He knocked on the door to the girl’s “private studio” but really her shitty mezzanine level apartment. As he waited for her–he didn’t know what she looked like; she was thin and probably attractive based on the blurry photos he saw on the website and that’s all that really mattered because men are like that–he had a passing thought: this is probably a bad idea. He always had passing thoughts like that, though, so whatever.

Then the girl opened the door.

She held her composure better than he did (he was poor at doing that in general). Professor, she said, what an unexpected surprise. They both just sorta stood there. He, sartorially perfect as always, and she in a silk robe and nothing on underneath, probably.

He didn’t really know what to do. He tried to think back to the teacher-student etiquette seminar he took several years ago, but they didn’t cover situations like this one.

I should leave he said, proud of himself. But she dropped her robe to the floor, there, in the doorway.

What’s the worst that can happen, he thought to himself as he followed her inside, because men are like that.