Noah moved closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. "And how does that make you feel now? Admitting that?"
Mai's breath caught. "Terrified," she whispered. "But also... excited. More excited than I've ever felt."
The admission hung between them in the quiet classroom, heavy with possibility and danger. Outside, the campus was settling into its afternoon rhythm: footsteps on concrete, car doors slamming, students laughing as they walked past the building. But inside this room, something was shifting, changing, becoming something she never planned for.
Never breaking eye contact, he slowly extended a hand toward the hem of her skirt, pausing to give her a chance to object. "Do you mind if I check?" The movement was deliberate, calculated to test her boundaries while maintaining the illusion of her consent.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly, her breathing becoming shallow. "Check? How would you... I mean... oh god, this is so wrong."
Noah cocked his head to the side, a playful smile on his lips. "Is that a no?"
Mai's voice was barely above a whisper. "I... I... no, I don't mind. You can check."
She inhaled sharply, body tensing in anticipation of Noah's touch. Gentle yet firm, his fingers continued their exploration, tracing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, the fabric of her skirt bunching up as he went, before finally reaching their destination. Her breath shook as his fingertips touched her most intimate place. Her body responded instantly, a soft moan escaping her lips as her hips involuntarily jerked slightly into his hand.
"Is this okay?" Noah murmured, voice a low, sensual rumble sending shivers down her spine.
Mai nodded, chest heaving, nipples hard and visible through her t-shirt.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "Yes, please." She leaned lightly into his chest, the room filled with the sound of their combined breathing, shallow and ragged.
Noah slipped his fingers under the waistband of her cotton panties, his touch like feathers against her bare skin. Mai's hips jerked slightly at the contact, a soft moan escaping her lips. Noah's fingers began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
He felt her wetness, her body responding to his touch, hips moving in sync with his movements. Mai's soft moans filled the room, a melody of pleasure and need.
"I can see you're quite excited right now."
Mai whimpered softly, squirming under his touch. "I... I can't help it. This whole situation has me so confused. I'm sorry if I disobeyed your orders last night."
Noah's fingers continued to stroke her most sensitive spot. A single finger entered the eagerly waiting wetness of her vagina, while his thumb circled her clit with expert precision. Her body tensed, inner muscles tightening around his finger and pulling him deeper.
Mai's moans grew louder, more desperate, her body moving against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving her. She leaned harder into him, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as she held on for dear life, legs trembling.
"Noah," she whimpered into his chest, seeking more of his touch. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire. Every movement sent new waves of ecstasy crashing through her. Her hands roamed over his body, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the corded muscles of his arms under his shirt. "Oh god, Noah."
Noah responded with a low growl. His fingers continued their movements. His thumb alternated between circling and flicking her hardened clit while his finger took turns massaging her insides and extracting themselves from her wet suction to tease her sensitive folds.
His hand was drenched in her sticky juices, her body responding to his touch, her hips moving in sync with his movements. Noah's fingers were magic, skilled and knowing, bringing her to the edge of release with each deft touch.
"Oh god, Noah. I'm so close," Mai gasps. Her back arched, her breasts pressing against his chest, her nipples hard and aching. "Ahh... oh God... what are you doing to me? I can't... I shouldn't be feeling this way. Not here, not now..."
"Let go, Mai," Noah whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her collarbone. "Let me feel you come. You're safe with me."
His words triggered her orgasm. A feeling unlike anything she'd ever felt ripped through her body. Mai cried out in ecstasy, collapsing against him as her body trembled violently. Her fingers gripped his shirt, her body convulsing with the force of her release. Her legs shook, her toes curled as waves of pleasure forced her to her knees.
Noah gently guided her down, his hand on her back supporting her.
"Ohhh fuck... oh god... I've never... never felt anything like that before. What did you just do to me?" Mai's voice was a mix of awe and disbelief, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Noah's hand moved in soothing circles on her back as he observed Mai's face, noting the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, the flush that hadn't quite faded from her cheeks.
"Wait here for a second," he said softly, withdrawing his hand. He stood and moved to his desk, pulling out a box of tissues. His fingers glistened in the late afternoon light streaming through the windows. He wiped them methodically, the white tissue darkening with her wetness, then crumpled it and shoved it deep into his pocket, evidence that couldn't be left in the classroom trash.
Returning to her, he offered her the tissue box. "Here."
Mai took several tissues with shaking hands, her face burning as she reached under her skirt. The cotton of her panties was soaked through, clinging to her skin. She dabbed awkwardly, aware of how exposed this made her feel, more exposed somehow than what had just happened. The tissues came away damp. She wadded them up quickly, looked around for somewhere to put them, then stuffed them into her bag, unable to meet his eyes.
"Your skirt," Noah said quietly, gesturing.
