Romans & histoires Becoming Professor Moriarty's Probability

“Next time you show up for my class, make sure to be on time. She turns, rotating gracefully as if standing on a turntable. Standing in impossibly tall spiked heels, her leather and tweed pantsuit strains to cover her full, curvy figure. A bit of red peeks out of her collar in the form of a large bow, matching the color of her full, red lips. When our eyes meet, my pens clatter onto the floor, rolling away from me as my jaw drops open. Those gray-green eyes. I’d know those eyes anywhere, they've been haunting my dreams for the last three weeks. “You!” My mystery seductress, the one who took my virginity, is my professor.

But those attempts quickly realized they could never compete with the professor's loyalty to his work. When he looked at Isa, he could see it. Her eyes were dark... brown like a barren forest in a frigid, snowless winter night. Yet amidst the trees was a flame. It was the same spark Isa saw in her professor that now plagued her fantasies. The sin, immorality, corruption of it all... No. She's a student. The relationship between a professor and student should always remain chaste. Although if we lived in a lawless society, Theodore would have Isa's hands bounded and her ass branded with his belt.

Shanon saw Anthony in her son. “So, I have a question. I will give credit if you successfully answer my question.” Silence. No one was interested in answering Professor McGregor’s question. The credit he promised did not inspire anyone to answer his question. “I'll simplify it then. You can choose from two options, A or B. Which of the two is right to answer my question?" “B.” “Who answered it? Please raise your hand.” Shanon covered her mouth in disbelief as she turned to Charlie. Her son just said B in his crisp voice.

The man who held a knife to my throat and told me to run. He stood there in a black suit, calm and untouchable, as though none of it had ever happened. “Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and collected. “I’m Professor Zander. I’ll be taking you through this course for the semester.” The classroom buzzed with whispers. Girls giggled softly, already swooning over the new professor’s looks. The guys leaned back, unimpressed. But no one, no one saw what I saw. His hands. His eyes. That night.

Even after the humiliation, even after Julian’s latest threats, Professor Damien Vale was the only thing that still made my heart race. And for the first time, I wondered if maybe just maybe he was starting to see me too

When I finally looked up to meet it, there was something in his expression that I couldn't quite identify. "What?" I asked, genuinely puzzled by his continued scrutiny. Professor Morrison scoffed, a sound that held more judgment than amusement, and rose to his f*e. "Don't you have a mate?" he asked bluntly, “Why are you flirting with someone else?" The question, left me speechless for several long seconds. How could he possibly know I have a mate? "I... what?" I stammered. "I wasn't flirting. He was just returning my wallet." "Was he?" Professor Morrison asked, his tone suggesting he found my explanation less than convincing. "Because from where I was sitting, it looked remarkably like a you

"Am I under arrest?" "Not yet. But they're building a case. You have been seen with Mr. Morano a number of times, you’ve gone to his places, your phone records show ongoing communication.” He took out a tablet and handed me a list. “They’re going to attempt to depict you as a co-conspirator. My assignment is to show you’re unsuspecting of his actions.” "But I did know—" "No." He cut me off sharply. "You suspected nothing. You were dating a professor. That's all. All else is speculation and circumstantial. Understood?"

“You had one last chance to redeem yourself. You just needed to bloody graduate, Imogen. That man is gone, he never really loved you. He just wanted to get into your pants, and you let him!” “Whoring yourself around, is that the only professor you slept with? Which other professor did you give yourself to?” my father asks, his voice low and menacing as he takes off his belt. “None... it's just him, I swear,” I choke out, my voice barely a whisper, my eyes wide with terror.

He dropped the file on his desk and then stood up, his hands in his pocket as he walked closer to me. "The only thing I want from you is to use that amazing ability of yours to find reasonable doubt where everyone else sees certainty." My stomach dropped. "Sir with all due respect, I'm afraid that might be a little bit difficult. As you can see the evidence in this case isn't some tiny thing. Morrison clearly stole the pension money and put it in his own accounts. The paperwork is rock solid." He grabbed my shoulder and gave it a squeeze which sent some sharp pain through me. Then he brings his face closer to me, that I could smell his foul breath.