Two nights later, Sophia found herself back at the same door, heart racing even faster than before. The campus was eerily quiet after ten p.m. Only a few scattered lights remained on in the humanities building. She had told her husband she was meeting a study group. Another lie that made her thighs press together in guilty anticipation.
Professor Hawthorne had emailed her again, Office hours. 10:15 sharp. Bring your revised thesis pages. And wear the glasses.
She had obeyed. Thin-rimmed black glasses sat on her nose, making her look every bit the serious grad student while secretly fueling the filthy fantasy she knew he wanted. Her blouse was tighter tonight, skirt shorter, and beneath it she wore nothing at all. No panties. No bra.
She knocked and the door opened immediately. Hawthorne
