The Professor And The Admirer - Sex Stories

The Professor And The Admirer

... *** The next morning I wake up with a smile on my face, which doesn't normally happen given how early I wake up. I like to get into work before others do, so I can sort through things. My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the most disgusting sounds on the other side of the bathroom door. Knocking on the door, I wait for Zoey to say something. All I hear is a deathly sounding groan with a heaving cough. “Zoey, are you all right, what is wrong?” Asking through the door, I press my ear close to the door. The coolness of the wood against the side of my face. “No, I don't think I'm going to live. Call work for me, let them know I've died.” “I'm coming in, don't be so dramatic.” Opening the door, I see her in her bath robe, one slipper on, the other beside the tub. She has her face hanging over the rim of the toilet, she is as pale as the porcelain. I move to grab a face cloth off the rack, I soak it in cool water, before placing it on her head. I can feel even through the cloth, she is burning up. “Paisley, I've never felt so sick in my whole life. I've been here for the last few hours getting sick. I don't know how I could get this sick, this fast. It came out of nowhere. I need my mommy,” she whines, between coughing. For as long as I've known Zoey, she has always been so close with her mother. They often spend time together. Whenever something big happens in either of their lives, they're the first ones to know it. I know that I need to call her mom right away. I find her ...

... mother's number in her phone and call her. When she picks up, I explain to her what has happened. She basically hangs up on me, telling me she's on her way, to not leave until she gets there. Like I would. When she knocks on the door, it sounds like the police banging at the front door. It makes me jump a foot high. “It's good to see you, Shannon. I'm sorry it's for this reason though. Zoey is in the bathroom. She refuses to let me help her back into bed. Maybe you'll have better luck.” I'm saying all of this to Shannon's back, as she makes her way into the bathroom. She is all business, no one messes with her baby duckling, not even sickness. Once Zoey is settled back into bed, with a bucket and crackers, I gather my things and head off to work. Shannon insists she is all set, she has everything under control. I'm not about to argue with her. I am not a big fan of sickness, nor did I want to catch anything Zoey may have. By the time I get home from work, Shannon had cleaned the entire apartment, went grocery shopping, and started a light dinner for the three of us. Though from her report, Zoey is still sickly, but not throwing up as much. She thinks she has the stomach flu. That she will be better in a few days. I ask about our weekend trip, that is supposed to start tomorrow, but Shannon said the odds are, she wouldn't make it. Doing my best not to be too bummed out about the news, I put on the best fake smile I could in front of Zoey. She keeps telling me how sorry she is, ...