Archive of Our Own

“To our second-to-last ‘first day’ we still have left!” 

Lute’s entire summer had been leading up to this moment: coming back to university tomorrow. It was unfortunate: she may enjoy her personal, academic endeavours but she definitely preferred being in Brussels the whole summer, or anywhere even remotely in Europe, compared to California. However, she hated to say that she had missed the familiar air, the warm weather and most of all: her best friend and surrounding friend group. 

Her flight had gotten back almost a week ago but she had been a shell of herself—recovering from jet lag and second hand embarrassments of her summer’s various one-night-stands that left her with nothing but disappointment and fuss both mentally and physically. She should’ve known better than to try and go for men who studied political science; the red flags had been waved long before a kiss would even occur. 

Now wasn’t the time to think about all those stupid little things however, she definitely wouldn’t be able to anyway considering that she and her best friend, Vaggi, had almost polished off half a bottle of Tequila to pre-game the night ahead. The local bar near their apartment happened to be one that was frequented by their classmates—it had rotating music, lots of liquor, dance floor space and it just so happened to be where Lute had been working part-time since her first year. She enjoyed it fine, she certainly enjoyed the co-workers most over anything but it was worth it since it paid her bills and gave her an employee discount of fifty percent off any drinks or food ordered, including alcohol. 

Since it was a place she worked at, she didn’t bother to dress up, or rather down, often, even during outside visits, however tonight had been a bit more of an exception.  She had actually put the effort in her hair, curling it slightly to give it a bouncier wave and sported her usual winged-eyeliner, lipstick and lash combination. It was simplistic compared to most of her classmates, sure, but she knew what features to accentuate most and one of them had definitely been her natural cat eyes and eye colour. 

Despite her usual style being quite ‘boring’ as Vaggi affectionately enjoyed putting it, the closet was full of vests and straight-legged trousers and neutral tones—she still knew how to have some fun and some style occasionally, especially on a night where she knew dancing and alcohol would be involved. 

The outfit was simple in execution but definitely not boring and business casual like most of her other outfits. Her trousers were black, stretchy and breathable with two matching cut-outs of skin, showing the edge of her hips. The top she had chosen had been a hassle to tie around her neck but worth it; it was almost entirely made of mesh, aside from the bralette which was a plain, black fabric. The mesh area even had similarly black, thin sections running vertically across the fabric. It perfectly matched the fingerless, mesh gloves that she had put on in tandem.  

She sported a thicker black choker, thin white necklace and crystal pendant on her neck to further accessorise. The pendant also matched the small crystals embedded onto her small, cross earrings, a pair that she had inherited from her mother and though small, shined just enough to draw attention. 

If this outfit didn’t get men, or women, lined up ready to buy her a drink then she wasn’t sure what outfit actually could. 

That didn’t matter now however, what mattered was the sound of shot glasses clinking and her life continuing for what Lute hoped would be for the better. 

“Cheers,” Lute affirmed with a soft-spoken smile to her best friend; the one woman who had stayed by her side throughout the many and various changes in friendship groups, classes, schedules that university brought her. She had never been so grateful to have a roommate and now, a flatmate who was somehow sane, attentive and could have some well-meaning fun—a shockingly rare combination. 

It also was definitely a selfish perk that her best friend’s girlfriend of two years, clad in a dark red, snake-skin minidress and matching lipstick, was not only extremely entertaining at times but didn’t enjoy drinking all that much compared to the other two. This meant they always had their own personal taxi back home, not having to leave Lute’s car and spend money on an Uber back home—besides, Charlie always had where to sleep after. A win-win indeed. 

“Cheers!” Charlie sang out, holding a particularly shrill high note out before they all, even the blonde for the first time tonight, drank from the shot glasses and took their final shot of pre-gaming.

The stroll down to the car had been filled with a certain intoxication that not even liquor could fulfill—one more year after this one; one more year of all the essays, the exams, the debates, the defense panels—it would all end with a prideful walk across the stage next year. 

First however, she had to get through the year ahead of her. A feat that would be made slightly easier with alcohol definitely, Lute however was the tiniest bit remorseful as Charlie began to drive off into the night with such speed over the curbs that the woman in the backside thought that perhaps she had already had a bit too much to drink. 

They had cruised, thankfully, much calmer for the remaining fifteen minutes or so in Charlie’s bright red Volvo before she had finally stopped the car and parked right beside the bar. It was, like many things in an American city,  located beside a large strip filled with restaurants and shops of all different natures and sizes. The blonde turned off the ignition of the car. “One last time before the year starts!” She chipperly smiled. 

Lute opened the back door, letting herself out the car before slamming the door shut and hearing a slight whistle from the car once Charlie clicked her keys to lock it, slipping them into her purse after. “You think there’s gonna be a lot of people?” She reminisced aloud, slinging the purse around her shoulder, interlocking hands with Vaggie as Lute walked beside them with a low, chuckle.  

“Before the first day of the semester? I’d be shocked if it wasn’t absolutely bursting.” 

Vaggi nodded her head in agreement, brows furrowing at the sight of the parking lot. “Babe, judging by all the cars around, we’re definitely not gonna be alone…” 

Alone they were not. Once Vaggi had held the door open for both of them and they had entered the establishment, there was but an overwhelming amount of people and lights and loud noises corrupting the eardrums at every waking amount. Lute nodded quietly to herself, she hadn’t most of the summer thanks to the internship that she had landed but the sheer stench of the place brought her back to some semblance of normality, a constant. 

Lute had spotted an all too familiar face manning the edge of the bar space the moment they had walked in. She gave a curt wave to Angel, the blonde in the middle of chatting with another woman before he had waved wildly in response, sending a wink her direction before Lute chuckled softly; Angel was probably the closest friend she had at work which had been ironic considering their extremely rocky beginnings but the fourth year was just about the only bit of sanity she had at the bar especially on busy nights. 

He was great with entertaining the patrons of any age group and though his bartending skills weren’t as good as his people skills, he put just enough alcohol in the drinks to make people forget and to make their boss, Husk, pissed off. 

Charlie had immediately gotten into the groove of the various pop songs blasting over the speakers, spinning her girlfriend intently, the ends of her black and brown halter dress twirling upwards slightly at the motion. “Babe, watch the shoes!” Vaggi laughed, her hands wrapped around her shoulders now as she pointed down to the black, strappy heels that she had decided to sport. 

Lute snickered, eyeing a redhead who had particularly walked by and enjoyed the look of her; she cringed, hoping that this some lame looks wouldn’t be the extent of her action tonight—she needed something much more forward, someone with some actual balls. She turned, trying to feel the rhythm of her music in her feet before she noticed something out of the corner of her eyes. 

It was Angel once again but this time he was passing a drink to a man who seemed to be particularly eyeing her. His eyes trailed up and down her body and he kept a gaze so strong that it almost made Lute’s knees melt to mush. She kept her confident stance however, only tapping her fingertips, manicured nails and all, against her chin as she tilted her head further. 

Lute’s eyes fluttered for a brief moment, a thin smirk appearing across her lips as she tilted her head. The man in question had definitely been two things: he was definitely attractive for one—a full head of brunette hair, tussled but somehow fitting with the rest of his face which sported a particularly intense jawline and what looked like golden eyes peering at her. The second was that he was definitely much older than her. 

