Just a couple more weeks. In a couple more weeks, he wouldn’t be my teacher. Maybe…
Jesus God, no. Had I learned nothing over the past few years? I was terrible at picking guys. Really, Chere? A married, polyamorous, ex-professor of yours? Just because he has a decent ass?
But it was more than that. It was his capability, his control. He drew a flogger out of his bag and went to work on the pretty blonde. She made great noises, adorable noises. I wondered how much she turned him on. I wondered if he ever thought of his wife at moments like these.
From where I sat, I had a view of his back, of muscles bunching, and the practiced swing of his arm. There was no protocol here, no collars or commands or anything besides casual impact play, but he was unmistakably Dom. Other girls in the room watched him too. I wondered why I’d never noticed him at any of the other clubs, but then I realized it was probably because I was too busy watching for W.
But W was gone…and I could have this…
He’d offered. I was afraid if I watched him for very much longer, I’d accept. He flogged his moaning victim, fast, slow, soft, hard, teasing her curves and walloping her back, striping her legs because she especially seemed to like that. W had never asked what I liked. He just grabbed and forced and took, and gave me soul-crushing orgasms.
There was nothing soul-crushing in what Cantor was doing, and I knew—sorry, Professor Predator—that he wouldn’t be able to give me the kind of orgasms W did. But he might be able to take the edge off my loneliness, and give me a little pleasure.
No, no, no. Idiot. He’s married. He’s your professor. Don’t make another stupid choice, and fall in love with another undeserving person.
This was why I had to be alone, because I wanted things I shouldn’t want. I forced my gaze away from Cantor, forced myself to stop thinking about the playful way he’d spanked her pussy. Tried not to remember the time W beat the shit out of my pussy with his belt, and made my eyes roll back in my head from the pleasure of it.
Stupid of me, to even imagine being with someone else. W had ruined me forever for other lovers before he left, and I hated him for it. I needed to move on, yes. But not to someone else.
Fortunately, my phone lit up with a text from Andrew, and I had something else to think about. I turned away from the scene downstairs to read his message.
OMG. Chere.
That was not enough information. I texted back, What? Date’s over? Are you okay?
I’m great, he replied quickly. That was crazy, hot, sexy. The client liked me. I was nervous, but it went okay.
Just okay? I asked.
First time! he texted back. It wasn’t perfect, but he enjoyed himself. He said he was happy to “break me in.”
Did he hurt you??!!
He texted back a blushing emoji, and then a smiling one. Not in any way I didn’t like.
You used protection?
Duh. Yes, mom.
I didn’t realize until that moment how nervous I’d been for him. At least he didn’t seem sad. Always be careful, I typed. Then I erased it. Then I typed it again and sent it. He sent back a heart emoji and three words.
I miss you.
A pause.
Are you still angry? he texted.
Yes.
There was no reply for a while. I chewed on my lip and tried to tune out the escalating groans of Cantor’s partner, and the steady fall of his flogger.
Want to have breakfast tomorrow? I typed. Big Apple Diner?
He typed back a row of fifteen smiley faces, and the word YESSSS!
I could picture Andrew’s smile in my head, and I knew I’d stay friends with him, even though it would hurt me to hear his stories about escorting. I knew I’d ask him for all tonight’s details just so he could get it out, because the first time was always the hardest, and he’d need support for what he’d chosen to do.
I ended our conversation with a semi-lie. Heading to bed.
I was heading to bed very soon. I’d just have to leave the club to do it, and I wasn’t ready to pull myself away from Cantor’s performance quite yet. He’d put away the flogger and picked up a riding crop, and set about making his willing victim jump and squeak with pleasure. You could have that, my mind whispered.
And then I remembered Good luck, starshine.
Fuck.
I looked down at my phone. I could have amused Andrew by texting to him about my encounter with Cantor, but I didn’t tell him, and I knew I wouldn’t tell him, even at breakfast tomorrow. Somehow, it seemed better to keep it a secret. Maybe I didn’t trust Andrew enough anymore.