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MidReal Story
Teachers Pet
Scenario:Start with chapter 1. Teacher’s Pet (Academic Taboo | Power Imbalance | Forbidden Longing)
Anaïs (black female) is a college professor, respected and admired. Bobbie (white female) is her star student, bold, brilliant, and completely off-limits. When Bobbie starts staying after class, teasing, testing, waiting for Anaïs to break, it becomes harder to resist. One night, Bobbie corners her and murmurs, “Tell me no, and I’ll stop.” But Anaïs doesn’t say no.
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Anaïs Fletcher
first_person_protagonist, female. She is a college professor teaching advanced psychology. She is intelligent, determined, and conflicted. Anaïs struggles with her attraction to one of her students, Bobbie, who is a brilliant student and her mentor's protégée. Despite knowing it's unprofessional, she finds herself drawn to Bobbie's boldness and charisma. She tries to maintain boundaries but ultimately gives in to her desires, realizing it could jeopardize her career and reputation.
Bobbie
side_character, female. She is a talented student in Anaïs’s class. She is confident, seductive, and ambitious. Bobbie is aware of her effect on Professor Fletcher and uses her charm to manipulate the situation. She frequently stays after class and challenges Anaïs's professional boundaries. Her intentions are not entirely clear—whether she is seeking intellectual stimulation or something more. Her presence disrupts Anaïs's routine and emotions, leading to complex interactions.
I know it’s wrong.
I know it’s even more wrong than I thought it would be.
But here I am, anyway, staring at my student—my beautiful, brilliant, completely off-limits student—and trying to remember how to breathe, let alone speak.
"You’re waiting for the bus?"
Bobbie asks.
She’s my star student, the one my mentor warned me about.
The one whose talent is matched only by her boldness.
And she’s brilliant, just like I was at her age.
Unlike me, though, she’s not shy.
Not even a little bit.
"Uh-huh," I reply, and fumble with my briefcase.
My hands are shaking a little, and I’m not sure why.
I’ve expected this, after all.
I’ve prepared for it.
So why am I reacting this way now?
"Want me to give you a ride?"
She smiles at me, slow and seductive.
And God, but she knows what she looks like.
Her long blonde hair is down, and her blue eyes are sparkling with mischief.
Her lips are painted red, and they curve up into a smile that’s inviting.
That’s tempting.
That’s completely off-limits.
I grip my briefcase tighter, knuckles whitening against the leather as I force myself to look away from Bobbie’s inviting smile.
The evening air feels thick, making each breath a conscious effort.
A car horn blares in the distance, snapping me from my daze.
"Thank you, but I’ll wait for the bus," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Bobbie takes a step closer, her perfume—something floral and expensive—filling my lungs.
My body tenses as she reaches past me, deliberately brushing my arm while pointing to dark clouds gathering overhead.
"It’s going to rain," she says softly.
I shake my head and step back, plastering on a polite smile that feels like a mask.
"Thank you, Bobbie, but I’m fine," I say, and turn to walk away.
I can feel her eyes on me, watching me as I walk.
I can feel her desire, her need.
I can feel the tension between us, like a spark waiting to ignite.
But I don’t look back.
I keep walking until I’m safely inside my office building.
I lean against the door, catching my breath and trying to calm my racing heart.
I know it’s not right, what I’m feeling.
But I can’t help it.
I’ve been drawn to Bobbie from the moment she walked into my classroom.
She’s smart and beautiful and confident.
And she’s forbidden.
But I can’t help myself.
I want her.
The sound of knocking breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.
I straighten up and turn around, expecting it to be one of my colleagues or maybe a student looking for help with an assignment.
But when I see who it is, my heart skips a beat.
It’s Bobbie.
She’s standing in front of my office door, looking more beautiful than ever in her fitted jeans and tight white shirt. She smiles at me as I approach the door, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Hi," she says softly as I open the door for her.
"Hi," I reply, trying to sound calm despite the butterflies in my stomach.
"What brings you here?"
"I was just wondering if you could help me with something," she says, holding up a paper in her hand.
"I was having trouble understanding the assignment."
"Of course," I say, stepping aside to let her in.
"Come on in."
She walks into my office and takes a seat at my desk, setting the paper down in front of her.
I sit down next to her and look at the paper, trying to focus on the words instead of Bobbie’s perfume that’s filling my lungs again.
"So what do you need help with?" I ask her. "This paragraph," she says, pointing to a section highlighted in yellow ink.
"I just don’t understand what you’re asking for."
"It’s okay," I tell her reassuringly.
