THE PROFESSOR isn't really a story. It's more of a revelation, an erotic dialectic from a jaded grad student's point of view as she cultivates herself through her sex.
Fallen contends with the tumultuous task of completing her first thesis, enjoying the entrails of her latest existential crisis. Whenever she finds a spare moment, she also finds her mind wanders to an old professor who proved to leave a lasting impression. His smile, the steady strength of his hands, his broad shoulders; every word, every erotic evocation: every missed opportunity.
Back then, she held off. Both were bound by rank and ethics. Her hands were tied. She figured his were folded: Fallen never thought the attraction was mutual. So when the semester ends, she never looks back. Better to take an A than potential rejection. But she never forgets the professor. It was bad enough when he taught her, how her eyes would linger and how his eyes would creep into her thoughts. Now, he haunts her memories as much as her fantasies and she can't help wondering what could've been.
Reflecting on her relationships-or lack thereof-she faces a glaring disconnect. Suffocated by her studies and solitude, just this once, she resolves to indulge her fantasies. Lucky for her, the professor's office hasn't changed. As she knocks, Fallen falters: will she be able to overcome her insecurities? Will the professor indulge her even if she can? But the professor answers before she can disappear, ever the teacher, riveting her with realizations.