by Tia Siren
The moment of silence told me that Nancy Dorfmann knew I was full of shit. She said, “Then perhaps you should go to your office and try from there. The rule is all grades are posted by five. It’s now nine fifteen. That’s four hours and fifteen minutes after the deadline.”
I can tell time, bitch, I thought. I just wasn’t so good at managing it these days.
“Yes, I understand. Okay, I’ll try once more from here, and if it doesn’t work I’ll drive over to the office and post them from there.”
“Perhaps you should call a cab to drive you,” she said. I could tell she was wrinkling her fat nose on the other end of the phone, as if she could smell the stench of the cigarettes and whiskey fuming through the phone line.
“And Professor Hollander, I’d like to see you Monday in my office,” she said. “We need to discuss the status of your tenure.”
I had stuck a cigarette between my teeth and was about to fire it up when the word “tenure” stuck in my ear.
Tenure was just a fancy bullshit academic term that meant you had a job until retirement.
For college professors like myself, tenure was the holy grail. It meant you had a job for life, unless you did something stupid to fuck it up. I had become tenured at Trent State after my fifth year of teaching there, which was ten years ago.
Tenure meant that I could only be fired with what was called “just cause.” Not “just because” Nancy Dorfmann felt like it, but by “just case,” which in my case could be anything from telling Nancy Dorfmann to suck my fat cock on the steps of the administration building (which I was dying to do) to showing up drunk for class (which I had done repeatedly) to having a sexual relationship with a student (I’d come close a few times but had never had the balls to follow through) to being convicted of a violent crime like murder.
I still thought about killing the drunk driver who took Kiley’s life, but only when I was really, really drunk, which was most every night now.
“Professor Hollander, did you hear me?”
“Um, yes, I heard you.”
“Please call my assistant Monday morning to set up a meeting,” she said. “And I’ll expect to see all of your class grades posted within the hour.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as the phone went dead in my ear.
I tossed the phone on the desk and lit the cigarette that had been dangling between my teeth. I filled the shot glass to the rim and tapped the space bar to wake up the computer.
“I’ll post your fucking grades, you old cunt,” I sneered as the smoke bellowed from my lips and across the top of the whiskey glass. I licked my lips like a wolf about to devour an entire classroom of lambs and entered the first grade.
I didn’t need the sheet of paper with the actual grades listed on it.
Nope, no need.
This term all the whining, entitled, self-absorbed little motherfuckers got the same grade.
And it wasn’t going to be an A.
CHAPTER THREE: Audrey
“Will you please put your freakin’ phone away!” Rachel said, shooting me a scolding look across the table that was covered in beer bottles and shooter glasses. “Forget your fucking English Lit. grade and have a good time!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I shot back. “You know you’re getting an A. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I have plenty to worry about,” Rachel said, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me. She nodded at her boyfriend Duke, who was at the bar getting another round of drinks.
Duke was the star of the Trent State football team and was HUGE: six-foot-seven, over three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and, according to Rachel, he had the longest cock of any player on the team. How she knew such a statistic to be true was beyond me (unless she had seen every player’s cock, which was not out of the realm of possibilities with Rachel), but she said that “Bruiser”—yes, Duke’s cock had a name—was more python than penis.
I asked her once how she accommodated such a large thing in her various orifices and she just smiled and said, “One inch at a time, baby. One inch at a time.”
I watched Duke as he carried the drinks back from the bar. He was wearing tight jeans, and sure enough, I could see the bulge of Bruiser in his jeans. It was snaking from his crotch down his right thigh toward his knee. I couldn’t imagine having something that big inside me. Who am I kidding; at this point I couldn’t imagine having anything inside me other than my finger-besties!
“Are you sure I can’t hook you up with one of Duke’s pals?” Rachel asked, leaning over the table. She was wearing a low-cut blouse and a bra that pushed her big boobs up and out. I kept waiting for her boobs to just spill out over the table and knock over all the drinks.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, checking my phone again. Still no grades from Professor Hollander’s class. I picked up the fresh glass of draft beer Duke slid my way and sighed into it.
I said, “I think I need to focus on my grades rather than getting laid.”
“You need to get laid,” Duke said in that deep, bellowing voice of his. He cut his eyes at Rachel and smiled. “Getting laid makes everything better. Doesn’t it, Rach?”
