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Sep 2024 Flavor of the Month: Desk Whisky

Sneak Peek

The semester was getting off to a good start and Aims was feeling good about his students. The English professor was a literary titan, well known for his several published books, so the respect of his students and colleagues came naturally. The big lion’s voice was firm and commanding, his stature tall and imposing, and always dressed the part of a prestigious professor.

Aims strode the hallowed halls of his university in polished, brown, oxford shoes, his gray slacks perfectly pressed and seemed so they would hover just above his shoe to expose his black dress socks. His brown leather suspenders strapped up over his blue dress shirt, the straps pulled away from his flat gut as his powerful pecs pushed them out. The sleeves of that blue and white polka dot shirt were pulled back to expose the lion’s powerful forearms and the dusting of brown hair on them. His mane was long and slicked back, neatly groomed, and his beard a light dusting of salt and pepper, showing his age. His emerald green eyes pierced through his glasses, the black brow rims accenting his strong forehead and his Jersey Boy good looks.

“Hey Professor Aims!” A lanky calico said, her books pulled close to her chest as her blush colored her face. “When was that paper due?”

“Check your syllabus,” the professor smirked and waived her off as he kept moving. This was a common enough occurrence. Many women looked at the lion and wanted a slice of that hunk of man, but Aims was a notorious player of hard-to-get. So much so, that he didn’t have a wife or kids despite his many suitors.

“Good to have you back this semester Prof!” A tall wolf shouted from across the hall.

“Good to be back,” Aims smiled and entered his office.

The lion’s office was exactly what you’d expect from such a prestigious man. An entire wall was made of bookshelves, the back windows overlooked the quad, the furniture made of elegantly carved dark wood, and the typical decor for a professor. The diplomas on the walls, the seating area for office hours, his self-autographed books on the coffee table between brass book ends, a globe that opened up to be a crystal liquor set, but that globe was empty at the time.

The lion sighed, putting his hand on the globe and spinning it. His absence the previous semester wasn’t because of a sabbatical for some new book as the papers said, but because he had a drinking problem. Sure, a professor could unwind in his office, maybe share a drink with a colleague, but when you show up to class hammered, stammer through your presentations, and fail to meet deadlines…it doesn’t look good. For him, nor the university.

“Well, well, well,” someone said from the professor’s desk.

“Who’s there?” Aims cocked a brow. They sounded familiar. The chair spun around to face him. In the seat was a hyena, his claw tips put together in the evil pyramid of contemplation while a cocky grin played on his muzzle. He wore an oversized hoodie that the toned yeen was practically swimming in.

“Looks like the professor has fallen off the wagon,” the hyena smirked.

“Tyler? Get out of my chair,” Aims huffed. He honestly didn’t know what the student was saying.

“Simple,” Ty opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a bottle of whisky. “Looks like that fancy rehab place you went to didn’t work.”

“What?” Aims eyes went wide as he looked at the whisky. He didn’t recognize the brand, but it was open, clearly had a few drinks taken out of it. That’s when he noticed one of his crystal glasses on the desk with a bit of amber liquid still in the bottom. “How did...”

“Professor Aims, such a great guy, such a beacon of moral superiority and blah, bla-blah, bla-blah,” Tyler rolled his eyes and spun in the chair. “If only your students knew what kind of guy you really are.”

“Did…did you bring booz into my office?!” Aims snarled. “Get out!”

“I don’t think you understand, you lush fucker,” Tyler stopped his spinning by putting his feet on the desk, his dirty high-tops dusting the papers he still needed to grade while his baggy pants slipped down to expose the young man’s trim legs. “What do you think your students, or even the world would think if I exposed the fact that you fell off the wagon, again?”

“What…” Aims furrowed his brow before it all clicked. “You little shit. Who do you think they’re going to believe?”

“It won’t matter when I submit these pictures anonymously on the internet. All people would see is that you’ve fucked up, your reputation will tank, and there would be nothing left of you when the media has finished picking you apart.”

“You fucking brat,” Aims snarled. “How dare you! I’ll have you expelled!”

“And I’ll have you fired and discredited,” Tyler smirked, a light blush on his cheeks from the booz he drank.

