Professor Black’s Possession
My body buzzed from the alcohol and the orgasm.
The music thumped and I let it pull me. My arms floated at the surface. My hips swayed.
My wet shirt clung to my skin, see-through now, lace visible, nipples hard beneath the soaked fabric. I didn’t care.
I felt hot.
Wanted.
And then I looked up.
And froze.
There, above the pool, leaning against the iron balcony railing with a drink in his hand, was him.
Chance.
Professor Black.
His black shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a glimpse of ink trailing down his chest. The sleeves were rolled, forearms tensed, veins tight.