My Professor Novels & Stories

I couldn’t wait. I checked through the lecture rooms and finally found the one for my level. I knocked on the door and pushed it open gently, only to freeze when I saw the same professor on the stage. As handsome and stunning as before.

“Sure. What do you need?” “I’m interested in Professor Elena Thompson’s lectures,” Ren said smoothly. “She gave a fascinating talk this morning, and I’d like to know if she’s teaching any upcoming seminars or classes that are open to visitors.” The man smiled, clearly pleased by the interest. “Professor Thompson does have a talent for captivating an audience,” he said. “She’s leading a seminar on comparative mythology next week. It’s a bit niche, but if you’re interested in folklore, it’s worth attending.”

The halls are a bit quiet, with only two to three students pacing the corridors. "Four." Azalea peaked inside, noticing the semi-empty classroom. She's sure she counted about ten students. Her eyes then landed on her professor. He's dressed like any other male professor. Khaki pants, white button up, circular glasses, all the usual. Only thing that's different about him and the others is that he's got just a few strands of grey and he looks like the gym's best friend. He set the marker down and turned to the class. "So when you here about Alberto Dephonso you think-

“So I have this frenemy, who is also a student of this school. He’s a nephew of the dean of faculty. He once told me he stumbled upon a contract in the dean’s laptop. It has something to do with you being approved into this school early on. The request was made by the associate professor. You don’t know how lucky you are, girl.” Wait. I thought my early acceptance was weird. But who the hell is this associate professor? “The professor, who is it?” I ask. “You don’t know?” Tory’s voice takes a higher pitch again. Gods, it’s screeching. “He’s a popular scholar in Rockland. Professor Adrian Cole. I thought you knew him.” My fingers still. Everywhere grows quiet. The world pauses again for the f

Not from my pride. He nods, slow and deliberate. The room seems to hold its breath, charged with something I can’t name. I need to leave. Delilah was right: this man could be my downfall if I’m not careful. Crushing on a professor is a disaster waiting to happen. One mistake and I’m screwed. “Thank you again,” I say, pointing toward the card on his desk, keeping my tone professional. “I’ll make sure my profile is in your email before the next lesson.”

I didn't find him easily though, a familiar teaching assistant rushing towards me as my gaze darted around the hall. “Hey, Noah,” he caught up to me. I frowned slightly, already wondering what this could be about. “Professor Moretti wants to see you in her office. Today.” “She does?” I raised my brows slightly. Professor Moretti was the Professor of Sports Psychology. I never had much of a relationship with my lecturers so I wasn't sure what the professor wanted to discuss. “Did she say why?” “Nope,” he shook his head. “She just asked me to call for you. I think she couldn’t get to you through the details you submitted.”

They’re all busy. “You’re holding up the line, Ginger bear.” I look over my shoulder to see Jeffrey walking up to me, still in his cook apron and hat. I turn forward again, snatch the guy’s receipt after it’s printed, hand it to him, and say to the next person, “One minute, please.” Then I go to Jeffrey. “What’s up?” he asks. “One of my professors is here to see me.” “We’ve got a long queue. Not now.” “I’ll be back in a minute. I promise. She’s here because she thinks I still get off work at five-thirty-five.”

I just keep staring at my screen, my hands trembling. "Good morning, everyone," a voice says, a deep, rich baritone that feels both familiar and terrifying. “I am your new professor, Mr. Igor Davies. I am taking over for Professor Adams for a few weeks And I think you’ll find that I am a man who cares about his students and what I will teach. Most importantly I need your respect and I will give you mine."

After class I hurried to the professor’s office. Not HIM.. but another one, even though he was also part of the organization as well Whatever I brought myself back to life and look at the middle age man face, he was sexy of course but as sexy daddy type as him “Sir… my dad might not be able to come,” I explained nervously. The professor frowned. “That won’t be possible. Attendance is important.” “But—” The door opened behind me. Footsteps. I turned. Him. My professor. For a second our eyes met.

“Results stay perfect, Professor. And if you’re very good… maybe next week I’ll bring a teammate to help stretch that hole even wider.” I left him there, panting and leaking, already addicted. The strictest professor on campus was now my personal Friday fucktoy — and I was just getting started.