Fifty Shades of Scarlet: Part 1…

I feel the cool, wet wind rush at my back as the door to St. Kate’s Lodge swings shut behind me. I stand for a minute, collecting myself and shaking out the beads of moisture caught in my thick dark curls. Typical, I think as I march up the stairs. It’s my first meeting with my tutor after transferring into his class – a week late. Not only have I already fallen behind, but I also look like I just lost a fight with a hose. One more deep breath, and I knock on the door.

“Come in.”

His voice catches me off guard. It’s surprisingly deep, melodic…almost buttery in the way it emits from his chest. I am suddenly more aware of myself as I inch around the door and stand awkwardly at the foot of his desk. He clears his throat and spins his chair casually to address me. I take one look into his dark amber eyes and forget why I’m there.

“Can I help you?”

There it is again – the voice. I feel its vibrations and struggle to find words of my own. I notice that his perfectly quaffed, chestnut hair is swept back in an attractive swoop. It hovers just slightly above his collar, which has been unbuttoned to reveal his tanned, olive skin. I notice that he looks to be in his mid 30s, a picture of youth in a world of ancient academia. Right, focus…

“I’m …uh… sorry, I’m Scarlet. I…uh…just transferred into Sex and Gender in Mediaeval Fife.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not my module.”

What?! I’m humiliated. His eyes look up at me, quizzical, friendly. There’s a spark in them…it’s like I’ve met him before.

“Professor Wright is down the hall. I can walk you if you’d like?”

I hesitate… then awkwardly nod. He’s already made his way from behind the thick mahogany desk. I notice he had been composing a letter on parchment…his longhand was elegant, sweeping…yet undeniably masculine.

As he moves to get up, a pen drops to the floor. I can’t help but notice the way his grey trousers pull tightly across his haunches when he bends.

Sheepishly, I direct my gaze out of the window to the vast scape of the North Sea. When I feel the warmth of his hand against my spine, I freeze. I muster up the courage to look up at him only to feel small, insignificant.

“Come with me”

His voice is suddenly quiet, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my neck.

We lurch forward and I swear I can feel his light touch falling slightly down to the waistband of my skirt. His grasp is electric. After a few steps I stop – I simply cannot get my legs to move forward. Move Scarlet! Move!

But I can’t. I don’t want to. I won’t.

To be continued….. In next week’s Fifty Shades of Scarlet.