Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

5 - Bad Art

Alison
***

It was ten to eight when I arrived at Evergreen. The sun had already set, and the world was painted in blues and blacks. I wasn't anxious walking down the road since the neighborhood was well lit, but the night was chilly, even for late September.

As I walked inside the main building, art folder in hand, my hands started to shake, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Why was I reacting like this? He was just a professor, nothing more.

A very hot, very young, very intimidating professor, I added in my head.

The halls of Evergreen were completely vacant. My footsteps, although light, echoed through the building.

When I finally reached the Art building, I scanned the sign at the entrance to see in which floor the professor's offices were located. The sign said on the last floor, so I made my way to the elevator. Inside, I checked myself in the mirror. I brushed my flyaways and smoothed out my clothes.

The elevator doors opened way too soon. I stepped out, making my way to the offices. I read the names of the professors on each door. Each time it wasn't Dr Damon's my heart skipped a beat.

I just wanted this to be over with.

It was when I reached the last door that I finally read "Dr Christopher Damon". I took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door.

"Come in," his voice sounded from within. I opened the door extremely slowly. It felt like any noise that I made was amplified due to the deafening silence of the empty floor.

Professor Damon kept his eyes on a paper he was reading, a red pen resting leisurely in his right hand.

"Professor Damon," I said softly. His eyes darted up. He motioned me to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

His office wasn't much, but it had the essentials. A wide, wooden desk with papers mounting on either side, a bookshelf filled to the brim with books and folders, a cabinet file, and a coat hanger.

"I didn't expect you to come." He said, leaning back. He took off his glasses, resting them on his desk.

"I took it as a challenge." I said. I was starting to think my sassiness was my way to appear confident when, in reality, I was not.

"Why so?"

"Exactly because you didn't expect me to come, Sir."

He sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Dr Damon extended his hand to me "Just give it to me already." I gave him the folder, holding my breath in anticipation.

He lifted the cover, revealing the painting inside. He was totally silente for a few seconds. Then, he furrowed his eyebrows, tilting the painting slightly. He then placed in on the desk, tossing it to me.

"This is lousy work, Miss Bardot." He said sternly. "I'm not gonna lie, I expected a little more from you. With you it's a lot of talk, but no action."

My heart hammered in my chest painfully.

I reached for my painting and brought it close to my chest, protecting it like a scared puppy.

"Why? What's so wrong with it?" I asked. I sounded hurt by his rude comment. I immediately regretted showing my emotions.

He leaned forward, extending his hand once more, wiggling his fingers "Give it to me." I reluctantly obliged.

"See here," he said, picking up a pencil, "The lines are just messy and incoherent. There is no distinction between the shapes. And this wall, for example... The angle is wrong." With everything he pointed out, he made a thick circle with his pencil, leaving a graphite mark. "The shading around the lamp is questionable at best. The chandelier looks like an afterthought, doesn't belong there at all. It's distracting even. And this portrait of the man in the suit... Why would you give yourself the trouble of painting it if you can't even see the face properly? And it's so dark, why is it so dark? It truly feels out of place."