“Okay,” the professor sighed. “You all are leaving me no choice. Duke, please give me the definition of glass ceiling. Five points off your next test if you can’t answer.”
“A glass ceiling is a metaphorical barrier preventing advancement in a career, typically unacknowledged and mostly affecting women and minorities,” Duke recited in a monotone.
Amber resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears at the grating pompousness of it all. She started another doodle, a little stick figure of a woman poking at an invisible ceiling.
“Amber.”
Amber started, lifting her head. She looked all around before finally settling her gaze on the professor. “Y-yes?” she stammered.
Some of the other students giggled and murmured to each other, laughing at her. Amber’s cheeks felt warm and she scrunched up her shoulders.
“Five points off your next test if you can’t give me an answer,” Miss Mills reminded her. “Who was the first to start using the phrase glass ceiling?”
Amber wracked her brains. She’d done the reading, but she’d also been texting Daddy at the same time. One was clearly more important than the other.
“Well,” Miss Mills said, sounding disappointed, “I guess pressure isn’t as strong of a driving force as the sociologists say it is. Rebecca…”
Amber panicked. Five points off her next test was a whole lot. She blurted out, “Feminists!”
Her shout rang out and left the room in silence. Everyone turned their heads to stare at her. and then all the other students burst out into laughter.
Oh, no, she thought, dismayed. She’d gotten the answer wrong. She’d never be as smart as Daddy. He would have known the answer. He knew all sorts of things. She’d learned more from him than she ever had at school.
“I was more looking for a name,” Miss Mills said slowly, “but your answer is correct nevertheless. And very apt. Yes, Marilyn Loden, the woman responsible for coining our phrase in question, can be accurately described as a feminist -though she herself describes herself as a diversity advocate.”
The laughter died down as Miss Mills went back to her lecture, jabbering on about how women and people of minorities faced discrimination in the workplace. They were often seen as unsuitable for the job positions usually occupied by older, straight white males. Amber kept half her ear on the talk while continuing to doodle, adding a sky full of clouds and birds on the other side of the glass ceiling panels -out of reach of the stick figure woman.
But was that really such a bad thing?
Amber lifted her head. No one else in the class asked any questions. Miss Mills always seemed disappointed that no one asked questions or answered the questions she asked.
Should I?
Miss Mills had her back to the class, sketching out a diagram on the whiteboard that looked very similar to what Amber herself had drawn.
Slowly, Amber lifted her hand in the air. Since she sat in the back, no one saw, and no one stared at her. That made it easier, but she knew eventually Miss Mills would turn around and notice her and then so would everyone else. Overcome by sudden shyness, Amber lowered her hand.
Too late. Miss Mills turned around and saw her and pointed her finger at her. “Yes, Amber?”
Amber asked, “Is it really a bad thing?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”
Amber swallowed hard, shrinking like an ice cube in front of a fire as everyone looked in her direction. “Is it bad that there are a lot of men in the workforce earning money?”
Someone snickered, but Miss Mills suddenly looked interested. “Well, no. It’s not a bad thing. But women should also have the choice to earn more money, shouldn’t they?”
“But… do they have to?”
“Interesting,” Miss Mills said. “I suppose they don’t have to.”
Amber perked up a little.
“But shouldn’t they have the chance if they want to?” the professor continued.
Amber’s soaring hopes dropped again. She really wanted to understand, and be understood. “But, but, for centuries, women have been partners to men. The men were breadwinners and the women were homemakers. There’s a lot of advantages to that, right?”
“List them,” Miss Mills commanded.
The classroom was as silent as a graveyard. Amber had everyone’s full attention.
“Well, the homemaker takes care of domestic duties and can care for the breadwinner when they come home after a long day at work. Then the breadwinner can focus entirely on making money. They don’t need to worry about what’s going on at home, so they can give their full attention to their job.”
“You have made some very good points,” Miss Mills said.
“But doesn’t that put the homemaker at a disadvantage?” another student said.
Amber flicked her eyes over to look at her, another girl named Cherry. Cherry had hair the color of her name, bright crimson, and eyes the color of spring leaves. She was a former cheerleader and gorgeous and also brilliant, a really intimidating combination that made certain no one tried to be friends with her. Not that Cherry was interested in having friends, anyway.
Miss Mills cracked a rare smile and looked back and forth between her students. “Yes, let’s discuss. Your reasonings, Cherry?”
Cherry held up her hand, ticking off on her fingers. “First, the homemaker will be completely dependent upon the breadwinner, but not the other way around. The breadwinner is the one who makes all the money. If they decide to leave, then the homemaker will struggle without them. No income.”
“Amber?” Miss Mills encouraged.
Amber shook her head, starting to get frustrated. “I just don’t think everyone needs to get a career or worry about getting to the top. Because not everyone is going to, you know? And if you find someone who can make money for you, then you don’t have to worry about it. They can take care of you and you can take care of them.”
Cherry frowned. “I guess not everyone will get to the top, but, like, it’d be nice to know you can. What about people who don’t want to shack up?”
