Professor Novels & Stories

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. “

He sat back while staring at her with an expressionless face. "Don't tell me you came all the way here just to tell me this" Richard asked with a calm voice as Lovelyn kept mute. He stared at the naive Lovelyn who bent her head without saying a word again as he slowly took the phone he has earlier kept on the table "What's the name of the lecturer?" He asked as he unlocked his phone "Professor Deji" Lovelyn replied. "What's the name of the course?" He asked. "LST 111" Lovelyn replied.

a lad said, from behind the door. “Good luck, malyshka” Nathan said, his tone calm as he purred, calming me. “Thank you, my love” I said, sitting on the professor’s desk, smiling when he nodded at me “I have to go, love, I’ll call you when I’m done” “Alright, baby” Nathan said, hanging up. “Ready, Mrs. Kozlov?” The professor asked, handing me my paper. “Ready, Professor” I said, looking down at the sheet, taking my pens and pencils out of my pencil case.

I asked with a bit of humor to try and make him smile since it looked like he could use a smile for himself. He smiled and nodded his head. "I suppose it would help you out here. I don't need anyone too serious dear. Just need someone who's willing to do work but you will never be alone with a patient for your own safety and protection." "I understand, One of your guards named Martin said he would be willing to protect me." "Ah yes him, he is our best guard." Mr. Baxter spoke with a bit of a smirk.

I rolled my eyes inwardly. Tumingin ako sa harapan at nakita ko ang prof ko na may hawak na libro habang naka sandal sa teacher's desk. He's in mid 40's I guess. Wearing a gray slacks and a white polo shirt he doesn't look appealing compared to Elijah. Hindi naman siya mukhang masungit at mahigpit pero I'm not quite sure.

"W* laaro ola,shotigbo? Ma ri nkan ti mole she fun e. Eja a malo. ( Come tomorrow morning. Let me see what I can do for you. Let's go guys) "Ese sir( thank you sir)" Dami postrated to thank Mr Aguda. He was so happy, all he could do was smile. Will things change for the good? He asked himself. He smiled as he walked slowly behind Mr Aguda and his apprentices. "Shey kon shey eni ti woli ojosi sope kema help niyen sir,koma lo je wipe...( What if this is the person the prophet told you not to render help to the other day?)"

Mr. Jefri wasn't just any lecturer; he served as the Head of Department in the Faculty of Economics. According to the rumors swirling around campus, he came from a background of immense wealth as a successful businessman, and some even whispered he held a significant stake in the university itself. That likely explained his exclusive private office, tucked away from the communal faculty lounge.

Surely I was seeing things. Was his cocky attitude haunting me now? I shook my head hard but it didn't erase the fact that Art Wilson was one of my professors? How on earth was he professor? He was only 28. His eyes lingered on me for a second longer before he continued his lecture. His words mumbled into gibberish as all I could scream in my head was no...no...no. I collected my things, and sprinted out of that class, not caring about the murmurs it stirred. I was probably deaf until I drove out of the campus.

Mara opened her mouth to reply, but the door opened and everyone quieted down. The professor walked in, but his back was facing, so I didn't see his face at first. He had lean broad shoulders that filled out the white button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had dark hair and a strong posture. A few girls whispered and giggled. Mara leaned over. “Damn, the new prof is fine.” I laughed under my breath. “You’re ridiculous.” Then he turned to face the class and my laugh died in my throat. Grey-blue eyes. The same angelic jaw. The same mouth that had been on me last night.

The lecture hall had emptied hours ago. Professor Marcus Kane, 42 years old, sat behind his desk in his private office. He was known as one of the strictest professors on campus, tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes, and an aura of authority that made students both fear and crave his approval.