“Heeeyyyy, Marjorie,” Hunter drawled to the professor, giving her a cocky head nod.

He called her Marjorie? Were they pals?

“What have you been up to?” the professor asked Hunter. “I haven’t seen you since Spring quarter last year.” Her eyes gleamed at him.

“This and that,” he smiled.

She giggled girlishly.

How was “this and that” worthy of laughter? I guess the comedy bar for horny older women was set pretty low. Because she was obviously acting like a lovesick teenager around this Hunter guy. I also noticed that Marjorie had no problem gawking at his groin every two seconds. Between stares, she preened and flipped her hair saucily with her hand.

Harlot.

Wait a second! Maybe this new development could take the heat from Hunter off of me! I just needed to leave him alone with Marjorie and they could go at it like rabbits on the sculpting studio floor!

Problem solved. All I had to do was get Hunter off my back by getting Marjorie on her back, and maybe she wouldn’t be such an uptight bitch to me anymore!

Perfect!

Just give them a little privacy and let nature take its course.

Unfortunately, I was stuck where I stood between them and my sculpting table. Worse, Marjorie was going to drip on me any second while drooling over Hunter.

Crap. I’d forgotten to wear my rain slicker.

“Sam here seems pretty good at sculpting,” Hunter said, nodding toward me.

Marjorie blinked free of Hunter’s love enchantment and looked over at me. Her lovesick face soured into hatesick.

Not what I needed. Where was my escape hatch?

Shit!

The professor looked me up and down, her nostrils flaring, as if deciding someone had just farted, and it had to have been me. “I see you’ve met Miss Smith,” she sneered.

Great.

“You should’ve told me you had such a cutey in your class,” Hunter said.

WTF was he doing?! Red alert! Abandon ship! It was so obvious Marjorie Bittinger wanted Hunter Blakeley all to herself.

Marjorie’s eyes narrowed at me. I’m confident she was thinking carnivorous thoughts, imagining skinning me alive and roasting my flesh on a stick while I begged for mercy. The new white meat: Boneless, skinless Samantha Breast. And not in a sexy way. Because I wouldn’t put it past Marjorie to believe that if she ate my flesh, she would consume my power over Hunter, making it her own. No wonder she taught sculpture. She was a Voodoo Priestess all along, I was sure of it.

Marjorie snarled directly at me, “My only concern is whether or not Miss Smith’s sculpting skills warrant her presence in my studio.”

My eyes goggled. I wanted to duck under both of them and bolt for the door. Instead, I mentally rolled up my sleeves and lilted, “I’m sure they will.”

“We’ll see about that,” Marjorie said before turning and walking away.

Great. The Wicked Witch of the West was my sculpting teacher and I was fresh out of water buckets, otherwise I would’ve poured one over her head right then.

“Take your positions, class,” the professor barked. Her voice thundered around the room. An omen of things to come? I’m sure she was already formulating a surprise lightning strike on my ass sometime this quarter, and I feared her particular version of a lightning strike would include a squadron of flying monkeys soldiers flying out of her butt and setting their sights on me, something I hoped to avoid because I was fresh out of monkey repellent. Because you know her butt-monkeys didn’t shower, or at the very least rinse, upon ejecting from Marjorie’s rear end. Maybe she could install one of those drive-thru car-wash machines in her rectum? It could work. I would have to sketch up plans later.

“Don’t worry about her,” Hunter mumbled to me after the professor had walked out of earshot, startling me out of my reverie, “She’s always like this.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” I scoffed.

He chuckled. “You’re cute when you get all intense like this.”

I rolled my eyes and turned around.

He was still standing behind me.

“Shouldn’t you be modeling or something?” I said over my shoulder.

“Oh, did you want a better look? Let me take my robe off…”

“Can you wait until you’re on the stand?” I pleaded. “Then the professor can have you all to herself.”

He chuckled and walked back to the dais, taking his robe off halfway to it like he owned the place. But we both knew this was Marjorie’s boudoir, not mine.

Luckily, for the remainder of class, Professor Bitch left me alone. I was able to focus strictly on improving my sculpture.

Much to my surprise, sculpting class, which was supposed to be a welcome relief from Managerial Accounting, was making me increasingly uncomfortable. I was irritated that Hunter had forced me into a suicidal love triangle between him and Professor Voodoo, and I wasn’t even interested in him.

I had Christos.

My feelings for Christos were unbreakable. So why did Hunter have to force himself on me? His eyes were always on me, no matter where I was in the room, with the exceptions of the times that I was behind him. I was glad he was stuck in his pose and couldn’t turn around. If the professor hadn’t been there, I’m sure he would have, and blown off the entire class just to hit on me.

Whatever.

I was thankful when Hunter finally put his robe on at the end of class. I was so done.

With any luck, I’d be able to squeeze out the door without Hunter or the professor jumping all over me.

SAMANTHA

While quickly packing my supplies, Romeo came over to my sculpting station. We walked out together.

Luckily, Hunter was busy talking to Professor Bittinger, but that didn’t stop him from staring at me as I passed them by.

“Laters, Sam,” Hunter said over his shoulder.

Professor Bittinger frowned at me.

I’m surprised she didn’t hiss at me and bare her teeth. With any luck, maybe Marjorie would have an affair with Hunter and get herself thrown out of SDU for sexual harassment. I wouldn’t be the one to say anything if they did. With my new financial predicament, I had too many problems of my own to worry about, but maybe some of the other students might get uncomfortable enough with Hunter’s blatant behavior to file a complaint against both of them.

Romeo and I walked out of the Visual Arts building into the Eucalyptus grove outside.

“That guy was hot!” Romeo moaned.

“I guess,” I replied reluctantly.

“Oh, come on, Sam. You were drooling too.”

“I was not!” I protested. I really wasn’t. Why did I feel guilty all of a sudden? Looking at the model was part of class. So what if class consisted of staring at a naked guy. Who was hot.

Was I a bad girlfriend because I could see that Hunter was attractive? I didn’t think so. It was just an observation. It didn’t mean I was attracted to him.

Romeo narrowed his eyes. “But you have to admit he was a Grade-A Meat Monster.”

“What’s a meat monster?”

“Didn’t you see his package?”

“Not really,” I smirked.

“You’re such a bullshitter, Sam. He was hanging out like an elephant trunk the entire time. I would totally be that guy’s dick sharpener.”

I giggled. “Dick sharpener?”

Romeo nodded coyly.

“Who was hanging out?” Hunter asked, jogging up behind us, all smiles. He wore a black collarless polo shirt with white detailing around the throat. It was unbuttoned, revealing the muscles of his neck and the defined ridges of his chest. The sleeves were bunched up, showing off his rippled forearms and several different gold and silver bracelets. Dark jeans and expensive dark suede shoes completed his look. Hunter dressed to impress as purposefully as he undressed to impress.

Romeo gulped. “Ahhh…” He was swooning.

“Hey, Sam,” Hunter said. “What’re you guys up to?” He was looking right at me.