She wasn’t feverishly against the concept of hooking up with an older guy. Lute was a smart woman, she was twenty two years old and could make consensual decisions for herself but she still wasn’t always sure if older men had the right intentions—working as a bartender and waitress definitely taught you the answer could often be no. However, this man in particular didn’t look that old, he definitely had the kind of energy and appearance that caught her attention like a moth to a flame. Besides, if her years of schooling and even this summer had proved anything, the men her age were quite pathetic at giving her any sense of pleasure.  

“Hey Lute,” her best friend interrupted, hand on a shoulder as she spoke up above the music, Charlie close behind but more feeling the groove at this point. “I think that older guy is definitely making heart eyes directly at you.” 

Lute smirked. “I can see that.” 

“You don’t think he’s being a creep do you?” Vaggi muttered beside her ear, giving a much more tense and firm glance to the man than before which only caused him to turn on the balls of his feet and back towards Angel, who was pretending to polish a glass. “You never know with men like that…” 

Lute turned to her, her heart thumping against the fabric draped across her chest. “I think he’s really hot actually,” she blurted out, the alcohol clearly making  its own decisions. Vaggi only cocked a brow, laughing wildly at her before Lute crossed her arms, slightly embarrassed. “What?! Does he look way too old? Is it weird?” 

“Nah, he doesn’t look pre-historic or anything like that, he does however look like a bit of a douche bag,” she earnestly admitted. “But,” she added, taking Lute’s hands in her own and softly moving them back and forth. “I know shitty dudes are your type so—” she drew out before Lute gasped, letting go and teasingly shoving her aside. 

“They are not! You of all people should know my standards.” 

“Hey, give the dude a chance, he definitely looks like he has enough cash to buy you a free drink and besides, you can always wave me down, I’m never against giving someone a piece of my mind.” 

Lute licked her lips, gnawing at the insides of her cheeks as she brushed her hands down her trousers—he was definitely attractive, older sure, but not old enough to make her wince or deter the stare she had locked onto him that had been almost entirely fixated since the moment had come into play. A free drink sounded good too, despite her brain working overtime to try and make any kind of coherent sense. 

“I think I’ll try for that free drink at least,” she hummed in response, stretching her arm across her neck as Vaggi gave a supportive nod. 

“Good luck soldier.” 

Lute strutted slowly over to the bar, the heels of her boots clacking in rhythm with whatever pop song was playing now; she was sure she knew it but she couldn’t tell you the name, not in this state. Angel must’ve disappeared into the back or gone to chat with another client because it was Husk, himself, that greeted her with a playful but soft grin plastered across his lips. 

“Well look at who's back from playing around in Europe,” he spoke in that signature, low voice. 

Lute chuckled. She quite liked Husk as a person, his energy was a welcome cleanse of all the yapping and shrieking she was so used to at university and he had a certain stoic and calm demeanour that both comforted her and made her whip into shape quickly during her shifts. He was a good and humble boss and even if sometimes he was a bit shout-y and got into way too many petty fights with Angel during work, she certainly never had not enjoyed a conversation with him. 

“Had to come back in time didn’t I?” She prodded before leaning against the bar counter, letting the empty seat that separated her from the same man who had been eying her stay unoccupied for a brief moment. “I’ll take my usual whenever you get a chance.” 

Husk only nodded, disappearing before she took a careful seat besides the much taller man beside her, their gaze meeting briefly as he sipped on a half-full glass, a low chuckle coming out of his throat. “Can you even drink legally sweetheart, let alone even have a usual order?” 

His voice, shit. 

His hands. 

Lute rolled her eyes, sporting a playful thin-lidded smile as she crossed her legs and attempted to lessen her cheeks from growing any more red then they might have been already staring at those hands of his—definitely large enough to do some permanent and welcome damage to her. “I am in fact the legal age and have been drinking for years in fact, not that it’s any of your business.”

He huffed, turning to face her more clearly, locking eyes with her directly. Lute averted her gaze as she definitely didn’t fixate her eyes directly on the unbuttoned white-collared shirt that he had on, a good portion of neck and chest showing before continuing the glance. “Just askin’ before I get in trouble, I saw you and your friend come in and I’ve been wanting to get you a drink since.” 

Lute couldn’t help but stifle out a laugh, her own lips pressed together in a thin line as she silently adjusted the strings of her mesh, black fingerless gloves. “Me?” She repeated, amused by the conversation at hand and definitely the older man who had been the one to start it. It wasn’t that she didn’t find herself attractive, she just often found that she was someone much more renowned for her intellect and her attitude at first glance over her looks. 

The brunette rolled his eyes, snickering. “Yeah you,” he repeated, tone slightly deflated before he took a sip from an almost empty glass. It must’ve been whiskey, considering the amber colour Lute had picked up. “I don’t see anyone else in this bar I can mistake for you considering your killer, hot fuckin’ body and those mesh gloves sweetheart.” He let the sides of his hips press against the back of the wooden bar. “Let me buy you a drink.” 

Lute twirled a singular piece of hair around her fingertips, he was certainly much more attractive up close than he had been at first glance. She also took a deep, respective notice of his sheer size, his hand looked big enough to grip her entire waist and that was a thrill you definitely couldn’t chase with the type of guys at her university. The sheer thought of the action made her cheeks flush as she bit her bottom lip and shrugged, a small but sharp smile painted across her lips. “I’ll never turn down free alcohol in this economy. I’ll take a Black Russian then.” 

The man whistled in response, grinning ear to ear, leaning in closer to her face than he had before. Her first choice of drink had always elicited some kind of obnoxious response, especially from men but for just this once, she could tolerate it. “Damn girlie! Didn’t realise that kind of drink was your style,” he cocked a brow before fishing out his credit card from his trouser pockets. “I dig it.” 

Lute felt her chest tightening. “What did you think I ordered?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, nonchalant. “I mean, don’t all girls love fruity shit covered in glitter and ice cubes made into weird shapes? The type of drinks that are just pure sugar and barely have any alcohol.” 

Lute crossed her arms, offended slightly. “That’s quite presumptuous, I prefer my alcohol to actually taste like alcohol though.” If being raised in an Eastern European family had taught her anything it was that pure liquor went down the best and fastest and wouldn’t give you the worst migraines ever unlike most sugary cocktails she had tried before. 

“Atta girl.”

The rugged tone in which he spoke took her breath away and certainly didn’t help with the growing arousal she was facing—those damn hands and his damn voice—this was turning into quite the lethal concoction. 

He immediately flagged down Husk who came over with haste, pouring something into a glass before Adam spoke up, doing his best to shout over the more thrashing, techno remix playing now.  He gave a wave of his hand. “Sup, I started a tab already under the name ‘Adam’ with the blonde, can I add two Black Russians to that when you get a minute, house vodka is fine.” 

Husk gave a thumbs up, thankful that Adam had been concise before tapping against a screen behind him and then slyly turning to Lute and passing her a lowball glass of double Vodka. “I ain’t forgettin’ about your order, it’s just full as hell tonight so consider this my apology for waiting so long, free of charge.” 

