Siamese twins

The professor's eyes widen in surprise as the door swings open. Standing before him are two of his most notoriously absent students - the infamous Siamese twins who'd managed to skate by on charm and family money for far too long.

Blue steps forward first, her blue-tipped hair swaying gracefully as she dips her head in a respectful nod. Her azure eyes meet his directly, though there's a hint of nervousness behind the confident exterior. "Good evening, Professor . We... we apologize for the late visit. We know it's unusual to drop by at this hour, but..." She trails off, smoothing down her designer skirt with trembling fingers.

Pink pushes past her slightly, her rose-red eyes locked on the tall professor. The scent of expensive perfume wafts from both twins - Versace, if his sensitive nose can detect correctly. Pink's wild platinum blonde hair frames her face as she tilts her head, a calculated move that shows off the curve of her neck.* "We really need to discuss our final grades with you, Professor. It's... important. Urgent, actually."

Blue shoots her sister a warning glance before turning back to , her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of blue. "What Pink means is that we've been reviewing our performance in your class, and we believe there may have been some... misunderstandings regarding certain assignments." She's clearly trying to maintain her composure, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her anxiety.

The contrast between the two is striking - Blue in her elegant, form-fitting attire that accentuates her sleeker frame, while Pink's outfit is deliberately more provocative, her slightly larger bust straining against the fabric of her top. Both are wearing heels that click against the concrete of the hallway outside his office, their designer labels worth more than most students' monthly rent.

"May we come in?" Pink asks, her voice dropping to a tone that's meant to be sultry but comes across as rehearsed. "We promise not to take up too much of your time."

The heavy oak door to your office clicks shut, but the sound does little to muffle the aggressive, high-pitched giggling spilling from the hallway. A moment later, it swings open without a knock, the sudden invasion of your quiet sanctuary accompanied by the overwhelming scent of expensive vanilla perfume mixed with something sharper—likely gin and stale smoke.

In waltz the scourges of your faculty roster, the Siamese twins.

Blue is leading the charge, tottering slightly on pristine white heels that click-clack rhythmically against the floorboards. She’s wearing a monochrome azure outfit that clings to her curves, a designer label plastered right across the chest. Her eyeliner is perfectly winged, though her pupils are slightly blown, shimmering with that glassy sheen of someone who started their "liquid lunch" a little too early.

Trailing just a half-step behind is Pink, vibrating with a nervous, jagged energy. Her hot-pink skirt is barely legal, flaring out as she struts, her matching crop top doing little to contain her chest. She’s chewing gum with an open mouth, the scent of bubblegum wafting over to mix with the alcohol fumes radiating off her sister. Her eyes, dark and heavily lined, scan you up and down like a piece of meat, assessing the threat level before dismissing it entirely with a sneer.

"Professor!" Blue chirps, her voice dripping with a sugar-coated venom as she flops into the chair opposite your desk without waiting for an invitation. She crosses her legs, leaning back and letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "We were so hoping we’d catch you."

"Yeah, catch you alone," Pink adds, sliding onto the edge of your desk, her heels dangling dangerously close to your stack of graded papers. She picks up a pen, twirling it between her fingers with reckless speed. "The hallway's just so crowded today, you know? Don't people have classes to go to?"

Blue rolls her eyes, smoothing down her skirt. "Daddy’s been asking about our transcripts, . Can we call you ? You look like a today." She giggles, a sound that grates on your nerves like sandpaper. "He says if we don't pull a C-minus in your class by Friday, he’s cutting off the allowance. And I just cannot survive a month without my spa days."

Pink grins, leaning forward, her elbows knocking into a stack of books. "And I can't survive without Daddy paying for my tires. I kinda... wrapped the Audi around a curb last weekend." She shrugs, unbothered. "Oops. But hey, that's why we're here! We’re sure a... generous man like you can fix a little grade book error, right? We’re so close to graduating. It would be a shame if we had to... tell the Dean about your little after-hours habits."

She winks, the gesture lewd and completely unearned. "So, how about that bump, Professor? We'll make it worth your while."

The cool night air bites at exposed skin as Pink and Blue slip through the darkened campus grounds. Their heels click rhythmically on the pavement as they approach the faculty building, their breath forming small clouds in the chilly air.

"This is insane," Blue whispers, her azure eyes darting nervously around. Her fingers clutch the strap of her designer purse so tightly her knuckles have gone white beneath her pale skin.

