honestly, I don’t have a clue what the hell she means by furries, or thunder, and, frankly, I don’t think I’m ready to hear it just yet. So once again, I circle those terms for later. Double circles.
“Then there are the more obscure ones like tripsolagnia, coulrophilia and—”
“Hold it, wait. What the heck is that? Tripso— what ? Coul— what ?”
She laughs at what I assume is the face I must be giving her. “How about this? I explain these two fetishes and we call your first day of training done? I don’t think you can handle listening to a call tonight,” she giggles.
“I think you might be right,” I nod. “Okay. I’m all ears, so please share, the suspense is kind of killing me.”
“Okay. The first one, tripsolagnia, is the act of getting off while getting your hair shampooed by someone else. And coulrophilia…that’s a clown fetish. People who get off fantasizing about sexual acts with a clown. I’ve never had these ones, but Cinnamon and Ruby have.”
Oh. My. God. Did I mention that clowns scare the bejeezus out of me? There is no effin’ way I will be pretending to be a clown. Nope. No way, no how. I’m silent, letting the information settle before opening my mouth. “Remember that small tinge of excitement I had mentioned feeling earlier?”
“Yeah,” she laughs.
“I think my nerves just ate it!”
Gulp.
Chapter 12
Ace
S he’s too smart.
She’s too fucking beautiful.
“I shouldn’t do it.” I try to talk myself out of doing what I’m about to do, like some sort of crazy person. “You’re asking for trouble,” I mutter, my hand on my laptop’s track pad where I keep moving her name under the column where my own name sits in bold type as a thesis advisor. The column in which I know she should not be placed.
I’m sitting at The Froth House, the local coffee shop on campus, waiting for my buddy Mercer to meet me for our usual morning coffee. It’s a trendy spot with a large fireplace in the centre that is surrounded by a dozen small tables and chairs and a perimeter lined with booths, and always packed. The coffee is good and the staff is great. I’m a big fan, coming here to work between classes rather than my office or professor’s lounge.
It’s been three weeks since classes started, and so far everything has been going smoothly. Except for my current predicament: that is, do I or do I not assign myself as Ellie’s advisor? Here’s the thing: the idea of her working intensely with Jax, or Sam, or hell, even Joelle—my teaching assistants this year—irks the hell out of me. Especially after hearing her in class, and reading her intro paper. I learned a lot about all the students and have based the pairings on those intro papers. It’s clear that Ellie is bright. Her introduction paper was well-written, conscientious and was dripping with her passion for film.
Needless to say, I’m very interested in hearing her thesis plans now, along with whatever else she may want to discuss. Hell. I’d listen to this girl drone on about anything at this point. On top of being eye-catchingly gorgeous, she’s got the brains too, and that intrigues me. A lot. I’m not sure what it is, but something compels me to her, despite not having had any further close encounters like that first day. It’s been weeks of stolen glances, lingering stares and subtle smiles. I sense her interest has been piqued about me just as much as mine for her. I see it in the way her chest rises then falls when I catch her watching me, and how her mouth lifts to the side when I reciprocate and it’s her catching me staring a bit too long. I’m going to get myself in trouble here. I can feel the pull to the dark side already.
“See? She’s too distracting,” I scold myself, hitting save one last time, but leaving her in my column, of course. Piss it. I can do this. I’ve got five other students to help too; she’s the same as them, a student needing support and guidance. Besides,
“Then there are the more obscure ones like tripsolagnia, coulrophilia and—”
“Hold it, wait. What the heck is that? Tripso— what ? Coul— what ?”
She laughs at what I assume is the face I must be giving her. “How about this? I explain these two fetishes and we call your first day of training done? I don’t think you can handle listening to a call tonight,” she giggles.
“I think you might be right,” I nod. “Okay. I’m all ears, so please share, the suspense is kind of killing me.”
“Okay. The first one, tripsolagnia, is the act of getting off while getting your hair shampooed by someone else. And coulrophilia…that’s a clown fetish. People who get off fantasizing about sexual acts with a clown. I’ve never had these ones, but Cinnamon and Ruby have.”
Oh. My. God. Did I mention that clowns scare the bejeezus out of me? There is no effin’ way I will be pretending to be a clown. Nope. No way, no how. I’m silent, letting the information settle before opening my mouth. “Remember that small tinge of excitement I had mentioned feeling earlier?”
“Yeah,” she laughs.
“I think my nerves just ate it!”
Gulp.
Chapter 12
Ace
S he’s too smart.
She’s too fucking beautiful.
“I shouldn’t do it.” I try to talk myself out of doing what I’m about to do, like some sort of crazy person. “You’re asking for trouble,” I mutter, my hand on my laptop’s track pad where I keep moving her name under the column where my own name sits in bold type as a thesis advisor. The column in which I know she should not be placed.
I’m sitting at The Froth House, the local coffee shop on campus, waiting for my buddy Mercer to meet me for our usual morning coffee. It’s a trendy spot with a large fireplace in the centre that is surrounded by a dozen small tables and chairs and a perimeter lined with booths, and always packed. The coffee is good and the staff is great. I’m a big fan, coming here to work between classes rather than my office or professor’s lounge.
It’s been three weeks since classes started, and so far everything has been going smoothly. Except for my current predicament: that is, do I or do I not assign myself as Ellie’s advisor? Here’s the thing: the idea of her working intensely with Jax, or Sam, or hell, even Joelle—my teaching assistants this year—irks the hell out of me. Especially after hearing her in class, and reading her intro paper. I learned a lot about all the students and have based the pairings on those intro papers. It’s clear that Ellie is bright. Her introduction paper was well-written, conscientious and was dripping with her passion for film.
Needless to say, I’m very interested in hearing her thesis plans now, along with whatever else she may want to discuss. Hell. I’d listen to this girl drone on about anything at this point. On top of being eye-catchingly gorgeous, she’s got the brains too, and that intrigues me. A lot. I’m not sure what it is, but something compels me to her, despite not having had any further close encounters like that first day. It’s been weeks of stolen glances, lingering stares and subtle smiles. I sense her interest has been piqued about me just as much as mine for her. I see it in the way her chest rises then falls when I catch her watching me, and how her mouth lifts to the side when I reciprocate and it’s her catching me staring a bit too long. I’m going to get myself in trouble here. I can feel the pull to the dark side already.
“See? She’s too distracting,” I scold myself, hitting save one last time, but leaving her in my column, of course. Piss it. I can do this. I’ve got five other students to help too; she’s the same as them, a student needing support and guidance. Besides,
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