In My Professor's Arms
"Thanks, Soph. Means a lot."
I lean my head back against the pillow, looking at the ceiling, the restlessness still simmering. It's like reaching for Victor again, like taking something that doesn't belong to me to write about him. But it's like an addiction, this vibration of baring myself, even if it is shrouded in darkness.
"You've got to keep this going," Sophie says to me. "Your blog's blowing up. I read the comments—people are out of their minds. You're, like, the new queen of erotic fiction."
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