The Mathematician (Book 1)

3. To Virgin or *Not* To Virgin?

It wasn't until the next early morning as I was coming back from a morning dip in the downstairs pool that I realized I'd forgotten something important yesterday; The damn book.

"Shoot," I muttered and turned on my heel to walk back down the stairs I had been climbing to get to my room, and instead ventured downstairs again to his office. Maybe it was too early in the morning for him to be up. I never saw him in the morning, he always just appeared around the house whenever he liked. Which I guessed was fair, since it was his home, after all.

Walking up to his office in my bikini and wet flip-flops, I knocked my usual three times and waited for his call. When a few seconds passed and I heard none, I tried knocking again. Still no reply.

So maybe he was still sleeping. It was only 6.15am, but I had heeded to his words yesterday about getting back to the grind. Maybe I could just quickly slip in and grab it before he woke up... I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

Twisting the doorknob, I peaked my head inside and saw that the office was empty and eerily silent. The large windows carried warm streaks of the sun across the room and bathed his study in an ambient glow. The dust particles danced in the sunlight.

Smiling, I quickly walked in and headed towards the bookshelf. Third shelf, he had said, right?

Looking at the titles, I found the book after a quick moment, and as he had said, I really couldn't have missed it. It was a thick boy with lots of bent corners. He must've read it more than once or twice.

Perching it off the shelf, I tucked it under my arm and made ready to leave, but that same second, his blackboard caught my eye; All of his doodles and scribbles and personal works, all right there, waiting for him to continue it.

My feet slowly changed direction and I couldn't help but feel a curious pull in my stomach.

He was so private, they said. He never shared his methods, never let anyone watch him work. He was a silent genius who didn't reveal his tips and tricks, and right in this moment, I was standing in front of his whole life's work. Even me who hated math could find some excitement in that.

I carefully went up to his desk and made sure not to touch anything, but I couldn't help but glance into his notes. It was only fair, wasn't it? He had glanced into mine as well.

His penmanship was messy and slightly slanted, but still readable, but I still couldn't understand a single thing he had written. His math was beyond my knowledge, but it was impressive to see it written as if it were poems.

There was something... ever so beautiful about looking straight into his passion. He really lived for this, didn't he?

"Find anything interesting?"

I yelped in shock and spun around when the voice came behind me. And yes indeed, I did find something interesting.

Coming out of a door I hadn't spotted, maybe because it was partially hidden behind a protruding bookshelf, Harry walked out, but he looked different than usual. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he was dragging on a white button shirt. My eyes instantly fell to his torso and gazed upon the sight that was his chest. Defined, and just very lightly dusted with a bit of chest hair, it was enough to have my pussy waking up from its holiday slumber.

I know, girl. It's been a while, I sympathized when I felt that faint throb.

Watching him button up his shirt and hide away his chiseled chest, I lifted my eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I just came in to get the book. I seemed to have forgotten it yesterday."