Undone

"Sorry, cute was the first word I thought of, I wasn't being patronizing I swear—it's charming. Endearing. Pleasingly Idiosyncratic."

I gaped, moving like the world just slowed to half-speed, as I stood in my inside-out cardigan and red face.

"Well, see you, Sofia." He smiled, turning away. "Thanks again."

He left and the knot in my stomach rolled, sending weird feelings through my whole body—some pleasure, some nausea. I was mortified, but thrilled in a strange way too.

He'd noticed before. That was what he'd said. What else had he noticed? What other dumb, klutzy thing had I done that he'd seen? I groaned out loud but quickly remembered he'd said it was cute. He'd said charming, endearing, pleasantly idiosyncratic. My heart jumped and then sank again. Was he teasing me or was he flirting? The whole thing made my head spin and I stood like I was in a trance for at least a full minute before I remembered I had to get to class.

After that, if I saw him in the hall or if he came into the office while I was working, I would blush and wish he'd stop me to ask me something, at the same time fervently hoping he wouldn't. More than once he did stop me, and his question each time seemed trivial, something he could have asked anyone in the department, or something he really needed to ask Andi, but asked me instead, and each time my heart raced and I felt myself get hot all over, my pussy responding to the way his eyes roamed my face and down my body without hiding their actions. I was always left with a mixed-up sensation of arousal and confusion, but I didn't exactly mind.

//

"Sofia, can you take these down the hall to Nick?"

A month after we'd had coffee in the Union, Andi handed me a stack of folders and started putting her coat on. "I've got an appointment, so I'll be back at ten, just hold down the fort while I'm gone. It's quiet around here this week, so it should be fine."

My heart squeezed suddenly as I took the pile of files from her. I waited for her to go and ducked into the bathroom to check my reflection in the mirror, making sure I at least had all my clothes on right side out, and took a minute to study myself.

I'd never been obsessed with my looks; my interest in high school was all in books. I'd had friends, a boyfriend for a year, and I went out and did normal teenage things, but I was far more likely to read an article on probability than fashion.

Luckily, I'd inherited some good genes. I was a copy of my mother—wavy brown hair to my shoulders, round brown eyes, a narrow face, a nice smile with perfectly formed cupid's bow lips. She was beautiful, and while I wasn't sure I was beautiful, I thought maybe I was approaching something close.

I knocked on Nick's closed door, and turned the handle when he called me in. My heart was racing before I got through the door.

He smiled when he saw me, the light catching the edge of his wire-rimmed glasses. He was standing nearly behind the door, in front of an open file cabinet, and he held his hand out when I came around toward him.

"Just in time," he said, taking the folders from my hand and slipping them into the front of the file drawer. "Thank you."

I turned to go, but he stopped me.

"Hey, Sofia, can I ask you something?"

He didn't close the drawer or turn, so I approached him, moving into the space between the file cabinet and the office door.

"I wanted to apologize if I hurt your feelings last month in the student union. You seem even more nervous around me since then and I've been worried it was because of that. It was an inappropriate comment. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Umm," I started to say, as he turned to face me. I wasn't even sure what comment he meant—asking if he scared me? Saying I was cute? "It's OK."

"It's OK that I made you uncomfortable?"

"No. I mean, no you didn't."

"I didn't make you uncomfortable?" he sounded unconvinced.

"Not...too uncomfortable." I admitted, looking away.

"Well, I didn't intend to do that, so I apologize for putting you in an awkward situation." He looked at me, waiting for some kind of reply.

"OK," I said, not sure what else to say.

"But Sofia," he said, elbowing the file drawer gently closed, a little smile appearing on his lips. "I did intend to compliment you." The drawer closed with a soft click and he turned to face me directly. "I did mean what I said; you are very charming in a mysterious way."

My heart jumped.

"I like mystery," he continued. "Especially in intelligent young women."

I stared at him, my heart beating hard, remembering the rumors I'd heard about him. Maybe they were true after all. I'd been skeptical before, but now, under his gaze and standing so close to him, I believed at least that if he approached a student romantically and she had a pulse she'd have a very hard time turning him down.

"There's something about you, Sofia. I don't know..."