Aims paused, his eyes going wide as he realized his life was in the little brat’s hands. He was frozen to the spot, his satchel slipping from his shoulder and spilling his papers on the office floor.

“W-What…” Aims cleared his throat before continuing. “What do you want? You’re already passing my class.”

“Barely,” Ty threw his head back into the chair and spun it again. “Bump my C up to an A, and maybe I’ll consider not posting these.”

“You know I can’t just change your grade like that. It’ll be too suspicious! The best I can do is a B minus.”

“Oh really? You think your entire life isn’t worth bumping me up two letter grades?”

“Shit! Fine! I’ll figure it out. I’ll adjust your final paper and make-up some extra credit,” Aims huffed. “Now get out!”

“Oh, Aimy boy, we’re just getting started,” Ty cracked his knuckles, stood up and moved in front of the desk before hopping up and sitting on it. “I want you to beg me not to send them.”

“What? Are you kidding?”

“If you don’t just do what I say right away, I’m going to send them right now,” he said, dangling the phone in his fingers. “Now, beg me not to send them.”

“Is this revenge for that lecture incident?” Aims remembered having Ty give his oral report and picking him apart whenever he was wrong. The little shit thought he was the best writer in the university. He wasn’t even the best writer in the state, let alone that room. He thought breaking down his pride would make it easier to build him back up. “I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to do.”

“Beg,” is all Ty said in response. “And make me believe it.”

Aims grit his teeth before taking a deep breath.

“Please, don’t send those photos,” Aims said.

“Why?” Ty smirked, dangling his phone in front of him.

“Because it’ll ruin me,” Aims huffed.

“There we go,” Ty tapped his screen. “Got that on tape.”

“What…you were recording me! You can’t do that without my consent!”

“Oh please Aimy boy,” Ty rolled his eyes. “That’s in a court of law, but we both know this is more about a court of public opinion.”

Aims snarled at that comment, mainly because he knew it was right.

“Now, for what I really want,” Ty kicked his high-tops off, his white socks old, worn, and lightly yellowed from use. “Come over here and take my socks off.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Aims snarled.

“Listen,” Tyler wagged his phone. “Everything I have gets backed up on the cloud. You can take my phone, smash it, burn it, throw it in the Thames, but I got you by the short and curlies, and I intend to take you out for a spin. So get over here and take my socks off while I sit on your desk.”

Aims didn’t want to, but he knew if the images and the recording were sent he would be ruined. His reputation would be questionable at best if only one got out, but together they ensured his demise.

Aims took a step forward, but Tyler lifted up a foot and pointed at him with his toe.

“Oh no, on your hands and knees Aimy boy,” Ty grinned darkly. “Like a proper fag would.”

Aims snarled, how did that fucker know! Did he know?

The lion got down on his hands and knees and started crawling forward, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Good boy,” Tyler smirked as the lion reached the short guy’s feet. Tyler was a five foot nothing, big guy wannabe, but his feet were oddly big for his size. “Now take off my socks.”

Aims growled, he couldn’t control it as his rage boiled in his breast. He went to grip the hem of the sock, but Tyler put his foot on the lion’s face to stop him.

“Hold on, Aimy boy,” Tyler smirked. “Take them off proper, with your teeth.”

Aims had to use every ounce of his willpower not to just bite that fucker’s foot and tear his toes off, but he knew his life hung in the balance. He opened his maw and bit down gently on the sock, the fabric warm and slightly sweaty as he pulled it back. He felt so gross and dirty, his spine tingling in a mix of revolution and…

The sock slipped off and revealed the guy’s size ten feet. He had perfect toes, a little lint stuck to the bottoms, his foot had an elegant arch and his toe claws were black as night.

“Fuck, that’s good Aimy boy,” Tyler smirked, his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Now, be a good little bitch boy and give them a little sniff.”

“What?” Aims looked up at Ty from between those toes.

“What did I say about making me repeat myself n’ shit?” Ty cocked a brow, a shit eating grin on his muzzle.

Aims looked down, his ears folding back as he snarled, but brought his blunt nose up to those toes and gave them a gentle sniff. They weren’t rank, but they had a light foot funk to them. They were warm as they rested on his nose; the hint of sweat with a bit of that light foot smell tickled his sinuses.

“Good boy,” Tyler smirked. “Now the other.”

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