Oxford Obsession
"PhD supervisor Dr. Akosua Mensah is brilliant, demanding, and absolutely off-limits. When her student Daniel delivers his thesis draft to her home during a storm, academic boundaries blur completely."
The rain was biblical. Daniel sprinted from his car to Dr. Mensah's door, the printed thesis draft clutched to his chest like a shield.
She opened the door in a silk robe, clearly not expecting company. Her locs were down, something he'd never seen, and without her usual professional armor, she looked younger, softer.
"Daniel? What on earth—"
"You said you needed the draft tonight. Email's down across the university."
"So you drove through a storm to bring me paper?" She stepped aside. "Get in before you drown."
Her cottage in Jericho was warm and book-filled. She directed him to a chair by the fire while she fetched towels.
Dr. Akosua Mensah was fifty-two, Ghanaian-British, and the most brilliant scholar in her field. She was also, objectively, stunning—thick and curvy with smooth dark skin and eyes that could freeze or melt you depending on her mood.
For three years, Daniel had nursed an inappropriate obsession with his supervisor. He'd buried it under professionalism. Mostly.
"Tea?" she offered.
"Please."
The power went out as she handed him his cup.
"Wonderful." She found candles, and suddenly the room was all flickering shadows and warm light. "I suppose you're stuck here until this passes."
"I can wait in my car—"
"Don't be ridiculous." She sat across from him, the robe parting slightly to reveal her legs. "We can discuss your draft."
But she didn't reach for the thesis. Just watched him with those dark eyes.
"You've been distracted lately, Daniel. Your work is suffering. Why?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean the way you look at me during supervisions. The way you find excuses to come to my office." She leaned forward. "The way you're looking at me right now."
"Dr. Mensah—"
"Akosua. I think we're past titles." She set down her tea. "I've supervised dozens of students. Never once been tempted to cross professional lines. Until you."
His heart stopped. "What?"
"You heard me." She stood, and the robe fell open, revealing a silk nightgown beneath. "This is inappropriate. Possibly career-ending. Tell me to stop."
"I don't want you to stop."
"Thank God."
She crossed to him, and he pulled her onto his lap. The kiss was three years of tension exploding at once.
"My bedroom," she breathed. "Now."
He carried her there, marveling at the weight of her in his arms. Her body was everything he'd imagined—full and soft and warm, with curves that her professional clothes had only hinted at.
"I've been dreaming about this," he admitted.
"So have I." She pulled him down. "No more dreaming."
She was demanding in bed, as in academics. She told him exactly what she wanted, adjusted his technique, praised him when he got it right.
"Yes! There! Don't stop!"
Her thick thighs clamped around him as she came, her nails raking his back. Then she pushed him over and climbed on top.
"My turn to teach you something."
She rode him with expert skill, her heavy breasts bouncing, her body moving in rhythms that drove him insane.
"Look at me," she commanded. "I want to see your face when you finish."
He couldn't look away if he tried.
The storm raged all night. So did they.
"What happens when we go back to the university?" Daniel asked as dawn broke.
"We're professional. Completely appropriate. Until your defense is done."
"And after?"
She smiled, tracing his jaw. "After, I'm no longer your supervisor. Just a colleague who happens to be very interested in your continued... education."
"I like the sound of that."
"You should." She kissed him. "Now, shall we actually review that thesis? I have notes."
Daniel's thesis defense was flawless. Dr. Mensah sat on his committee, poker-faced, giving nothing away.
"Congratulations, Dr. Owusu," she said formally at the celebration after. "Outstanding work."
"Thank you, Professor."
That night, in her cottage, they celebrated properly.
"So," she said afterward. "Now that you're no longer my student..."
"Yes?"
"How do you feel about visiting lecturers? My department has an opening."
"Are you offering me a job?"
"I'm offering you everything." She pulled him close. "The job's just a bonus."
Oxford's newest faculty couple kept things professional at work. At home was another story entirely.