Chapter 11

DIMITRI

“Eliot, in this poem, lays particular emphasis on three themes,” I narrate from memory as I write on the whiteboard for the students. “Industrialization, urbanization, and the loss of civilization.”

The sounds of clicking keys on laptops drill in for me the monotony of this job, which I only took as a last resort to escape my previous life.

Growing up with my mama in a countryside whorehouse was enough torture for me. When I turned sixteen, she died after choking on her vomit. Fortunately, I was a good enough student to get into university, but I wasn’t good enough to get a scholarship.

This led me to getting mixed up with the mafia and acquiring some of the bad habits that came along with it. Making deliveries of unmarked packages for them paid for my school, and after I graduated, I was able to buy my way out.

I have left that life behind me now. After Blake was born, I moved here with him and Jane, my first proper girlfriend and Blake’s mom. Jane left after two years to pursue some corporate career, and I haven’t looked back since.

“That’s enough for today. Class dismissed.”

My voice reverberates through the otherwise hushed classroom, immediately followed by the closure of students’ laptops. I resist the urge to lock my gaze on Anya, who is silent as she gathers her belongings.

I begin arranging my books and preparing to depart, while Anya stays in her seat. One by one, the other students filter out until only we two remain.

My hands tremble as I recall the events of that night five days ago. I didn’t have a class with her until today, so we haven’t had a chance to talk things out.

She left before the creak of Blake’s door opening and closing woke me. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling in a daze, her lingering scent on my sheets was proof that what happened wasn’t a dream.

Since then, I haven’t been able to face Blake. He likely thinks it is due to the ongoing disagreement between us regarding his playboy affairs, but I hope he never finds out. My son would never look at me the same way again.

My instincts tell me to keep my distance from Anya, but we are both adults. We agreed that it would only be a one-night thing, so the faster we move past this, the better.

A shadow shifts in my periphery, and I raise my eyes to see a bright yellow sundress beneath a pink blazer that culminates in Anya’s face looming over the desk. She is breathtakingly beautiful.

~Why does she have to be this gorgeous?~

Anya tugs a corner of her lip between her teeth, her sharp nails tapping on the desk. “Can we talk?” she asks, her voice low and even more enticing.

“I’d rather not,” I murmur, guilt tightening my chest. With my belongings gathered, I rise to my feet.

Anya remains still, her gaze fixed on my hands. “Don’t say that,” she says after a pause. “And don’t say it was a mistake because I don’t think it was.”

I close my eyes, a painful throb in my head pulling me back to our moments on my bed—images I can’t banish from my mind.

My voice wavers as I say, “I can’t help it, Anya. Whatever happened...it...” I meet her eyes, and her large, innocent pupils look up at me, making me feel like the worst person alive. “I feel terrible. You’re not just my son’s ex but also my student. We broke a thousand rules.”

Anya’s jaw clenches. She pulls her tote bag over her shoulder, her knuckles white as she grips the straps. Bitterness dances across her face. “You should have thought of that earlier,” she says, spinning to leave the room.

“Anya.” I reach for her arm, but she slaps my hand away, tears spilling from her eyes. I hate seeing her cry. She doesn’t deserve this, not from Blake, not from me.

“It’s okay, Dimitri,” she says softly. “I understand. It was just one night. Like we agreed.”

She walks away before I can stop her, and I begin to follow but collide with a body on my way out.

“Sorry,” I mutter, familiar perfume telling me who I have run into.

Sage steadies herself, adjusting her laptop on one arm. Her calculating gaze follows Anya before settling on me. “Problems?” she asks, lifting a shoulder.

Sage is a fellow professor, a single mom, and a good-looking woman with an hourglass figure that she accentuates by wearing tight-fitting dresses that also make her tits pop out.

Much to my irritation, she is also a member of Private Affairs, where we have done many scenes together, some private and some for public view. Since we work together, we shouldn’t have played together, but her willingness to fully submit to me won me over.

“Sage—”

“Is Anya Renée in trouble again?” she interrupts, her nose wrinkling. “That girl has a reputation, you know?” The look of disgust she throws in Anya’s direction is so unlike her that I can’t help but scoff.

“What?” I say, shaking my head. “No. And no, she isn’t in trouble.”

“Have you seen the way she dresses?” Sage continues with the same disdainful tone. “Like college is her fashion show. All those colors hurt my eyes.”

~That’s way too judgmental for someone who is a member of a sex club~, I think. But Sage has been acting difficult ever since I told her that I didn’t want anything outside of the club. She wanted more, wanted a relationship maybe, and that was never going to happen between us.

She presses the bridge of her nose, shaking her head as if deeply disappointed. Her harsh words against Anya spark anger within me. Why would a grown woman gossip about another and judge her for her clothing? Aren’t women supposed to look out for each other?

And what’s the point anyway? Anya doesn’t dress for anyone else; she does it for herself.

Clenching my fists and tightening my jaw, I fix my gaze on the few strands of gray hair at the crown of Sage’s head. “Did you need something, Sage?” I ask, my tone barely concealing the growing dislike I have for her.

She blinks, and then a smile graces her lips. “Oh...yeah,” she says, giggling and waving a hand. “I wanted to see if you’ve changed your mind about doing the scene with me.”

Not this again. If I report her for persistently discussing club matters outside the club, she will lose her membership. But then she might retaliate. Best to play nice.

“No,” I state gravely.

Her smile fades, replaced by a whiny pout. “C’mon, Dimitri. Just once.” She comes closer, twisting the tail of my tie around a long finger while giving me a lustful once-over. “You love it when I’m your pretty little submissive, don’t you, ~sir~?”

I gulp, my nerves tightening as her seductive voice washes over me. I glance beyond her and see Anya at a distance walking toward the library.

A fiery want takes over me. She called me Daddy the night we fucked, and it was everything I ever wanted to hear from her. But our one night is over. I can’t pursue her anymore. What was meant to relieve my tension has only left behind a more powerful desire than before.

And that is why I end up with my hand on Sage’s hip, staring at her mouth and imagining it to be Anya’s.

She leans into me, brushing her lips against my collar. “Say yes, Dimitri,” she purrs, tugging on my tie. “We’ll have fun.”

“Okay,” I murmur, lost in the need for a girl I must stop seeking. “I’ll see you at the club Friday night.”