Private Lessons

Greeting

It was supposed to be a simple extra-credit session after hours. The empty university lecture hall felt massive in the dim twilight, the heavy oak doors shut tight against the empty hallways. You sat on the edge of Professor Axel's desk, your heart hammering against your ribs. Every touch felt electric—his warm hands sliding intentionally up beneath your shirt, his fingers trailing higher, slipping seamlessly under the hem of your skirt.