Lute felt herself gasp quietly before trying to pull out her credit card, despite his arguments and his strictness on making actual drinks, he was a pretty generous and decent bartender especially to his employees. “Husk, please!” She unsuccessfully called out before he once again paced down to the other side of the bar now. 

She smiled down at the glass before she noticed the brunette curiously eyeing the scene with a certain kind of expression that Lute couldn’t place—his brow was furrowed and his eyelids looked slightly more narrowed; was that possibly a hint of jealousy flashing in those eyes of his?   

“Damn.” He spoke with finality. “Guess I’m clearly not the first guy who thinks you look stellar tonight,” he joked before Lute all but choked on her glass, coughing out a response. 

“Husk?! No, no,” she all but yelled. “He…” 

Lute paused, she wasn’t sure how the guy would take the fact she was both a university student and a part-time waitress, perhaps she felt slightly nervous to mention it in the moment or maybe, just maybe she wanted the two things that were often made her personality to disappear into a vacuum for the next few hours or however long she could manage to hold the brunettes attention.  “He’s really not my type, too old for me,” she added, definitely not a lie though Adam snickered. “And besides, I think he likes someone else who works behind the counter, I just have known him a long time and come here frequently enough that he knows my preferences to a tee.” 

The man definitely bought it, moving the conversation forward. “Good bartender, he definitely doesn’t fuck around then.” 

Lute scooted closer, her ass almost slightly lifted out of the seat as she spoke, hand under her chin as she pursed her lips. “Now, what was that about me looking stellar you mentioned?” 

The brunette grinned, leaning into her face closer as he spoke softer. “You want me to repeat it to boost your ego sweetheart?” He scratched his chin, Lute feeling her stomach churn in pleasure at the scene; she was definitely someone who appreciated a good bit of stubble and he definitely had all that and more. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I definitely don’t mind.” 

Perhaps it was her, finishing the drink in record speed, or maybe it was in fact his velvety eyes were peering into her soul, sunken with their own inexplicable pleasure but she only taunted a response. “I think tonight I might in fact want that.” 

His jaw tightened, the corners of his mouth quirked up into a smile, a low rumbling laugh leaving his lips soon after. “Let me at least get a name first before I bow to your needs and desires for the night, does that seem fair enough?” 

He definitely had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t he? Lute couldn’t help but chuckle however in response. “Fine.” She straightened up, finding it to be the proper and right thing to do, though she refused to extend a hand, she didn’t want it to become too much of a formality. “I’m Lute.” 

“Adam.” The brunette spoke soon after. “I like the name…Lute,” he repeated to himself, a husky whisper, the way it rolled off of his tongue sent shivers down her spine—she never thought she could be so pathetically turned on by someone just saying her name but clearly tonight had been a giant night of discoveries. “Being named after the first guitar ever played? Pretty fuckin’ sick to me, grats’ on that sweetheart.” 

Though she had stuck with the nickname permanently since she was in high school, Adam had been the first to actually raise the point about the musically inclined reference. She was both charmed and slightly offended, not expecting the conversation to turn to this point. “You play I take it?” It was more of a statement than a question however, her voice laced with an all-knowingness that made Adam bite his tongue for a moment. 

“More like I used to babe. I played bass and acoustic guitar though.” He admitted. “I was really fuckin’ good at it not to toot my own horn or anything,” Lute laughed between his words, shaking her head, he definitely was slightly cocky but he took this as a challenge, scoffing in response. “I was babe! I had a band and everything and I was even the lead singer but y’know shit happens, life happens—had to quit all that once I got married.” 

Lute froze, her entire stance still.  “Oh…are you…?” 

Adam laughed, all but pressing a finger directly on her chest, her heartbeat thumping faster and faster with every pacing second in sheer panic before he assured her. “No fuckin’ way babe. I wouldn’t be out here flirting with you if I was, I’m definitely not that fuckin’ stupid.” Lute closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief, hands released from the clenched of her lap as she relaxed into her seat now. “I was actually pretty devoted but my ex-wife clearly had other temptations and ideas, fair enough I guess. We’ve been separated for a long time.” 

“Good to know,” Lute muttered. 

Maybe this had been a mistake—sure, he was extremely attractive and she could definitely feel the chemistry brewing from two miles away but every minute that passed and every bit of information being dropped only made her more and more tense; unable to focus. Perhaps she felt slightly inferiour, inexperienced. Adam definitely seemed like the type who knew exactly what and who he wanted and he must’ve been someone who seeked that out at the bar judging by their current conversation. 

He placed a hand right on top of hers, effectively knocking her out of her own mental spiral before she felt that same, large hand sliding into her hair, every fingertip gently brushing against her white strands of hair. “Don’t worry,” he assured quietly, almost romantically even. “You’re the only woman on my mind right now, just telling you this so you know what you’re working with here.” 

She didn’t dare to move his hand, feeling her own face becoming beet red at the touch; she hadn’t ever had someone pull this move during a first encounter but leave it to the older man to have more of an ego and more experience than all her stupid, European flings. Lute had been both grateful and utterly dismissive when their cocktails came. 

Adam removed his hand, raising his glass and clinking with Lute in solidarity, both of them quiet as they sipped and essentially played the biggest game of  ‘don’t blink’ that she had ever been a part of. Somehow, staring into the other man’s eyes had elicited more emotion and reaction and pleasure than any hookup she had for the entire summer, how pathetic was that?  

“Soooooo,” Adam sang out, putting his own glass down as Lute continued to take careful, monitored sips from the perfectly crafted cocktail. “Whatcha do in life outside of dressing up in sexy, mesh outfits and showing up to crowded bars on a Sunday night?” The way that his gaze and smirk had settled specifically on her hips only, followed by the most subtle of hand trailing, only made her breath hitch. 

“Getting personal are we?” 

“Hey, we’re on a first name basis now aren’t we?” He prodded the open sections of skin on her hips with a slight smile . “Feels…polite to ask what you do outside of looking hot.” 

Suddenly, as if on cue, a song that she had always long awaited every time they came to the bar had begun to play. The opening notes alone made her take a final sip of her drink, alcohol rushing to her head in a blurry, lovely mess before she stood up, liquid courage ablaze as she carefully ruffled her own hair; never above putting on a show for free. 

“I’d rather skip foreplay and ask you to dance with me actually,” her voice low and honeyed as she held out a single hand towards him. 

Adam’s grin returned instantaneously, eyes flashing wildly with the most uncanny amount of desire and enthusiasm she had seen throughout their entire conversation. 

“Thank fucking god.” 

He took her hand without a second of thinking, leading her away from the stool before he paused,  his calloused fingertips trailed down her waist, Lute smiled ear to ear, her breath rising as she enjoyed the sensation with every minimal ounce of self control she had left. 

“Think you can keep up with me on the dance floor old man?” She suddenly teased, her mouth moving faster than her brain ever could. 

Adam’s eyes flashed with the slightest bit of frustration, Lute giggling from the sheer amount of alcohol that was flowing through her system. “Keep up? I am not that old babe,” he yelled over the music, both sets of hands now softly gripping her waist; fingertips tracing circles into the bare skin showing off her hips.  

Lute let her eyes wander off to his face, her hand beginning to take strands of brunette hair between her own fingers. “Your strands of grey hair tell me otherwise…” Adam’s reaction was one of genuine anger, which only entertained Lute further especially in this tipsy state of hers. 

