My Dosen Novels & Stories

"Honey, someone's knocking on my door. I'm scared!" That one word sent my heart plummeting into the abyss. Jason's expression stiffened. He did not even glance at me, too absorbed in comforting the caller. "Alright, I understand. I'll be right there." Only as he reached the door did he seem to remember me. He came back to explain. "Jennifer, there's something urgent at work. I'll handle it and come back later." Without batting an eye, Jason dropped a kiss on my forehead, his lie smooth and practiced.

Leonel Grey Montero "Good morning, class," our first subject teacher greeted us as he walked to his desk at the front of the classroom. "Good morning, sir," we responded in unison, standing up to greet our teacher. "You may sit down," he remarked as he settled at his desk, pulling out his laptop. "First, let’s take attendance." Everyone in the class responded with a "present," raising their hands to signify their attendance. Except for one person. "Is Miss Lourencia present here?" The teacher scanned the room, searching for a specific individual who was not likely to be present here.

The ice in her eyes was getting more intense as she started to glare outwardlytwardly. “So what is that you do?” Michael decided to break the ice. Of course, he would jump to his profession. So many other topics to discuss, but he hones in on the one that deals with money that he can use to look down on Don. “I’m an educator, sir. I currently work at Lincoln High School, with your nephew Darius, as an Industrial Arts instructor.” Don answered, pulling out the fancy titles for his position at the school. “I’m sure as a parent you can appreciate the hard work and dedication it takes to be an educator.”

Then I make my way to the school to present myself to my supervisor. My supervisor’s name is Professor Malinda Morsel. So, with a map handed to me, I locate her office. After knocking once on the door, I let myself in. However, I nearly stumble into a tall girl coming out of the office at the same time. “My apologies,” she mutters as we walk past each other. Professor Malinda is a woman with height, seated behind her desk, peering at her laptop from the top of her spectacles while her hands move fast on the keyboard.

My friends had been texting in the group chat nonstop and the guilt finally won. We met at a lounge squeezed into our usual corner booth as I tried to act normal and pretend I hadn’t spent the last month shuffling between two very different dicks. Tasha leaned forward first, smirking. “Okay, spill. We’ve barely seen you in weeks. What's going on? Is it Michael or you've been busy reading, bookworm, Which is it?” I forced a laugh. “I’ve been busy with the scholarship prep, you know” “Bullshit,” Maya cut in, eyes narrowing playfully. “We see the way Professor Diego looks at you in class. Like he wants to eat you alive. It’s obvious he has a thing for you.”

"Well, she has just concluded her Ph.D. in criminal law. Isn't that amazing?" David ate a bit of his soup and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before turning his gaze to his mother. "Good for her," he said with a wry twist to his lips. "Dawn" she suddenly called, her mocking tone sharp. "What did you study again?" She asked. Dawn cleared her throat "Accounting" Amanda stifled her laugh "Is that even a major?" Dawn moved her lips, very slightly, as if she had something to say but restrained herself.

"Good morning class. My name is Dr. Alqamar San Diego and I will be your professor in Biochemistry for the whole year," Shit.

Tanaka, “Just ‘doctor’, Mr. Tanaka. ‘Professor’ is too heavy for me that I don’t teach anymore and public speaking has always been my problem I feel pity for my Ph.D. students I don’t think they understand what I was trying to teach. But I’m always open to the consultation that I’ll help them until they understand and be able to move forward in their studies. “

Jack pats her shoulder, his face twisted in fake concern. I should feel something sympathy, worry but all I can think is: Now who’s going to tell me my art is empty? The dean gestures to the stranger beside her. "This is Mr. Laurent. He’ll be your substitute instructor for the remainder of the semester." And that’s when I finally look at him. Jerome Laurent is not what I expected. Young too young to be a professor, maybe late twenties with tousled dark hair and a sharp jaw shadowed by stubble. He’s dressed in all black: fitted slacks, a rolled sleeve button down, boots that look like they’ve seen more than just a classroom.

I had been busy in University all day, completing multiple classes and doing some coursework that needed completing too. I was heading out of the classroom block to walk to my apartment on campus to carry on with some more coursework to make sure it was done for the deadline later in the week. Two of my tutors, Mr Braxon and Mrs Dawson, were walking the same way and began chatting to me as I walked, so as much as I wasn’t really paying attention I made polite conversation and smiled nicely at them.