"Just take your time and read it over again. Sometimes things make more sense when we read them slowly."
She nods and reads over the paragraph again, this time more slowly than before.
As she reads, I notice how close we are sitting together on the couch.
"Why do you always keep your distance, Professor?" she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Caught off guard, I hesitate before answering, "It's just... professional boundaries, Bobbie."
She leans in slightly, her eyes searching mine, "But what if those boundaries aren't as clear as we think?"
The knock startles me from Bobbie's intense gaze.
Dr. Martinez's voice carries through the door, asking if I need help with a student consultation.
Bobbie's hand, which had been inching toward mine on the desk, freezes.
I clear my throat and shift away, grateful for the interruption yet frustrated by it.
When I open the door, Dr. Martinez's knowing look makes my cheeks burn.
She steps in, professional smile in place, offering to review Bobbie's paper since she's taught this course before.
Bobbie's eyes narrow slightly, but she gathers her things.
Dr. Martinez closes my office door and sits in the chair Bobbie vacated.
Her dark eyes study me with concern as she mentions hearing rumors about Bobbie's relationship with Professor Chen last semester.
I grip my desk, remembering how Chen suddenly resigned mid-term.
Martinez reveals that Bobbie recorded their private conversations and threatened to expose their "inappropriate relationship" unless Chen wrote her glowing recommendations.
Though Martinez lacks proof, her warning rings true - I've seen Bobbie's phone carefully positioned during our meetings.
My stomach churns as I recall how close I came to crossing that line.
I'm alone in my office after Dr. Martinez leaves, frantically searching online news archives about Professor Chen's departure.
My fingers tremble as I type, finding only vague statements about his "personal reasons" for leaving.
I replay every interaction with Bobbie - her perfectly timed touches, the phone always in view, how she steered our conversations toward personal topics.
Opening my desk drawer, I find the small gifts she's left: expensive coffee, handwritten notes with subtle implications.
I gather them in a box, determined to return them, when a new email notification appears.
It's from Bobbie, subject line: "Urgent - Please Read."
I hesitate, then open it, my heart pounding as I scan the words.
"Professor, we need to talk. There's something you should know about Dr. Martinez."
My hands tremble as I read Bobbie's second email detailing a prestigious $500,000 research grant from the Whitman Foundation.
She explains that Dr. Martinez rejected her thesis proposal last semester, costing her a spot in a top PhD program.
The grant would require my signature verifying her original research, which she claims Martinez tried to steal.
I scroll through the attached documentation - grant paperwork, email screenshots, and a recording file.
The cursor hovers over the audio file as I debate whether to listen.
My office feels suffocating as I realize this is no longer just about attraction - it's about my integrity.
I sit frozen at my desk, finger hovering over the mouse, then finally click play.
Dr. Martinez's voice crackles through my speakers, discussing the Whitman grant with someone.
My stomach drops as I hear her dismissively reference "that student's work" while claiming full credit for the research methodology.
The recording continues with Martinez outlining plans to rework Bobbie's thesis into a grant proposal.
I quickly pause it when footsteps approach my office, my heart pounding.
Through my window, I glimpse Bobbie watching from the courtyard below, her phone visible in her hand.
I pace my office, trying to grade papers but distracted by constant glances at my phone.
The message from Bobbie shows a screenshot - her anonymous email to the board detailing Martinez's research theft, complete with attached evidence.
My hands tremble as I notice she's included our private conversations about the recording.
Though she's masked my involvement, the threat is clear.
I grab my coat and rush to the parking lot, needing to confront her before this escalates.
"Bobbie, what are you doing with this?" I demand, catching up to her by the car.
She turns, eyes wide but defiant, "I'm protecting my future, Professor, and maybe yours too."
"By dragging me into this mess?" I ask, frustration edging my voice.
I watch from my car as Bobbie walks across the empty campus parking lot, her confident stride unnerving me after our confrontation.
She pauses near a large oak tree, and I grip my steering wheel tighter, debating whether to follow her.
Suddenly, a grey squirrel scampers down the trunk and jumps onto her shoulder.
My breath catches as I notice the small object in its mouth - a USB drive, which it deposits directly into Bobbie's waiting palm.
She pets the squirrel's head before it darts away.
The casual precision of this exchange makes my skin crawl.
I remain in my car, watching as a campus security guard's flashlight beam cuts through the darkness toward Bobbie.
She quickly pockets the USB drive and adopts a distressed expression.
The guard, Officer Reynolds, approaches her first, then notices me still gripping my steering wheel.
He walks over, tapping on my window.
I lower it, struggling to appear composed as he asks if there's a problem.
