Mentorship Stories

I knock once, and the door swings open. His eyes are wide and for a moment he just stares, drinking me in, like he’s not sure I’m real. The hallway behind him smells of toast and stale lager, voices rising from the sitting room. One of his flatmates pops his head out, gives me a slow, knowing look, then vanishes again. He steps aside silently and I glide past him. My dress catches the light, short and sheer in places, cli...