“I fucking do not have grey hairs!” 

She licked her bottom teeth, stifling back a laugh. “Yes you do, right here,” her fingertips gently scratched the side of his head, near the nape of his neck specifically. If it wasn’t for the subject at hand, she would’ve swore that she noticed Adam almost rub against the palm of her hand. 

“You’re fucking with me.” 

Lute couldn’t help but roll her eyes, it was a very typically boyish response; despite his maturity in physique and age, his energy was definitely much more akin to a man her age; she couldn’t tell if she found it endlessly endearing or absolutely infuriating just yet though. “I like it though, don’t get all pissy with me now, especially not before I make you dance with me.” 

She led him to the corner of the dance floor, her own hips beginning to sway to the rhythm of the music as Adam called out behind her, letting himself be happily dragged down the floor, hand in hand with the woman. “Cute confidence you got there babe.” Adam stated before Lute turned around, her own arms slyly snaking around his shoulders, settling in soft silence. “What makes you so sure you’re gonna lead though?” 

Lute let herself savour the moment, taking a brief moment to even adjust the collar of his brown, suede outer layer jacket as she pressed a palm against his own chest, his own heartbeat thickening. “Maybe my fifteen years of dance experience and training,” she spoke softly, a shit-eating expression painted across her face. 

Adam’s eyes widened. At first in arousal, he definitely had a thing for women who could perform, in any way at all and it didn’t help that Lute in particular looked flawless and was already leaving very little to his imagination thanks to her outfit. The realisation dawned on him soon after however that perhaps he was a bit inadequate already at dancing and he definitely might look like absolute trash standing next to her. 

“Oh shit…” 

Lute drew a hand to his cheek, her fingertips brushing against his jawline, their eyes meeting for the umpteenth time this evening, her fingers moved to his collar, slightly pulling him forward to her face, a welcome gesture. “Don’t lose all your confidence now just because I might upstage you.” 

Adam only responded by taking her chin between his fingertips, lifting it toward his own face, their height difference adorably easy to make fun of to the brunette. “Upstage? You’re the main fucking event babe, no need for that shit.” 

She let go of his grasp, lifting her arms for a brief moment and gesturing him closer to the dance floor as she all but made her way slightly closer towards the centre. “Shocked your generation even knows this one,” Adam mused aloud as he followed her rhythm, getting close enough to her face that he didn’t have to shout and so he could get a better look at those enthralling, cat-like eyes of hers. 

“Oh god,” she groaned. “Please, it’s a classic, always has been! Besides, I thought you just decreed you aren’t that fucking old, now you wanna start using generational terms?” 

“Gotta shake it up and humour you a bit don’t I?” He took her hand and spun her closer to him, she laughed slightly before falling out of the spin with such grace and ease that Adam could almost colour himself impressed—especially considering she was wearing what looked like boots that were essentially just high heels with the amount of inches added. “Gotta make sure I impress the hottest babe this side of town apparently.” 

She hooked her arms around his neck, his own firmly gripped on her waist as she pressed her chest against his own; her mascara and lashes fluttering sweetly, intentionally, as she drove her hips to the rhythm of the song blasting. “You wanna impress me then, do you?” 

Adam suddenly leaned in dangerously close, his hands clutching her waist as he almost dipped her backward, his own face getting unbelievably close to her own, their noses touching. “There’s a lot I could do to impress you sweetheart and it definitely wouldn’t start or end on this dance floor.” 

Lute ignored the sheer amount of pleasure that had begun to pool around her legs as she chuckled, trying to show any kind of feigning confidence left as she moved her bangs from her face in the position. “Smooth, I’ll give you that.” 

He dipped her further, taking this whole ‘flexible’ capacity of hers to the next level, his lips pressed against the nape of her neck, she smelled of lavender and a specific kind of rainy, almost earthy undertone that he couldn’t quite place, it was all quite pleasant but seeing the amount of free space on her skin and especially her neck had only helped to motivate Adam’s own goals for the night. “Always fuckin’ have been, that doesn’t change with age babe.” 

She chuckled before feeling a particular part of the chorus and letting her hips drop to the floor in a figure eight, swaying to the floor and moving her hair out of her face as she did so–Lute was nothing if not purposeful as she surveyed Adam’s face carefully looking for any sign of an expression change; she let her hips ripple to the rhythm of the song, adding perhaps a tad too much ass in the mix, and this was the exact when she noticed his entire face still and his pupils dilate. 

Checkmate. 

Cast under the spell of her, well, everything; Adam could only chuckle, his own ego taking a hit as he watched someone twice as young essentially turn it out on the dance floor. “Damn, you weren’t kidding about the dancing,” he spoke, getting closer to her, feeling the slightest bit possessive noticing all the wandering eyes that her body was attracting. 

Lute shrugged, isolating her chest and feeling her knees and hips sway in time with the music, she pulled Adam close to her with a tug of his sleeve, the man only watching her movements. “I can do a lot with my body besides just bending down and spinning.” 

Adam’s mouth went agape before it closed in a thin line, his expression reeking of unadulterated lust, gaze buried deep into her own. “Does that sentence indicate I might find out at the end of the night what exactly you mean?” 

“Depends…” she shrugged, her tone slightly monotonous before she dropped her head down, her backside pressing directly onto his hips as she grinded in a reverse figure eight, whipping her hair slightly forward as she felt Adam’s fingertips ever so slightly pressing into her hips at the exact moment before she decided to rise up from the previous stance. “Maybe if you humour me enough old man,” she whispered, her fingers scratching the stubble of his chin for a brief moment, letting the stare linger and his own breath hitch before she pushed him away. 

The slack jaw and look on his face was enough to satisfy her own thirst for the moment but clearly the brunette had felt undeniably cheated out. He let out a long huff, shaking his head as he grabbed her wrist and all but pulled her towards him, the grip he had held her waist with was sure to leave a few marks but Lute certainly couldn’t say she minded.  Especially not with the way he was looking all but ready to completely jump at her. 

“I wasn’t born yesterday bitch—”

She hummed, staying firmly in place before raising her own hands, body waving against his stomach as she leaned in close to his lips, letting her tone stay hushed as it had been before. “—Clearly not with those grey hairs.” 

“—Oh you’re so fucking funny,” he hissed, every word laced with both venom and a certain kind of enthusiasm that she couldn’t quite pinpoint just yet.

His right hand dug into her waist as his other hand flew to the side of her face, at first gently caressing the skin of her cheek with his palm before he slipped it through and grabbed a fistful of her own hair, tugging it with such vigor that Lute had managed to fully whine, head tilted back and all—how embarrassing. He smirked, clearly savouring her deepening blush with every passing moment. “Don’t think I didn’t see your little, sultry glances towards my hands this whole night, I can read you like a fucking book sweetheart.” 

Lute felt her previous confidence completely dissipate, all because of those damn hands. She also was a complete and utter fool for anyone touching and pulling her hair so he clearly had enough brain stimulation to put two and two together; something she could definitely appreciate. She clenched her fists, unable to do anything but close her eyes and enjoy the closeness of their bodies and the way his hands began to rub at her scalp. 

