A Familiar Face

You stare up in a mixture of shock, horror, and-- much to your chagrin-- arousal at a face you see three times a week.

"P-Professor Isaac...?"

Forty-seven years old with faintly greying blond hair, you have always found your Cultural Anthropology professor attractive. His steel blue eyes always seem to bore into you, even the friendliest, most gentle gaze startlingly intense. Right now, he's smiling at down at you, that gaze latched directly onto your eyes. You couldn't look away if you tried. Even as your eyes start to sting from how dry they are getting, you can't bring yourself to blink until he does.

"Hello, Miss Doe," he responds casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes out, your breath catching in your throat. He chuckles quietly before leaning in, kissing you lightly on the lips. "You know, you have always been my favorite student." You blink, nearly catatonic in your shock. "I won't lie-- there have been many nights when I had a tough time just seeing you sitting in the front of my class." You would never have seen any of this coming. The professor you have always found attractive... feels the same about you...? "More than once, I've considered asking you to stay after class, just so I could do this to you." Your jaw drops slightly, your lips barely parting as your eyes widen. He chuckles again, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Come on; we're holding up the cleaning crew."

Finding yourself unable to argue, you allow him to lead you outside of the theater, his hand almost painfully closed around your wrist. As you go, you pass a couple of teenage theater workers.

"Damn. I was hoping to ask her out," one comments quietly to the other, clearly not realizing you can hear him.

"Man, I don't think I could wait that long. I was gonna try to bang her before she left."

You don't get to hear any more, the doors closing behind you. You gasp as, suddenly, Professor Isaac pulls you up to him, your body flush to his as he embraces you, the only thing keeping you upright. He smiles happily at your stunned face.

"P-Professor--" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper.

"I've asked you many times to call me Keith, my dear John," he interrupts, his hand running down your back to cup your slightly exposed ass. You swallow hard.

"K-Keith...?" you barely breathe, distinctly aware of his breath dusting over your nose. He cuts you off again, leaning in to kiss you once more. Something inside you urges you to give in to this incredibly handsome and intelligent man who clearly wants you, too. Something else reminds you of how ethically wrong this is-- a teacher having sex with his student, regardless of how attractive he may be. He pulls back, leaning his forehead against yours softly.

"You've always been my best student in years," he whispers, eyes closed as he holds you tighter. You can feel he's starting to get hard again. "So bright, so beautiful..." he runs his hand back up your back from your ass, "so perfect..." You can feel the blush glowing from your cheeks, threatening to melt them from your face. "Did you drive here?"

You swallow hard. Do you tell him the truth and see what he does? Do you lie and most likely part ways?