Classroom Blackmail (Lesbian Student / Teacher Erotica)

Excerpt:

Mary’s heart was jackhammering as Professor Valerie led the way to her second-floor office. The professor pushed the solid oak door open and held it open for her. With a gulp, Mary stepped inside. There were two chairs, but neither of them moved to sit. There was only uncomfortable silence as the women held each other’s’ gazes. Finally Professor Valerie cleared her throat to speak.

“Well then,” she said. “I don’t think there’s any point in beating around the bush. We both know what happened at the club, but you aren’t going to tell a single soul about what you saw. Otherwise there will be…consequences. Clear?”

Mary responded without thinking. “So everything ends up ok for you, but what’s in it for me? I could just go report you.” She instantly regretted saying it. What was she trying to accomplish? Was she really prepared to blackmail her professor?

Professor Valerie leaned in close with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I was hoping we could resolve this reasonably, like adults. But if you don’t want to cooperate, that’s fine. I’m tenured, with an immaculate record. You aren’t even on the dean’s list. It would be my word against yours. Not to mention…”

“What?”

“Well, what do you suppose people will say about you visiting a strip club for girls who like girls?”

Mary’s brow furrowed and a defensive tone crept into her voice. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“That’s true. But you know how rumors get started. And I don’t have to tell you how fast they can spread.”

The color drained from Mary’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, which is why your little attempt at coercion is going to backfire. Because now I’ve got all the leverage, and you are going to do something for me.”

While she spoke, the professor paced in a slow circle around Mary with a pensive smile on her face, the way someone might admire a particularly enthralling piece of art. She extended one manicured finger to push a stray lock of sandy brown hair out of Mary’s face. Then she moved lower, stroking the length of her cheek, her neck, coming to rest at the neckline of her sweater dress.

A nervous shudder passed through Mary’s body. “What are you talking about?”

Professor Valerie moved to her heavy oak desk, hoisting herself up onto it before beckoning for Mary to step closer. Reluctantly she complied. One of the professor’s hands fell on her shoulder and pushed down, guiding Mary onto her knees in front of the desk so that she was eye level with the older woman’s lifted pencil skirt, allowing Mary to see that she wore nothing underneath it. The professor’s hand moved to the back of Mary’s neck and drew her forward.

“Taste it,” she said.