lipstuck

I was 18. And she was ... old. No post-doc she. She had a professorship. She wrote the textbook I occasionally studied from. She seduced me. Or more accurately, she made me seduce her. I had never seduced anyone, and yet somehow at the end of a tutorial in late autumn, I stood up to hand in the week's essay and wound up... On my knees.

Literally, metaphorically. Whenever I think about it now, it plays out like a sequence of stills, lacking continuity. I have no memory of how it started, and how one thing dissolved into the next, and the next.

I stood up. Reluctantly. I didn't want to leave. She was sitting in an armchair in front of me. I walked towards her. I handed her my paper as usual, but she didn't seem to want to take it from me. She just stared up at me, like she was waiting for me to do something else. And then I was standing between her legs and my knee was pressing into her and she just kept looking evenly back at me, not even willing me to do it, apparently not even surprised that it was happening at all. It was this - this effortlessness - which my peers so lacked - which made me want her so so badly. And when I started to feel frightened, frozen, locked into what I was doing, I felt her push up slightly against my hand. It was a tiny movement, but it was proof that she felt it and wanted it. It was like tacit permission to do whatever I wanted.