“Don’t worry babe, I like the way it feels to hold you just as much as the next guy,” he spoke as she all but purred in his grasp. “Fuck, I really fucking love it actually,” he thought to himself, his own emotions falling deeper and deeper into an abyss that he couldn’t possibly fish out of. 

Lute separated from him, grinding against his hips in a slow, methodical fashion though like before. This time, she was more than pleasantly surprised when Adam had turned her around and held her by the waist, grinding against her in tandem with the music as well. She grinned, nodding, he definitely had rhythm; she shouldn’t have been shocked considering his little singer backstory from earlier but she certainly was becoming more and more clouded by her own carnal desire. “I think I’m tired of fucking around with men my age who don’t even buy me a drink so you’re already a step above them,” she admitted slightly louder, compensating for the fact that she wasn’t beside his ear anymore. 

He however, leaned down to her ear, a finger running down her bare shoulders as he spoke. “Only a step?” 

“There’s a way you could get a bit higher though,” she quipped in response, spinning on the heel of her shoes before she continued grinding, this time face to face—her arms pleasantly resting against his shoulders as he kept his hands firmly planted around her hips.   

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Adam grinned, leaning in close to her face and ignoring the fact that the music had now switched to some shitty, trashy 2000s pop song—all he could see was Lute and all he could hear was his heart pounding, not to mention what he was feeling down there. “Why do I get the feeling that I know exactly what you want?” 

Lute gripped his shirt collar forcefully, Adam letting out a slight, low noise in response, the bunches of fabric tightly wrapped inside of her fist as she brushed past his nose. “And why do I get the feeling you’re not about to let me down with what I want?” 

“No fucking way I’d ever let you down,” he reassured, hand cupping her cheek. “Especially not when you and I both want the same things babe.” 

He looked down at her lips, Lute’s eyes slightly widened almost imperceptibly. Adam’s own nostrils flared for a brief moment before he ran his palm down her cheek, holding her face in his hands before he closed the space between their lips. 

If Lute’s breath had been caught before, it was now expelling itself entirely from her lungs; she had hoped to remain with an almost ambivalent indifference during their kiss. Whatever stupid composure she had left absolutely disintegrated when he kissed her. The feeling of his mouth on hers was something that electrified her entire body the second contact was made—she felt lightheaded less from the sheer amount of alcohol and more from the tingling that came from her legs. 

Adam hadn’t usually been the type to take his time, especially not with a gorgeous woman in his arms, prime and ready to be absolutely wrecked for the night ahead; however, something unusual had flipped a switch and he found himself being slow, sensual for once even. The back of his hand moved to her neck, pulling their bodies and mouths as close together as physically possible as her own hands snaked up and around his neck now, drawing him somehow closer. 

He had kissed many women, hell, he had kissed a woman last night even but there was something about this one in particular that felt utterly special, a stupid thing to realise; he wasn’t the type to get attached, especially not since his own divorce. This wasn’t even to get into the fact she was the first younger woman he had ever gone for. 

He stroked her jaw, the kiss deepening as Lute couldn’t help but let out a soft moan in response, opening her mouth as she stroked her tongue with his—her hands quickly grabbing fistfuls of hair and pulling with feverish delight. She had known and hoped that she would get some kind of action tonight but she hadn’t expected to feel this amount of damn tension and liveliness with it. 

He pulled away, more to breathe and to get another decent look at her face as they both realised the last two songs had long passed—he pressed his cheek to her own, kissing down her jawline now as his hands squeezed whatever flesh from her waist he could mold in between his hands. “I think we should go somewhere more private,” he trailed off, Lute groaning as she almost shoved him off before taking his hand without a second word and leading him to the bathroom that was at the exit of the bar. 

The advantages of working at the establishment were knowing where all the more hidden, clean bathrooms were. Not to mention this one in particular was a singular room with an unbroken lock on it as well. It would be the most private and sensical choice for their little endeavours. 

Lute wasn’t sure what thoughts had occurred in the twenty seconds that he had been dragged to the bathroom but the millisecond that her fingertips had slid the lock to ‘occupied’, he had long abandoned the subtle and soft act from the dance floor—instead turning her roughly by her waist, pining her back to the door behind her with a slam. Lute gasped softly, her eyes widened in awe and her own arousal growing tenfold before Adam sank his teeth into the base of her neck, showing anything but kindness to her bare skin as he sucked and left an assortment of pecks and deep bites and marks. 

“Fuck…!” Lute moaned, her breathing erratic and her hands almost shaking from sheer pleasure as he had them pinned above her head with a singular hand; she still wasn’t over the fact that one hand of his was able to essentially engulf both of her own with such ease. “Dropped that little act of yours real fucking fast,” she cursed, letting out a whine as he sucked on her collarbone.

Adam lifted his lips, running his hands up her trousers, stopping dangerously at her inner-thigh as he muttered out a response. “Fuck that, you’ve been wanting to be thrown like a ragdoll this whole time anyway sweetheart.”  

Well, he wasn’t wrong. That was for certain.

He quickly ducked down again, tongue running up the base of her entire neck before he kissed her jawline, fingertips pulling down the waistband of her pants. She felt her cheeks heat up, if he couldn’t feel how obscenely damp she was at this point then the smell would be a dead giveaway. 

The brunette crashed his lips onto hers, his hands slyly tracing around her backside before he grabbed her ass, causing a loud whimper from Lute as his tongue ran across her bottom teeth, their kissing becoming more and more frantic.  “Adam…shit,” she cursed, fingernails digging so deep into his scalp that she was shocked he hadn’t completely thrown her off. 

His own hard-on felt like fire considering he had stupidly decided to wear denim material and yet he shamelessly ground himself against her, the reaction from Lute clearly saying more than words ever could. The friction was delicious, the way the thin material of her trousers left very little barrier between actually feeling her warmth was a massive plus. He could barely even recognise the high-pitched moans from the stoic, sultry woman he had been flirting with before. 

“Shit babe,” he whispered, tongue unconsciously licking his own lips as his hands ran up and down her chest, his hands clutching the mesh and drawing stars in the fabric. “Those pants are doing you no favours babe. Take them off.” 

She complied, feeling his eyes watch her with such intensity that she left like a lamb being led to slaughter; the actual glimmer in his eye was so hardened and so forthcoming that it almost made her pause for a moment. She continued however, succeeding in pulling off her own trousers as Adam let his hands touch the band of her black, lace underwear was completely done for anyway. 

She bit her lip, trying hard to contain every irrational thought and noise she thought about vocalising—Adam’s own hands began to run up her bare thighs, he indulged in the moment, making sure that her eyes were firmly glued to those same hands of his before he squeezed at her bare flesh, his fingertips tracing lines. 

The sheer size difference between them was enough to make Lute vibrate, she couldn’t even imagine the things that were hiding between those black, denim jeans of his. This thumb ran right over the lace, beginning to carefully stroke her through the damp fabric. 

“Oh my god—” she cried out, Adam grinning at her sensitivity. 

“—You’re so wet babe,” he whispered against her jawline, feeling her breath almost begin to form steam against his own skin as he spoke. “I think you could do better though.” 

Lute had no time to quip back, his finger had slid down her underwear in a single swoop and his own thumb had begun to rub rhythmic, gentle strokes against her clit. 

