I was picking up some items at the grocery store when I ran into a former professor of mine.
I’d last seen him on campus a year ago, right before I graduated. Just like old times, my heart skipped a beat and a rush of mad desire swept through me. He wasn’t just the most engaging teacher I’d ever had, he was also exceedingly attractive, with brown hair, a trim beard and the cutest smile.
Startled to see him at my side, I dropped the tomato I’d been holding, which nearly sent a number of its fellows tumbling onto the floor. My old prof saw my predicament and rushed to help me stop the cascade.
“Nice to see you, Jessica,” he said. Our hands touched as we both reached for one last wobbly fruit.
“Professor! I almost made spaghetti sauce all over your shoes.”
He laughed. “You can call me Jonathan now. How’ve you been?”
“Good.” I flashed him my sexiest, most flirtatious smile and told him how his class had helped me land an important internship. We talked a little more, and then he wished me well as he headed off to finish his shopping. I watched him go, knowing he would be invading my dreams all week. It would not be an exaggeration to say that I had been like one of those students who shamelessly mooned over Harrison Ford’s character in that movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark. I may not have written “love you” on my eyelids like one of those girls did, but I wanted to jump Mr. — I mean Jonathan — so bad, it’s a wonder I paid enough attention to pass the course. There’s no way he could have been oblivious to my attraction, but he managed to ignore it. Now he didn’t have to — and I saw the flicker of desire in his hazel eyes before he said good-bye and turned away.
Luck struck twice that day, because 15 minutes later, while still in the store, I encountered Jonathan in the liquor section. I was trying to decide on a wine to buy and had just made up my mind when a hand reached out and took that very bottle off the shelf. Somewhat irked, I turned to see who it was.
“We meet again,” said Johnathan, grinning. “Were you going for this one?”
My irritation vanished, replaced by that familiar thrum of desire. “Well, yes. But you can have it.”
“This is a very nice chianti. You have good taste.” He looked closely at the shelf. “Hmm, it’s the last one. You take it.”
“No, you grabbed it first.”