I. O. U.

Expensive Mistakes

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shittedy fucking shit tits balls, I'm running late.

I blame the bus, this ridiculous fucking line and my deep rooted addiction to hot chocolate.
"Hi, yeah, can I get a large hot chocolate... actually make that extra large and... ahh blueberry muffin. Thanks." I try to impress my urgency on the server. I feel the deep heat in my cheeks and the sweat matting my hair. I think they get the picture.
Five whole minutes later, I'm still late. Bloody fucking late! But I have my hot chocolate and my carbs. Important food groups are covered.

Spinning for the exit, my resolve to sprint the last 200 metres to class strengthens. The onslaught of sunlight shocks my dilated pupils and suddenly I collide with a strangely warm and pliable wall.
In my enthusiasm the hot chocolate bursts from hands assaulting my unfortunate victim. Still half blind I stagger around what I assume was a Male form. My now free hand brushing against a remarkably chiseled torso, my nose catching the masculine scent of sandalwood and cinnamon mingling with the chocolate. My head slightly muddled by the enticing scent I continue, half staggering, towards my lecture. Yelling a belated apology over my shoulder.

Seated I breathe a sigh of relief. I beat the lecturer, therefore I am not late! My logic is flawless. It's 9am going on 9:01. This isn't a good first impression for your students, guy! I mean you're a guest lecturer, you're being paid to be here. We're paying you.
9:02am. I have a student debt the size of a small homeloan. I could have walked here from the café by now. What a fucktard.
9:03am. You'd think a guy giving a lecture on business management would have better time management skills.
9:04am. Oh my God is that really what I look like or is it just the lighting and the selfie camera. I wonder if I have time to do my make-up.
9:05am. "Hey," I nudge the guy next to me. "Do you think he's going to show?" He gives a non-committal shrug, not looking up from the brightly coloured acid trip he's playing. 

A deep voice emanates from the rear of the hall, sending an involuntary shiver up my spine. "I apologise for the delay. There were unforseen circumstances." Our lecturer makes his way to the front of the hall as he talks. He emits an aura only achieved by the incredibly successful and overly confident. His dark hair is effortlessly styled in a manner which suggests lots of money and nigh constant professional attention. I can't help my feminine approval as I take in his beautifully sculpted face. Michelangelo would struggle to do this man justice. My eyes linger then wonder downwards and widen with horror, snapping back up to meet his intense gaze. Oh shitballs. His mouth forms a hard line.
"Perhaps," he says, "you would like to take a photograph. Then you may view it at your convenience rather than ignoring my lecture." I feel a deep flush rise in my cheeks. "I record all my lectures and review them," I garble, realising I have been staring at his chest for about five minutes.
My breath leaves me as he frees me from his inscrutable gaze and continues the lecture.

About one hundred years later, I'm still bright red and hunched in my seat. I haven't heard a word formed by those full yet masculine lips, the lecture is over and I forgot to press record. Here's hoping the university recording system has actually worked properly for once, so I can review this class later.
I wait as the rest of the students file out. A number of them enthusiastically thank Mr Masculinity, so I have to assume he knows his shit. Although most of the enthusiastic students are female. How predictable.
Finally the rabble clears as the fangirls cease their squealing. I reluctantly drag myself to the front of the hall where he is packing his things into an expensive looking man-satchel. I take a deep breath.
"I'm really sorry about your shirt. I hope that my... hot chocolate... didn't burn you." I blush with shame at my childish drink choice. "I'm happy to compensate you for your shirt and I'm just... so sorry."
"Yes, your hollered apology as you ran away was obviously deeply felt and sincere."
"I get really stressed when I'm late," I mumble.
"Yes. Well, a second degree burn never hurt anyone. As for the compensation, this shirt was bespoke and cost me $1000." He stops talking as the blood drains from my face. For the first time in my life I feel faint. I am a student and therefore broke. I borrow my textbooks from the library, and even new they only cost half as much as his shirt.
"Perhaps," he says, "we could organise an installment plan or come to some kind of arrangement."
"I'm... I'm living in college on a scholarship and my work at the library only pays me enough so that I can eat," Albeit not well. I hesitate, "What kind of arrangement were you thinking of?"
His gaze intensifies as he assesses me, "I have something in mind for you. Come to my office tomorrow." He hands me his card. "I will expect you in the morning. What is your name?"
"Right uh, my name is Susan and I'm really sorry but I have class tomorrow from 9am till lunch," I stutter.
He sighs with the depth of the truly world weary and jaded. "Then come to my office after your class has finished." He raises a perfectly shaped brow. I nod wordlessly and watch as he turns and walks from the hall. He has a gorgeous butt! My knees give out as the door closes behind him and my stomachs curdles with a cloying mixture of fear and excitement. He has "something in mind for me"? "some kind of arrangement"? Oh shit, I've read about this!
The door slams shut with a ring of finality. 

I can't picture this guy lacking in female attention but maybe he has a weird kink? My head is whirling with numerous fucked up scenarios as I contemplate how this man will take my virginity.