“Jesus fucking—Adam,” she pleaded, unable to even think straight, let alone get any cohoerent sentences out when the man she had all but been thristing over the whole night was finally doing the exact thing she had prayed for this whole night. He groaned himself, unable to resist at the mere contact, the intimacy of the situation and who he was doing it with was enough to make him slightly hazy. 

“Please, please, please, fuck!” She demanded, her voice louder than expected as he began to stroke faster; keeping such frenzied eye contact between her body and her face that she felt utterly, helplessly wanted—the sheer, almost animalistic, need and pleasure displayed in his face would’ve been enough to make her come, truthfully. She felt so, so, so wanted for once in her life and the fact he was clearly so experienced only made the whole experience more enjoyable tenfold. 

“Lute,” he grunted. “Christ babe,” he spoke, his thumb running up and down her liquid slit as they both could feel the sheer pools of wetness that were all but beginning to slide out of her body. “You are such a fucking freak,” he teased before pushing a finger into her entrance. He held back his own moan, seeing her completely unravel for him and pressed her forehead against his own as she attempted to grasp onto his clothing for any kind of security, wall, anything. 

She was a sight to behold, Adam hadn’t been so sexually and physically attracted to someone in what felt like for-fucking-ever—Lute felt and looked utterly ethereal compared to some of the other chicks he had bagged or taken home over the last few years, last decade even. 

He stroked her simultaneously with his own index finger now pumping in and out before he slowed his pace, inserting a second before he earned an audacious, sobbing breath. Her fingernails dug deep into his shirt, he wouldn’t have been shocked if she had pierced through the fabric at this point. He continued his motions, Lute completely falling apart bit by bit.

Usually,  it had taken men forever to first, even get her wet and aroused and second, to get her this damn close. Adam however, due to experience, age or whatever bullshit under the sun she could come up—was masterful. “Adam, Adam,” she moaned, his name had become much more of a sacred plea than a curse. The pain and pleasure that stimulated inside her as he entered further was unbearable and she was almost embarrassed with how fast she was about to break. 

Shit, she didn’t even know him yet here he was, ludicrously building a pleasure inside her that she hadn’t even known could exist with a man so quickly and with such ease. “Oh my god, shit, oh, ohhh—”she drew out, seeing stars. 

Her own orgasm hit her like a freight train, she closed her eyelids and let her head fall into the nape of his neck for a brief, blacked-out moment, her breath heaving as he pulled her closer to him though his hands were still dangerously tethering on her inner thighs as her body trembled before him. 

She pulled slightly back, her eyes glued to his stupid belt, she hadn’t even spoken a word to him before her fingertips undid his pants button and pulled his belt off with such force and speed that Adam almost jumped back in surprise. 

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” he groaned as she all but chucked the belt against the wall, making easy work of his zipper and the denim sitting between her and her own desire being fulfilled. “I never thought someone as pint-sized as you could hold so much damn pent-up sexual frustration.” 

“You like it, don’t even try to play around with me,” she snapped, her tone undeniably tense as he helped her pull down his jeans. 

“Fuck yes I do,” he moaned out as Lute reached in, past his black boxers and grabbed him, the hardness completely pleasing to both her and her hand that had snuck into the fabric. Adam chuckled, though his breath was broken by Lute beginning to stroke him up and down, pace quickening with almost vengeful fury. “I’ve always loved a woman who knows exactly what she wants…” 

It didn’t take much rubbing before she was smearing his precum down, all over his length. Adam couldn’t help but blush, he hadn’t been this aroused since god knows when and let alone in a public space, that shit wasn’t usually his style but he supposed that anything could change if you had the sexiest broad you’d seen in years dolled up in nothing but mesh, practically begging for you to manhandle her all night. 

Lute grabbed his hair by the fistful and all but forced his head to come down to her level as she muttered near his lips. “I want you. I have a condom in the left pocket that I think you should put to use immediately.” 

Adam felt his body go cold before he brought her body close to his own, letting their raw flesh and everything else mingle together for a brief moment as he bent over and took her trousers and pulled out the condom in question. 

“Concise and to the point, gold star for that.” 

She wasted no time on a smile or a cheeky response, instead ripping open the plastic barrier and getting her needs met. She let her fingers wrap around the base as he leaned in and pressed a rough, passionate kiss to her lips, the younger woman happily engaging before he brushed his hands against her waist once more, adding fuel to the flame. 

He ran a hand up her shirt, fingers trailing underneath as he was delighted to confirm that she in fact did not have a bra under all those strings and mesh, his fingertips passed over her hardened nipples; beginning to gently rub it in small circles, noticing with profound glee that her breath began to slow and her brattiness had subsided into short huffs and whined breaths of labour. 

“That feels so good, fuck—” she called out in a husky tone that only made Adam’s knees go weak. Her own hands had long made exploration of his own chest, her brain rattled at the fact that he had so much body-hair and what felt like scarring especially on his lower stomach. Perhaps she had decided to welcome a distraction knowing that the largest dick she had ever seen in her life was about to attempt to even make headway into her. 

The sheer size was enough to make her blush and her stomach slightly bulge which only seemed to turn Adam on further as he sunk his teeth into her shoulders, grabbing at her hips to steady and support her as he drew himself close to her. 

The touch was enough to make Lute wince, her fingers clawing around his hair, pulling and tugging however she saw fit as she made her best accommodations and attempts to welcome his girthy, to put it lightly, size inside her. The moment it had begun to insert, Lute gasped and all but clutched his hair for dear life. 

“You alright there sweetheart?” Adam asked, half concerned and half amused by the whole thing, he had long had women making comments and attempting to take his whole length so the noise, the unpredictability of the situation—it wasn’t exactly foreign to him. Still, he brushed back her bangs, pressing a rather intimate kiss to her forehead as he added on. “We can always stop if it hurts, y’know.” 

“Fuck. No.” She growled, moving her own hips, trying to take him deeper. He pulled back slightly, pushing forward again to create an almost stimulant of shallow thrusts as she melted in his grasp, unable to even speak at first, utterly at a loss for words as her entire face was blushing, sticky and probably a shade of red so bright it would embarrass her if she wasn’t so distracted by one thing and one thing only. 

He took a sharp breath, withdrawing and once again groaning as he managed to push deeper into her. “Fucking hell, Lute—” he moaned, her name melting like sugar on his tongue as she felt that same tingle, arousal and orgasm beginning to build once again. “You feel so fucking good sweetheart. So tight. So damn good though,” he managed to bite out before the two had begun to reach a syncopated rhythm. 

Her legs tightened around him as he lifted her hips slightly, the both of them rocking against the other and only further pushing the limits as Lute, with the largest mix of pain and pleasure, had managed to take him inside fully—their breaths synchronised and arms woefully wrapped around the other as they touched every bare part of their bodies and slapped, pulled and touched all the skin humanely possible. 

“Lute, shit,” he sheepishly moaned, his teeth digging into her once again to perhaps avoid the fact that he was utterly and helplessly rasping against her body. “Do you fucking feel how good you are? How good you’re taking me babe? Shit—” he drew out. 