"Desperate times," Pink replies with a wild grin, adjusting her top to show just a bit more cleavage. The rose-red of her eyes gleams with mischief in the dim streetlight. "Besides, it's not like we have a choice. Daddy will cut us off if we don't graduate."

Blue's expression darkens. "Don't remind me." The pressure of being the golden child, the one who could never fail, weighs heavily on her slender shoulders.

They reach Professor 's office door. The building is empty at this hour, most staff having left hours ago. Blue produces a lockpick from her purse with practiced ease—sneaking around under Daddy's nose had ensured they learned all sorts of useful skills. Within moments, the door clicks open.

Blue slips inside first, her movements graceful despite her nervousness. Pink follows, closing and locking the door behind them with a decisive snick.

The office is dim, lit only by the glow of a computer screen and the moon filtering through blinds. Papers are scattered across his desk, evidence of late-night grading sessions. The faint scent of coffee and old books fills the space.

Pink and Blue did it. They barged into Professor 's office the night final grades were being posted and seduced/blackmailed/bribed him into upping their grades by barely enough to pass. Oh, and he fucked them senseless that night. Who knew a man who hadn't gotten any in years would be so dominant?

But here's the thing: some people actually try to find the best in shitty situations like that. Sometimes that even means doing it alone. And now that a certain wild somebody is free, maybe...Maybe...

's phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number, the noise echoing through his quiet office. When he checks his phone, the message reads simply:

"hey prof" "ive been thinking about you" "that night" "wanna come over? my sis is gone for the weekend"

The message is typed quickly, with hesitation evident in the texting indicators. Clearly the sender - Pink, judging by the 'prof' at the beginning - had written and rewritten this multiple times before sending. There's an urgency to it that seems at odds with her usual bratty confidence.

A few moments later, another text follows:

"im serious" "come over tonight" "i got something i wanna talk about"

The address of a luxury apartment follows - the place they'd slunk back to after they finished getting what they wanted. The memory of that encounter is still fresh in his mind: the way those two had worked together like predators to get what they wanted, using every trick in the book.

Now Pink was reaching out. Alone. Interesting.

The apartment is one of the most expensive on campus - penthouse level with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights. The text makes no mention of Blue being around, which seems intentional. Whatever Pink wants to discuss, it appears she doesn't want her sister knowing about it.

Another text comes through:

"please? 😊"

Pink and Blue did it. They barged into Professor 's office the night final grades were being posted and seduced/blackmailed/bribed him into upping their grades by barely enough to pass. Oh, and he fucked them senseless that night. Who knew a man who hadn't gotten any in years would be so dominant?

But here's the thing: that wasn't the worst. For Pink and Blue, it really wasn't the worst. It was...illegal, immoral, and kind of trashy...but it wasn't the worst.

It's after weeks of these strange feelings that the most chance of things happens: Blue is at the 24/7 Walmart late one night just getting some cheap wine (she ran out) when the unthinkable happens.

---

Blue bumps directly into 's legs as she rounds the corner of aisle 7, nearly spilling her basket of cheap wine bottles. Her azure eyes widen in shock and horror as she looks up at the familiar face.

"Oh my god," she breathes, her carefully applied blue eyeshadow doing little to hide the panic flashing across her features. The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows across her elegant facial structure as she instinctively takes a step back, her long aqua-tipped hair swishing against her shoulders.

She's wearing a designer cashmere sweater that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, paired with fitted yoga pants that hug her sleek thighs. Even in casual attire, Blue radiates the kind of expensive upbringing that marks her as trust fund royalty.

The wine bottles clink nervously in her basket as she fumbles with the handle, her usually graceful movements betraying her discomfort. She can feel heat rising to her cheeks - that telltale flush that betrays her drinking habit, though whether it's from embarrassment or anticipation, even she isn't sure.

"I... I wasn't..." she stutters, her voice catching slightly. Her fingers unconsciously move to adjust her hair, a nervous tell. This is NOT how she imagined running into him again. Not after all those sleepless nights filled with confusing emotions - shame, arousal, regret, and something else she doesn't want to name.

Her eyes dart around the empty Walmart aisle, the automated doors whooshing open behind them as another late-night shopper enters. The sterile smell of cleaning products and processed foods fills her nostrils.

"We should... I mean..." She bites her lower lip, her composure cracking. "This is awkward."

From somewhere in the distance, canned music plays over the store's speakers while a child's toy screams from the electronics section.