“Then they can get a career. I just meant…”
“Please,” Miss Mills interrupted, “let’s not turn this into an argument. It’s a discussion and we’ve heard both sides. Amber is correct that not everyone absolutely has to have a career. However, it’s also very old-fashioned to think that one person in a relationship can make all the money. It might work out, but very often, both partners in this modern year are required to work to make enough pay to live comfortably. So, no, it isn’t either necessary or unnecessary, but neither is it recommended or not recommended. This is a perfect example of the gray areas a person can run into when doing research. Maybe we’ll discuss that more some other time. We need to get back to the topic at hand.”
Cherry smirked at Amber. She mouthed, “Old-fashioned.”
Amber sat back in her seat and stared down at her notebook while Miss Mills went back to lecturing. She’d wanted an answer, not an argument. Not only was she more confused than when she started, she knew no one else had understood what she was trying to tell them. She hadn’t been talking about a transaction, where one person did something in exchange for something else.
She’d been talking about a partnership, based upon mutual trust and respect. Couples had to work together, didn’t they? It should be about love, not about who was at an advantage. They could both benefit.
Like her and Daddy.
Daddy taught her lots of stuff about her body and made her feel special, and she was his special little girl who made him happy.
Maybe Cherry and Miss Mills couldn’t understand because they didn’t have the right kind of men in their lives.
Amber decided she wasn’t angry so much as she felt bad for the other two women, who lacked what she had that made her so happy.
Class ended fifteen minutes later. Amber hopped up from her seat and grabbed up her notebook and pencil case. She darted between the rows of desks
, aiming for the classroom door.
Something snagged against her foot and she lost her balance, her pencil case hitting the floor and bursting open. Glittery gel pens spilled across the tiles, rolling away from her. Amber pushed herself up onto her hands and looked at the mess in dismay. Cherry laughed at her behind her back, an evil snickering that sent chills up Amber’s spine.
Ignore her, she told herself. Her chest twisted tight. She had just decided to be the bigger person. Why did Cherry have to trip her and make it so much harder?
“You dropped something,” Cherry said. She walked past Amber, kicking a gel pen out of her reach even as she reached for it. Some of the other remaining students also laughed.
Amber hunched up her shoulders and grabbed her pencil case. Her cheeks burned.
“Here,” someone said.
Amber looked up at the handful of gel pens held out to her. She took them, her fingers brushing against the hand of the one person in the entire room who had stopped to help her. Her fingers tingled. She knew this hand, this person. Rubbing her hand on her shorts, she looked higher, finally meeting Lawrence’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said shyly.
Lawrence nodded and crouched down in front of her, picking up more pens and rolling them across the floor to her so she could put them back in the case. “I saw Cherry do it,” he said under his breath. “She tripped you.”
“I know,” Amber sighed. “But what can I do about it, Lawrence?”
He tapped his fist into the palm of his hand. “Tattle on her.”
She laughed, surprised. “Tattle?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. He pushed his sandy-brown hair out of his big blue eyes. “Sometimes you have to be petty. She picked on you, so you should go talk to a counselor about it. Let’s see if Miss Perfect likes being talked to by a counselor like she’s in fifth grade.”
Amber giggled. “I wouldn’t.”
“I would pretend she was picking on me, but I’m a really bad liar.” Lawrence grinned.
Amber smiled at him and then ducked her head, checking if she’d gotten all her pretty pens back. Lawrence was pretty much the only friend she had made while in college. She’d met him at the hiking club and had quickly become her favorite hiking buddy. He was way nicer than any boy her age she’d ever met before, though he couldn’t compare to Daddy.
Lawrence stood up and held out his hand to help her, pulling her to her feet. “I mean it, though,” he said. “If you want to go tell someone about Cherry, I can come with you.”
Amber took his hand and stood with him. She shook her head. “It’s okay for now. I’m just going to go back to my dorm and work out.”
Lawrence looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He smiled, and the weird moment passed. “Gotta stay in shape, right? Well, I’ll see you soon.”
“Me, too. You, too, I mean!”
Lawrence walked off, leaving her standing there.
Miss Mills glanced at Amber. “Did you need something?”
Amber shook her head.
“Well, then move along. You’re standing in the way and my next class will be here soon.”
Amber nodded and hurried off, exiting the classroom and ducking out into the hallway. She stuck to the wall to avoid the worst of the traffic as all the other students left their classes and went to their next ones. Everyone looked tired or somehow bothered, and they all carried way more books than she did -or even wore their backpacks between classes. Amber glanced down at her notebook and pencil case and sighed. She’d been taking three courses when she first arrived and now she was down to this one. College was hard.
Everything was hard, except for being in love.
Amber went back to her dorm and let herself in. She tossed her supplies to the side and flopped down on the bed, sinking into the soft sheets. Now she was alone, the frustration she’d felt earlier returned. Groaning, she rolled over onto her back and flopped her arm over her face. She felt the weight of her phone in her pocket and her heart ached. She wished she could text Daddy to vent and tell him how silly people could be, but he wasn’t usually free so early in the day. She tried not to disturb his important work unless it was something urgent, and being mad at a stuck-up cheerleader didn’t really count.