“Yes, it does, baby,” Rachel said, leaning over to run her tongue down his cheek. They cooed at each other for a moment, seemingly forgetting that there was anyone else around.
I saw her arm move as her hand went to his lap. I saw his eyes soften as her hand found his giant cock beneath the table. Duke closed his eyes and opened his mouth to breathe.
Crap. She was stroking his cock under the table, just a foot away from me… I wondered what it felt like… I bet Duke would let me touch it if I asked…
Rachel glanced at me long enough to read the look on my face. She pulled back her hand and straightened in her chair. Duke had the look of a child who’d just had his puppy taken away.
“What about Brad Smith?” Rachel asked, nodding at a boy standing near the bar with a group of friends. “He’s a little nerdy, but nerds can be great fucks. They’re just so grateful to have their little pencil dicks in a pussy, they’ll do anything you please.”
“No, thanks,” I said, shooting her a frown. I was not comfortable discussing my virginity—or Brad Smith’s pencil dick—in front of Duke. “Can we just drop this?”
Rachel shook her head at me. “Okay, fine. I won’t bring it up again. All I know is if you would get your cherry popped, you’d feel a lot better.”
“You’re a virgin?” Duke said the words loud enough to wake the dead. His eyes bulged out and his rugged face took on a “no way” expression. “Fuck, Audrey, Rachel is right. You need to get your cherry popped. You need to get your cherry popped tonight!”
I glared at Rachel. “Seriously? You told him?”
Rachel took on a hurt look. “Hey, everybody knows you’re a virgin, Audrey. It’s not a great secret.”
I felt my heart grinding to a halt in my chest. I blinked at her a few times to make sure this wasn’t some awful dream. “What did you say?”
Duke was leaning in now, listening. Rachel elbowed him in the chest and ordered him to go fetch her a basket of wings. When we were alone, she said, “Audrey, this is a small school. Everybody knows everybody else’s business.”
“So everybody knows I’m a virgin?” I didn’t know why the thought frightened me so, but it did. I suddenly felt as if I were carrying a deep, dark secret that everyone knew despite my best efforts to hide it.
“Great,” I said with tears in my eyes. “I’ll be laughed out of school.”
“Don’t be silly,” Rachel said, reaching across the table to squeeze my arm. “You’re acting like you have the plague or some horrible disease. You’ve just never had your cherry popped. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should be proud of the fact that you haven’t let some random boy shove his cock into you.”
“I guess so,” I said, looking down at my phone. I swiped the screen and refreshed the app. Still no grades. What the hell was Hollander wai
ting for?
“Look, why don’t you let Duke set you up with one of the guys on the team,” she said, squeezing my arm again. She waited until I was looking into her eyes. “Come on, someone nice. Even if you don’t get your cherry popped, you get a little action. At least it’ll take your mind off that damn phone! Look around. Pick one. Hell, pick two if you want.”
“How do I know they’ll want to have sex with me?” I asked. What a funny question to ask. I would have laughed if I hadn’t felt so pathetic.
“Trust me, honey,” she said with a sly grin. “These boys will fuck anything. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Any one of them would be lucky to have you riding his cock.”
“Oh my,” I said, covering a smile behind the glass of beer. Rachel not only fucked like a dude; she talked like one.
She said, “I’m just saying, pick one and I’ll get Duke to hook you up.”
I blew out a long breath and let my eyes go around the room. All the football players were there. The room was so thick with sweat and testosterone that you could cut it with a knife. I’d never been inside the boys’ locker room, but I imagined this was how it smelled.
Before I could choose a cock to ride (sorry, couldn’t resist), my phone buzzed. I swiped open the screen and felt my breath catch in my throat.
“Hollander just posted our grades,” I said, holding up the phone as if it were a Christmas gift I was almost too nervous to unwrap.
Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. Check your fucking grade so we can get on with getting you laid.”
We both giggled at her accidental rhyme, but when I refreshed the app to see the grade Hollander had given me, the smile melted from my face.
CHAPTER FOUR: Chase
Ayers, Melvin … F ...
Bradly, Sharon … F ...
Crenshaw, Andrew … F ...
Dalton, Michelle … F …
I paused to light another cigarette and filled my lungs with smoke. I blew the smoke out of the side of my mouth and smiled at the computer screen.
