Chemistry Lessons

FORCES OF NATURE · CH. 1

Mary was late.

The rain had turned the campus into a slick, indifferent battlefield, and her umbrella had surrendered somewhere between the library and the humanities building, collapsing inward with a wet, defeated snap. She ran the rest of the way with her bag clutched to her chest, shoes slapping through puddles, rain plastering her hair to her cheeks and neck in dark, dripping strands. Her thin sweater clung to her skin, the fabric gone nearly transparent in places, and her skirt stuck to her thighs with every step. She was painfully aware of how she must look — soaked, breathless, and completely at the mercy of the weather — but there was no time to fix any of it. Professor Lennox did not tolerate excuses. She barely tolerated results.

By the time Mary reached the lecture hall, her lungs were burning and water was running in cold rivulets down her spine. She tried to slip inside quietly, head down, hoping to make it to the back row without drawing attention. Her bag felt heavier than it should have. She didn’t think about it. She was too busy trying to disappear.

She had almost made it when that cool, precise voice cut through the room.

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Ellis.”

Mary froze. A hot, mortifying flush climbed up her neck and into her face as every head in the lecture hall turned to look at her. She kept her eyes on the floor as she hurried to the nearest empty seat, cheeks burning so brightly she was sure everyone could see it.

Professor Lennox stood at the front of the room, tall and immaculate in a charcoal blouse and tailored trousers, her auburn hair pulled into a severe twist. She didn’t raise her voice. She never needed to.

“Assignments on my desk by the end of class,” she said. “No exceptions.”

Mary’s stomach dropped.

She opened her bag with trembling fingers and pulled out the folder she had carefully protected all morning. The moment she lifted it, she felt the damage. The pages inside were a single, sodden, ink-bleeding mess. The essay she had rewritten three times, the one she had stayed up until nearly dawn perfecting, was now nothing but a ruined, unreadable pulp. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t turn this in. She couldn’t even pretend it was salvageable.

She was going to have to ask for an extension. Mary had spent the entire semester trying not to be the kind of girl who wasted Professor Lennox’s time, and she was failing spectacularly.

Mary stood just inside Professor Lennox’s office, still damp from the rain. Her sweater clung to her in awkward, half-dried patches, and every small movement made the fabric pull against her skin in a way that left her feeling exposed. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, trying to make herself smaller.

Professor Lennox sat behind her desk, perfectly composed, watching her with those cool, assessing eyes.

“I was hoping…” Mary started, then had to stop and clear her throat. Her voice had come out too thin. “I was hoping I could ask for an extension on the essay.”

Professor Lennox didn’t answer right away. She simply leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled, and continued to look at Mary like she was being studied under glass.

Mary’s face grew hot. She could feel the flush creeping up her neck again. Standing there in her rain-damp clothes, hair still wet at the ends, she felt painfully aware of how disheveled she must look compared to the immaculate woman across from her.

“My… my assignment got ruined,” she managed, stumbling over the words. “The rain soaked through my bag. It’s completely illegible now. I can rewrite it tonight. I just need a little more time.”

Professor Lennox’s gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened.

“This would be the third extension you’ve requested this semester, Miss Ellis.”

Mary’s blush deepened. She dropped her eyes for a second before forcing them back up. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I just… I don’t want to turn in something that’s unreadable.”

The silence stretched. Mary could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Professor Lennox’s eyes moved over her slowly — not unkind, but deliberate. Mary felt pinned in place by that look.

Finally, Professor Lennox spoke, her voice calm and precise.

“You’re dripping all over my floor.”

Mary looked down and saw the small puddle forming around her shoes. “I— I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Your shirt,” Professor Lennox said. “Take it off.”

Mary’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Your shirt,” Professor Lennox repeated, still perfectly calm. “It’s dripping on my floor.”

Mary stared at her, heat flooding her face so fast she felt dizzy. “I… I can’t just—”

“You can.” Professor Lennox’s tone didn’t change, but there was a quiet finality to it. “We’re both women here. I can’t have you dripping all over my office. And if you want this extension, you’re going to do the work here. Tonight. I’m tired of giving you extensions, Miss Ellis. So it’s up to you.”

Mary’s mouth went dry. She looked at the older woman, then down at her own soaked sweater. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

After a long, tense moment, her hands moved to the hem of her sweater. She slowly pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in just her thin, damp camisole. She crossed her arms over her chest again, trying to cover herself, cheeks burning.

Professor Lennox’s eyes didn’t drop. She simply watched as Mary stood there half-dressed and shivering.

Then she reached for the wet sweater, stood up, and draped it carefully over the radiator against the wall.

