“And dragged by the nose as asses are.”
I was sitting there in a sea of fifty chairs, listening to the lecture given by Dr. Clark. The first week of class I had committed his scent and physical details to memory. He was a shade under six-feet tall. His eyes were this shade of blue-green that flickered when he laughed. He was career US Navy from Annapolis. I bit my lip when we he talked. I heard sparks of his drawl when he explained the syllabus. “We will do two Blue Book exams, and two papers. Minimum five to ten pages.”
He was talking about Othello the second week of class meeting. Discussing why we were doing this play first. I started doing Kegels. I mean, I loved Othello. And I had never encountered any instructor like him. Passionate. Hot. Charismatic. He was well-read and just someone I knew if I got office hours with? I’d end up naked.
I thought about him for two months after the registration with Ms. Harrison in October. I thought about sitting on his desk in his office. If it faced the window, how far it was from the elevator. I thought about if his desk was crowded or could I sit on it with my legs on his shoulders. I thought about how his bottom lip tasted.
I wanted him.
I chewed on the end of my pen looking at the cognac colored Cole Haan shoes he wore. He still walked like he was still military, and talked with his hands. He was funny. And I moved close enough now the rows of desks to catch wafts of his cologne. He went from Armani Mania to Polo Black.
I closed my eyes this time and thought was it must have been like to have been with him while he was younger. All fresh and uniformed and available.
I was chewing my Pentel pen, grateful for the distraction. I had counted my Kegels, I was up to 40–counting a 3-beat before going to the next number. “I’m almost always available in my office in the morning. My best access to my students–you my friends, Romans and countrymen–is in the morning.”
Mornings are always best. My Cancer horoscope for the month of January, according to Cosmo, said that the ‘stars are aligning for optimum encounters with a special someone.’ I stretched my seat, saw his face turn my way, hoping that he caught my breasts and pretty lacy white bra that I knew peeked out of it.
I wanted him to see me. It thrilled me last class when he stayed on the left side of the room where I sat, always sat, and I could see and study just how in shape he was. As he leaned against the door jamb explaining his grading system. I thought about if I rode him, like I wanted to, if he would like me calling him “Daddy,” or did he prefer ‘John’ while he impaled me over and over again.
Pantysoaker Clark was going to be mine. And I was going to leave my white lacy panties with my number in his mailbox with the pink gift box in my red backpack. Let’s see if I could grab his attention by the throat. His cock would be next.