The Professor enjoyed being the smart one, the one who knew the truth behind the facade, who I really was. It was only a few messages before he said, ...You're not 22. How old are you really?" I tried to pass it off, as I'd learned to do with private questions — keep them on the hook, believing the fantasy, and you make more money. Make them think they have a chance with you. But he wanted to know, really, so I told him how old I was, what I liked to read, that I wasn't actually in university. ”I smiled and said, “I think it looks good on you.”I put on a slow song and started to teach her a simple box step. She was so stiff and nervous that she started to sweat. That light pink leotard started to become transparent. I knew that it was time to take a short break. I offered her something to drink and she chose plain old tap water with ice cubes in it. As we sat and drank the condensation that formed on the outside of the glass started to drip on her one breast and that nipple got hard. More

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