To be fair, the question was definitely out of order. Your reasoning, at least in your head, was that springing it on her after hours of being around each other would make the eventual question even more awkward and taint whatever positive interactions happened.
You definitely weren't thinking that same way as Sabrina stared you down.
The expression on her face was cold, her eyes wide and focused on you. Had it been a minute? Or a second? You two were locked in on each other and the lump in your throat matched the lump that had been in your pants before this conversation.
Sabrina opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again without making a sound.
"Look, Iknow how inappropriate a question that was, and I'm sorry I had to ask it, but it was either that or sit on it and make things worse later on," you said. The reasoning sounded like an HR complaint, firing and maybe even a lawsuit waiting to happen.
"How did you find out?" she whispered.
Oh. Oh, shit. That look on her face wasn't anger, it was fear.
"Please, John, just don't tell anyone," she sobbed softly. Her stoney facade had broken and she was desperate. "If anyone finds out I could lose everything. Just- please? I'll do anything. Please?"
"Sabrina, I-"
"I'll blow you," she said, and got down on her knees. "Every day for the rest of the summer. Just please promise not to tell anyone?" She was already reaching for my belt and zipper. It was like a dream, her on her knees in front of you, begging to suck your dick.
But the look on her face wasn't sexy, or sultry, or seducing. It was panic, and fear. Her big eyes weren't because she was aroused, it was guilt and sadness.
"Jesus Christ, Sabrina," you said, taking her hands in yours before she could start unbuckling your belt. You pulled her back up to her feet. "Just hold on a second. All I did was ask a question."
"What?" she asked. The look on her face screamed relief and confusion in equal measure. "You don't-?"
"Hey, don't get me wrong," you said. "You're making areally compelling case to just go along with what you were saying, but do you seriously think I'm the kind of guy to just... blackmail you like that?"
"I- well-" she stuttered. She took a step back and hugged herself, her face having gone from deep terror to flushed embarrassment in moments. "I just- Fuck." Sabrina leaned back against the counter across from the photocopiers. "Ever since I started, I've been worried about someone finding out. I guess I just sort of jumped to the worst-case scenario. I don't think you'd do that, John, but to be honest we don't really know each other that well."
"Well, I'm not an evil blackmailing asshole," you said. "The only reason I was asking was because if it was you, I wasn't sure you knew someone could find you."
OK, so you weren't being entirely truthful. That still didn't make you evil or an asshole. Maybe a bit dickish at worst.
"Wait, how did you find me?" Sabrina asked. "I only started a few weeks ago, and I never show my face."
Now it was your turn to start stuttering. "I, uh, well-" you said. "Alright, so my, ah, 'proclivities' lean towards amateur content. I honestly just stumbled across you while browsing the OnlyFans site, and I recognized the pattern on the carpet."
She raised an eyebrow and blinked in surprise. "That's it? The- the fucking carpet gave me away?"
"Well, I mean you also fit the body type as best I could tell," you said. "And it is a distinctive pattern."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Sabrina sighed, releasing the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders as she leaned forward and breathed deeply for a moment.
The photocopier finished its job, and you moved forward and grabbed the survey sheets, sliding them into a folder to keep them from getting messed up. When you turned back around, Sabrina was up and standing straight again. Her mouth was open slightly and she was chewing on the corner of her lip, staring at you, deep in thought.
"Look, it's not a big deal," you said. "You're doing it for whatever reason you're doing it. From what I could tell, you're pretty damn good at it too. No judgment from me, I just didn't want something hanging between us and making it awkward."
"That's... very mature of you," she said. "Honestly, John, when I think about it I sort of would have expected you to be giggling like a horny fourteen-year-old boy about this."
"Oh, that horny little bastard is buried deep inside for sure," you laughed. "He's there, I'm just better at letting him have controlled breaks than other college guys."
Sabrina snorted softly and gave you the first smile she'd cracked since you'd breached the subject. "Well, good to know," she said. She hesitated a moment. "So we're OK, then? No... weirdness? You're not going to come on to me for being an amateur-" she glanced at the door and dropped her voice to a whisper, "-an amateur pornstar?"
"We're good, Sabrina," you said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I might still flirt with you, but that's because I've thought you were the hottest girl in any of my classes for the past two years, not because of your side gig."
"You really think I was the hottest?" she asked. "What about that blonde girl with the swoopy hair and the ass?"
You knew who she was talking about immediately, even if neither of you seemed to know the girl's name. "Nah, she always had that resting bitch face going. I also think she was banging the TA, she'd always adjust her bra and push up her cleavage when he was looking."
"You noticed that too!?" Sabrina said. "Oh my God, I thought I was imagining that."
She started heading for the door. "Come on. We better get going," she said. Then she turned around and pressed herself close to you, wrapping her arms around your neck as she pulled you into a hug. "Thanks for not being a creep," she whispered. "You're actually a pretty good guy, John."
"You're welcome," you said, wrapping your arms around her and hugging her back for a long moment before letting her go.