I’m already in the front row when the first students trickle in, heart jackhammering against my ribs. I haven’t come since Monday. She didn’t give me permission. Two days of constant, throbbing denial—morning wood that never went down, showers where I had to grip the wall and count backward from a hundred to keep from stroking, nights humping the mattress like an animal while her name tore out of my throat.
Today I’m wearing loose gray sweatpants. Mistake. The outline of my c**k is obscene even soft, and I haven’t been soft since I woke up thinking about her promise: nothing under the skirt at all.
The room fills. I don’t look at anyone. I can’t.
10:09.
The door opens.
She walks in like she owns the air itself. Black stilettos first, then legs in sheer black stockings that stop mid-th
