I Want To Fûck You, Professor (3)
Upon arriving home, Ella changed into a baggy sweatshirt and loose shorts, her bra already off before she reached the bedroom. Dinner with her mother had been quiet. The kind of silence that hovered instead of settling. They spoke about nothing important. Marie barely looked up from her wineglass.
Afterward, Ella watched something forgettable on television, scrolled through i********: until her eyes burned, then wandered over to the couch where her mother had dozed off. She leaned in, kissed her on the forehead, and turned away before she could change her mind about it.
Upstairs, she shut her bedroom door and let the clothes fall to the floor. The sweatshirt slid off her shoulders in one easy motion. The shorts dropped without resistance.
She stood nak