She looked down. The fabric was bunched and twisted from his hands. With fumbling fingers, she smoothed it down, tugging at the hem. Her legs still felt weak, unsteady. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to put herself back together, but she could feel how disheveled she must look: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, the lingering heat radiating from her skin.
"You're incredible, Mai." his voice was a gentle murmur as he leaned back against his desk. A knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The satisfaction was immediate and overwhelming, followed almost instantly by a wave of self-loathing that he quickly pushed away. This was exactly what he'd been trained to do. The fact that he had wrapped it in the guise of education didn't make it any less manipulative. If anything, it made it worse.
"But I didn't do anything that you didn't do to yourself," he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "From your reaction, I'm pretty sure this means you followed my instructions last night."
Mai looked up at him with eyes that were still hazy, unfocused. The fluorescent lights above made her pupils look enormous, as if she were coming down from some kind of high. "Followed your... wait, but..." She blinked slowly, trying to piece together her scattered thoughts. "You said I couldn't... how could... I thought..."
The manipulation was complete now. She was seeking his approval, trying to understand his logic, accepting his version of events as reality.
Noah chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the empty classroom. "I only told you that you were not allowed to orgasm... while thinking of me. Those were my exact words."
The realization hit her like a physical blow. Mai's eyes widened, her mouth falling open as she processed what he was saying.
"Wait," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "So you're... everything else was... all that build-up, all those..." Her hands gestured vaguely, unable to complete the thought. "That was... allowed?"
Noah nodded, and she could see the satisfaction in his expression, the way he was studying her reaction like she was an interesting specimen. "More than allowed, that was the entire point of this exercise. I'm sorry for the pain and confusion it caused you. I know it wasn't easy."
The apology was calculated, designed to position him as both her tormentor and her savior. It was a classic technique. And he executed it flawlessly while hating himself for every word.
Mai slowly stood up, her legs still unsteady. The room felt different now, charged with a tension that made the air feel thick and heavy. "I... I don't..." She pressed her hand against her forehead. "Why go through all this... just to make me feel... what was even the point?"
Noah moved closer, voice taking on that deeper, more intense tone, the one that made students sit up straighter in his class. "Look, what I did to you last night... most writers and professors would condemn me. The school would probably have me fired for even thinking it, let alone doing it."
He paused, running a hand through his hair. "But harnessing those feelings, the messy, uncomfortable, raw shit that makes us human, and then channeling them into your writing? That's the most powerful skill I've developed over my years of writing."
The truth was more complicated. He'd learned to weaponize emotions from his CIA training and refined the technique during his time with ORACLE. The fact that it worked for writing was almost accidental, a byproduct of skills developed for far darker purposes.
He leaned against the desk, his eyes never leaving her face. "It took me years to figure this out. Years of writing garbage, of getting rejection after rejection, of wondering if I was just fooling myself. I thought maybe I could save you some of that pain. Give you a shortcut."
Mai listened intently, her mind racing to absorb what he was telling her. The building groaned around them, settling into its late afternoon quiet.
"So all this..." she said slowly, her voice gaining strength and a hint of something sharper. "The frustration, the... the anger, the..." She couldn't say the rest. "You basically used me as a lab rat for your writing theories?"
Noah's eyebrows shot up. For a moment, she'd seen through the manipulation, recognized it for what it was. But he could see her wavering, caught between her instincts and her desire to trust him.
"That's... not how I'd put it."
"But that's what it was, wasn't it?" She sat forward, her eyes flashing. "You deliberately made me feel like I was losing my mind, just to see if it would make me write better?"
"Did it work?" he asked, and there was something in his tone now, curiosity mixed with resignation. In truth, he was genuinely uncertain about whether the ends justified the means.
Mai paused, considering the question carefully. She thought about the pages she'd written the night before, the way the words had poured out of her like they were on fire. The raw honesty of it, the way she'd felt completely exposed and completely alive at the same time.
"I... fuck." She laughed, but it wasn't entirely happy. "Yeah, it worked. The stuff I wrote last night was... it was like nothing I've ever written before. It was real in a way that scared me."
She looked up at him, something new in her expression, gratitude mixed with a hint of anger. "Thank you for pushing me past my limits, even if your methods were pretty fucked up. But next time? Maybe ask before you mess with someone's head like that."
Noah's eyebrows rose slightly, and he studied her with what looked like surprise and genuine respect. She was stronger than he'd given her credit for, more resilient. That's probably why his methods had worked so well. She had the mental fortitude to survive them and integrate the experience into something productive.
"You have a firm grasp on the foundations of writing and character development," he said, his tone becoming more analytical. "What your stories have lacked is emotional depth. Unfortunately, many of the methods that I've developed to express my own emotional depth in my stories are even more invasive than what I've put you through."
