Free Indecent by L. J. Anderson

February
    I saw you today by the dining hall. You were leaning against the vending machine watching the soccer team warm up, your hand wrapped tightly around a can of soda. Even as you sipped, your eyes never left those dirty, sweat-covered bodies as they ran around, pushing each other and wrestling around in the mud.
    You seemed especially anxious today.
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    -
    That was the second note I’d received today. After the first one, I stalked down to the courtyard with heavy, trudging footsteps and a crease between my brows. I needed a smoke to blow off a little steam. All that pent-up rage evaporated the moment my eyes settled, landing on the glorious sight of soccer players.
    They were filthy and sweaty, muscles flexing, tempting me away from the cigarette I no longer craved. Maybe it was a rare moment of weakness on my part, making the trek to the courtyard to watch them practice in the mud, but I couldn’t resist, stalker be damned.
    He must have noticed the weary signs of sexual frustration written all over my face. But then, of course he did. He always noticed.
    Usually, I only managed to elicit one note a day, but apparently my behavior by the vending machine had warranted his commentary and, dare I say it... concern ? If he was so worried about my well-being, then he had no business playing this game. But the correspondence hadn’t ceased. For the last two weeks, each and every one of those crisp, folded notes had found their way into my possession—on my desk, inside my faculty mailbox, and most disturbing of all, my fucking briefcase. None of them were signed or gave any indication as to who left them.
    If I were being honest, the fact that this guy was sending me anonymous messages wasn’t my biggest worry. It was the content I found so disconcerting, the fact that he knew me and obviously had access to my schedule, my lecture room, not to mention my briefcase. Worse yet, he’d somehow seen past my careful facade, unlocked my most carefully guarded secrets, and was using the knowledge to taunt me. Oddly enough, the notes weren’t threatening. Not at all. What unsettled me the most was the sensation of being watched by someone—someone so observant that all my hidden desires were laid bare. His notes left me feeling naked and vulnerable to my mysterious stranger’s watchful eyes.
    I was unnerved, at a disadvantage, completely out of control, and I had no one to turn to. Despite my desire to keep it a secret, I wasn’t ashamed of my sexuality. After more than a decade of keeping that part of my life hidden from colleagues and superiors, it just didn’t feel right coming out now. Not after all this time.
    In all the years I’d been working at this university, I’d maintained the idea that I was simply a perpetual bachelor, allowing my co-workers to assume I was straight. People just weren’t as open back then when I’d first been hired. And now, it seemed too weird to make this grand announcement about my personal life. They didn’t need to know, and besides, it wasn’t as if my sexual preferences were anyone else’s business. I was a very private person and planned to keep it that way.
    What I didn’t need was some creeper following me around, watching me throughout the day just so he could report back to me on my failures at blending in with the rest of the breeders. I was tired of worrying about it though. It was time I paid more attention to my surroundings, got my head out of my ass, and caught this guy. I wanted him to see how it felt to be stalked for a change.
    Enough is enough.
    “Professor Cameron?” a quiet voice called from nearby. Too engrossed in pretending to be engrossed in my work, I barely glanced up from my laptop.
    A single glance was all I needed to alert me to the fact that Kaleb Davis, my TA, was standing there, anxiously rocking on his heels.
    Oh hell.
    Clearing my throat, I looked up at Mr. Davis, trying to keep my expression detached and completely devoid of emotion. One