Bobbie's theatrical sniffle carries across the lot as she claims we were discussing her failing grade.
I'm organizing papers at my desk when a soft knock interrupts me.
I glance up to see Mei Zhang, a quiet student from my morning class, entering hesitantly.
She glances around the office before closing the door.
"Professor Fletcher, I hope I'm not intruding," she says nervously.
"No, not at all, Mei," I reassure her.
"What brings you here?"
Her eyes dart around the room again before focusing on me.
"I couldn't help but notice your reaction earlier in class," she says softly.
"Did something happen?"
I lean forward, intrigued by her observation.
"Yes, it seems Bobbie had an... unusual encounter with a squirrel in the parking lot."
Mei's eyes widen slightly.
"Actually, Professor, that's what I wanted to talk about. I've been... tracking similar incidents."
I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued.
"Tracking? What do you mean?"
Mei pulls out her phone and begins scrolling through photos.
"I've noticed that Bobbie has been using trained animals to exchange items across campus. Here," she shows me a photo of Bobbie with a crow dropping papers into her hand.
"And here," another photo shows a rat carrying small packages between two buildings. "It's quite elaborate," Mei admits, "but I think there might be more to it than just exchanging notes."
My mind races with the implications of such an operation on campus.
"What makes you think that?"
Mei hesitates before pulling out a small recorder from her bag.
"I have proof of Bobbie's involvement in something bigger. She's been using these animals to transport more than just notes."
I lean closer, my heart racing with anticipation.
"What exactly have you found?"
Mei glances nervously at the recorder before speaking again.
"I have recordings of Bobbie discussing something... illegal. But I think we should work together to investigate further."
I consider her proposal for a moment before nodding in agreement.
"Very well. Let's work together to uncover the truth behind Bobbie's activities."
Mei nods in relief before placing the recorder on my desk.
"Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate your help."
I sit with Mei in my dimly lit office after hours, the recorder between us on my desk.
My fingers hover over the play button as she pulls out a detailed notebook filled with dates, times, and locations of Bobbie's animal exchanges.
The first recording starts - scratchy audio of Bobbie speaking in code to someone about "package delivery routes."
We pause frequently, Mei scribbling notes while I cross-reference the timestamps with my own encounters.
When we hear mention of Dr. Martinez's name, followed by discussion of large sums of money, my stomach tightens.
Mei glances up from her notes, her voice barely a whisper.
"Do you think Dr. Martinez is involved in this too?"
I nod slowly, the weight of the revelation settling in.
I lean back in my office chair while Mei and I strategize our approach.
We spread the evidence across my desk - photos of animal exchanges, recordings of suspicious conversations, and documents linking Bobbie to Martinez.
Mei suggests confronting them separately, but I argue for a joint meeting to prevent conflicting stories.
Using my authority as faculty, I draft an email requesting both Bobbie and Martinez attend a morning discussion about the Whitman grant.
My hands tremble slightly as I type, knowing this meeting could expose an elaborate conspiracy or destroy my career.
Mei watches me hit send, her expression a mix of determination and anxiety.
"Do you think they'll actually show up?" she asks, her voice tinged with doubt.
I take a deep breath, trying to project confidence. "They will if they think it's about the grant. It's too important for them to ignore."
I sit in my dimly lit office after hours, the evidence against Bobbie and Martinez spread across my desk.
I'm shuffling through papers when the door creaks open.
Bobbie steps inside, her confident smile illuminating the room.
She approaches my desk, her perfume filling the air between us.
Despite everything I know about her schemes, my heart races.
She places her hand over mine, stopping me from shuffling papers.
"I know you're investigating me," she says softly, "but have you asked yourself why I chose you?"
Her touch sends electricity through my body.
When she leans down, her lips inches from mine, I don't pull away.
I force myself to break away from her hypnotic gaze, pushing my chair back from the desk.
My hands tremble as I pull out Mei's photos of the squirrel drop and crow exchanges.
Bobbie's smile falters for a moment when she sees them.
I press further, spreading out the timeline of suspicious meetings with Martinez, the grant documents, and recorded conversations.
She reaches for the photos, but I snatch them away.
"Tell me about your relationship with Martinez," I demand, "and what these animal couriers are for."
Bobbie's eyes narrow, and her voice drops to a chilling whisper, "Are you sure you're ready for the truth?"
I lean back in my chair, watching as Bobbie reaches into her jacket pocket.
Her movements are deliberate and controlled, like a chess player contemplating their next move.
She pulls out a sleek black recorder, smaller than my thumb.
