Dance to This [kth]

s i x t e e n

ミ★
sixteen
❝showering compliments❞
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My fingers are fumbling with the tarnished material of Professor's sweatshirt as I sit patiently in the car. . . waiting. My attempts to make my anxious breaths inaudible are not working, because my shallow and shaky exhales cannot control themselves. For once I am not overly nervous; the anxious feelings bubbling within me are more of an anticipation for how the night will go.

The sun is absent now. Streetlights color the near distance with smeared arrays of reds and greens like decorations, and cars move soundly in sync as each traffic cue directs them. Professor doesn't exchange words with me, but the silence is welcoming. I wouldn't have much to say. . . my curiosity is overcoming my thoughts, and I can't help but hypothesize what is going to happen, or how I will act.

I have never been with a man intimately like the way I am thinking about right now. I'm frightened of the male anatomy for many reasons, but specifically because I have no idea in the slightest how Professor's body works when pleasured. The closest I've been to uncovering the unknown is when my hand neared Namjoon's private area over his jeans. I was too afraid then. I don't want to be now.

Would Professor want me to do that? Is he expecting me to do that? I don't think so. I take an apprehensive look at him, but his attention is on the road. Unlike my time with Namjoon, I somehow feel like I want to touch Professor intimately. Feelings I had assumed were just innocent attraction for him have spiraled into very real sexual thoughts. I never thought I could be like this, but here I am. . . curious as to what sēx truly entails.

It takes all of twenty minutes to arrive to what I assume is his apartment building. I wasn't expecting much, given his main occupation is a Professor, but I am in awe of how very on brand his residence location is for him. The building is much like a skyscraper from my tiny inspection from the car. Lined with beautiful glass and sleek architecture, the windows light up beautiful in the night sky.

Professor uses a keycard to swipe into the parking garage. I'm quiet as my eyes take in everything about his lifestyle. I didn't expect this; I expected average, normal, and I have been given everything but. I don't know what I was thinking; obviously I should not expect anything normal when it comes to Professor. He is an enigma. . . but it is too exciting to try to figure him out.

"Your art must sell well," I say absentmindedly as I gaze out of the window. It's partly a joke; he doesn't earn anything for his art because he donates the proceeds.

The parking spot is labeled 707 when Professor pulls into it. Iridescent lights illuminate the garage, and the engine echoes when Professor cuts it. Our soft breaths fill the air.