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I went back and forth on whether to attend the winter formal this year or not—and all because of her. I like the people I work with, so I enjoy these recurring events that are supposed to strengthen the sense of community among a group of people, who are mostly outliers outside of these walls.
But tonight, things could be different, tense, and dangerous even, if Claire decides to act the way she’s been acting before.
However, she wasn’t quite as brazen during our third lecture together. She wore a skirt, again, and she did sit in the first row, again, uncrossing and crossing her legs in a painfully slow manner. She deserves a spanking for that alone, but at least she didn’t bring me into the same kind of predicament as she did last time. We only had a quick exchange about some things I want her to do for me, and then she took off without another word or another look. She didn’t tease or flirt with me one bit.
Has she given up? Maybe. But why am I so angry about that? I should be glad, relieved. I told her to stop, and she did.
And now, she’s ignoring me.
When I walk through the large archway that leads into the auditorium—decorated with snowflakes and ice crystals, as it is every year—the first thing I do is search for her beautiful face. The hall is crowded with students and professors and my heart sinks when I don’t immediately spot her.
But then I see her, and I can’t look away. She’s standing with a group of students close to the bar, holding a glass of wine in her hand while she laughs at something one of the guys just said.
She looks absolutely stunning in a navy blue evening gown that hugs her slender body and reveals a little too much of her marvelous cleavage. Her blond locks are piled in an elegant up-do, and delicate, long earrings that look like little rays of silver dangle from her ears.
The sight of her is so mesmerizing that I freeze in place and find myself staring at her for a little too long.
Long enough for her to notice.
She turns to look in my direction and her pretty eyes widen when she notices me, as if I’d caught her doing something bad. Our eyes lock for a few moments, and everything inside of me screams to walk over to her, to take her into my arms and never let her go again.
But I can’t, so I force myself to look away and walk in another direction, as far away from her as possible. I have to fight the urge to look back at her, but I can feel her eyes on my back. I’m sure she’s watching me, as I make my way over to the second bar at the other end of the hall.
„Professor Jones, it’s so good to see you.”
Startled by the familiar-sounding voice, I turn around to find a woman with sleek black hair and very red lips standing next to me. She beams at me with her bright blue eyes and reveals a set of very white teeth as her smile widens.
„You don’t remember me, do you?” she says, followed by awkward laughter.
„Of course, I do,” I lie, as I shake my head. „We talked at the conference in Houston, didn’t we?”
She’s not entirely wrong, though. I remember talking to her at that conference, but I do not recall her name or anything else about her.
„Yes, that’s right,” she says, nodding eagerly. „Dr. Maddy Rubens. But please call me Maddy.”
She stretches out her hand for me to shake, and her smile turns into a giggle when I do.
„Oh, a firm grip, I like that in a man,” she says, looking up at me from underneath her fluttering eyelashes.
I withdraw my hand and clear my throat. „What brings you here?”
„I’m on sabbatical and I’m going to be joining your department next semester,” she explains. „We’ll be working alongside each other. I’m very much looking forward to that.”
As if her interest hadn’t been clear enough before, she now places her hand on my upper arm, rubbing along the fabric of my suit as if we were old friends.
„And since I’m already in Boston for something else right now, I thought tonight would be a good opportunity to meet some of the students and the faculty,” she adds. „Do you like working here, Professor Jones?”
„Please, call me Aston,” I say. The way she says my name and title reminds me too much of the way Claire does it, slow and drawn out, with an ambiguous emphasis that stirs my insides. „And yes, I do like it here. The students are curious and smart and the same goes for the faculty. We launched a research project on Riemann’s functions a few years back, and I’m currently supervising my first PhD candidates.”
„Sounds exciting,” she says. „I’m sure you’re quite the role model for your students.”
„Why’s that?”
She lets out another giggle and winks at me, before she says: „Someone so young and so capable, with a tenure-track position at your age. Quite impressive.”
It would be more impressive if I hadn’t obtained this position based on connections and status. I’m good at what I do, and I deserve to be where I am—but so do a lot of others who were overlooked in the hiring process because they weren’t born into the family I was born into.
„I’m very aware of my privilege,” I tell her. „Which is exactly why I’m so interested in helping out the young academic talents in our department. There need to be more opportunities for PhD students and postdocs to focus on their research, instead of hopping around every couple of years, before they finally land a tenured position. More scholarships and long-term contracts. The instability destroys a lot of academic careers before they even begin.”
