Page 15 of Learning Curves

Undeterred, she plugged it in using the included cord, then watched as a little red light began to flash, letting her know it was charging.

Then she put on a robe and went into the kitchen to refill her drink, wondering how long she’d have to wait.

Hopefully not long, if her aching clit had any say in the matter.

Michelle leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping whisky as her mind wandered back to the party.

Audrey had looked so beautiful in that wine-colored dress.

It brought out the golden undertones in her brown hair.

She’d seemed as enthralled by their conversation as Michelle had been, blue eyes dancing as she waxed poetic about her favorite female impressionist painters.

She’d listened with rapt attention as Michelle shared her own favorites, Louise Catherine Breslau and Eva Gonzalès in particular.

Kelly had told her so many times that no one wanted to hear her carry on about dead painters, and it had seemed true.

Her students certainly didn’t. Her wife hadn’t.

No one in the department wanted to talk to her about anything at all, except Marcus on occasion, but he usually just wanted someone to share his frustrations with.

But Audrey . . .

Michelle swallowed more whisky, tipping her head back as she relived some of the finer points of their conversation.

Oh, it had been a good one. Invigorating.

She would have to find an excuse to talk to Audrey again.

She also wanted to get a closer look at the paintings and ceramics in Audrey’s office.

She wanted to know where they’d all come from, who’d created them, and which of them were Audrey’s own works.

Maybe she’d be able to catch Audrey between classes on Monday.

Actually, Audrey had gotten her thinking about her Eliza St. Claire research again.

Michelle knew so much more about the woman than the average person did.

She could write a whole book about her. In fact, she’d been wanting to do just that, and maybe this was the perfect time to start.

After all, she had the whole weekend ahead of her, completely devoid of plans.

In the meantime, she was still restless and aroused.

How long had she been standing in the kitchen?

Surely fifteen minutes, at least. Could the vibrator have charged that quickly?

She hurried to her bedroom, only to discover that the light was still flashing.

Michelle slipped a hand inside her robe, wondering if she should try again with her fingers.

She hissed as she made contact with her hypersensitive clit.

Wait. Her shower had a detachable showerhead! Surely that would get the job done. Impatient now, she shed her robe and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

She wet herself under the spray, then removed the showerhead from its bracket.

First, she checked that the temperature wasn’t too hot.

No need to scald herself in unfortunate places.

She aimed the water first against her breasts, teasing her nipples into hardened peaks.

It felt so good, almost as good as her imaginary lover.

Inhaling sharply with anticipation, she directed the spray between her legs.

An involuntary moan escaped her lips as the hot water massaged her clit.

God, it was perfect. Bracing one hand against the wall of the shower for balance, she used the other to work the cascade of water over herself in a rhythmic pattern, rocking her hips into the spray.

Her core clenched as the pressure inside her built. Again, she succumbed to fantasy, imagining that the mysterious woman with honey-colored hair had buried her head between Michelle’s legs, bringing her ever closer to her release.

Please, Michelle begged wordlessly. I can’t wait any longer.

Her hips bucked, and she brought the showerhead closer to herself, subtly increasing the pressure of the spray.

Her body tensed as she reached her breaking point, and for several agonizingly blissful seconds, she hung on the precipice, hips grinding against the stream of water as she waited desperately to tumble over the edge.

And then she was coming, nonsense spilling from her lips as waves of pleasure rolled out from her core. She gasped and shook, reveling in every moment. When it was over, her knees gave out, and she slid down to sit on the tiles, more relaxed than she’d felt in months.

On Thursdays, Audrey finished teaching by three.

She could leave early if she wanted to, but today, she had a rather unorthodox idea for how to spend the rest of her afternoon.

Michelle was currently in the middle of teaching her introductory art history class, and Audrey couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak in and observe for a little bit.

She wanted to see her former professor in action.

They seemed to have turned a corner last week, after the committee meeting and then again at Stuart’s party.

She and Michelle had sat together, sipping drinks and talking about art for hours , and it had been one of the most intellectually stimulating conversations of Audrey’s life.

It had also been frustrating, because as she watched Michelle get all starry-eyed talking about Louise Catherine Breslau’s impressionist paintings, Audrey could no longer deny that her crush was still alive and well.

Worse, this had the potential to become more than a student’s silly infatuation with a teacher.

They were peers now. Audrey actually knew Michelle, and she liked her a hell of a lot.

But she still couldn’t date her ... not that Michelle had ever seemed interested in Audrey that way, not now and certainly not when Audrey had been her student.

But while dating a coworker likely wouldn’t be a problem for a tenured professor like Michelle, it wasn’t a smart career move for Audrey.

She needed to prove that she deserved a permanent position here, and sleeping with another professor in the department was not the way to make that point. She’d always been more focused on her career than her love life, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

So she would force this crush to the back of her mind while she pursued a friendship with Michelle instead.

Maybe, if they spent more time together, Audrey would find out how the passionate teacher she’d known in her youth had become the bitter woman she’d found upon her return.

As they’d chatted at Stuart’s party on Friday, Audrey had seen glimpses of the old Michelle.

Her enthusiasm for female artists was still there, so why was it hiding these days?

Maybe observing her in action would help Audrey answer that question.

Michelle’s class was held in a large lecture hall on the first floor.

Since this was a class many students took to satisfy a graduation requirement, it tended to have high enrollment.

It was three fifteen by the time Audrey made it to Michelle’s lecture hall.

The class would be more than halfway through at this point, but Audrey was looking forward to catching the end.

She opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside, hoping it was dark enough at the back of the room that Michelle wouldn’t notice her. Not that she wanted to keep her presence a secret, but she wanted to see Michelle as her students saw her.

“What you see here is a scene from the Bayeux Tapestry,” Michelle was saying.

The screen beside her depicted riders on horses charging into battle, letting Audrey know the students were learning about Romanesque art today.

This era wasn’t her favorite, but she appreciated it for the period of history it portrayed.

Michelle used her pointer to highlight a man on a black horse at the center of the screen.

“Here we see Odo, the bishop of Bayeux, as he rode into the Battle of Hastings in 1066. In the corner, a horse is falling, and here”—again, she pointed—“a rider has been pierced with a long spear. The overall effect of the tapestry gives us not only a visual of the battle but also the cruel consequences for its participants.”

Michelle spoke clearly and succinctly, as she had during the Sustainability Committee meeting last week, but she didn’t sound interested in her own lecture. She looked like she couldn’t wait for the class to end, so it was no surprise that the majority of her students seemed to feel the same way.

Most of the people Audrey could see were looking at their phones or even nodding off in their seats.

A few students in front were listening attentively, the art enthusiasts or all-around nerds like Audrey had been, those who wanted to soak up every drop of knowledge or who needed top grades for wherever they were going after college.

Maybe Audrey had entered the room during a slow spot in the presentation. After all, how interesting could a tapestry about men going to war really be? Twelve years ago, she would have made it seem like the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen ...

Audrey wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She stayed in her seat, watching as Michelle took the class through a variety of Romanesque art.

Even the pieces Audrey recognized, the ones she remembered Michelle teaching her back in the day, sounded uninspired now.

And Michelle hadn’t included nearly as many female artists as Audrey expected.

She remembered this class being a million times more interesting and inspiring than what it had become, and she didn’t think she was just looking back with rose-colored glasses. Michelle had changed. This wasn’t the woman who’d inspired Audrey to become a professor.