcomes the distraction. Anything to allow him to forget me. When he is tangled up with Bazine, he pictures someone else, nuzzling his face into her neck as he fucks her so he does not have to look at that darkly malevolent woman who, in that present moment, has him within her clutches; literally. That way, he can easily pretend it is someone else in her place. Someone specific. The first night with Bazine; and truth be told, there are not too many nights with her altogether; is a release that he feels he needs. He is angry. Angrier than he expects to be. Angrier than he should ha
SUBMISSION 101 100 + TWO: I Realize She Is Grinning
“I think I need to keep that mouth of yours quiet,” he tells me. My belly flutters in response. “Suck,” he orders. My lips part, and I suck back three of Professor Harlan’s fingers greedily into my mouth. I lick at my own wetness, lips taut against his skin, feeling him tease the back of my throat with small movements. I gag, a soft gurgling bubbling from my throat, eliciting a dark smile from Professor Harlan. “Good girl,” he hums, watching me take him back to the knuckle, eyes locked with his as my tongue swirls, bobbing my head, hoping he is imagining me sucking and choking on his cock instead. He exhales on a hot, heavy breath, watching me work my mouth. “Such a good fucking girl,” he murmurs, grinning. Truly grinning. The sight alone sends jolts of what I can only describe as electricity flickering violently through my belly. He watches me, lips wrapped around his fingers, cheeks hollowed, and hums in approval. He withdraws his fingers, trailing th
SUBMISSION 101 100 + ONE: When I Get You Home
I feel my eyes clamp shut just shy of feeling his lips press against mine. Inhaling sharply through my nose, my hands reach for his body. I cannot touch him fast enough, cannot endure another second without feeling his skin and muscle and warmth under my fingertips. Strong arms encircle my waist, pulling me flush against his middle. The fingers that snake through his hair and clutch operate on instinct, on pure desire, a need that never dissipates, an urge that never dies. I part my lips and feel his tongue slip into my mouth, and he feels every inch of my body, every stretch of muscle and blood twitch and flutter in response. My heart swims in my chest, and mostly my mind is silent save for the staggering realization that this will never get old. I will never stop wanting it, no matter how long I have it for. His tongue drags across my lower lip, followed by his teeth, lightly sinking down onto the same spot. It becomes clear; a knowledge I know I already possess but fin
SUBMISSION 101 HUNDRED: My Girlfriend
I leave Professor Harlan in New York with the knowledge that so much has changed, but in many ways things have stayed the same too. As much as I want to remain for the funeral, he insists that we cannot both take off work at the same time; it would be too suspicious. It breaks my heart, makes me feel guilty, leaving him so shortly after Padmé’s passing, as I grapple with the reality that while he would appreciate me being there, he does not need it. He still does not need me the way I need him, and maybe that will never change. He has spent years strengthening himself. The glances of softness and exhaustion I glimpse while back in his home are few and far between, I come to realize. It is as if once in a while his eyes swing open like doors, and beyond them, in the distance, I can make out the pain and suffering beneath before they clamp shut again. The solace comes from the fact that he is not pushing me away anymore. That he finally underst
SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-NINE: Not Today
“Not today,” Professor Harlan whispers through gritted teeth. “But someday.”Luke gives a curt nod and a slight smile, only tugging his gaze away from his nephew when the floorboards creak from the entrance to the study.It is Leia, looking stoic but patient, eyeing the two of them cautiously.Luke pats Professor Harlan’s cheek. Harlan’s eyes flicker to the floor, but he allows it. Turning on his heel, Luke exits the study, passing Leia as he goes, who slowly, carefully makes her way toward her son.“I’ve been waiting years for you two to hash it out,” she says. “And all in all, it didn’t seem to take very long.”“I guess it’s easier to make amends when someone is dying.”“A sad thought,” she says, landing in front of Professor Harlan, letting her gaze land in his. “But it’s never necessary to wait until it’s too late.”Professor Harlan sighs; part of him wants to apologize. A part of him does not know how. A part of him feels like he has his entire lifet
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