by Kitty Wilder
She did her best to settle in and took a sip of the steaming cappuccino she had brought with her and winced from the unanticipated burn as she overheard a conversation adjacent to her.
“What do you think your purpose is?” a smoky voice asked.
Lucy felt herself respond to the sound almost immediately, as if beckoned by a siren’s call. She had to see the source of this deep and welcoming sound, curious for the first time since stepping on this campus about one of her fellow classmates.
“I’m going to be a doctor,” a young woman replied confidently down the front row.
Lucy leaned in to peer past the other people that had taken notice of the conversation and saw a man in a black suit and red tie a few seats down, lounging in one of the desks with one ankle propped over a knee. He looked in his mid-forties, his deep chestnut hair fading at his temples and whispers of white in the stubble on his chin. He watched the girl carefully as he listened, noting every slight detail about her with an acute perception. “That is why you exist?” he asked, interrupting her idealistic rambling about the fairytale future she had already imagined for herself, probably spoon-fed to her by wealthy, overachieving parents. “That is what you came into being for, what humankind walks for? In all the chaos of the universe, Miss—?” he waited for her name, but Lucy couldn’t hear her quiet mumble, the young woman obviously having lost some of her confidence. “The chaos of the universe and all the random components of the world came together and ceased their clamor so that flesh and bone might knit itself together for Sarah Walsh to...” he paused for dramatic effect, “administer flu shots?”
The girl shifted awkwardly and her face scrunched in offense, but she had no reply.
He chuckled and patted her hand. “Relax, dear. It only gets harder from here.”
The man rose and stepped in front of the room of thirty or so students and introduced himself properly. “I am Professor Wright and I will be your guide into deeper thought in Introduction to Philosophy.”
Lucy froze in terror.
Oh shit. I’m in the wrong class!
Her blue eyes widened and she panicked at what to do while the professor continued, oblivious to the humiliation unfolding just a few feet away from him in the front row.
“Silence your phones or I will fail you. Miss a class and I will fail you. Arrive late...” he paused and looked over at Lucy, letting her know he had indeed noticed her blundering. “And I will give you extra homework. You are warned.” His gray eyes flicked back up to the throng of young people frowning at his strict policy. “I’m sure the majority of you are only in here for what you thought would be an easy credit, but I assure you my class is anything but. Your minds are my playthings and I intend to push them to their limits. By remaining here you are signing a verbal contract that you will dedicate yourselves to my twisted and sometimes sadistic intentions, that you will commit yourself to my unconventional and at times eccentric ways, and that you will marry education for the year you will spend in my classroom. If you do not wish to sign that contract, please leave.” At that he crossed the room to his desk and took a seat at his computer.
Lucy watched as several people got up and left, the future doctor among them, but hesitated over her own exit. There was something compelling about this strange man and the questions he was making them ask themselves.
Despite her better judgment, she remained, and took out her notebook and pen and made a note to change her classes for the semester. Graphic Communications would still be there waiting for her next year.
Professor Wright stood up from his desk in a surprisingly graceful manner and clicked a button from the small remote in his hand to project the course’s syllabus onto the whiteboard. She was immediately captivated by his every movement, as mundane as his actions were. Click a button, explain the slideshow, take a step this way, now that way. Answer a question. Glide back to starting position. Everything he did was deliberate, every movement, every sentence, and every expression. He was controlled, composed, and calm as he talked to the class, and Lucy felt strangely soothed by the rhythm of his speech and the rich deep pitch of his voice.
As he continued going over what the class would be studying, Lucy felt herself begin to doze despite the huge cup of coffee she had scorched her tastebuds with at the beginning of class. The long shifts during the day and late nights taking classes was proving to be a greater challenge than she had anticipated. She propped her cheek on her hand and waged war with her heavy eyelids, lulled to sleep by the gravelly cadence of the professor’s voice.
It felt like she had only rested her eyes for a moment before she startled upright. She tugged the stray piece of hair from her mouth and looked around her. The room was silent, all the seats empty now, and she groaned in humiliation, realizing she had dozed off for much more than a few minutes.
“You’ve been asleep for almost an hour. You’re lucky I had some emails to reply to or you’d be locked up in here until my next class. Thursday.”
Lucy looked over to Professor Wright behind his desk, his keyboard clicking and clacking quietly while he continued his typing without so much as a glance to her.
“I’m so sorry,” she answered, mortified, wishing she could sink into the floor beneath her and vanish.
“You’re not the first to fall asleep in my class, but on the first night? Going over the syllabus?” He looked up with a playful smirk teasing the corner of his mouth.
Lucy rose and began to gather her things. “While you may stimulate deeper thought, Professor, I’m afraid due dates and lists don’t.” She looked up as she clutched her empty paper cup in her hand.
