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FIFTY-ONE: Our First Date
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2025-12-01 23:00:39February comes along nicely. Things are different between Harlan and me. Better. The way he was at the gala, full of smiles, and even laughing... he hasn't shied away from me at all after accidentally telling me that I've essentially bewitched him against his will. On the contrary, he was a complete gentleman at the event. Even though we couldn't act like we were together, it still felt like a date.
Our first date.It certainly ended the way any good date should.Looking down at my desk, I smile at the memory. It is Friday afternoon, and I am in class, a class not taught by Harlan. It has been nearly a week since the gala. I haven't seen him much this week, save for my classes with him. Apparently, there is more family drama that he is dealing with privately. But even so, this time around, he seems more put-together about it. He is kind to me, not ignoring me like he did all those times before, but explaining the situation and that he is too occupied with it to see me, b
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SUBMISSION 101 100 + SIX: How Dare You?!
Everything that happens next is an eruption. Bazine’s jaw falling open is the last moment of peace before the blow comes; “what?!” she screeches, standing up and fuming so forcefully Professor Harlan can almost see smoke pouring from her ears.“Miss Netal, I suggest you say nothing further.” The attorney snaps the binder shut and flies to his feet, shoving his notes back into his briefcase as if they too are now incriminating.“How dare you!”“Is this on record?” asks the secretary, scribbling furiously into her notes.“Don’t write another fucking thing,” Bazine snaps.The secretary stands too, holding her notes closely to her chest, bless her, glaring at Bazine from across the room. “That’s against protocol.”Everyone is on their feet, everyone arguing, hollering across the room. Everyone except Professor Harlan. Professor Harlan, who sits calmly at the head of the table. Professor Harlan, who clasps his hands atop the surface, staring at them as if doing so
SUBMISSION 101 100 + FIVE: I Do Not Feel A Thing
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” Grace does not meet my eyes when she speaks, pouring me a glass of water from the Brita filter at the bar without waiting for an answer. I try to thank her when she sets it on the table in front of me, but I choke on my own vocal cords and can only swallow thickly instead. “Can I uh…” I clear my throat, shocked by how hoarse and dry my voice sounds. Not only do I sound choked, but I also sound like I have aged about a decade. And that checks out; it is pretty much how I feel too. “Should I… I mean, I would just like the chance to defend myself.” Only then do I find the courage to meet her gaze. Only then does she find the courage to meet mine. I am not sure if she pities me, or if she has played some part in all this. Perhaps both. She gives me the saddest of smiles, an expression that brims with sympathy, or maybe guilt. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she tells me. “This won’t take v
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
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