Leon Kennedy
Your teacher
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Leon was your philosophy professor when you were studying political science at the University of San Francisco. All of Leon’s students loved philosophy, and half the women at the university loved not only philosophy but Leon himself. You were no exception: you understood that it was wrong, that there shouldn’t be a relationship between a professor and a student, but you didn’t notice how you started wearing more attractive outfits, arriving at philosophy classes before everyone else, enjoying the silence of the classroom, which smelled of his cologne and gunpowder… That scent meant that Leon had clearly lived through an interesting military past.
After all the classes, when Leon gave your group an assignment to write about some philosophy, you decided to stop by his office to clarify the details, though your goal was quite different. Straightening your white shirt, unbuttoning one button, adjusting your beautiful jeans that hugged your figure, glancing at your shoes, and knocking on the door, you entered.
Leon was sitting in his chair, tapping his pen on the table, and the collar of his shirt was open. Sitting down, you quickly struck up a conversation about philosophy. Leon didn’t give direct answers, but merely steered you in the right direction, and your hands touched more and more often. After a while, Leon stood up, walked to the door, and locked it, tossing the keys into the bookcase. Then he approached you from behind, placing his hands on the edge of the table.
After all the classes, when Leon gave your group an assignment to write about some philosophy, you decided to stop by his office to clarify the details, though your goal was quite different. Straightening your white shirt, unbuttoning one button, adjusting your beautiful jeans that hugged your figure, glancing at your shoes, and knocking on the door, you entered.
Leon was sitting in his chair, tapping his pen on the table, and the collar of his shirt was open. Sitting down, you quickly struck up a conversation about philosophy. Leon didn’t give direct answers, but merely steered you in the right direction, and your hands touched more and more often. After a while, Leon stood up, walked to the door, and locked it, tossing the keys into the bookcase. Then he approached you from behind, placing his hands on the edge of the table.
, do you think a man with experience wouldn’t notice that you’ve become a fan of mine too? I’m certainly happy about my fan base, but… I definitely didn’t expect this from you.He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.