It looks expensive, the kind used for high-stakes interviews or clandestine meetings.
I hold my breath as she presses play, and a familiar voice fills my office - Martinez's voice, discussing money laundering through research grants.
The recording is clear, the words unmistakable.
Bobbie's eyes stay fixed on me while the evidence plays, her earlier seductive smile replaced by a mix of vulnerability and determination.
I sit there, absorbing the weight of what I've just heard.
The recorder sits on my desk, a tiny black bomb between us.
My fingers trace the smooth surface, feeling the slight indentation of the play button.
I can't help but wonder how she managed to get this recording, what risks she took to expose Martinez's corruption.
Bobbie stands close, her perfume filling my nose.
She leans down, her blonde hair brushing against my shoulder.
My heart pounds in my chest as I struggle to maintain a professional distance.
The recording ends, and the room feels smaller than ever before.
Finally, I find my voice, "Why did you trust me with this?"
I sit there, paralyzed, as Bobbie's words hang in the air.
She moves closer, her hand sliding from the recorder to my wrist.
My breath catches when she leans down, her blonde hair brushing against my cheek.
"I chose you because I've always wanted you," she whispers, her blue eyes intense.
Before I can respond, she presses her lips against mine.
The kiss is soft but demanding, and my body responds despite my mind screaming to stop.
When she pulls back, she confesses that she's loved me since our first class together.
I grip the edge of my chair, torn between desire and the knowledge of all her schemes.
In that moment, I realize the truth is far more dangerous than I ever imagined.
I sit at my desk the next morning, replaying our kiss from yesterday.
The way she tasted, the way her lips fit against mine perfectly.
It was like a dream come true, except for the fact that she's a master manipulator who's been playing games with me for years.
The door opens, and Bobbie walks in carrying a cup of coffee.
She places it in front of me, her fingers brushing against mine.
My heart races as she looks at me with those innocent blue eyes.
"Good morning, Professor," she says softly.
"Good morning, Bobbie."
I can't resist the urge to pull her closer.
She settles onto my lap, and I trace the curve of her jaw with my finger.
"I've wanted to do that again since yesterday," I say, remembering the way she felt in my arms.
She smiles shyly and leans in to kiss me once more. I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the moment.
The world outside fades away, and all that matters is her lips on mine.
The door is locked, and the blinds are drawn - we're completely alone in this bubble of desire.
I hear a faint vibration from my desk and pull back to see Bobbie's phone lying face down next to us.
My heart skips a beat as I wonder if she's recording this too.
But as I look into her eyes, I see no trace of deceit there - only pure lust and affection.
I watch as she reaches for her phone, her body still pressed against mine.
She picks it up, and I tense beneath her, waiting to see what she'll do next.
But instead of checking the screen, she turns it off and places it back on my desk.
She climbs off my lap and walks over to my computer, turning it on with a few swift clicks.
I watch as she opens the settings menu and scrolls down to the list of installed apps.
She clicks on the voice recorder app and deletes it completely.
I feel my shoulders relax slightly as she turns back to me, a smile on her face.
"I promise I'm not recording anything," she says softly, walking back over to me.
She climbs onto my lap once more and cups my face in her hands.
"I'm done manipulating people," she whispers, her voice filled with sincerity.
I lean back in my office chair, pulling her with me.
Her blonde hair falls around us like a curtain, blocking out the rest of the world.
The evening sun casts long shadows through the half-closed blinds, illuminating the room in a warm orange glow.
My hands tremble slightly as they find her waist, steadying her on my lap.
She shifts closer, her warmth seeping through my blouse and into my skin.
The scent of her perfume fills my senses as I study her face - those blue eyes that have haunted my thoughts for months.
Despite everything I know about her schemes and manipulations, my heart races with anticipation.
"Why now, Bobbie?" I ask, searching her eyes for the truth.
"Because I realized that playing games only pushed you further away," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.
"And what about the others?" I press, needing to know if she's truly changed.
She cups my face with her hands, her fingers trembling against my skin.
Her blue eyes lock with mine, revealing a vulnerability I've never seen before.
"Everyone else was just practice," she whispers, her breath hot against my lips.
"But with you, it's different."
Before I can ask another question, she leans forward.
Her lips brush against mine, sending shivers down my spine.
It's not the passionate, hungry kiss I expected from her, but something gentler, almost tender.
I pull back slightly, searching her eyes for any hint of deception.
"Bobbie, I need to know if this is real," I say, my voice steady but my heart pounding.
She nods, her gaze unwavering. "It is, Professor. I've never felt this way about anyone before."
