iris 5
I slowly opened my eyes, the room spinning slightly as I came to consciousness. My head was pounding and my mouth felt like sandpaper, a sure sign that I had gotten more drunk than I intended last night. The memories of the last night came flooding back to me like a tidal wave. My boyfriend's betrayal, the way he was caught red-handed with another woman, the way the pain and shock had led me straight to the bar, where I had downed drink after drink in a futile attempt to numb the pain.
My memories of the night were hazy, my head throbbing as I tried to remember the details. I vaguely remembered Professor Davenport bringing me back to his house, the way he had taken care of me in my drunken state. But that was all I could recall, my mind a blur of fragmented images and sensations. I tried to focus, to think of anything else that might have happened, but my headache made it difficult. I was in Professor Davenport's house, but I had no idea how I had gotten here or what had happened once I arrived. All I knew was that my head felt like it was splitting open.
I noticed a bottle of water and a folded note on the nightstand beside the bed. Curious, I picked them up and read the brief message. "Remember to drink water when you wake up. I left you clean clothes and a towel. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway. -Xavier."
Confusion mingled with gratitude as I took in the simple but considerate gesture. Professor Davenport had not only taken me in and provided a comfortable place to stay but also left me a fresh set of clothes and water to ease my inevitable hangover. His thoughtfulness and care left me feeling a mix of bewildered and touched. It was a side of him I had never seen before, a contrast to his usual stoic demeanor in class. As I read the note again, a strange sense of anticipation and curiosity welled up within me.
As I finished the water, my thirst slowly abating, I set the bottle back down on the nightstand. My eyes drifted to the clothes and towel that had been laid out for me on the bed. I picked them up, feeling their soft fabric in my hands. They looked new, obviously provided specifically for me. I couldn't help but wonder what had compelled Professor Davenport to be so attentive and generous. Was it simply a teacher looking after his student, or was there something more to it? As I held the clothes and towel, a strange mix of uncertainty and excitement filled me.
I wasted no time and headed straight for the bathroom, the need to freshen up and wash away remnants of the night's events overpowering any lingering hesitation or confusion I might have felt. Entering the bathroom, I was pleasantly surprised to find it spacious and well-appointed. The light was soothing, not too harsh on my sensitive eyes, and the smell of cleanliness filled my nostrils. The prospect of a hot shower was almost too enticing to resist.
I noticed a small piece of paper stuck to the bathroom mirror, and my eyes flicked over the words. "Leave your clothes in the clothes basket." I glanced over at the basket sitting in the corner, realizing that Professor Davenport must have left these instructions to make it easier for me. It was a small gesture, but it showed a level of thoughtfulness and consideration that I hadn't expected from him. It also made me realize how comfortable he seemed with me being in his home, sharing intimate personal space. It was a strange feeling, both flattering and unsettling at the same time.
I hesitated for a moment, the implication of shedding my clothes in a man's bathroom not completely lost on me. But my desire to feel clean and fresh overrode my reservations, and I quickly undressed, leaving my clothes in the basket as instructed. With my dirty clothes now placed in the basket, I turned my attention to the shower. The water was warm as I stepped in and let it wash away the night's excesses and the lingering doubts and suspicions building in my mind.
After enjoying a warm and refreshing shower, I dried off and put on the fresh set of clothes provided for me. I took a moment to ensure that the bathroom was left in the same tidy condition it had been when I entered, not wanting to impose upon Professor Davenport's hospitality or leave any evidence of my presence.
The fresh clothes that Professor Davenport had left for me were a bit loose, his size much larger than mine, but in my hungover state, I couldn't care less. They smelled faintly of his cologne, a subtle and pleasing scent that was reassuring in a strange way.
I stepped out of the bathroom and was immediately met with the sight of Professor Davenport walking down the hallway. He looked up as he heard the door open, a slight smile on his face as he took in my appearance.
"Feeling better?" he asked, his gaze taking in my disheveled hair and his obviously-too-large clothes. There was a hint of warmth and concern in his voice that made my heart skip a beat.
"A little," I replied, my voice still hoarse from the previous night's activities. I ran a hand through my damp hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze. "Thanks for...for everything," I added awkwardly, gesturing vaguely towards the bathroom.
"It's no trouble," he responded, his tone casual but his eyes studying me intently. "I wanted to make sure you were comfortable." There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice dropping a notch. "You look...good."
I felt a small shiver run down my spine at the note of approval in his voice.
"Thanks," I said again, feeling suddenly shy under his gaze. "I guess your clothes are a bit big on me."
Professor Davenport chuckled softly. "They are, but that's not necessarily a bad thing." His eyes roamed over me for a moment, taking in the sight of me in his clothes. "It...suits you."
I blushed at his words, my heart beating a little faster. His gaze on me was making me feel exposed yet...coveted in a strange way. I didn't know how to process these feelings, the way he was looking at me like he wanted to devour me. There was an odd thrill that coursed through me as he looked at me, his eyes raking over my body in his clothes. I felt vulnerable yet powerful under his gaze, like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of last night's alcohol, or maybe it was my own secret desires resurfacing, but I found myself responding to the way he looked at me, relishing in the attention and feeling undeniably...attracted to him.
Professor Davenport's voice cut through my thoughts, his tone still soft but with a commanding edge. "Come with me to the kitchen," he instructed. "You'll need to put something bland in your stomach."
I nodded, still feeling a bit fuzzy-headed as I followed him down the hallway towards the kitchen. As we walked, I took in his broad shoulders and confident stance. There was something almost primal about him, a silent power that was at once scary and incredibly attractive.