When I stepped into the entrance lobby, the taps of my shoes were the only noises. I slowed my steps, easing my gait, going past the mini café, making my way to the elevator.
The elevator shook as it lifted me, and my stomach ached. Why did I feel nervous? There was nothing to be nervous about. He was only a professor. I had met with many professors one on one before.
I searched at the directory and foundNathan Evans, Assistant Professor, 442.Assistant, huh? Not an associate. I could use that information to my advantage.
The hallway was empty, except for one student sitting on the ground outside of an open office. As I came closer, I realized she was sitting by Dr. Evans’s room. She looked like she might be my age, give or take a year, with shoulder-length white-blond hair, the barest hint of roots showing, and blue-green eyes.
“Someone is already in there,” she said.
I leaned against the wall and sighed, then slid down to sit next to her. “I just want to get this over with,” I mumbled. I was full of energy, but the longer it took to get out, the less likely I would actually use it.
“I get it,” the woman said. Undergrad or grad student? I couldn’t tell. She held out her hand. “Hazel.”
“Mara.” I shook her hand. “Are you in his Fear and Loathing class?”
She pointed at the room. “He’s tutoring me,” Hazel said. “Or he’s supposed to be tutoring me.”
A quiet murmur, gaining intensity, sounded from the open door. Why did he already have students coming to his office hours? Tutoring made sense. Requesting his partnership in a contest, made sense. But did the hot-for-teacher obsession stretch to his office hours, even on the very first day?
“Do you know anything about him?” I asked.
“He’s my sister’s fiancé’s friend, I guess?” She tilted her head. “No. Not really. I saw him at Club Hades once or twice, but we never talked. He’s an acquaintance.”
“Club Hades?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never heard of Club Hades?”
“No.”
“Or the Afterglow?” I shook my head. “Are you new around here?”
“That one.”
“Ah. Figures.” She smiled. “It’s an s&m club. Not sure if that’s your thing.”
An s&m club? “Like sadomasochism?”
“Like I would mean anything else,” she said. “Don’t get too excited now.”
The truth was that I had read about it in books—Story of O,Justine,Venus in Furs, almost everything in theory by Florence Berkley, though it was up for debate if she was talking about power in general, or sexual power—but I had only read about it.
“I’m not judging,” Hazel said. “Like I said, I was there too. It’s a fun place.”
Fun isn’t what I would call sadomasochism, but what would I know? A tingling sensation crawled through my fingers, making me even more nervous. This wasn’t like me. I was calm and confident around professors. Fake it until you make it, like Dad taught me. But I was desperate to know what I should prepare for.
“What’s he like?” I asked.
“He’s not the nicest person, but,” she paused, looking around, “He’s tutoring me for free. As a favor. So he can’t be totally bad.”
The door opened, and He’s-So-Dreamy came out, sniffling her nose, her lip quivering. She scowled as we gawked at her. What the hell had happened?
Hazel and I looked at each other blankly.
“You go first,” Hazel said.
“But you were here first,” I said. I was being polite. I wasn’t afraid to go in. Was I?
“Yeah, but we’re doing a tutoring session. You’re here for whatever.” She gestured forward. “Go on.”
