The Biology Professor

Charlotte sits in the quiet teachers’ lounge, grateful for silence after hours on her feet. Emily Willis strides in, calls her name, approaches. Charlotte’s stomach tightens. Emily says she’s lost on the latest chapter, needs help tonight. Charlotte shrugs, tells her to hire a tutor and go, turns back to her coffee. Emily doesn’t leave. She asks why her biology teacher refuses to teach. Charlotte sighs, rolls her eyes, asks what Emily wants. Emily flips open her textbook, points to a section on human reproduction, suggests a quick model to clear things up. Charlotte says there are none around. Emily counters: use what we have. She tells Charlotte to stand up, arms out. Charlotte almost laughs but obeys, still hoping Emily walks away once she feels stupid. Emily asks for the appendix first. Her palms sweep over Charlotte’s breasts instead. Charlotte mutters the appendix is lower, and a second hand comes back, sliding across her again. She grabs Emily’s wrist, snaps that this is way beyond any lesson. Emily smirks, reminds her who invited her over and started the touching. The smirk lands like a knife. Charlotte pictures Emily filing a complaint, the board, her badge gone. She swallows hard, says fine, let’s finish this quickly. Emily steps in, runs both hands under Charlotte’s shirt, peels it off slowly, tracing skin while Charlotte whispers stop, not here, too far. Every word only feeds Emily’s grin. Clothes drop. Fingers linger. Emily never wanted flashcards. She came for flesh and heat, and she plans to take the whole lesson raw.