The professor stood and reached forward with a small plastic trashcan. “You may call me John, and yes, I’m aware. I promise from here on out it’s nothing but Plato, Nietzsche, and my own depraved ramblings.”
“Depraved?” She chuckled as she crossed the few steps between them. “You know, you sound like a crazy person gearing up to torture a bunch of poor young people just trying to get a degree.” Lucy tossed her coffee cup into the trashcan and watched him set it back down behind him.
His gray eyes were almost luminescent the way they caught the light. They were positively mesmerizing this close. “This campus hasn’t seen hard work in decades. The torture is deserved. Most of your classmates will drop out, fail out, or goof around while they earn some easy credits before transferring to a university.”
Lucy glared at him. “Well, this is my second year here and I have no intention of leaving or goofing around. This is it for me. I can’t afford one of those universities.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “And what is it you’re studying, Miss—?”
She chuckled earnestly. “The last girl to give you her name was publicly belittled.”
His gaze dropped to the apron in her hand then came back up. “Lucy.”
She looked at him shocked for a moment at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue so casually, as if he had known her for years. Then she looked down and saw her nametag exposed.
“Anonymity didn’t quite suit you. Lucy is a pretty name. Though I don’t recall a Lucy on my roster. You’re quite the mystery girl.”
She was taken off guard by the compliment and laughed nervously.
No. Stop it right there. He’s probably married, and if he’s not by his age there’s probably a reason.
“No, you won’t find Lucy Beckett on any registration for this class. I’m working toward a degree in graphic design and I think I made a mistake,” she answered, attempting to internally shrug off whatever attraction she was starting to feel for him.
“Lucy the artist,” he smiled. “I’m not surprised.”
“Why is that?”
He motioned from her thick platform boots and fishnet tights all the way up to her glossy crown of ebony locks. “Artists often have creative ways of expressing themselves in their work or sometimes in their personal fashion.” He watched her shift uncomfortably under his evaluation, then add
ed, “It’s a good thing. I’m curious why a soon-to-be graphic designer is taking a philosophy course.”
She felt her cheeks heat and laughed in embarrassment. “That’s the mistake. I think I got the rooms confused. I thought this was Graphic Communications.”
He smiled and chuckled with her. “Why didn’t you say something? You didn’t have to stay.”
She shrugged and looked down at the worn faux leather toes of her boots bashfully. “I know. It just seems like an interesting class. I’d like to stay if that’s all right. I can speak to my guidance counselor about moving some things around.”
“You will be a happy addition to the class,” he answered warmly as he powered down his computer and began to gather his things into a well-used satchel. In one graceful movement he was on his feet and slinging it over his shoulder.
Lucy followed his ascent, entranced the same way she had been when he had spoken at the front of the class. Everything this man did was sure and full of intention and she realized now she admired the trait and was jealous of his confidence. Her eyes lifted and she found herself standing only about the height of his shoulders and tilting her head back to meet his gaze for perhaps the first time that night.
“I look forward to our academic relationship, Lucy. It’s been a pleasure.”
Suddenly she was unable to hold the eye contact and she looked back down with a smile as he moved for the door. “See you on Thursday, John.”
He stretched his arm out and held the door open for her as she passed by him and into the hall as they went their separate ways into the night.
Chapter 3
The scalding water of the bath soothed the ache that had gathered in Lucy’s feet from standing all day at the coffee shop. She closed her eyes as she slipped into the tub and did her best to relax. Her eyes drooped closed and she thought she was dreaming when she felt two big hands slip into the water to grasp her breasts. Fingers pinched and gently twisted her sensitive nipples and lips touched her neck. Ben’s touch was unmistakable. She felt the softness of her fiancé’s clean-shaven cheek and then the playful pinch of his teeth on her earlobe as one of his hands trailed down her belly.
“You’re home late,” she breathed, opening her eyes to see his mop of dusty blond hair tickling her cheek as he kissed over her shoulder.
“So are you,” he answered.
“I fell asleep in class,” Lucy admitted. “In the wrong class.”
His laugh echoed loudly off of the tiled walls. “I don’t know why you don’t just quit that damn job, Lu. Let me take care of you, then you can take classes in the day, as many as you want.”
“You take care of me enough,” she answered softly, unwilling to rehash old arguments. He said she could take classes, but she knew his real plans for her were housewifery and motherhood. Whatever degree she could achieve with all that new free time would quickly be transferred into domestication. Like changing her fashion just to please those around her, she couldn’t help but feel that giving in to Ben’s wishes was somehow losing herself in someone else’s life.
His hand slipped over her smooth mound and down to her pink lips and spread them open. “Why don’t you come take care of me then?” He said and grinned against her ear.
“I worked a ten-hour shift covering for some lazy teenager who decided not to show today and then attended three hours of classes. I just want to soak in my bath for a minute.”
