The classroom buzzed with the intellectual hum that only Literature students can generate, but today, Alexis struggled to focus. His gaze kept drifting to Julia, her head bent over her locus, a lock of hair falling across her face. She was so engrossed in her reading, she didn't notice his gaze, or if she did, she gave no sign.
Today's topic was "Catharsis in Tragedy," and Alexis found himself drawing parallels with life's own theatrical moments. His voice was steady, his lecture coherent, but there was an undercurrent, a tension that hadn't been there before. He caught her watching him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. He felt a jolt, a charge that ran down his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach.
"What do you think, Julia?" he asked, catching her off guard. She blinked, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, a gesture that had become all too distracting. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to her notes, then back to him.
"Do you believe in catharsis by proxy?" she asked, her voice steady despite the flush on her cheeks. "Can we experience catharsis through others' pain, like in literature or art?"
Alexis nodded, intrigued. "And what of our own pain? Our own desires?" he countered, his voice low, his eyes holding hers. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thicker. He could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, her breasts rising and falling with each breath.
The rest of the class was a blur. Alexis was acutely aware of her, of her presence, her scent, her every movement. When the bell rang, he stayed behind, his heart pounding. He needed a moment, a moment to catch his breath, to calm his raging thoughts.
That night, Alexis dreamt of her. He dreamt of her hair, soft and dark, falling like a curtain around them as she leaned in, her eyes filled with desire. He dreamt of her lips, full and soft against his, her tongue tangling with his in a dance that was both familiar and new. He dreamt of her body, pressed against him, warm and inviting. He woke with a start, his body aching, his sheets damp.
Over the next few weeks, their interactions grew increasingly charged. Alexis found himself seeking her out, calling on her in class, engaging her in intellectual sparring matches that left them both breathless. He saw the change in her too. She held his gaze longer, her responses more daring, more suggestive. He saw her notice him, not just as her professor, but as a man. And he reveled in it.
One evening, after class had ended, she approached him. Her voice was steady, but he could see the tremor in her hands as she held her notes. "Dr. languages, I was hoping you could clarify something from today's lecture."
Alexis gestured to the chair beside him. "Of course, Julia," he said, his voice low, his eyes holding hers. She sat, her leg brushing against his, her scent wrapping around him. He felt a jolt, a desire so intense it was painful.
"You were talking about the... rhythm of literature," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't quite understand what you meant."
Alexis leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Rhythm, Julia, is like the beat of a heart. It's steady, it's constant, it's... delicious," he said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers. He saw the shiver run through her, saw her breath hitch.
"Delicious, sir?" she asked, her voice barely audible. Alexis smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. "Indeed, Julia. Like the sweet taste of forbidden fruit."
Their eyes held, the air between them crackling with tension. Alexis could feel her breath, could feel her heartbeat. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, to taste her. He wanted to cross the line, to give in to the desire that had been building, burning, for weeks. But he didn't. Not yet.
Instead, he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Be careful, Julia. Some things are... intoxicating. They can cloud judgment, muddle thought. And once you've tasted them, it's difficult to go back to before."
She swallowed, her eyes never leaving his. "And what if... what if I want to taste, Dr. languages?" she asked, her voice filled with a courage he hadn't expected.
Alexis felt his heart pound, felt his body stir. But he held back, keeping his expression neutral. "Then, Julia," he said, his voice steady, "you'd better be prepared for the consequences."
With that, he gathered his things, left her sitting there, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. As he walked out, he knew one thing for certain. Their dance had just begun.