In My Professor's Arms
"
She laughs, low, and leads me inside, her hips swaying just enough to catch my eye. I clench my fists, forcing myself to look at the city skyline twinkling outside the windows.
We sit, the table a fragile barrier between us, plates of asparagus and roasted lamb steaming in the candlelight. The wine is robust, a deep red that stains her lips when she drinks. "So, AURORA PRESS," she says, leaning forward, her blouse dipping to show a hint of cleavage. "Erotica and literary fiction. Brave choice, Victor." Her tone is inquiring, but her eyes have a spark, a challenge.
I nod, my throat tight. "I think I'm done with just Philosophy and lecture halls. I should start aiming to print erotic stories
Bab Populer