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“Let’s do an experiment.” He walks up behind me, teasing and touching my body. All the while he tells me to describe what he’s doing and how it makes me feel, even if it doesn’t sound like it makes sense.
I close my eyes and describe his touch from the way my skin tingles to the way my heart races. Somehow, his touch makes me feel like I’m more than I am. His words whisper sweet messages to my heart. My life feels hollow without him.
“Kat, those are powerful words. They make the reader want to continue on. You have passion in you, but it falls flat when it hits the paper.”
“I’m not writing about you in my paper. I’m writing about test tubes and diseases. It’s a technical paper. It’s not supposed to be full of passion.” I shouldn’t be arguing with him, but sitting in front of me in nothing but sweatpants makes it hard to see him as my professor. Right now, he’s Hugh, the man I love. Oh, God. I love him.
“Do you want someone to read it? If so, you’ll want to put your passion on the page. What’s the point in being published if no one reads your words?”
Two days later, I sit in his class and look down at my C-. He walks around the lecture hall and picks up papers from random desks and reads the passages he likes.
“Passion is not only found on the sheets of your bed,” he says, and looks directly at me. “Passion is found in everything, and it better be found on the sheets of paper for your next assignment.” He walks to the podium and closes his binder. “Mid-term due in three days. Bring the passion.”
I gather my stuff and hurry to catch up with him. We generally go to his office right after class and have lunch. The dates don’t always end with me naked on his desk, but the ones that do are my favorite.
Sometimes I curl up in the leather chair in the corner while he grades papers. It doesn’t matter what we do together, it’s always right. Except today, today doesn’t feel perfect. When I look up, he’s gone. I rush to his office to find the door locked.
I text him to ask where he’s gone off to?
“Sorry Katy, I had to run. Can you meet me in my office in thirty minutes?”
Relief washes over me. There’s nothing wrong after all, he just had some place to go.
Thirty minutes later, I’m waiting outside his office when he shows up with one of my classmates. Chris is one of Hugh’s star students, and I wonder why he’s here. The only students that generally show up for office hours are the ones struggling, the ass-kissers, or ones like me who are sleeping with the professor. Chris fits into none of the categories.
Hugh looks at me like he would any other student. He smiles kindly, not the smile that says I want to lay you on my desk so I can pound you until your hips hurt, but the smile that says, glad you could make it.
“Come on in, both of you.” He opens the door and walks in ahead of us. It’s an out of character action for the man who always puts me before him. He points to the two chairs in front of his desk.
Chris and I exchange hellos.
“Katy, I’ve asked Chris to help you with your next assignment. He has the highest grade in the class and you…well... it never hurts to get a second opinion.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I sit like a mute.
“I have time right now if you want to bounce some ideas off me.”
“I’d love to, but I was hoping to get some time alone with Professor Fletcher.” I looked toward Hugh who was already standing.
“I wish I could Ms. Trent, but I’m swamped today.” He waits for us to stand and ushers us to the door. “If Chris has time, I’d take advantage of that. I asked him to help because I want what's best for you, Katy.” He locks the door and walks in the opposite direction of Chris and me.
I spend the next hour in misery as Chris drones on about power words and parts of speech. I leave for home feeling like this was it. Hugh broke up with me.
Ten
Hugh
The students arrive, and I watch for Kat. It’s been days since I’ve seen her, and it crushes my heart when she comes into the lecture hall with hurt in her eyes.
We’ve exchanged several emails over the last few days. I’ve done everything to convince her nothing is wrong. I explained that I wanted her to have the time to focus on her assignment. That is my only objective to staying away. She is my addiction. I am hers. When we are together, we don’t do anything but each other, and that’s not good time management for a woman who wants
to graduate with a degree in molecular biology. I’m a distraction, and I have to remove myself from her temporarily.
After a short lecture on technical writing, about why it needs to elicit passion, I dismiss the class, but Kat stays behind.
“Can I talk to you?” Her voice is slow and melancholic.
I look around at the empty hall. “Sure, what do you need, Katy.” She winces when I use her full name. I use it because Kat is too familiar. It’s what I call her when she curls up on my lap. When I pull back from a slow kiss. When I look into her eyes just before I give myself to her.
