My Professor(45)

My fantasies carry over to the next few days, taking on a life of their own, and they’re not always sexy either. Some are simple…almost sad, an indication of how lonely I feel in Boston. Sometimes, I imagine what it would be like if Professor Barclay helped me cook dinner or if we shared a bottle of wine together after work. Sometimes, I imagine him bringing me home and not wanting to leave, staying the night and sharing my small bed.

But regardless of the subject, the fact is, I fantasize and I fantasize and there’s nothing I can do to make it stop.

Dreams about Professor Barclay are something I long for because they’re out of my control. This? Me on my bed with my hand between my legs? It’s a fully formed, wide-awake admission. I want Professor Barclay, and it’s not always sweet or simple or easily explained. There’s murky consent, taboo locations, him in his office at Banks and Barclay, me on his desk.

I feel so guilty about it all. I can barely meet his eyes when we cross paths, which is rare considering I go out of my way to avoid him. The more I think about him, the more I dread the idea of him finding out the dirty truth. I’m guilty, and it’s written across my scarlet-flushed skin. All he has to do is look, linger on me for a moment too long, and he’ll know. I’m a school girl in this crush, innocent and wide-eyed and impossibly obvious.

More days pass and I pray for rain so he’ll have to drive me home again, purposely leaving my umbrella behind every morning, but the sky is a horrible cheery blue. Birds sing and fluffy white clouds slide by.

Once, as I’m returning to the Banks and Barclay building from lunch, lost in my own thoughts, I turn the corner in the lobby and find Professor Barclay standing in an open elevator with Mr. Banks. The doors are about to slide shut, but Mr. Banks steps forward and holds them open for me.

I hesitate on the threshold like a deer caught in headlights, and when I don’t immediately join them, Mr. Banks smiles curiously. “Are you going up?”

My gaze flits to Professor Barclay. He looks devastatingly handsome in his black suit. The color only serves to make him more intimidating, a sharp contrast to his light eyes.

“I…”

I wait for Professor Barclay’s permission, and when he simply stands there, looking as if he barely knows me, I step back and shake my head.

“I actually forgot something. Sorry.”

Each day that passes makes me feel more and more out of sorts. I can’t get a handle on what’s happening. Had he not driven me home, had he not spoken as if he was contemplating doing something, I would assume he wants nothing to do with me at all. It would be easier then, I think, to cast my feelings aside instead of feeding into them day after day.

I feel hungry and never sated, anxious and never at peace.

Work is overwhelming, but in a good way. I like the tasks that take my full attention, like to be distracted. Instead of letting Professor Barclay adversely affect my productivity, I only work harder, more eager to please than ever, as if I expect word of my accomplishments to make their way all the way up to him.

That Emelia, she’s such a hard worker.

As if that would convince him to fuck me.

I’m hopeless and I realize I’m hopeless, and that realization doesn’t soothe my worries; it only makes the situation hurt more.

When Alexander calls me on Friday, two weeks after the gala, I leap at the chance to have an outlet other than wallowing in plaguing thoughts of my boss. I’m still at work, so I step away from my desk and head over toward a bank of windows as I answer my phone.

“Alexander! Hi!”

“Emelia, how are you?” he asks.

My smile is genuine for the first time all week.

“I’m okay. Busy with work.”

“That makes two of us. Are they giving you enough time off over there? You know I could talk to your boss…”

I don’t want to be reminded of Professor Barclay. I’m reminded of him enough as it is.

“No, it’s fine. I leave the office by six most days, it’s really not bad.”

“Good. Well, I’m calling because I’m having a small dinner party tomorrow, and I’d love for you to come. I know it’s last minute. I just threw it together, but if you’re free, it’d be a good way for you to meet some of my friends, away from the public eye, and Emmett will be there as well.”

He throws in that last detail like it’s an afterthought, but my heart races at the possibility of meeting Emmett.

I don’t hesitate. “Of course. Yes!”

There’s a smile in his voice when he replies, “Good. I’ll have a driver come get you. Are you living near the Banks and Barclay offices?”

I don’t think it’s necessary for Alexander to know the state of where I’m currently living. “Umm…you know what? No need. I can get there easily enough on my own. Just send me the address and the details for the dinner.”

“Okay. I’ll text you after we hang up. Let me know if you change your mind about the driver.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

I hang up and feel exhilarated until the elevator doors open, drawing my attention to a gorgeous blonde woman stepping out with Professor Barclay’s secretary, Candace.

It takes me half a second to recognize the mystery blonde in person. She’s one of those rare people who looks just like she does in photographs, maybe even better. She’s laughing and chatting with Candace as they walk past, and suddenly I’m so sick I can barely breathe. I stand frozen in shock as they pass me by, heading straight toward Professor Barclay’s office at the end of the hall.