I lean forward in my seat as I watch you both exit the restaurant. It’s eight thirty p.m. I’ve been sitting here for nearly three hours, just watching you. Watching as your lips touched the glass you drank out of. The way those same lips took the food you ate, throwing all kinds of wild thoughts around in my head. Of you taking my hard cock inside of you as you sucked me dry. The way I wished it was me your mouth was taking, instead of the food. The way I stroked myself until I came all over my hand at seeing you do all that. And the fact that it was a much better stimulation than seeing you strip in your bedroom. The thoughts of you are blown into oblivion when I see what Trevor has the audacity to do next.
He kisses you.
White hot rage boils in my chest at seeing what you have the audacity to do next.
You kiss him back.
I entertained your friendly acceptance to his invitation to go on a date. I shook off the kiss he gave you on the cheek. But I will not stand for this. Clearly, you don’t understand that you are mine, but rest assured, I will make you understand that I’m not a man to be messed with. Do you realize that this is what sluts do? This is what loose women do? Do you want to be seen as a slut, because you’re heading in the right direction. Everyone knows that if you kiss on the first date, you are willing to fuck on the next. Is this how you see yourself? Like every other woman out there? Fucking everyone they can get their hands on?
This will not go on any longer. You, Viola Auld, need to be punished for what you’ve done.
Chapter Eight
Viola
Things with Trevor never continued. I thought we had a good date. Thought that we had formed a chemistry from an understanding of each other. Maybe I had imagined it. I waited a few days until I messaged him and he never wrote back. When I had yet to see him in class, I became worried. Maybe something had happened to him that I didn’t know. I hadn’t wanted to be that girl who obsesses over a guy not calling or texting her back, but I had to know if it was me or not. I received my response loud and clear when I went to speak to his friends earlier today, who not so nicely said that he was ghosting me because he had such a shit time on our date, to quickly be replaced with them hitting on me. This is why I never dated anybody like him before. The way in which they present themselves is humiliating for the human race and makes them look like a bunch of buffoons. I took a chance on Trevor because I thought he was a decent person, outside of his playboy persona.
Turns out, that you only need to be burned twice to know that frat boy meatheads will never change.
I’m rather relieved to see that Professor Matthews isn’t his usually belligerent self. I am not in the mood to be dealing with that Professor Matthews, regardless of how attractive I find it. It appears as though assholes are what I’m into these days, despite my better judgment. Granted, he’s not a Care Bear of happiness, but he doesn’t have a disgruntled expression on his face, nor are there creases on his forehead, so he might as well be a Care Bear.
I’m going through the online chat group, answering questions from students, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Looking up, I see a rather concerned look on Professor Matthews.
“What did the computer ever do to you?” he asks lightly.
“Nothing,” I grumble, because getting into my love life—or lack thereof—crosses all kinds of professional barriers. Well, you kind of blew that out of the water, the day you got turned on by him touching your breast. Thank you, not so much for the reminder, brain.
He places his hands on top of mine and stops me from aggressively typing away on the keyboard in an ill attempt at pushing my ire out.
“You are required to be professional, Viola, and,”—he looks over my shoulder,—“advising someone that they need to go back to the first lecture video and actually pay attention this time, is not the kind of response you should be sending out to the students,” he scolds.
I scoff. “Yeah, like you’re any better.”
There’s no regret, as there should be at speaking to someone of authority in the manner with which I spoke to him. Right now, I should beg for forgiveness in all the ways I can until he does. Except, I cease to care. Because how dare he talk to me that way. How dare he lecture me on the proper etiquette when it comes to conversing with students, when his way is as if he took a large dump on the heads of each student.
Fury flashes in his eyes, and his jaw tightens. “Insolence is not one that is accepted here. Not with me, nor any other professor on campus. You wish to speak to me in such a way, then you can ensure that your time as my TA is going to be ripped from you and handed to someone else.” It’s a warning, which is rather generous of him, considering when I accepted the position, he strictly stated that this kind of behavior would not go unpunished. Every part of me is telling me to stop. To not push the man any further, but I can’t. With all this pent-up anger, I need it to go to something, someone, or somewhere, and right now, he’s that someone.
“Bullshit. You hired me because not only was I the best candidate, but I’m the best student for
