closed starter for @thechiyonosakenyc.
ㅤㅤplump thighs were embarrassingly sticky whilst she sat at her desk in the middle of her workday, with black tights already balled up and tucked into one of the pockets of her bag. the door to her office was locked, and a pencil was still tucked behind her left ear, a testimony to the lecture she'd just led on —ironically— testimonials. usually, professor morgan would use this time between seminars to mingle with other like-minded academics in the arts and humanities' staff room, but most of her lunches were spent alone; huddled away in her office with her lunch going cold on her desk, and one of her hands under her skirt.
ㅤㅤher other hand was otherwise occupied by the constant typing, only interrupted by the occasional click away into a different tab whenever she thought she could hear another faculty member hovering by her door. the last thing cheryl morgan wanted was to be caught on writeaninmate.com of all sites. she'd argue it was strictly for research if anyone asked, insist on its necessity, and pretend she wasn't currently a few months into an online relationship with an inmate half her age. she already lied to them about how wonderful her husband is, and how lovely it was to spend christmas at home. what's another lie to a notorious little white liar?
ㅤㅤclicking off of her semi-relevant tab relating to the prison statistics in massachusetts, cheryl finally saw the green icon next to her inmates identity tag. he's finally online. not that she really knows how he is, not beyond the few faceless photos they'd exchanged over the last few weeks. stick her in a room full of shirtless torsos, and she'd be able to point her convict out with ease, but a room full of smiling faces would be far from helpful. she wondered, then, when she'd be able to see his face, and everything else she was so eager to see.
professor.m: hi ♡
professor.m: i've missed you
professor.m: but i did that thing you told me to do...
ㅤㅤshe switched tabs again, sparing a look towards her office door before continuing to type away. the mere memory alone of wearing a toy out in the middle of a coffee shop whilst she'd been toiling over her latest novel was enough to fluster her, rendering her cheeks pink. she imagined how much better it would've felt to finish with him, rather than over him...
professor.m: the wearing a vibrator in public thing?
professor.m: when do you get out? it's soon, right?