professor-morton replied to your post “Damn–sorry there mate, I thought you were someone else.”

“Right, exactly. I… Suppose I’ll be on my way, else I’ll be late for class.”

He’s gonna blow it. 

              I’m not busy– mid if I walk with you? What’s it you teach?

[ Philosophy. Used to hate the subject, but has grown to love its intricacies. ]

M!A: Orgasms each time someone says 'Matty'. University (it would seem)
professor-morton replied to your post: Matthew? Matty? Whatever the name is, Matthew or Matty, you have not labeled your papers correctly. I would either expect a neatly scripted ‘Matty’, ‘Matthew’ or even a simple ‘Matt’ on the top corner.

Ah. Yes. Of course. What shall I write upon the pass then? Matt? Or Matthew? Matt would take up less space… Although Matthew is more of your official name.

Muscles tense, Matty shifted from one foot to another,  attempting to hide his erection with his jacket folded over his arm. “Honestly, out of the two, I don’t give a shit…”

Back to School/ professormorton

Padma sighed as her heels clicked along the floor, echoing in the quiet hallway. She wasn’t quite sure why she was so concerned. It was just a regular profile, that’s all. Very straightforward. The publication hiring her to do the interview and then work up the story had been clear. This man was a young professor on the rise, a Renaissance Man steeped in the classics. Taught Philosophy and Latin and was not 80 years old. It was supposed to be the first in a series of profiles of young educators who were making the old “boring” topics interesting again. Simple and easy.

Padma reckoned that it really wasn’t the assignment at all, but her own feelings about her truncated uni education. After Queens Gate, she was supposed to have swanned into uni, just like her elder sisters had done and like her little brother was doing now, but no, after her gap year, she’d taken that job at the Mirror and never looked back. 

So she wondered if this … she checked her notes again … Professor Isaac Morton would somehow know he was being interviewed by someone who herself had never darkened the halls of any uni as a student? Padma wasn’t even sure the man would care. It was probably her own feelings of inadequacy.

The directions she’d gotten from the eager-looking young girl on the ground floor had been accurate and she found herself in front of Profesor Morton’s office. Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the door.