A Forbidden Professor Student Romance: Office Hours After Dark

A Forbidden Professor Student Romance: Office Hours After Dark

The campus felt different after dark during these office hours.  The hustle and bustle of students is gone. Replaced by an eerie quiet. Empty pathways lit in a warm golden light. Every step sounded loud enough to give me away. Shouldn’t have been here alone at this time of night, but I was desperate. I needed this. I needed him for this forbidden professor-student romance.

The door to his office was partially open, light spilling into the hallway. I paused, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. My palms were damp, and I was clutching my notebook. There were so many ways this could go wrong. I heard a soft “come in”

Ever the Controlling Professor

His voice was calm and measured. I clutched my notebook and stepped in. Professor Simms sat in his chair, one arm on the desk, the other on the armrest. It smelled of old books and paper. Underneath it all, the smell of cologne, dark and rich.

He looked at me questioningly… “You needed to discuss your grade?”

I nodded, trying to ignore my desperate student heart pounding. “I thought I’d done enough to…”

“But you didn’t,” he replied, “ And now you want me to reconsider.”

“Yes,” I managed to get out

Yes, I was a desperate student. After I spoke, he looked at me for a long while. His gaze held me like a hand grasping my arm. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink. And in that moment of silence, my heart began to pound, the sound filling my ears. “Tell me why,” he said. All of the excuses came out: the personal struggles, the cold, the broken-down car. As I spoke, I realized he wasn’t actually listening to what I was saying; he was watching my body language, my shift in posture, my hesitation, he knew I was a desperate student.

“Desperation.” He said slowly as the word rolled off his tongue.

“It makes people pliable,” I shivered in fear or was it excitement? He stood, his office chair creaking softly. Moving around to me. He stopped close enough for me to feel that deep, sensual energy. “Are you willing to do what it takes to fix this?” he asked quietly.

My heart skipped a beat. There were a hundred ways to interpret what he’d said, all of them had a price. He let the question hang in the air. I barely nodded, but he caught the movement anyway.

“Good. Then we’ll begin… next week!” His voice was quiet but hard. I stood dazed for a few moments before I gathered my things. My hands were trembling. He didn’t comment, didn’t even look up from the paper he had started making notes on.

Was this the start of our forbidden professor student romance?

“Dismissed.” The hallway was colder and darker, the night air cool on my flushed cheeks. I stopped and made myself breathe. I wanted to stop replaying every word of that conversation in my head, the way he looked at me, the pauses, the looks. But I couldn’t, I knew I’d just stepped into something far more dangerous than failing my class, a forbidden professor student romance, and I didn’t want to step back.

When I reached my car, my hands had stopped shaking, but my mind was in chaos. I leaned against the car door, staring blankly at the empty campus. Somewhere in that building, he was working, unbothered, knowing I would come back. He was right, I would. Next week couldn’t come fast enough.

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