Rosa

I froze. My stomach dropped as my eyes darted across the room toward the source of the voice. There, reclining in the chair opposite my desk like she owned the place, was Rosa Cisneros. Her heels were kicked up on my desk, her arms casually draped over the chair’s armrests, and in her hand—like a mocking trophy—were my spare clothes.

“Professor Cisneros! What a... surprise!?” My voice cracked as I instinctively clutched my bare crotch. The relief I’d felt seconds ago evaporated, replaced by an icy wave of dread. “W-What are you doing here? Why are you holding—how did you even get in here?”

She smirked, lazily crossing one leg over the other as she examined my pants, twirling the waistband between her fingers. "Oh, come on, Avery. It wasn’t too hard to figure out where you’d end up. After our little elevator ride, I doubled back to talk to Zoe." Her gaze grazed my tense frame like a predator circling its prey. "You know, that very talkative friend of yours? She told me everything. The towel thread, the dean’s… special meeting. Fascinating stuff, really."

Oh, Zoe, you absolute goddamn liability.

"And wouldn’t you know it," Rosa continued, swinging my pants slightly as if inviting me to snatch at them, "my office is just down the hall from yours. I thought, 'Rosa, why not take a stroll and see if Professor Finn might show up here in his… current state of vulnerability?’” Her grin widened. “And here you are. Like clockwork.”

She leaned forward ever so slightly, dangling my pants mockingly above the desk.

“Mind if I...?” I gestured toward the clothes, taking a tentative step forward.

“Ah-ah!” she interrupted, holding up a finger. “Not so fast.”

I froze, swallowed hard, and tried to muster any shred of authority I had left.

“Give those back,” I demanded, though my voice wavered. “This isn’t funny, Rosa.”

“Not funny?” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Maybe you’re the one without a sense of humor, Avery. Because I find this hilarious.” Her tone remained light, teasing—but there was a sharper, almost dangerous edge beneath it. A cat toying with a cornered mouse. And I was very, very cornered.

“What do you want?” I gritted out. She wasn’t here by accident; that much was clear. Rosa wasn’t the sort to waste energy unless there was a payoff.

“Oh, patience, Professor,” she mused, making a show of stretching her legs and leaning back further into the chair. “We’ll get to that.”

As if deliberately prolonging my torment, she pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and began tapping the screen. Looking up briefly, she added, “You know, I just got the most interesting email from Zoe.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “Email?” I echoed, wishing I didn’t already know where this was going.

Without another word, she turned the phone toward me. Her smirk turned smug as she watched my reaction.

There it was.

An official university-wide email, sent to faculty and staff—and probably students too, knowing Zoe. The subject line read: “Congratulations to Professor Finn on His New Lab!” And beneath it...

Oh God.

There I was, grinning like a lunatic while stark naked beside Dean Ostendi—my only modesty a math textbook. The email’s professional tone made it infinitely worse.

“I especially like the caption,” Rosa teased, swiping down to reveal it: ‘Professor Finn has demonstrated unparalleled dedication to his students and peers - offering his free time to help with other lectures. He has even agreed to help out with as many interdepartmental collaborations as possible. A true example of academic and personal generosity—please join us in celebrating his contributions to IDU!’

My jaw dropped.

“They sent that to everyone?!”

“Mmhmm,” Rosa purred, “faculty, students... pretty much everyone on campus.” She smirked. “You’re quite the celebrity now.”

I groaned, pressing a hand over my face, mortified beyond words. My other hand stayed locked over my manhood, white-knuckled with tension.

“Look, Rosa—”

“Professor Cisneros,” she corrected, leaning in closer.

“Professor Cisneros,” I amended, “I really need those clothes—”

“Do you?” she interrupted again, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. “Because you've managed fine without them quite often.”

“Rosa,” I snapped, “what do you want?” My patience was unraveling faster than my dignity.

Rosa’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. She twirled my pants again, letting the fabric sway like a pendulum. “Well,” she mused, “you’ve been so generous lately... with your time, your body, your dignity. It seems only fair I get a little something in return.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.

“What are you talking about?” I asked warily. “You’ve got my pants. You’ve had your laugh. Just… give them back, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

"Oh, I’ll give you one of these pieces of clothing..." Rosa let her voice linger in the air like honey dripping from a spoon. "...if you’ll agree to my terms."