His words trailed off and for a few seconds he just looked at me, his eyes moving lower and lower, sweeping down my body.

Something in my head suggested I run, but my hardening nipples and rapidly swelling labia disagreed. I stared, scared, but undeniably excited by his attention.

"When I see you, and you're trailing papers and your pony tail's coming loose..." He shifted his weight on his feet, but didn't step closer.

There was a distance of three feet between us. The door was half open. I could easily step to my right and around it and leave if I wanted to.

"And yet, I know you're grounded, I know you possess a fantastic intellect and grasp of abstract concepts far beyond your peers—" He stopped abruptly and smiled a wolfish smile that made my mouth go dry.

"I find that irresistible about you, by the way." He watched me for a second, still smiling, and stepped closer. "Nothing sexier than a smart woman, except maybe..." He took another step closer and reached out, pushing the hair away from my face. "A smart paradox of a woman." He touched my ear with a fingertip and a shiver raced down my spine, leaving a tingle behind that spread through me, concentrating between my legs.

"You look like you're unraveling unpredictably, but I suspect you're more together than anyone knows...I'd love to find out for myself."

He stared, smiling, and I stared back, excited and confused and growing more aroused by the second.

"Are the rumors true then?" I said suddenly, forcing the words out of my mouth in a nervous breath.

"Which rumors?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicious interest, still smiling a sly little smile.

"About...you and..." I couldn't say it. My heart was beating so fast and so hard, my chest ached.

"Students?"

I nodded and waited as he took a deep breath and a step backward, the excited fire in his eyes dimming a little.

"Well, I don't know what the rumors you've heard say, but if you're asking if I've ever had a sexual relationship with a student, the answer is yes."

He'd spoken very slowly and carefully, watching my face the whole time. I'm not sure if I reacted, I felt frozen in place.

"Two, to be exact," he continued. "One was a music major, a very talented young woman—smart too, unbelievably smart, actually. The other was a grad student of mine. I still see her sometimes."

I reacted to that, showing my surprise.

"I don't mean sexually," he said. "She just lives in the area. She's got a great teaching job at a charter school, a very handsome husband. She's quite well adjusted, I assure you—I don't think having sex with me damaged her psychologically. But yes, I have slept with my students."

There was a protracted silence in which I tried to gather my thoughts and feelings. He'd just admitted he'd had sex with two students and hadn't shown an ounce of shame or regret. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

I was unable to look away, despite wanting to look anywhere but into his golden-green eyes. I took in every detail of his face like I was mapping it—his thin nose that led my eyes straight to his mouth, the curve of his upper lip, the pink skin that looked so soft and warm, the hint of dark whiskers beneath his skin, the lines and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" He asked, moving toward me again. "To know I slept with students?"

I paused before I answered, and thought about how I felt—uncomfortable, yes, but also nervous and excited, curious and aroused, my whole body buzzing with energy. Since he seemed to be waiting for an answer, I opened my mouth and managed a quiet, "No."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really? That surprises me."

I couldn't help glancing to my right, toward the door, but then I looked back at him, not sure what to say, not sure what I felt, except that I didn't want to go...yet. His eyes flicked to the door then, and he watched me, knowing my thoughts, waiting to see what I would do. I stood, and stared.

He moved toward me until he was close enough I could smell that scent again—that spicy warm smell he had. I waited, heart beating fast.

"I have a feeling you're full of surprises."

He reached out and ran one finger along my cheek. It made me shiver.

"That just makes you even more attractive to me."

He stepped closer and I stepped back reflexively.

"The door's still open, Sofia." He met my eyes. "You can go if you want." I could see he meant it and knew I could step back and away and leave his office and he wouldn't stop me. Somehow, just knowing that made me want to stay.

"I'm not a monster," he said in a softer voice. "But I do have a penchant for smart young women, the smarter the better."

He ran his finger under my chin and stepped forward again, more slowly. This time I forced myself to stay still, though some part of my brain was still in panic mode, desperately trying to get me to pay attention to my doubt. It was rapidly losing its influence as Nick's handsome face drew nearer. He waited a second before he tilted my face, his thumb just below my bottom lip, his finger crooked beneath my chin, and brought his mouth to mine, kissing me softly.