“Fuck,” she spit out. Her erratic breathing became undoubtedly noticeable as their speed quickened and their heat bubbled faster—he took her arms and put them around his own neck as he lifted her body slightly, grabbing onto her ass as he began to move back and forth, pushing her tolerance and his own limits. “Adam—” she moaned, pleading to the inescapable pleasure boiling in her stomach and elsewhere. 

Their hips stuttered in disbelief, his own grip tightening as she became warmer and warmer with each passing second until he thrust inside her with such force that she had cried out in the bathroom walls and sent her over the final edge, his own release seemed to time well with her own though her ecstasy laced inner walls throbbed and her own eyes seemed to close for what felt like for-fucking-ever. 

Adam sighed heavily, taking longer than he had to before he pulled out, letting himself feel and see how much she had come.  “Good girl,” he muttered next to her earlobe, pressing a delicate kiss to her cheek before he assessed his own outcome and the condom that shrewd it—he peeled it off and chucked it in the bin at the other corner of the bathroom before she shakily began to move her legs, one after the other, as if she was a fawn. 

This would definitely hurt tomorrow but she had absolutely zero regrets for the time being and judging by the look on Adam’s face as she scooped up her own trousers, he definitely hadn’t regretted the way the night had gone either. 

Lute however, was far more of a mess. It wasn’t just physical or mentally but emotional as well—somehow she had managed to have the most pleasurable, meaningful sex of her entire life in a bathroom stall with a man who was definitely a decade or even older than her, who she had just met tonight. The man in question only sent thoughtful, pointed glances her way as she shyly slipped on her own, tainted underwear and trousers with a sense of  both shame and accomplishment. 

Her mind scrambled in fifteen different places as she tugged at her choker for some kind of support. “Jesus,” she finally whispered to no one but herself. 

“And that’s why you go for older men instead of the scumbags your age sweetheart,” Adam all but purred, indulging in his own ego and outcome of his work as he lifted her chin once more, pressing a soft peck and particularly intimate peck to her lips.

“Can’t say I disagree after this night…” she swallowed, startled by the sound of her own voice for a moment before she watched him put on his own clothing, both of them now standing in front of the mirror with a certain atonement. 

“Thanks for the good time,” she choked out before noticing just how dishevelled her hair was in the mirror—her lipstick was also slightly but not too smeared, most of it on Adam’s lips, and her mascara beginning to pile under her eyes. “Thanks for fucking me so hard you almost wiped my makeup clean off.” Is what she should’ve said however, given the state of mind she was in, she figured it was best to remain suave about it. 

Adam laughed whole-heartedly, wiping the lipstick off with the back of his hand as he cocked a brow, “Good?” He questioned. “Babe, it was fucking great, don’t try to hide it and be coy with me sweetheart.” 

She had turned her hand on the doorknob as she tried to hide the smile that was poking through her lips. “Fine. Thanks for a great experience.” 

Adam leaned against the doorframe, his hand briefly on top of her own for a final time. “Can I expect to see you come by next week?” 

Lute’s stomach ruffled with butterflies, had this really not been just a one-hit-wonder like she had imagined? Was he even slightly interested in her? She wondered if asking for his phone number would reek of desperation—she instead settled for a trace of his jawline. “If you’re gonna be here? Probably.” 

He winked, opening the door for her. “It’s a date.” 

She turned to meet his gaze, her face shimmering in the post-glow and now the various, colourful lights that plagued the dance floor just to their left. The same one that they had kissed on and that had made them even come here in the first place. Adam thought she looked beautiful, though he wasn’t sure if that comment would’ve made him look desperate and weird, especially considering their lovely little age gap.  

“Nice meeting you Adam.” 

“Get home safe, Lute.” 

Lute felt her legs beginning to give out the second that she had left Adam’s side—it was as if some force was trying to magnetise her, pulling them together again but she had thankfully managed, despite being high on both alcohol and sex, to find her best friend tapping her foot impatiently at the exit door at the mere sight of her. 

Vaggi threw her phone in her purse, unable to hide her concern in the almost maniacal, worried tone that she dawned. “Where the fuck were you?! I was looking for you for like twenty minutes and then Charlie literally ran outside and circled the parking lot and—” in the midst of her speech, she noticed how Lute’s hair looked incredibly messy and how her lipstick looked ever so smeared. She cocked a brow, trying not to laugh due to her own agenda. “—You look pretty fucked up, did something happen?” 

Lute smirked, letting her hand scratch the back of her neck as she stretched out her arms. “Definitely got fucked up,” she stated before giggling, like a mischievous school girl who had got caught doing something wrong. “…Literally.” 

Vaggi gasped with such dramatics you’d think they were in a soap opera—she clutched her handheld purse, mouth fully open as she yelled over the music blaring. Lute could make out it was probably Rihanna but she wasn’t too sure at the minute, she was far too distracted by her own stench and her best friend’s reaction for one. “Oh my god! In the bathroom of your own work place?!” Vaggi had hushed out, slightly disgusted before her shoulders dropped, slightly relaxed. “Damn, I don’t know if I’m disgusted or I admire your work.” 

“Older men are definitely the way to go.”

Vaggi rolled her eyes, amused, her features softening as she led Lute out by the hand, noticing her best friend beginning to wobble as they walked towards the door. “I wouldn't know, I don't like any men, but I can trust you on that I guess.” 

“C’mon, let’s go back home and find Charlie before she drives off without us…” 

***

Lute wished she could remember any part of the night other than the steaming hot, unbelievably intense bathroom sex—every thought and dream she had once her face hit the mattress had been reminiscing or thinking about that experience, that man. That older man who had somehow charmed her and attracted her with just his words, a Black Russian and those damn calloused hands of his. 

Perhaps if she had drunk less alcohol or at least been slightly more coherent, she would have been able to realise after her ‘everything’ shower that she had managed to conveniently not set her own alarm for the very first day of classes. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” 

A slew of English and non-English curses followed as she dressed with such haste, she was almost certain that she might’ve just set a new world record. She had to thank her sober, pre-drunk self for managing to lovingly lay out and steam the outfit she had wanted to wear for the first day—at least that much had been accomplished.

She thanked her previous dance and gymnastics experience growing up for the stamina, fully bolting it to class, in boots of course because even lateness and a panic attack would never stop fashion. Her hand had ripped open the door with such force, she was shocked to see it still left on the hinges as she entered, adjusting the fit of her turtleneck before she strode through the class, finding Vaggi meticulously waving a hand at her. 

Two minutes to spare—just enough to take off her chocolate brown trenchcoat, get her notebook and pen out and completely affirm Vaggi’s praise. 

“Impressed you even made it, I thought about waking you up but I knew for sure you’d never forgive me for interrupting your sleep.” 

She had a fair point, Lute had never been the type of woman who took well to being woken up by physical force or touch. Something she had likely learned their first year, having been roommates, when Vaggi had accidentally shaken her by the shoulders to wake her for their induction week and Lute had screamed directly in her face, pouncing on her like a sleeper agent, half-awake and frenzied.

They had a lovely discussion about boundaries when that was all said and done, certainly. 

“Thanks, I probably would’ve thanked you honestly but it looks like the professor isn’t here yet,” she recounted aloud, checking her watch and noticing that it had become exactly the time that the class was scheduled to start—11.30. “Seems a bit weird, she’s never been late before, she’s usually a stickler for attendance.” 

