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! Mentions of self pleasure, blowjob, nasty stuff...! (It's not much, but still.)

Tuesday, I paced around the department's hallway.

I hated that I was alway late when I shouldn't be, and too early when I didn't have have to. But what else could I do, other than wishing to sit in Dr. Horan's office again. We were far into December and I believed there would be snow the next days. This fact didn't make it any easier, I wasn't able to calm my nerves. Every second that passed, it got worse. I still haven't prepared a lie I could tell my friends why I had to leave them and why I had to talk to my professor about the abstract. Something that was so serious, it couldn't have been dealt with via e-mail. It gave me a headache to arrange a suitable reason without saying: "We met to talk about his innuendos and other forbidden things" out of nowhere.

I knew my essay would be at the very bottom of the priority list.

All these last days, I felt like a stalker. I wanted to know all about him since he opened another portal for me when he visited me at work. A portal to his private world. He couldn't be the same as he is here.

He was an inspiration, he inspired me. Inspired me to look closely. I had to see him without rules and restrictions, sinking on his sofa with tensed shoulders, closing his eyes.

Why was I so weird?

During the day, I was able to contain the musings and images but at nighttime, they came to boil like pasta water in a pot. It was so bad that I, driven by lust and shame, touched myself two days ago. I imagined his lips tracing every curve of my body, his fingers covering my pristine skin, that was never touched by a man, in invisible patterns several times. And after I reached my high, whimpering, I hid myself shaking and embarrassed from reality under my covers. Thinking, I would never be able to look him in the eyes. I was here nonetheless.

Voices appeared next to me and it was in fact my professor, bidding goodbye to a colleague before approaching me. There was no way to flee him now. Slowly I rubbed my palms on my thighs, coming closer until I was facing a waiting Dr. Horan who examined me. It forced heat to reach my face, made me adjust the shirt underneath my grey knitted sweater out of reflex.

"Mr. Horan." I smiled as honest as it is was any way possible for me. As always, no smile or sign of happiness was returned.

"I'm glad you could come. Follow me." He indicated that I should follow him, opening the door on our right, on which I had knocked on last week. I stepped in, after his back cleared the way into his office and the warmth it radiated. Warmth that he seemed to miss most of the times.

Dr. Horan reappeared. Probably he took off his jacket and put it on the hatrack because he only had his beige shirt on, whose sleeves he rolls up this moment. I wasn't sure what to do so I looked away, inspecting the little sink and the mirror in a small gap between the wall and his bookshelves. After he watched me for seconds, he began to talk.

"Please close the door. I don't think we want to be disturbed." I nodded eagerly, still nervous now that I was standing in his office again. Alone. 

Obeying throughly what he has assigned me, I turned around and trail behind him. Suddenly he held out his hand what I understood as a demand to give him my coat and as I did, he laid it on the backrest of his swivel chair, signing me to take a seat on the armchair. Sinking into the leather, I didn't lean back completely.

Dr. Horan sat down as well. The armchair still placed in front of the window, I either had to look at him or observe the world outside. I decided to do the first thing. He didn't look at me, just pulling out a folder which he put neatly beside him. Now it was possible to see what else he gathered on his desk. It was cleaner than last time, there were only a few open books, notes and works from various students, a half empty cup of coffee, a water bottle. 

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