Tenure

30. Kiernan

30

Kiernan

SJ seemed to have decided to leave my dignity intact and hasn’t said anything even though my face was the colour of an eggplant when I scurried back into class. Or maybe she just thought I was being awkward—it was unlikely the first thing to cross her mind was “Kiernan stripped naked in the bathroom and fucked herself in the pussy and ass on camera for her university professor.” All she said was we’ll talk about this later. I told her I was going to be busy all weekend.

I didn’t think I’d hear from him again today, considering. When he said he’d “call me later” I’d expected like, Sunday maybe. If at all. But to my surprise he calls around four-thirty, the phone vibrating loudly on the counter just as I step out of the shower.

“Hello?” I say breathlessly, butterflies exploding in my gut.

“Hi.” There’s a rustling noise, like he’s putting on a coat and changing hands. “What are you doing?”

I blush. “Um . . . I just got out of the shower?”

He exhales loudly. “I’m really tempted to Facetime you right now, but I think one bathroom encounter was enough for both of us today.”

“Thank you, sir .” He groans, and I chuckle. “You really like that, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he says darkly. “I like it almost as much as your laugh.”

I flush, drying the ends of my hair with my towel.

“Do you make all your girlfriends call you sir?” My mouth drops open at the same time as I drop my phone. Fuck. I’m such a fucking idiot. I scramble to pick it back up and feel like I might barf. Girlfriend?! What the fuck is wrong with me?! “I didn’t mean—I’m not saying—I don’t think you’re my—”

“Breathe, Kiernan. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. This is fucking mortifying ,” I grumble.

“This is fucking adorable .”

“Well?” I snap. “Do you? Make your . . . women . . . call you sir?”

He laughs, an outright unrestrained laugh that makes my skin tingle right to my toes.

“Nobody’s ever called me sir outside of a classroom before. And I’ve never asked anyone to.”

“So, why are you asking me? ” I whine.

“I’m not asking you, Kiernan. I’m telling you.”

“But why?” I pout, annoyed. “ Sir,” I tack on, albeit irritably.

“Because you’re not the kind of woman who would say that easily. And I’m very, very rarely challenged.”

“By girls?”

“By anyone. ”

I shiver, the undercurrent in his voice causing my lower belly to flip-flop some more.

“You’re showering at home, right? At your house?” he asks suddenly, his voice a little sharp.

“Yes?”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in an hour or so. Rush hour.”

My mouth drops open, completely taken aback. “Why are you on your way, exactly?” I ask, my voice very small.

“I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“Why?” I’m fully squeaking now.

“Because you earned it, babygirl. I’ll see you in an hour.” And then he hangs up.

I hurry to find clean clothes— any clean clothes—that might be suitable for an actual date with Mister Hugo Boss. Shit.

I take a deep breath, pick up my phone, and dial again. SJ picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not talking to you,” she sniffs.

“SJ, this is an emergency.”

She sighs. “A ‘I only got ninety-nine percent on my math test’ emergency? Or a ‘Connor kissed me and now I think I’m a lesbian’ emergency?”

“The professor is on his way here to take me out for dinner, and I have nothing to wear emergency.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”