I heard myself make a noise of surprise and alarm. My heart threatened to tear my chest apart, and my legs went weak from confusion, but it felt so good. So good.

He drew his mouth away, but only for a second, and then he kissed me again. His other hand came up to my face and he moved both to cradle my whole skull in his palms as he kissed me with increasing boldness, his tongue sliding from his parted lips.

My whole body reacted with a violent shiver, and when his hands dropped from my head and our mouths parted, I sighed with obvious pleasure. Nothing had felt that good before.

"You're something of an enigma, Sofia—full of contrasts. I know you're a strong, determined young woman, but you get so flustered when someone compliments you. When I told you you were cute, you blushed like a virgin. You looked so shocked, but somehow I think it turned you on too."

My attention was drawn to his hands as they slid to my waist.

"Just a minute ago I thought you were going to run. But you're still here."

He leaned closer, bringing his mouth close to mine again, pulling me toward him a little. I resisted, but only a little. He kissed the corner of my mouth once and then my cheek, making me shiver again.

"You're still here...why? Did that kiss excite you?" He kissed my lips once again. "Did it make you wet?"

I stared at him, inches from my face, and his words were like hands on my body—brushing over my breasts and slipping down between my legs. He kissed my lips again, softly, and I knew he was right; I was excited. When he spoke his voice was just a whisper. I barely heard it over the thumping rhythm of my heart.

"If I offered to take you somewhere, would you let me? Would you go with me?" he said. "Spend the night with me?"

I gasped and his hands tightened on my waist for a second. He watched my expression, waiting before he spoke again.

"You're a smart girl, Sofia; you know what I want." His hand slid around to the small of my back and he pressed me close to him. "I think you want it too."

I swallowed hard and watched his eyes as he searched my face.

"Think about it. I won't press you, but if you're interested, I promise I'll make the evening worth your while."

He kissed me again, I felt his mouth open slightly and the light touch of his tongue against my closed lips. I gasped and he turned his head slightly, kissing me with more passion, encouraging my mouth to stay open as he ran his tongue across my bottom lip lightly. It was like the heat from his body was pouring into me, filling my mouth and spreading through my body. When he pulled away, I felt the sense of loss, my lips still hot and wet, but missing the contact of his.

"My last class ends at four on Friday." He let his hands drop to his side. "I could be back on campus to pick you up by six. You tell me where, and I'll be there."

He looked at me with a less certain expression, and though his words sounded just as sure of my answer, there was something in his face that made me think he was asking, inviting, hoping, but not expecting my answer to be yes.

"You can call my office, leave a message on my voice mail—I'll check it after class."

I stared, in disbelief and wonder, and felt myself nod to show him I understood.

"Call even if your answer is no, just so I know."

He stepped away then, and took a deep breath, returning to his usual sure-minded, upright posture.

"Thanks for bringing the files." He stepped backward a pace, turned, and walked toward his desk.

It took me a full minute to react. I watched him as he crossed the room and sat down in his chair, acting as if he hadn't just kissed me, or asked if I was aroused, or invited me to have sex with him. I eventually remembered myself and turned too, leaving without another word.

I fretted the next 30 hours, my stomach clenched and churning, swinging wildly between dizzying excitement and worry that he was just playing with me. What if he'd lied? What if he really was as lecherous as the rumors made him out to be? Did he think I was naïve? Was I naïve?

I wasn't a virgin, but I could count my sexual experiences on one hand, and all of them were with the same boyfriend who was as inexperienced as I was. Maybe I was naïve, but maybe that was part of what he found attractive.

Somewhere in the back of my head I knew I would go, even before I left his office I knew, but I waited until the afternoon of the next day to call and leave my message.

I hung up on Nick's voice mail the first time I called—just hearing his recorded voice sent a shiver down my spine. It made me remember his sly smile, the incredible heat of his mouth on mine, but also the fear that had risen up. I hung up, took a few deep breaths and called again.

The reality of what I'd just done, once I'd successfully left the message, took my breath away. I grinned to myself, my heart beating fast, and sat in a daze for a few minutes while his words swirled through my head seductively, like silk ribbons twirling and catching the light—mesmerizing in their slippery, graceful dance. Spend the night with me.

