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Who gave her the fucking right? Wearing that tight, plain black shirt and dark blue jeans, outlining the most delicious places.

Fridays are my weakness. That's when the professors can dress a little more comfortably. She's taking full advantage of it, too.

When she had walked in, my eyes immediately scanned her from her head to toe. Though, they lingered on her special friend.

I wonder about her size. I'm pretty certain that she's over average. I bite my lip as she paces back and forth in front of the class, seemingly upset.

"Guys, something came up, so the exam is pushed to Monday. Those that didn't study, or tried to cram information last night, you have the whole weekend. Iliad and Odyssey are important pieces for this course, so take this seriously. No extra credit will be given since we've talked about these two works for the last month and a half. No dicking around."

Her tone was serious, laced with anger and sternness. That raspy voice punctuated the last sentence, eyes glaring slightly at the class.

I feel the shiver up my back, going back down my legs and back up to my core.

I tap my pen on my notebook softly, trying to calm myself. Though, when the woman of your wettest thoughts is nothing, but three rows from you, it's highly difficult.

I bite my lip, looking around me unnoticed. Praying no one can see me squirm.

Why did I have to wear a skirt? Knowing it was Friday and I have her lecture on these days.

My eyes avert back to her and expand slightly. Her eyes; dark gray blue, like in my daydream. They looked solid, almost unreal.

Her eyebrows were relaxed, but her demeanor was strict. Military. She runs her hand through her hair and let out a breath.

"Ok," she goes, clapping her hands together. The room falls quiet, letting the action sound around the room.

"As I told you all Tuesday that Odyssey is the sequel to Iliad," she starts. She goes over to her desk, tapping the keys in her laptop.

She pulls up the poster, showing a Trojan soldier's helmet and the name under in.

"A ten year war on the Greek soils," she states, changing the slides.

"After an invocation to the Muses, the story launches in medias res towards the end of the Trojan War between the Trojans and the besieging Greeks," she reads then looks over us.

She squints slightly. Her eyes land on me for a second and I subconsciously run a hand through my hair and fix the waistband of my skirt.

She turns her head, reading the board.

"Chryses, a Trojan priest of Apollo, offers the Greeks wealth for the return of his daughter Chryseis, held captive of Agamemnon, the Greek leader," she walks with her hands gesturing in front of her.

The small remote controlled the projector held between her index and thumb.

"Although most of the Greek army is in favour of the offer, Agamemnon refuses. Chryses prays for Apollo's help, and Apollo causes a plague to afflict the Greek army. After nine days of plague, Achilles, the leader of the Myrmidon contingent, calls an assembly to deal with the problem."

"Under pressure, Agamemnon agrees to return Chryseis to her father, but decides to take Achilles' captive, Briseis, as compensation."

"Angered, Achilles declares that he and his men will no longer fight for Agamemnon but will go home. Odysseus takes a ship and returns Chryseis to her father, whereupon Apollo ends the plague."

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