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THE PROFESSOR’S VIRGIN
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Natalie
I stared at my laptop screen, taking in the newly completed schedule for my semester ahead. It was looking a little full, but that was how I liked it. I turned my gaze away from the screen as a call came in on my cell phone.
“Mom!” I exclaimed, glad to hear the sound of her voice. “Hi.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Of course not,” I insisted. “I was just looking through my schedule.”
“Excited?” she asked. “This is your senior year of college… only two more semesters left.”
“I can’t quite believe it,” I nodded. “It feels like I moved into campus just yesterday.”
“Funny, your dad and I feel the opposite,” Mom replied. “We miss not having you around the house.”
I smiled. “You guys should have had a couple more kids,” I countered. “Then you wouldn’t have missed me so much.”
“That’s one of my biggest regrets in life,” she said unexpectedly.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you and dad have more kids?” I asked curiously, shocked that I had never really asked the question before.
“We couldn’t afford to,” Mom replied, and instantly, I felt foolish for not figuring that out on my own.
Throughout my childhood, Mom and Dad had both worked double shifts and we still had to rely on food stamps. Our clothes were always purchased at secondhand stores, and when we we
nt shopping, Mom always carried a bag full of special discounts and coupons that she’d spent months collecting.
“It’s not too late, you know,” I said teasingly.
She laughed. “You’re funny.”
“I’m thinking of becoming a stand-up comic after I graduate.”
Our conversation was cut short as the door to my dorm burst open and Missy walked in with a harassed look on her face.
“Sorry, Mom, got to go,” I said. “Speak to you tomorrow?”