Escaping Mr. Grayson [UN-EDITED]

Chapter Six.

I strip out of my underwear before tiptoeing into the shower. I reach my hand out and glide it through to feel the pouring water splash delicately onto my fingers, making sure that it's just the right temperature. I like when the water is cold. In an attempt to avoid getting my braids wet, I push out my chest and feel the droplets of water run down my bare skin. I reach for the body wash and it smells exactly like him...it's a strong and musky scent...very irresistible... very delicious.

When I'm finished, I grab one of the towels and dry myself quickly while I walk back into the bedroom and start to peruse through his closet. As expected, he seems painfully organized, almost as if hes OCD. All of his shirts are hung on the same make of wooden hangers in order and according to colour. I pick out a black t-shirt and poke my head through the top of the t-shirt.

Is it a collar? Or is it a head hole? I have no idea. Long story short, I put on his shirt and the soft material makes my skin tingle.

I look into the mirror and make the daring decision to let my braids free. They feel heavy and I look...different but, I like the feeling. Something about being around Mr. Grayson makes me feel differentliberated even. When Im around him its like staring at the sun. It stings but its a hell of a rush.

"Wow", I croak as I step into Mr. Graysons dining room, dressed in only a t-shirt. I feel a breeze on my lower ass that I now realize is hanging out, and my hard nipples poke through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. The table is full of food; bacon, eggs, waffles, French toast and freshly baked scones. He didn't strike me as the cooking type.

"Surprised?", he asks me if hes reading my mind while he brings two plates to the table.

I nod my head and smile. "You just don't really look like a man that's good around the kitchen"

"And you don't look like a woman that's good around sleeping with her professor", he challenges. I can't tell if he's joking but I hope that he is because that statement makes me uncomfortably nervous.

"You should keep my shirt. It looks a lot better on you", he swallows and clenches his jaw, "Also your hair. I like it. It's nice like that"

"Thank you", is all I can think of saying

He gestures towards one of the chairs. "Please....sit"

"Where would you like me to sit?", I ask

"Sit across from me", he commands and I do just that.

I watch him closely while he fixes me a plate and passes it over to me. He starts to pour himself some fresh coffee while I take my first bite...the food is delicious.

"How do you like your coffee?", he asks me

"Oh, thats fine...I'll just have yours when you're done with it"

"What?", he cocks his head to the side.

"Its just, I noticed that you never finish your coffee and well, I kind of like to drink where you've already drank so... I don't mind just having yours when you've gotten enough of it"

"Is that some kind of fetish?", he asks nonchalantly

"I don't think so"

"Well do you have one?", he asks, "fetish—I mean—"

I mull over it for a second... I definitely have a fetish. Well, not so much a fetish more of just a turn on. Look at me, using phrases like turn on. Who am I?

"Not really. If I were to have one though, I guess it would be you", I say, wrinkling my nose

"I would be your fetish?"