Paint Me, Professor - The Sequel | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+

Chapter 12 - Praise

Alison
***

The week in New York went by in a flash. Even though we had a shaky start, by the end I truly felt like we had made tremendous progress.

My parents seemed genuinely interested in getting to know Chris, in knowing about he career, his hobbies, his personality. I noticed he started opening up, and with each interaction he became more and more genuine, not second guessing himself. It truly felt amazing to hear him engage in conversation with my parents, make jokes, share his thoughts and opinions.

However, we didn't spend the whole week with my parents tagging along. After all, it was the first time Chris was in my hometown, so I wanted to show him everything. I took him to my favorite cafés, parks, hangout spots. He took it all in like a sponge, observing his surroundings attentively.

We finished our trip by going to the most iconic museums of the city. I remembered that time many years ago when we went to an exhibition in the dark since we couldn't be seen together on a date. For that reason, I reached for Chris' hand in the open and held him close to me, my eyes more interested in looking at him than at the masterpieces.

When we got to a less crowded section of The Met, Chris stopped in front of a painting and turned my chin to him. He had a silly smile on his face, his thumb caressing the dip of my chin.

"What are you doing?" I whispered to him, trying to sound serious.

"What? Can't I kiss you in public?"

I looked around. No one seemed to be interested in us but rather the paintings on the walls.

"Not in front of Vermeer, it's not polite."

Chris chuckled and looked towards the painting in front of us, "The Allegory of Faith" by Vermeer.

"I don't think he minds," Chris replied as he shrugged his shoulders, pulling my chin to him.

At last our lips met, but only for a couple of seconds. I pulled back, looking shyly at the ground.

"You still get nervous when we're affectionate in public, right baby?" He asked, taking hold of my hand again. "We'll work on that, don't worry."

On Friday afternoon we had out flight back home. We arrived feeling exhausted but content. We both collapsed on the couch, leaving the suitcases by the door. We'd have plenty of time to unpack, but we surely needed some well-deserved rest.

"Can't believe lessons start on Monday," Chris complained, slapping his spread open knees. I was in a similar position to his, but scooted over and leaned by head on his shoulder.

"Me neither," I replied. "The best part of the day was coming home from Art Press and knowing you weren't tired. Those days will be gone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not tired to do what?"

I chuckled shyly. "To give me attention."

Chris shook is head, laughing. "Oh really? I had to deal with an exhausted Ali the whole summer because you decided to be a team player and work extra hours. Where was my attention then huh?"

He said this all in jest, but it made me wonder if there was an ounce of truth to his words. He was the one to initiate things most of time after all.

"This is the price to pay for being two very successful professionals," I said, rubbing his chest with my palm. He reached for it and kissed the back of my hand.

We were silent for a moment, just resting. We listened to the wind outside rattling the leaves and the peacefulness in the air.

"We're so lucky," Chris said all of a sudden. "I mean, look at us: we have amazing jobs, awesome friends, your family supports us, we have an apartment just for the two of us, and we love each other. The only thing that would make this better is a hot plate of food. I'll cook something real quick before I fall asleep on the couch."