Find My Professor Novels & Stories

more students answer. But the professor started to smile and added: “No ... That's how my colleagues call me. Actually, that doesn't mean I'm not smart, but that's how the others call me. Actually my name is ... Just a second ... what is my name?” Even stranger was that this professor seemed to forget completely what he meant, as he took an object in his hand, looked at it like a brother who saw his sister after more than ten years and was very happy. “The compass of happiness ...! I have been looking for it for almost two months. I have to return it to ...:

She’s exactly the person I need to speak to. I scroll up to the top of the page, then to the bottom again, looking for any sort of contact details. There’s nothing. She doesn’t seem to have any social media profiles set up, and I’m about to give up contacting her when I have a sudden brainwave. I find the website of the Royal University of Ireland. She’s a professor emeritus, so she’s retired and no longer works for the university – but they should still have her contact details on file. I type an e***l to the HR department, mentioning that I’m a student writing a thesis on an area that Professor McAuley specialized in, and I’d hugely appreciate help getting in touch with her for help with m

I could damn near smell the forest, my day dream was practically tangible. Don’t forget the deliciously lickable cowboy abs, Maya had added. Ally taught me how to look up our professors on a site called Rate My Professor. It’s basically a website where students can rate their courses and their professors. Ally was particularly taken with her Human Resources prof she’d had earlier that day. I had to admit, he was very attractive. He had this light little smirk in his bio picture that made my belly tingle and brain zone out. That’s not your belly tingling, girlie. That’s your lady parts, Maya chipped in.

His words seem heavier than Cillian’s, and I want to stop and cry, but my phone beeps at once, showing an email from my new professor. “Get me the list of students attending this class, and I hope to see you all in an hour.” This reminds me that there is no time for a twenty-year-old unfuckable nerd like me to cry. I pause for a while in the hallway of the hotel to send a reply, but as soon as my eyes catch his display profile, I feel the floor beneath me being snatched from my legs. “It can’t be,” I murmur…

Gage: Damn, Kai, did you catch an STD or something? Me: Screw off, Gage... just meet me at the apartment around lunch. I step out of my truck and make my way towards the first building. As I enter my classroom, I retrieve my books and prepare for the morning test. When the professor enters the room accompanied by someone, I can't help but burst into laughter. It takes all my self-control not to jump out of my seat and confront that person. Clearly, he doesn't realize that I recognize him. It's baffling how my professor fails to identify him.

I was in a cage with no key, and the man holding the bars was the only one who could keep my brother alive. "Problem, Miss St. Claire?" he asked, his voice smooth and dangerous. "No," I whispered, clutching the phone until my knuckles turned white. "No problem, Professor." "Good," he said, stepping into the light to adjust his cufflinks. "See you in class. Try to look like you haven't been banged into submission. It’s bad for my reputation."

The professor walks in with a grim look on his face. "Hello, new and old students. If you do not know already, I am your professor. You can call me Mr.White or Sir...Now, let's get on with today's lesson. The person that's sitting next to you is going to be your partner in all shared activities. So for the rest of the week, you are going to get to know each other better as you will be working together a lot this semester. So get used to seeing each other often. I want you all to pick something that you learned about your partner and find a way to express the emotions you felt about what you have found out. You are all dismissed until Monday of next week."

Upon seeing Damon’s absence, I promptly approached the professor. “Ma’am, have you seen Damon? He’s not around.” The professor glanced at the individuals in the room. Everyone was eating except for Damon, who wasn’t present. “Okay, I’ll go look for him. Maybe he hasn’t eaten yet.” “I’ll look for him,” The professor frowned at me. “Have you eaten?” “Yes, I am done with my meal. Just finish your food, and I’ll find Damon if you don’t mind. “Okay, be careful.”

I had just sent a video of myself masturbating to my professor, and he hadn't even said "thank you." I walked back to the espresso machine, my legs still feeling like jelly. I felt dirty, exposed, and strangely hungry for more. I looked at my phone one last time, wondering what he was doing with that video right now. Buzz. Buzz. Professor Ashton: Monday 5pm. My office.

He smiled against my lips as he pulled back, looking at me with his dark and lust-filled eyes. I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone off the charger. It was a group message from my professor; I only had one class this afternoon, and typically she only texted when she was canceling class or had something important to inform us about our assignments. I swiped my finger across the screen and brought up the chat.