“Fair enough,” he groaned disappointedly, “but since we’re keeping score, I’ve been pulling overtime all week working on this damn Szalkowski lot and the dude’s nightmare-of-a-wife. Nothing is ever just right. It’s been so long, baby. I could really use the release.”
She sighed. “Fine, just give me a minute.”
He smiled as he turned her head to kiss her mouth and then left her in peace as he exited to the bedroom.
Reluctantly, she unstopped the drain and watched all the warm water and bubbles circle down until there was nothing left but her naked body and a few stray suds clinging to the porcelain walls. She took her time as she stepped out and wiped herself down with her black fluffy towel, then with a heavy sigh made her way to the door.
She tried to rally herself, but the fact she knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as she entered the bedroom killed every sexual impulse in her body. The thought of his weight crushing her while he asked her every two seconds if she was close wasn’t exactly enticing.
She opened the bedroom door and saw him waiting naked on the bed. She squeezed out the last couple droplets of water in her hair, tossed the towel in the hamper and climbed up onto the pillows to assume her designated position. “Would you like it if I rested on my tummy instead? I think it could be fun.”
“What have you been up to that you all of a sudden want to try something new? Why change it if it works? Besides, I wouldn’t be able to see that pretty face of yours.” He smiled as he began to climb on top of her. “You look so good without all that makeup on.”
She suppressed an eye roll. “I just think sometimes it’s nice to switch things up.”
He ended the conversation by pushing himself into her and starting his usual quick pace.
Lucy tried not to wince as he entered her just a little too quickly and while she was still dry.
He noticed though and asked, “Do you want me to grab the lube?”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
He nodded and then began to fuck her a little faster.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus so she could enjoy herself as well, but her mind wandered. She thought about work and something her manager had said which had ticked her off and a thousand things she should’ve said back instead of just apologizing. She thought about that weird shimmy her steering wheel in her car suddenly started doing a few days ago and what that could mean. She remembered there was a load of laundry she had forgotten to move to the dryer and then she thought about the worksheets and reading she needed to get done for her next classes.
Smoky voice deep as sin. Silver streaked hair.
Lucy moaned and felt her body immediately respond. She grabbed hold of Ben’s arms and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist.
Salt and pepper beard.
Ben sucked in a telltale breath which was quickly followed by a loud grunt and his body seizing up. She looked up and saw his eyes roll back, then felt his release. Her heart sank into her stomach as she realized it was over, just as she was starting to feel something.
Ben slipped out of her with a satisfied hum and stroked her damp hair and kissed her cheek. “You came too, right, babe? I heard you moan.”
“Yeah,” she lied. “Of course.”
“I really needed that.” He sighed contentedly and rolled off of her onto his side of the bed and wiggled under the covers. “Remember how wet you used to get when we were teens? You used to soak my blankets.”
“What does that mean?” she asked defensively.
“I’m just saying, it’s kind of nice now how easy it is to just fuck and then go to bed and not have to worry about changing sheets or anything.”
“Thank God for my dried-up pussy, right?” she laughed sardonically.
“That’s not what I meant, Lu. It’s natural for things to change as you get older. We’ve been together a long time and we’re adults now. It’s normal for things to be a little calmer. I’m just saying it’s nice. I like what we have.”
She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to tear into him for his insensitive comment. There was no point in saying anything anymore. It would just hurt his feelings and then restart the same big fight they had already been through a thousand times before, over something she couldn’t even properly articulate. All she knew to say was she wanted more, which meant he wasn’t enough.
“I’m going to call it a night now,” he muttered. “This construction site has been an absolute mess. Nobody knows how to do their fucking job. I’m so exhausted.”
She nodded an
d moved for the bathroom to clean herself up as she listened to him complain about his job as a general contractor and how he single handedly made sure the houses got built and was vastly underpaid.
She sighed and quietly scorned herself for not having the courage or words to ask for what she wanted as she wiped herself off. Her sexual frustration couldn’t be totally pinned on him when she wouldn’t even try to communicate her disappointment to him anymore. As high school sweethearts, when Ben had taken her virginity, there had been an indescribable magic and satisfaction. There had been plenty of orgasms with him as a teenager, but somewhere between then and six years later she just needed more: more touching, more kissing, more ass smacking, more time. How could she be mad at the man who only wanted to settle down with her? She should be content. It wasn’t right to demand things he didn’t have to give.
Watching his brother’s perfect wife crank out baby after baby and still manage to somehow keep a pristine home and serve up gourmet meals night after night only seemed to press Ben more and more to catch up. The more he heard about his Stepford sister-in-law, the more he convinced himself Lucy could take up that role just as easily and the only thing standing in the way of that dream coming true was her stubborn desire to get a degree he was convinced she didn’t even need.