She knew one other way to work off some steam.
Amber rolled onto her stomach and took her phone out to find an instructional yoga video to follow.
Chapter 3
Princess parts tingly
Amber found a pretty good video to follow, about half an hour long. That would be more than long enough for her to work through some of her frustration. She set up her phone on the bed, propping up with her sociology textbook so she could see the screen without having to hold onto it the entire time. She stood up, happy with her ingenuity, and started taking her clothes off. She used to exercise in a tank top and yoga pants, but now she liked to be naked. It was way more fun to be naked, she had discovered. It made her feel young and free, like a little girl.
Amber ran her hands over her breasts, her flat stomach, admiring herself. She made sure not to linger or play with herself. She wasn’t allowed to do that without Daddy’s permission. Even so, her stomach gave a little pleasant tingle. She smiled, the bad day already fading to the back of her mind.
Leaning over with her butt up in the air, Amber pushed the button to start the video. She didn’t need instructions and just wanted to follow the routine, so she made sure to mute it. She backed up and did some light stretches while the yoga pants-clad instructor mouthed her way through an introduction. Amber flexed her arms to either side, then way up high over her head, her back arching and her pert butt poking out. She relaxed into the stretch and reached up even higher, feeling her muscles flexing.
She dropped her arms and swung them by her sides while the instructor finished chattering. Finally, the blonde instructor went into the first pose, which was standing. Special standing. It was a good beginning pose from which all other positions stemmed, so Amber went along with it. She spread her legs to shoulder width and pressed her feet firmly to the worn dorm carpet, making sure each toe made contact with the floor. She imagined herself as a tree, rooted to the forest floor, letting the strength of her foundation work its way up through the rest of her body, into her spine and shoulders. She lifted her head so her back was straight and placed her palms flat against her curvy hips.
She breathed, in through her nose, out through her mouth, concentrating on the way she held her body. She started from the bottom up, from her feet, to her ankles, up through the ligaments to her knees, then to her spine and neck.
Maybe I should have taken biology instead, she thought, and giggled to herself.
The instructor moved on to the next pose and Amber followed along. Keeping her weight balanced and her body firm, she shifted over to one leg and tucked the foot of the other against her upper thigh. She wiggled her toes against her soft inner thigh and slid them up a little higher to really work her muscles. She could feel the warmth from between her legs and was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of how close she was to touching her lips with her toes.
Catching her breath, Amber raised her arms up to the ceiling, rolling her head back. She spread her fingers, reaching, imagining them as branches with her body as the trunk of the tree. With her one foot firmly rooted against the ground, she swayed, like a tree in the wind, but didn’t wobble or topple over. She was strong, stronger than anyone really knew.
Bringing both feet back to the ground, she slid from there into the next pose, her legs spread wide and her arms held out to her sides. She shifted which leg she balanced on, her thighs rubbing together each time. Her kitty lips also rubbed together. She could feel herself starting to get wet and swallowed hard. She had to be good until she could talk to Daddy later. She just needed to keep going. After a good workout, she’d have earned playtime with him.
The next pose was downward dog. By that point, Amber had it figured out what this instructor’s routine was doing, working them lower
and lower, probably to a final stop on the floor. She hardly needed to watch the video and so she turned it off so she could do things on her own.
She kept her legs straight and slid her hands forward across the carpet. Bending, she lifted her butt up in the air while keeping her back straight. The tendons in her legs stretched. She let the tension flow through her and kept her breathing even, steadily relaxing into the position until the ache lessened. She pushed herself a little more, lifting her butt up even more in the air, pushing her toes against the furry flooring.
Wetness ran from between her lips, trickling down her inner thigh. She gasped from how hot it was. She lost her focus and crumpled from her position, winding up on her hands and knees. She stayed there, trembling a little, her thighs shifting back and forth over each other, spreading the wetness of her hot juices spreading over her soft skin. Amber rose up onto her knees, rubbing her hands over her stomach and thighs, wishing more than anything that she could plunge her hands between her legs and take care of herself.
She had to try harder, take her mind off her need, even though it was becoming all the more pressing.
Amber rolled over onto her back. She slid her arms underneath her back while planting her feet firmly on the floor, lifting her rear up in the air. The air-conditioning in the dorm room kicked on, the vent overhead rattling and humming. A cool gust of air passed over her kitty, making her even more aware of her wetness as her juices cooled on her sensitive skin. She cried out in frustration and flopped down onto her back. She wriggled around on her back, pressing her legs together, gripping the fuzzy strands of carpet fabric in her fingers. She was so ready, so uncomfortably ready. She couldn’t hold still, couldn’t think about anything else.
Amber put her hands over her eyes and moaned.
Soft giggles from outside her door made her remember how close other people were. If anyone was out talking in the hall -and it seemed like at least two people were- then they’d be able to hear her. It didn’t matter what she was moaning about. They’d think she was in here playing with herself, or maybe with a man.
Amber Stigmatized Page 2