Afterwards I scrub myself, until my skin burns and my eyes water. I try to wash away all traces of him from my body. Each body part reminds me of him.

My legs enthralled him. A soft kiss leaves a burning sensation on the back of my thigh.

Each breast feels the presence of his large, warm hands.

My lips tingle with the lingering feeling of his.

My fingers twitch with the need to touch him again. I scrub harder. I can still smell him. That musky smell of masculinity. It always leaves me hot with desire. I can feel his breath in my ear as he tells me to undress. His voice sending a soft shiver down my spine and a wetness between my legs.

I shake my head trying to rid myself of his image.

I leave my shower, still dripping, I lie on my bed and begin to cry, as the confusion and need overwhelms me.

When I awake I feel broken. He has used me, I am sure. He won't feel the need to be with me again. I want him, but I know I must forget what happened. He is my professor, we can not be together. As I dress for the day I wonder if anything will change. If we will exchange knowing glances with one and other. If he will be harsher towards me in class. I can not imagine him being kind. It is impossible for him to be anything but harsh, mean, cruel even.

I look up at his place at the staff table. He eyes always sweeping the hall before him. He is always watching to stop trouble before it begins. So diligent, my double spy. My heart stops as his eyes find mine. I feel him inside my head. Together we watch my memory of our encounter followed by my shower.

The connection breaks. He looks at me so intensely I feel as if I can not breathe. I wish I knew what he is thinking, what he wants from me. I know he will never tell me. His two masters take up all his time and energy.

The dream I have of being with him, is just that, a dream.

A/N: I wrote this on a whim. If anyone wishes me to continue it, let me know. I could take this little story many places...