Smoke of Sighs

Chapter 7: Carstens et al., 2016

I chuckle, shake my head, give him a shrug. "Sorry." Besides the fact that I literally don't have time, I just... don't think working for him would be such a good idea, when I can't seem to keep my head out of the gutter. "But, there was a UPSA meeting yesterday. I got a committee in place to start planning that research skills workshop. We've scheduled it for the end of the month."

"I guess I'll have to wait until then to hire someone," he muses. I swear there's something wicked tugging at the edge of his jaw when he says, "Too bad, because I could use an extra set of hands."

Oh, how I would love to give this man a 'set of hands'. In his hair, over his rock-hard abs, down, sliding beneath the edge of his pants... "Something tells me you're... fully capable of taking care of yourself," I tease, chewing on my bottom lip.

Now he's grinning for real. A crooked, sparkling, dangerous grin that lights me up from the inside out. "But where's the fun in that?"

Our innuendo-filled conversations are becoming almost too much for me. Being witty and sharp and suggestive takes too much brain power before nine in the morning. "No fun at all, I agree." Even with the vibrator that finally came in the mail on Friday night. I just miss the entire experience of it, you know? The sweat, the skin-on-skin, the sweet and salty taste of masculine flesh, the groans and grunts of ecstasy... "I have to get to class. See you later."

"See ya."

Why does he have to be so damn irresistible?

***

That same afternoon in Dr. Hall's class we have our first of five group discussions, each worth 3% of our grade. I guess the idea of the discussions is to demonstrate that we've been thinking more deeply about the subject material. You know, Bloom's taxonomy, all that crap. He is a psychologist, after all.

Hailey and I pair up with another two students, James and Mariam, who I know are both fourth year psych majors. I've definitely had classes with them in the past. The topic of today's discussion is about the effectiveness of current research methods to accurately study human sexual behaviour. Dr. Hall gives us 15 minutes to discuss and come up with some main points that we'll then have to share with the entire class.

Our group nominates me to share a summary of our discussion, surprise surprise. I don't mind. I'm a classic over-achiever and I like people to know that I'm intelligent and competent and articulate. And, I won't pretend I don't care what Dr. Hall thinks of me, too. Especially given his apparent disdain for undergraduates as a species.

"Alright, who wants to share first?" The devil himself leans casually against the long table at the front of the room, arms crossed, legs extended. His so-far-unidentified black tattoo peaks out from beneath the left sleeve of his t-shirt, the dark ink a stark contrast against his smooth, golden skin.

I wonder if he has tattoos anywhere else, and imagine peeling that plain white T up off those gorgeously toned abs to find out.

Uh, back to the present.

I roll my eyes at the awkward silence that immediately follows his request. Don't people understand that if you go first, your ideas can't be taken by others and you're automatically guaranteed a better grade? Maybe most undergrads are stupid.

I raise my hand and Dr. Hall doesn't look surprised as his piercing gaze wanders over to me. He tips his chin towards me. "Go for it. Just a few points to summarize your major findings."