by Linnea May
"It doesn't matter to you?" I ask. "It doesn't matter to you whether we're talking about rape or sex between two consenting adults?"
"It was a student!" Professor Warwick throws in. "It's just wrong. Period."
I glance around the little circle of tattletales. It's unsettling how little these people can think outside their strictly black-and-white, rule-designed box.
"It even says so in our contracts," Lilia adds, trying to prove the point. "Intimate relationships with students are forbidden."
Forbidden. I like that word.
I lean back in my seat, completely unimpressed. "My contract doesn’t include anything like that."
Professor Warwick clears his throat, and the two women exchange a knowing look. Neither of them comes close to being my type, but I'm not an idiot. Lilia is sitting closest to me, her skinny knees pointing in my direction, and her eyes have that nervous flutter every time she looks at me. I know that look.
"Still, it's just not done," Professor Warwick comments. "Contract or not, relations like that are nothing but trouble."
He glares at me, wrinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes as if he's trying to warn me. That jealous bastard. His receding hairline, the wrinkles scattered around his used-up face, and the giant beer belly don't speak of the dignified, strong man he could be had he taken care of himself over the past few decades. Even if there was no such regulation in his contract, there's hardly a student who'd willingly share a bed with him. Except if they wanted to fuck for grades. I'm sure this happens a lot more than these people would like to admit. Fancy elite school or not, people still enjoy taking advantage of their respective position. It's only human, after all.
Professor Warwick knows I could have them all, if I wanted to.
Thing is, I only want one.
End of Preview.
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