THE COLLEGE PRESIDENT (COMING May 27th –
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T.R. Matthews exhaled, “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day, and I just wanted to clear the air.”
My classroom was eerily quiet, but I was not afraid of “Mr. President”. He’s been here for all of six months and damn near fired the entire staff. Now, he was looking to eliminate the Adjunct Professor’s positions, so that meant me and my friends would not have jobs at the end of the semester.
There was no need to get in a deep conversation with this arrogant man, so I started putting my files in my bag, “I think we were both perfectly clear the other day. You have a job to do, so do I, until I don’t. Until then, we will both do our jobs.”
Matthews rose from his chair and walked towards me. I turned my back to him and started to erase the whiteboard.
“Why are you such a … -,” he started to say before I cut him off.
“Bitch?” I interjected for him.
“The same reason you are.” I finished.
He moved closer, “Imara, you work for me, where do you get off disrespecting me as if we are on the same level? I sign your paycheck, I’m the reason you still have this class.”
My anger boiled over. I dropped the eraser and slowly turned towards him, “What, do you want a fuckin’ cookie? I don’t owe you shit. I was here before you. You come in here like you are God’s gift to FRCC, but you’ll be gone in two years. The morale has dropped and while the students may love you, the staff do not. You are probably the most feared and hated leader since Michelle Rhea. Congratulations on that.”
We glared at each other.
“Nobody cares that you like to go around on a bullhorn to hear yourself talk!” I bent down to get the eraser off the floor and attempted to wipe it clean again.
“Many of us lowly staff members thinks it over-compensation, for what I will not divulge to the likes of you. Who knows how many sticks you have up…”
Something touched me.
What in the fuck?
Well, nothing was actually touching me, but I felt vibrating heat on my back, my right hip, and my ass all at the same time. I was almost afraid to turn around to find out what was scorching various parts of my body. The heat traveled to my stomach, my neck, my thigh, and my arms. I looked up to see my right hand stood frozen on the board, with the eraser still in my sweaty palm. It seemed to be stuck there because I could not move, even if I wanted. Carefully, I turn my head to the side in order to see there was someone behind me. He was behind me, because I could smell his expensive cologne that was doing wonders on my good sense.
“W-what are you d-doing?” I stammered.
Matthews didn’t answer me, just moved his hand up my stomach until he cupped my breast, causing my nipples to harden. His body heat was searing my back, I could feel beads of sweat forming on my head. His mouth was close to my ear, but he only lingered. My breast felt heavy in his hands, then he squeezed them tight, causing me to gasp. This was not good because he really needed to stop. He was firing me and all of my co-workers, thus here he stood touching me like this. I straighten so that I could move, but he pushed his whole body into me, pressing it against the whiteboard. Thankfully, I had wiped that part down already. The eraser dropped out of my hand again, then he whispered in my ear, “How many sticks up my what?”
“Y-your ass.” I stammered again.
He licked my ear, and I tried not to lean in for more of his wet tongue.
“Speaking of asses,” he rotated his hips into me, leaving a distinct impression of something long and hard, “I’ve got something for yours.”
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© Xyla Turner