A Lucky Review Session

The routine is familiar enough at this point that you don’t even bother with the initial formality. When you get to her office, you can easily see Professor Luck through the small, almost frosted, glass window, standing by her blackboard, chalk in her hand, a small smattering of dust cutely freckling her nose—which is, of course, scrunched up adorably—as she considers the board intently. You push the door open—which she doesn’t even notice—at least not until it catches the edge of a lazily placed chair, causing her to nearly jump as she spins around to see you.

“Alex!” She cries out, hand fluttering over to her chest, above her heart—covered by a white button-down shirt, stuck halfway between decent and scandalously undone, right in that perfectly alluring, perfectly teasing zone.

“Hey, Professor Luck,” you reply casually, picking up the chair as you close the door, leaning yourself against it for a moment, a smile on your face as you look her up and down, her usually neat bob in a chic sort of disarray, “you got some, uh, chalk on your nose.”

She looks at you, with a bit of confusion, her eyes still widened with surprise – until, of course, she reaches up to her nose, wiping it with her fingers, and then seeing the pale white dust on them.

“At least you saw it, and not campus security,” she quips, lightly—clearly comfortable around you—before setting the chalk down and coming around, “and now I guess we’ve got time for our review session?”

You nod, eagerly, as you pull out your notes, her head coming over and around, as she stands behind your shoulder as you sit down.

“Working on a proof of the FTC, I see,” she says, a smile quirking on her lips as she looks at your work.

“I’ve got the sketch of an argument for one direction here,” you say, pointing to the if, “but this other side… only if there were a clever mathematician out there who could help me out.”

Luck chuckles, leaning down over your shoulder to take a closer look at what you’ve written down on the page. You’re keenly aware of her presence, and her unbuttoned shirt next to you. You do your best to resist peeking, but a quick side-eye shows you her cleavage and…

“Hm… see if you can bound the integral here,” she says, tapping the page.

“Uh… yeah, let me try doing that,” you say, your eyes snapping back to the page, trying to piece together the proof after your moment of distraction.

It takes you a few minutes, and you think you’re making progress, but in this stifling heat, it’s awfully hard to concentrate. Professor Luck must agree, as she exclaims: “God! I think they forgot to run the AC today.”

Beads of sweat have formed on her forehead, even as a few stray droplets have already given you a rather clear look at the simple black bra underneath her white shirt. You’re tempted by the sight before you once again… what should you do?

Luck +10

Chapter credit to Kallitseren!