Curveball(23)

After I run to the restroom, still flushed and in a state of euphoria, I return to my office and sit behind my desk with a few seconds to spare before a student walks in.

“Hi, Professor Ford,” Gloria Palmer says as she takes a seat at one of the two vacant chairs in front of my desk. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I’m totally freaking out over some of the assignments.”

She pushes her long, dark ponytail over her shoulder and retrieves her textbook and notepad from her messenger bag. Gloria was the first student to turn in her quiz in my second class, and she always raises her hand with the correct answers. I see a lot of myself in her—from her drive and determination to the way she dismisses others around her in class, too consumed with the law to pay attention to them.

A stack of handwritten notes tumbles out of her book as she opens it, some of them falling to the floor next to her feet. She leans over to retrieve them, sorting through the crumbled sheets until she finds the course syllabus. She has it so marked up with different-colored pens that I can hardly make out my own document.

“So, I get that, each week, we have to work on a different ethics assignment and that we’re supposed to act as though we’re building a case against these fictitious lawyers for potential disbarment, but I have a few reservations about the test cases in weeks six and nine.”

Retrieving the syllabus from the sleeve of my leather planner, I hold it up to examine the cases. “Week six deals with the practice of representing a new client in a matter tied to a previous client who is now deceased. I can’t tell you whether this is right or wrong because it’s up to you to decide if this practice is allowed under the American Bar Association’s Model Rules of Professional Conduct.”

“But what about informed consent from the deceased client? Doesn’t the attorney-client privilege apply in death?”

Gloria rambles on about attorney-client privilege, almost as if she were speaking to herself, as if I weren’t even in the room with her. I used to have long-drawn-out discussions with my Law and Ethics professor when I attended Strickland Law.

I would sit with Professor Tomlinson in his office for hours, drinking coffee and eating takeout from the pizza shop down the street from campus. Over time, I developed a serious crush on my professor, despite his graying hair and our twenty-year age difference.

It’s also the reason I’ve been so torn about dating my own student even though I can’t say that a tiny part of me knows what I am doing with Mark is wrong. But the forbidden fruit always tastes so much sweeter, and Mark makes me feel like a goddess.

Gloria finally stops talking long enough for me to get a word in. “Look, all I can tell you is that you have nothing to worry about this semester. You clearly know the law and understand how these case studies apply. It’s only the third week of class.”

“Yes, but it’s also my final semester, and I have to keep my grades up.”

“You’ve already been accepted into the Franklin School of Law, right?”

She nods. “Yes, I was admitted early.”

Setting the syllabus on my desk, I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. “You’re an A student with an exceptional legal mind.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. Do you mind if we talk more about attorney-client privilege?”

“Sure.” I take a sip of my coffee.

We chat more about the law and which areas she would like to study. The time passes much faster than I realize when my cell phone buzzes on top of my notepad. I ignore the first text until another comes in because the damn phone will not stop making noise until I open them. Both messages are from Mark. The first one—a picture of his erect dick—makes me gasp at the sheer size of it on my screen. I’m so distracted, I almost forget I have a student sitting across from me.

Mark: We made an appointment to see you.

He’s referring to his dick. How romantic.

Turning the phone over to face my desk, I peek up at Gloria, a little hot and bothered.

“Excuse me for the interruption.” I attempt to regain my focus and find it hard to look Gloria directly in the eye. “My next appointment will be here any second. I’m afraid we ran over our allotted time.”

“No problem. Thanks, Professor Ford.” Gloria smiles and stuffs her book and papers back into her bag. “Would you mind if we made this a weekly thing? I like talking to you, and I want to make sure I’m on target for this class. I’ve started working on some of the upcoming assignments, and I’d like to go over them with you after each class, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Make an appointment, and I will be glad to fit you in.” I stand to walk her to the door as she slings her bag over her shoulder and straightens her light-blue peasant top.

After Gloria leaves, I glance at the clock, shocked by the time. She only scheduled a one-hour meeting. Now, it’s almost the end of my office hours.

Mark strolls through the door, broad-shouldered and oozing sex appeal in fitted white baseball pants and a Strickland University baseball shirt, reminding me of why I love watching baseball on TV.

He closes the door and locks it behind him. Then, with a wicked grin on his handsome face, he takes a seat in front of me.

Mark throws his long legs up onto my desk, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, Teach.”

I cross my legs, too aware of how one look from him makes my panties wet, and point at his shirt. “Baseball. I like the pants.”