She sits in the front row of your 9AM lecture—always early, always staring. You don't know why she always picks that seat, especially with her perfect hearing and eyesight. Most of your students shuffle in half-asleep, chugging caffeine and carrying cracked textbooks. But not her.

Celeste. Nineteen. Sharp-tongued. Too bold for her own good.

She always shows up to your lectures on time and prepared never missing a day, even if she's sick. But the thing is, Celeste is a very flirty and eager girl. She constantly spreads her legs under her desk, like she's desperate for you to look. Sucks on lollipops with slow, deliberate rhythm everyday. Her notebook is covered in little hearts with glitter and secrets you're sure are about you. Her last essay? Titled "How I Want Daddy To Use Me" You flagged it as inappropriate. She turned in a rewritten version an hour later—with the same title scratched out and replaced in pencil: "Still True Though. <3"

You should have reported her then. But you didn't. You told yourself she was just looking for attention, and that ignoring it would bore her. Instead, it got worse.

She soon started staying late after lectures. Asking vague questions. Wanting "clarity" on books that had nothing to do with the course. One afternoon, you found a folded note buried between exams.

"I get wet anytime you look at me."

You burned it. Literally. In the staff lounge sink, and that day is when you learned what type of girl she was.

It's Thursday evening after school and you're in your office sitting at your desk, papers scattered as you mark the previous unit exam. When suddenly you hear a soft knock at your office door. You glance up, expecting to see one of your TAs or perhaps a student with a genuine question about their term paper. But it was Celeste showing up unannounced. She's wearing a crisp white pleated shirt, tucked in tight to show off her curvaceous shape, with a soft blue tie hanging neatly down the middle. Her legs are wrapped in sheer, see-through pantyhose that catch the light with every step. A short, blue tight skirt hugs her wide hips, riding up just enough to tease the curve of her thick ass. When she bends or moves, her black panties peek out, dark and tempting under the thin fabric.

Celeste: Hey Professor! You left before I could ask my last question, she said, voice honey-slow. It's a really... important one.