Shaking things up was my superpower. Or as some people might say, I tended to stir up trouble wherever I went.
Case in point: I wanted to have an evening of fun rubbing elbows with professors, or at least one of them.
The problem: I was a student and the soiree was only for professors.
The solution and benefit: Crash said soiree and shag the sexy professor I’d had my eye on since freshman year.
The fallout: One of my professors wound up in the hospital and Sexy Professor was filling in. He figured out I hadn’t exactly been invited to the party. He was pissed I’d violated the university’s strict policy about professor-student contact. And he was doing his darndest to adhere to the ridiculous policy that ignored the fact that we were consenting adults.
But since I had a superpower, I wasn’t about to let the best sex of my life be a one-time thing.
One more boring back-to-school soiree, one more tedious semester, and one more round of evaluations before I finished my probationary period from a false sexual harassment claim. Then I’d be eligible for promotion to department head. I was so close. One final semester under the oppressive thumb of the old guard.
Then I met Belle and all of her curves.