“You want to know what I really think?” “Yes, please. I want you to be real.” “Real. Fine.” His eyes grow darker. “Those dresses you wear are my undoing. The skirts, well, they’re a bonus. I envision peeling them off you over my desk after class. Your eyes—they’re unlike any color I’ve ever seen, caramel-colored with a hint of green on the outer ring. Enticing, curious. They bother me but intrigue me at the same time, making it hard not to give you the privilege of being looked in the eyes. And your perfume . . . it’s dizzying, mystifying, causes me to lose my frame of mind and puts me in a
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