“ . . . The detail is incredible. It’s even better than a mirror.”
“Sometimes it takes another person to see us for who we really are.”
“You’re right, I’d even forgotten I had some these scars, I’d seen ‘em so often in the mirror. They’re supposed to be reminders of the mistakes I made in my fights. But it’s easy to overlook things you see often until you see them from a different perspective.”
“Mmhmm.” I nodded. “. . . So after I finished your body, I had to fill in the details of your face. This was the hardest part. I was able to get the shape of your nose and the curve of your lips pretty easily but when it came to your eyes, I had to redraw them at least a dozen times.”
“What was wrong with the eyes?”
“I don’t know. You’ve got these stunning gray eyes . . . every time I drew them they came out too flat or one-dimensional. So I had to keep redoing them—you can still see some of the eraser marks here.” I pointed to the rough texture of the paper where I’d erased multiple times. “Even now, I don’t think I’ve quite captured them.”
“No, this looks amazing,” he said, mesmerized.
I grinned. “Thank you, it’s my best work to-date. Couldn’t have done it without such a capable model.”
“It’s even better now that you’ve explained it to me. I didn’t realize you put so much thought and effort into every line. I thought art just came naturally for you."
“Well, it’s probably similar to fighting for you. Some of it comes naturally but a lot of it is practice and thinking.”
“You’re so smart and talented.” He kissed me on the top of my head. “We make a good team, don’t we?”
“The best team. Now that we’re finished, let’s get back to business.” I took the drawing from his hands and placed it on the desk then I ripped off his hoodie and we tumbled onto the bed, lips locked in passionate embrace. We curled up beneath the sheets and remained there the rest of the night.
I woke up Monday morning to light kisses against my neck. I squirmed and softly squealed.
“Did I wake you?” Hunter crooned.
“A little bit.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help kissing you, you’re so beautiful in the morning. You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping.”
“I like you kissing me,” I said sleepily. “There are certainly much worse ways of waking up.” I cupped a hand over my mouth and yawned. “Was I snoring?”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Yeah, you were, Snorrie. But I think it’s cute. I could make an mp3 of it and listen to it while I’m jogging.”
I squealed from his embarrassing comment and curled into him. Hunter could say some embarrassing things that made him even more endearing than he already was.
“It’s still early, ya know,” he said. “We have time to go to our classes . . . if we want.”
I ran a finger gently along the tattoos on his shoulder and chest, admiring the art there. “I really don’t want to go.”
Hunter grinned. “Me neither.”
We lay together in silence for a moment while I continued tracing the inked lines on his skin and he traced the curve of my hips with his fingertips.
“You wanna stay in again?” he asked, looking at me carefully.
After an amazing weekend, I dreaded the thought of it ending and having to return to the world outside. I knew Hunter was thinking the same thing. I bit my bottom lip and nodded slightly. He smiled and I did as well.
“Let’s do it then,” he said. “I don’t have anything too important going on. We can even study in the living room if we need to. I still have my psych book from freshman year. You can use that.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
After lounging in bed for an extra hour, we got up, put on some clothes, fed the kitties, and ate breakfast. We did the dishes together with me washing and Hunter rinsing. It was an oddly domestic experience and I found it to be fun and relaxing. At about eleven we both finished showering.
“Ready to hit the books, babe?” Hunter said as I came out from the bathroom with a towel around my waist and another around my hair. He was seated at the living room table with a physics textbook and psychology textbook on the surface.
Feeling a thrill from him calling me babe, I approached him and gave him a peck on his cheek. As endearing as Snorrie was, I considered this new nickname an upgrade. “Mmhmm but first . . . I think we have a morning class we need to attend together.”
He cocked one brow. “And what is that?”
“Sex Ed 101. And you’re the professor.”
He looked surprised but then a flash crossed his eyes and he grinned mischievously. “Well then.” He cleared his throat. “Welcome to class, Ms . . .”
“—Burnham. Lorrie Burnham.” I smiled at him, feeling at ease with telling him my last name for the first time.
His eyes widened for a moment then he smiled warmly. “Of course Ms. Burnham,” he said, pronouncing my name with a silky voice. “. . . It’s always a pleasure to see you. You’re my favorite student you know.”
“Well Professor Jensen, you’re my favorite professor. I always love the assignments you give. I can’t wait to do them.”
“The lesson today is going to be very hands-on. We’ll be learning about the human body and sexual pleasure. I hope you’ve come prepared to learn.”
“Ooh, I like the sound of that.”
We went through a rigorous hour and a half lesson. It was the most demanding class I’d ever attended. The professor and I masturbated in front of one another then we pleasured each other to demonstrate our learning. At several points, I failed to follow instructions so Professor Jensen ended up spanking my naked rear while I was sprawled across his bare lap. It was a new experience for the both of us and we both found it thrilling.
“So what’s my grade?” I panted after we had both orgasmed.
“Definitely an A,” he groaned, still recovering from his climax.
Despite the failure to follow instructions a few times—some purposely—I thought I had performed quite admirably. “Just an A? Why not an A+, Professor Jensen?”
“If you want an A+, Ms. Burnham, you’re going to have to do some extra credit,” he purred.
“What do I have to do?”
“We’ll save that for another lesson,” he said with a wicked grin.
We decided to take a break. Hunter went to the kitchen to snack on a protein bar and I went to the bedroom to put on some clothes. Just as I finished dressing, my phone rang inside my pocket and I saw it was Daniela.
“Hey Lorrie, what’s up girl? Just wanted to call to see where you were. I missed you in psych today.”
With the excitement of this morning’s activities still buzzing through my body, I’d almost forgotten I had a real class to go to today. “Oh I’ve just been hanging out at Hunter’s place. What did I miss?”
“Muller was talking about sex!”
“What? No way.” I couldn’t imagine Professor Muller—an old guy with a German accent—talking to a bunch of nineteen-year-olds about sex. That sounded like an awkward lecture.