The confession escaped before he could stop it. For a moment, his mask had slipped, revealing glimpses of the conditioning and trauma that had shaped him and his own writing process. He'd learned to access authentic emotion through crisis, manipulation, and pain. It was effective, but it had cost him everything.
Mai nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. The late afternoon light was fading now, casting long shadows across the classroom. "I see. So these 'special lessons' aren't exactly... pleasant experiences for either of us. But they're effective in unlocking creative potential."
Noah sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "The thing is, Mai, I didn't always know how to access those deeper emotions either. So, to access them, I had to learn the hard way. And I had to put myself through experiences that were... challenging."
Mai leaned forward, intrigued despite herself. "What kind of experiences? What did you have to do?"
Noah smiled sheepishly, and for a moment, he looked less like a confident professor and more like a guy who'd made some questionable life choices. "Well, for starters, I became a university professor."
The answer only held a sliver of the truth; he couldn't tell her about his mission, about Alexa, and the psychological conditioning that had taught him to weaponize human connection. But becoming a professor had been part of his cover, as well as an attempt to find something resembling redemption.
Mai blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. "You... became a teacher? But why? What does that have to do with accessing your emotions?"
Noah moved to the window, looking out at the campus below. Students were crossing the quad, bundled up against the October chill, their breath visible in the cooling air. "My hope is that meeting and interacting with students will allow me to grow and become a better writer," he explained, his voice thoughtful. "Of course, there's more to it than that. But honestly, I'm figuring this out as I go along too, trying to see what works and what doesn't."
His confession was honest. He really was trying to use his teaching position to reconstruct something resembling a normal human identity. The irony wasn't lost on him; he was manipulating his students to learn how to stop being manipulative.
"I should go," Mai said suddenly, grabbing her pages back from the desk. "I have another class."
"Mai, wait." His voice stopped her at the door. "Keep writing. Explore these feelings however you need to. That's the assignment." And I'm sorry for any discomfort that I've caused you."
The apology was genuine this time, weighted with all the things he couldn't say. Sorry for manipulating you, sorry for playing a game with your emotions that you had no chance of winning, sorry for making you complicit in your own exploitation. But she deserved better than his self-flagellation. She deserved to benefit from what she'd experienced without being burdened by his guilt.
She nodded without turning around and pushed through the door into the hallway.
========================================================================
Mai walked quickly down the hallway, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. Her heart was still racing, and she felt like she couldn't quite catch her breath. The building's ancient ventilation system hummed around her, and she could hear other students in distant classrooms, their voices muffled and normal.
Nothing felt normal.
She pushed through the exit and into the October afternoon. The campus quad was filled with students lounging on the grass, playing frisbee, arguing about philosophy or politics or weekend plans. Mai walked past them all, clutching her bag against her chest.
She found an empty bench far from the main pathways and sat down hard. Her hands were shaking.
Oh my god, what the fuck just happened?
She pulled out her phone, opened a new note, and started typing. Not a story this time, she couldn't think about craft or narrative structure right now. Just raw thoughts, trying to make sense of what she was feeling.
He touched me… down there. He made me cum… In his office. With the door unlocked. Anyone could have walked by.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
I should report him. That's what I should do. That's what anyone would tell me to do.
But even as she typed it, Mai knew she wouldn't, because the writing was better. Because some part of her wanted to know what the next assignment would be. Because she was terrified and excited in equal measure, and she didn't know which feeling to trust.
I'm not stupid. I know this is wrong. I know he's manipulating me. But why did it feel so good?
A group of students walked past, laughing about something. One of them called out a greeting, and Mai forced herself to wave back, to smile like everything was fine.
She looked down at her phone again.
Maybe I wanted this. Maybe I was asking for it by approaching him after everything that happened last night?
The thought made her feel sick, but she couldn't shake it.
He said, "Keep writing." That's the assignment. Explore these feelings.
Mai closed the note app and opened her messages. Professor White's name was still at the top of her recent conversations. She stared at it for a long moment, then locked her phone and shoved it back in her bag.
She needed to go home. She needed to think. She needed to figure out what she was going to do.
But even as she stood and started walking toward the parking lot, Mai knew she'd be back in class on Monday. She'd see him again, and they'd both pretend this was a normal student-teacher relationship.
And the worst part? She was already thinking about what she would write tonight. About how she could channel this confusion and fear and inappropriate desire into something that would make him proud of her.
This is so fucked up, Mai thought as she unlocked her beat-up old Honda. And I can't stop.
She sat in the driver's seat for a long time before starting the engine, watching students move across campus through her windshield. All of them seemed to know where they were going, what they were supposed to be doing.
Mai had no idea anymore.
She pulled out her phone one more time and typed a message she didn't send:
I think I need help. I think something is wrong with me. Why can't I just walk away?
Instead, she deleted it, started her car, and drove home.
She had writing to do.