"The Thirst of Knowing"
The Student:
It began with tea.
Simple.
Harmless.
But the moment our fingers touched
I couldn't breathe.
Not in a frightened way.
No, not like that.
I felt… watched.
But chosen.
And I wanted it to happen again.
Now, everything she says feels like a secret.
A code.
Her words intellectual, eloquent, dangerous
latch onto my skin like soft claws.
I leave every lecture needing more.
I read the books she gives me twice.
Then again.
Not for the plot.
For the possibility that she picked each one to reach inside me.
And I think she knows I do.
She smiles like she does.
I find myself dressing differently.
Softer. Prettier. A bit… braver.
My lip gloss tastes like cherry.
I wear the perfume my mother says is too much.
Because when she looks at me,
when those eyes drag across my jaw like a sigh,
I want to be undone.
Sometimes I catch her staring.
Not directly no.
She's too practiced for that.
She uses reflections, windows, shadows.
And when I look back,
she doesn't flinch.
She smiles.
She waits.
I dream about her.
I don't even try to stop it.
In the dark, I imagine her voice in my ear.
Low. Calm.
Asking me questions no professor should.
Asking in a way that sounds like poetry
Like seduction dressed in philosophy.
In the library, I feel her behind me.
Not close enough to touch,
but close enough that my breath shortens.
Close enough to feel my body betraying me.
I drop my pen.
She picks it up.
Our fingers brush again.
"Careful," she murmurs.
"You're becoming quite the distraction."
I laugh like it's a joke.
But my stomach flips.
My thighs press.
My heart
a trembling thing she already owns.
I should be scared.
I should talk to someone.
I should run.
But all I do is wait for class,
fix my lipstick,
and wonder
what will happen
if I ask her to stay after.