I had three hours to get ready, to dig through my closet and drawers, choose and reject outfits, changing two dozen times until my bed was piled with nearly every article of clothing I owned. I settled on a dark red button top beneath a thin black cardigan, a flared white skirt that ended just below my knees, black tights and the only pair of dress shoes I owned—black satin flats. Under all that, I wore a simple light blue bra and panty set, and each article of clothing, though I liked them, made me doubt myself a little.

I looked at myself in the mirror critically once I'd finally finished dressing, and frowned. My outfit, which really was the best one I could put together, made me look like I was going to a piano recital; there was nothing sexy about me.

My doubt about my sex appeal had started earlier, when I'd taken advantage of my roommate's absence to look at myself naked in the mirror. I wasn't in the habit of doing so, but lately I'd been noticing my body more—specifically the way it reacted to Nick's presence. I'd found myself wet and throbbing after conversations we'd had, even if the conversations were entirely about photocopies or text books. And my nipples seemed perpetually hard, aching and longing for attention.

I'd studied myself critically for a while, turning to view my naked body from all angles. My breasts were small, and my waist was small, and I'd worried it just made my hips look too wide. I'd looked at myself from the side, tracing the curve of my profile, the slight roundness of my belly, the echo of that curve at the small of my back before the flesh curved out again, defining my ass. I'd always been a little on the skinny side, but I'd gained weight my freshman year, and though I was far from being fat, I hadn't gotten used to my new body's curves yet. I wasn't sure I was sexy, but reasoned I couldn't transform in the next two hours, so I'd better just accept what I had and make the most of it.

I'd taken a long shower, made sure my legs were smooth and shaved, and, back in the privacy of my room, with a hand mirror and a pair of scissors, carefully trimmed my pubic hair. I'd never even considered shaving or waxing, but suddenly I worried about all the hair I'd never given much thought to—weren't most of the women in porn completely bare? Is that what Nick would expect? Just the thought of Nick looking at my pussy made me shiver with fright and excitement.

I'd worked carefully for ten minutes and looked myself over, thrilled by the way my slit was visible through my now neatly shortened pubic hair. I liked what I saw and thought about Nick, about him asking if he'd made me wet, and moaned with excitement. I had an urge to slip my fingers between my labia and stroke myself, but there was a lovely achy longing within that flesh, and I didn't want to disturb it.

Nick's car smelled of the same spicy scent, like cedar. He smiled at me as I got in, his eyes running down my body from top to bottom, his smile widening as they did. He didn't say anything, though, and for the first few minutes we rode in silence, my heart beating like mad in my chest.

"We'll eat first," he said, as if what we would do second was just a movie or a game of chess, not sex. "I don't eat meat, but I eat most anything else," he said looking my direction for the first time since I got in the car. "How about you? Hungry for anything in particular? Something fancy?"

"No, not fancy," I said quickly. "Nothing where I have to worry about which fork to use. Or...drop, I mean."

He laughed and the sound filled the car, warm and encouragingly intimate.

We decided on pasta and ended up at a small Italian restaurant a few miles out of town. It was dark enough to feel romantic, but casual enough to not make me nervous. Or, at least not any more nervous than I already was.

He bought wine without asking if I was 21 (I wasn't quite), and watched me over the rim of his glass as I took my first sip. I'd had alcohol before, and though the buzz was nice, I'd never liked the taste of anything I'd tried. This, however, was warm and soothing, and spread through me like liquid confidence, dulling my doubts and sharpening the feeling that was building in my pussy.

Our conversation at dinner was entirely academic—discussing the overlap of Physics and Math and how each approached the study of Quantum Mechanics. It was exciting, in a really geeky way, but if he thought I was a geek, he obviously liked it—his smile grew as we talked and ate and I started to think he'd really meant what he'd said the other day, I even enjoyed his compliments about the breadth of my knowledge.

I got through dinner without spilling or dropping anything, which was a major feat for me—it did wonders for my sense of confidence. As we walked to the car, I felt like I could do anything and do it perfectly, but as we drove further from the school and toward our next destination, my confidence faded a little, thinking about what was going to happen, nervous doubt creeping in a little.