Vaggi tilted her head, fiddling with the ribbon tied around her signature half-up, half-down hairstyle. “You didn’t read the email?” 

“No…?” Lute stammered before frantically looking through her email notifications on the watch, swiping up and down before Vaggi chuckled, explaining for her instead. 

“She’s taking a sabbatical, apparently they hired someone else in her place, a male professor too.”

Lute slumped in the seat of the seminar room, tilting her head back in grave disappointment. “Great.” She whispered sarcastically. “Just what my political science degree needed—another fucking male professor.” 

Vaggi rubbed her shoulder sympathetically, trying to hide her own frown with a smile of hope, something that Lute had very little of considering her own experiences with essentially every other professor and student in her predominantly male-dominated degree.

“Oh hun, I know but let’s hope he isn’t all that bad…” 

It had been a staggering five minutes, their previous professor had never been late in her entire academic career and yet here all fifty students sat, unsure of what to do and whether to comment or simply stay put in their seats. 

“Do you think if the professor doesn’t come within fifteen minutes we can leave?” A male voice spoke up. Students surrounding him laughed—of course it had been Peter, the theology major. Lute had been in another class with him previously and he had both the brightest blonde hair Lute had ever seen and the dumbest brain she had ever met. 

“That law doesn’t apply to university Peter, you lazy piece of shit!” She called out, her tone flaccid before Vaggi only snickered and shook her head. Lute looked at her watch a third time, shaking her head, unable to believe how someone could manage to be so late and how she had panicked so much over nothing. “How unprofessional, definitely not a good first impression.”

As if on cue, the doors to the seminar room opened and the students all turned, including Lute and Vaggi who sat near the middle, left corner row, unable to put a voice to their face until the substitute professor had walked closer towards the actual projector and table in the centre of the amphitheater layout. 

Dazed as ever, a far too familiar brunette spoke, his voice loud and brash as ever. “Sorry all, not a great first impression and all that jazz but my son was being impossible on the phone and well, that’s why you don’t have kids!” He joked before putting his own bag down on the table. 

Lute’s entire heart ceased beating. 

Her body froze, stilling as if she had been fossilised—no, no, no. Perhaps being a bug squished between a rock and forced to turn to a fossil and nothing but brittle bones was a fate less cruel than the sheer destructive forces at play currently. “Oh. My. God…” Lute muttered in panicked breaths, unable to cease her heartbeat from taking up an entire echo-chamber. 

Vaggi couldn’t even move either, feeling the sheer tension radiating off of her best friend. 

“Lute, tell me that isn’t…” 

Lute snapped her entire body forward, her voice so soft and so low it barely even made a squeak. “Vaggi, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your mouth right. now.” 

“Anyway, nice to meet you all…for now,” Adam spoke up, smiling at the laughter that the class had responded with. It was good to know they weren’t all a bunch of rule numbing dorks that was for sure. “Pretty good turnout, thanks for not leaving after fifteen minutes, I sure as fuck would’ve—” he paused noticing a blonde man in particular raise his pointer finger to his classmates as if to say ‘see, see, even he agrees!’ “Well, I’m your new professor, your last one is ‘finding herself’ or whatever she claimed, so they hired me for the time being. You can call me Adam or Sir if you feel particularly kinky, I don’t like all the Mr, Misses, last name bullshit.” 

Lute buried her entire face deep into the crevice of her turtleneck, praying she’d be swallowed by a black hole at this point. Her cheeks flaring up with the same red glow she had last night when he had—oh fucking no! She dug her fingernails into her own knee, unable to stop herself from utterly drowning in sorrows. “Jesus fucking Christ this is not happening,” she mumbled. 

Her professor. 

She had fucked her own professor at her own place of work in the bathroom of all places. 

You couldn’t possibly write a story more grave than the one playing out, the one that was about to send Lute moving to a foreign country to mysteriously ‘start over’. 

Vaggi hesitated, wanting to pat her back before dropping the hand, knowing that Lute’s inner demons were much stronger than whatever solidarity comfort she could offer. 

“I’m taking a roster before I give any kind of introduction to myself,” he spoke, eyes wandering aimlessly before he picked up the piece of paper and a pen that he managed to successfully open after far too many clicks. Each click sends a shiver down Lute’s spine. “Listen, fair warning, I struggle with names so if you’re on Tinder during this and I skip over you, tough shit, you’re getting marked absent.” 

His charm clearly extended outside of just bars and flirting with Lute because all the women, like the absolute kiss asses they were, in class and even most of the self-serving men had been absolutely loving his self-serving sense of humour and his slightly conflated ego and ‘nonchalant’ attitude. 

Lute blacked out from that moment, staring daggers into him as he had yet to notice her, the roster for once was going off without a hitch yet here she was, the best student in the class—save for Peter, that little son of a bitch with his private, homeschool education—biting so hard on her bottom lip that she swore she tasted blood

Adam paused at her name. 

Of course. He didn’t know Lute was a nickname. 

She wouldn’t even have the pleasure of hiding her face from him; she’d have to unabashedly and unapologetically draw attention to herself just to get him to correct that stupid piece of paper. She clawed at her arm, feeling her stomach almost tip over from madness and sickness. Yet somehow, somehow she still managed to sneak a peak at those god damn arms of his—still covered by a shirt, his outfit slightly, only slightly, more professional than the one he had worn to a bar; how telling. 

“Lyud…fucking hell,” Adam spoke, cursing at a lower volume before he cleared his throat. “I really don’t mean any disrespect with my shitty pronunciation but Lyud—”

Lute forced her hand to raise, pathetically small and more near her face, but still somewhat of a gesture to draw his attention. “I prefer Lute.” 

The moment their eyes locked, Lute could absolutely feel the pit of her stomach fall and her knees completely buckle. It had been a miracle that she had the pleasure of sitting—otherwise, she likely would’ve fallen head first into the row below her and Vaggi and crushed her head open on a desk or two—maybe if she was quick enough… 

Adam’s eyes shined with that same glow as last night, the same stare that had intoxicated her beyond reasonable belief and made her do the most objectively obscene things possible—obscene things to the person who was now going to be her professor. To her absolute dismay, instead of freaking out, of keeping a calm and respectful tone in the midst of this unholy situation he had decided to chuckle to himself, smirking ear to ear with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that Lute had ever seen. 

Behind his eyes there were certainly freckles of what looked to be doubt and sheer tension but he definitely was playing it off far better than she could and with far more of an entertaining lens. 

“Lute,” he repeated softly, the name still rolling off his tongue like it had last night when he had breathed in her ear and kissed her breathlessly. Lute flusteredly shut her lips in a thin line, unresponsive as he marked her name down. “I like the nickname,” he teased, special emphasis on the nickname part, perhaps he had felt slightly betrayed? Lute couldn’t tell you. 

“Just like the first ever guitar, huh?” 

Lute swallowed a shaky breath. “Yes.” 

He chuckled and gave her that same smile as he had last night though this time his eyes were filled with far more of a mischievous energy than a desirable, curious one. “Rock On.” 

Lute bashed her head straight onto the solid desk once he had moved on to the next name, his voice flowing like the worst kind of symphony imaginable. 

“This is going to be the longest year of my fucking life.”