Free Her Dirty Professor by Penny Wylder Page B

talking, I just enjoy her company.
    We only pick at our food because we’re laughing and having too good of a time to eat. She sips her wine and I switch to iced tea, and we talk until the restaurant is about to close. When the waiter comes around and asks us if we’d like anything else, I tell him, “No, thank you, just the check,” because I want to get this girl home and in my bed as soon as possible.
    The alcohol has made her flirty. I think she knows where I’m going with this, because she gives me a sultry look with hooded eyes and a crooked smile, and she touches my foot beneath the table with hers.
    After I pay the bill, we get up to leave. I lean in and whisper in her ear as we walk toward the exit, “I can’t wait to get you out of that dress and peel your panties off with my teeth.”
    She tilts her head up to look at me and whispers back, “I’m not wearing any.”
    This catches me off guard, and I feel myself blush and laugh like a nervous schoolboy. Maybe we won’t make it back to the house after all. All the different locations I can take her in my car start firing off in my head. There’s a wooded area off the highway a few miles down, or the bluffs where the students like to park. Though having sex in a muscle car with bucket seats isn’t ideal, I’m sure we can make it work.
    I playfully bite her ear. She stops so suddenly I run into the back of her and have to grab her waist to keep her from catapulting forward.
    At first I laugh because I think she tried to trip me up on purpose, but when I see her face frozen in shock, I look up and find Dean Meyer, my boss, standing with his wife in front of us.
    “Loche,” he says, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. He glances at Georgia, then back at me. Realization irons out the confusion wrinkling his face as he figures out what he’s seeing.
    While it’s not unheard of for a teacher to take students out to celebrate an accomplishment in the class, it’s typically with a group or somewhere brightly lit and very public, during the day. Definitely not a secluded, romantic restaurant.
    I straighten up and take my hands off of Georgia’s waist. “Hello, Dean Meyer,” I say.
    He lifts his chin. I can tell he wants to get to the bottom of this right now, but this is not the time nor the place. By the way his wife folds her arms over her chest, it’s obvious she’s put out by the interruption in their night.
    My blood drains and my hands turn clammy. I guess I didn’t need my sex tape to ruin my career after all. There won’t be any wriggling my way out of this one.
    I clear the lump in my throat and say, “I suppose I should explain myself.”
    “Yes,” the dean says, “you should, but I’m out with my wife for our thirtieth anniversary, so we’ll talk about this tomorrow in my office, first thing in the morning.”
    “Right, of course,” I say.
    He turns and walks away without another word.
    I glance at Georgia. She’s looking up at me with big, frightened eyes. My thoughts are spinning. I can only imagine what’s going on in her head. It’s not just my career that’s ruined over this. She could very well lose her scholarship too. I won’t let that happen.

    * * *
    G eorgia sits in the passenger seat with her bare feet propped on the dashboard. “I can’t believe we were caught by Dean Meyer of all people,” she says.
    I’m still sorting everything out in my head, thinking of a way to fix this, but I’m coming up with nothing.
    “You’re quiet,” she says. I can feel her eyes on me. I’m trying not to freak out, punch the steering wheel and cuss like I want to. I don’t want to frighten her.
    “I’m just thinking,” I say.
    “Maybe you should just drop me off back at the dorm instead of both of us going back to your place,” Georgia says, resigned.
    I know I’m not the greatest company at the moment; I’m not the most communicative person when I’m upset, but the last thing I want is for her to leave. I won’t