“Sit,” she said, returning to her desk. “And rewrite it. Now.”

Mary lowered herself into the chair across from the desk on shaky legs. Her wet skirt stuck uncomfortably to the backs of her thighs. She pulled the laptop closer with trembling fingers, acutely aware of Professor Lennox’s steady gaze on her.

The office felt much smaller.

Professor Lennox leaned back in her chair, arms resting on the armrests, and continued to watch her in silence as Mary began to type.

FORCES OF NATURE · CH. 6

Mary stood on the front step for a long moment, her hand hovering just short of the door. The porch light above her buzzed faintly. She smoothed her dress down over her hips for the third time, even though there was nothing to smooth. It was a simple cream-colored dress, nothing special, but she had still spent twenty minutes deciding whether or not to wear it.

This is just extra credit, she told herself. Extra study. You need to pass this class. That’s all this is.

She knocked.

The door opened after a few seconds. Jane stood there in a dark blouse and tailored trousers, her chestnut hair loose around her shoulders. She didn’t smile. She simply stepped back and said, “Come in.”

Mary’s heart was already beating too fast.

Inside, the house was quiet and warm. Jane led her into the living room without a word. There was a glass of red wine already waiting on the coffee table. Jane picked it up and held it out.

Mary hesitated, then took it.

Jane sat down in the armchair across from the couch. She didn’t tell Mary where to sit, but Mary lowered herself onto the edge of the couch anyway, knees pressed together, one hand gripping the stem of the wine glass too tightly.

Jane reached for the folder Mary had brought and opened it without looking at her. For several long minutes, the only sound in the room was the quiet turning of pages and the occasional scratch of Jane’s pen.

Mary took a small sip of wine. It tasted expensive.

Then, without looking up from the papers, Jane spoke.

“Take your dress off.”

Mary went still.

For a moment she wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. Her fingers tightened around the glass.

“…What?”

Jane didn’t repeat herself. She simply reached over to the side table, picked up a red pen, and clicked it once.

The sound was quiet, but it landed like a command.

Mary’s mouth went dry.

Slowly, she set the wine glass down on the table. Her hands shook as she reached for the hem of her dress. She pulled it up and over her head before she could talk herself out of it, leaving her in a matching set of cream lace bra and panties. The air felt colder than it should have.

She stood there, arms wrapped around her middle, cheeks burning.

Jane finally looked up.

Her eyes moved over Mary slowly, taking in the delicate lace against her skin. After a moment, she said, voice low and even, “You were expecting someone to see you in these.”

Mary’s face went hot. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, mortified.

“Professor Lennox…” she started, but the rest of the sentence died in her throat.

Jane’s expression didn’t change, but her voice softened just slightly when she spoke again.

“You may call me Jane.”

Mary swallowed hard.

Jane set the papers aside and leaned back in her chair, eyes still on her.

“Come here.”

Mary’s legs felt unsteady as she crossed the short distance between them. When she stopped in front of Jane’s chair, Jane reached out and hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties. She pulled them down in one smooth motion, letting them fall to Mary’s ankles.

Mary stepped out of them without being told.

Jane’s hand slid up the back of her thigh, warm and steady, until it settled on her hip. She guided Mary forward until she was standing between Jane’s knees.

“Look at me,” Jane said.

Mary forced her eyes up. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

Jane studied her face for a long moment, then let her thumb brush slowly over Mary’s hipbone.

“You want to be here,” she said quietly. “You want me to do this.” She paused, her thumb still moving in slow, deliberate strokes. “Admit it.”

Mary’s breath hitched. She nodded quickly, almost frantically.

Jane’s hand slid higher, tracing lightly over her stomach before moving up to brush the underside of her breast through the lace.

“Say it.”

Mary’s voice came out small and shaky. “I… I want to be here.”

Jane’s eyes stayed locked on hers, calm and unreadable.

“And you want me to touch you.”

Mary nodded again, faster this time. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

Jane hummed softly, almost like she was pleased, and let her hand drift back down to Mary’s hip.

“Good,” she murmured. “Then stop pretending you don’t.”

She tugged lightly on Mary’s hip, pulling her closer.

“Now,” Jane said, quieter this time, “let me see how well you follow instructions.”

She slid her hand between Mary’s thighs and pushed two fingers inside her without warning. Mary gasped, her knees buckling as Jane fucked her with slow, steady strokes, her thumb circling her clit with deliberate pressure. Mary grabbed onto Jane’s shoulders to stay upright, a broken moan slipping out of her as Jane curled her fingers just right, never once breaking eye contact.