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I sit, staring at this god-forsaken screen that has miraculously not burned holes through my skull. My eyes glance over to the name plaque on my desk. “Martin,” it reads in bold letters.  Everyday, monotonous as always, that is, until she arrived. I pull my stare from my blank screen over to the petite new intern sitting outside my office. I haven’t talked to her much, Amanda, but I have looked a lot. Her plump skin, doe eyes, and wonderful blonde hair, so fresh and youthful. My thoughts wander and so do my eyes. Down from her eyes to her lips, from her neck to those sharp collar bones, and finally, her hefty breasts whose cleavage shows ever so slightly. I catch a glance of her black bra strap and my eyes glue to the V of her blouse, the lacey edges of the undergarment popping out. I imagine running my fingers over the rough texture. How the cloth would rebound. I feel a ping of jealousy at the bra. Everyday it is able to touch those perfect breasts while I am sitting here, only able

I sat at my desk, poring over a stack of mediocre papers, when a knock interrupted my concentration. Sighing, I called out, “Enter.” The door swung open, revealing Marie in all her carefully curated glory. My eyes involuntarily noted her form-fitting blouse that accentuated the curves of her body and a chequered skirt that barely covered her pert bottom. As usual, dressed to entice. “Professor Dean, do you have a moment?” she asked sweetly, a stark contrast to the calculating look in her eyes. “What is it, Miss Thompson?” I gestured to the chair across from me, steeling myself for what I knew would be another tiresome encounter. Marie perched on the edge of the seat, leaning forward to present me an eyeful of her cleavage, which I managed to not glance down. “It’s about the assignment due today... I was hoping I could get an extension?” I leaned back, crossing my arms. “And why should I grant you that, Marie?” “Please, Professor. I’ve just been so busy lately.” Her lower lip trembled