The Writing Tutor

Excerpt from "The Writing Tutor":

I was vaguely aware of the row of floor to ceiling windows framing the writing center and the mild pornography beginning to play inside. I was about to draw our exhibition to his attention when he kissed me.
The wet openness of the kiss scandalized me and I wasn’t certain I liked it, until his hands squeezed tighter on my ass. I know I liked that. I groaned parting my teeth and adding my own tongue to the moment. I gulped the scent of his body and tasted something minty in his mouth.
It was my fault we ended up on the couch. I was trying to move back, trying to free my hands from the awkward wedge between our bodies, so I could be all suave and run my hands over his dreadlocks. Instead, I tripped and fell. I pulled away from him and landed on the couch.
“Totally meant to do that,” I said, staying on the couch and lifting one foot onto the cushions mimicking a sexy pose.
He laughed and followed me down onto the couch. His waist sank between my raised knee and the leg that was falling off the edge of the couch. He pushed me deeper into the stale popcorn smell of the cushions and began to kiss me again. The weight of his body was a wonderful blanket and I let him completely enfold me. My knee crawled up his back and his hand traveled up my shirt exposing my flesh to the cool air in the lab.
Our kissing pushed my glasses above my eyes and when I tossed my head back to settle them again I realized that I couldn’t see through them anyway; his hot breath had clouded the lenses. I pushed him away as gently as I could. “So… uh... how far away was your dorm again?”