These little fuckers. They’ll shit in their pants when they see these grades, the entitled little bastards. I couldn’t help but smile as I entered in the next grade.
Diaz, Rachel … F …
Let’s see how happy you are when you see this grade, Miss Diaz. I seriously doubt you’ll spread your legs wide open for me in class again. Sad, but oh fucking well…
I shot back another hit of whiskey and licked my lips. I was having a ball. I was also drunk. Shit, I was beyond drunk. I’d reached drunk two hours ago.
I was shitfaced…blind-running drunk, as my old alcoholic father would say. Life is easier, boy, when you’re blind-running drunk.
I didn’t understand what he meant back then, those times when I’d find him lying in a pool of his own puke on the kitchen floor. I understand it now. He was right. Life was easier when you were blind-running drunk.
I squinted through the smoke at the screen.
Preston, Miles … F …
Ross, Audrey … F …
As I hit the F key and watched the letter appear next to Audrey Ross’s name, I almost felt bad for her. She always seemed so serious in class, so worried about her grade. Unlike most of the little shits who wasted my time for two hours every week, Audrey Ross at least seemed to care. Oh well. Sorry. Moving on.
Smith, Wesley … F …
Thomas, Erin … F …
CHAPTER FIVE: Audrey
“What the fuck?” I stared at my phone with my mouth hanging open. I refreshed the screen again. The grade didn’t change.
Rachel pulled her tongue out of Duke’s ear long enough to glance at me. When she saw me staring at my phone with a look of horror on my face, she reached across the table and squeezed my arm gain. My arm was getting red from all the reassuring squeezes.
“Audrey, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“He gave me an F,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I held up the phone so she could see the screen. Midterm grade: F.
“What the fuck?” Rachel said, more annoyed than surprised. “That motherfucker. Hang on.” She found her phone amid the bottles and shot glasses on the table and launched the app. I saw her eyes widen as the screen updated.
“That motherfucker!”
“What is it, babe?” Duke asked.
I had never seen such a look on Rachel’s face before. It was a look of absolute surprise and disbelief. She held out her phone so I could see her grade.
“How could that motherfucker give me an F?” she said, turning the phone around so she could glare at the screen. She tapped the refresh tab several times. The grade did not change.
“I know I didn’t get a fucking F,” she said. “There ain’t no fucking way.”
“Maybe it’s a glitch,” Duke said with a shrug. He picked up his beer glass and drained it dry. I would be shocked if Duke ever checked his grades. He certainly didn’t seem to worry about them.
Duke was on a full athletic scholarship. He was captain of the football team. He was headed for the NFL. I’d wager that he didn’t attend half his classes and never cracked a book, yet somehow held a 3.0 GPA.
My crime wasn’t that I wasn’t smart enough. My crime was that I was not a three-hundred-pound lineman who ate quarterbacks for breakfast.
“I’m going home,” I said, struggling to keep the tears that were welling in my eyes from running down my cheeks.
Rachel reached for me. “Don’t go, girl,” she said as I gathered up my purse. “It’s got to be a mistake. Hang around. Let’s get you laid. We’ll worry about grades on Monday.”
“Yeah,” Duke said with a drunken grin. “Let’s get you laid.”
He said the words as if he was the one who would be doing me the favor of popping my cherry. No way, Duke. Keep that big thing the fuck away from me.
“No,” I said, backing away from the table. “I have to get home and check the grades on my laptop. Maybe it’s just some crazy glitch that’s happening on the phone app.”
“Audrey, we’ll sort it out Monday,” Rachel said, her eyes pleading for me to stay. “Please don’t go.”
Rachel was amazing. She got an F, too, but she was more concerned about me than her own GPA.
Maybe she was right. Maybe it was a glitch in the system.
Or maybe Hollander entered the grades incorrectly.
Or maybe his fucking F key got stuck.
Whatever the reason, I knew I couldn’t stay at the bar and just pretend it hadn’t happened.
I wanted to ride someone’s cock, as Rachel had so eloquently put it, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. I turned before she could say anything more to convince me to stay and ran all the way back to my apartment with the letter F bouncing around in my head like a bad Sesame Street cartoon.
CHAPTER SIX: Audrey
As expected, the grade was the same on my laptop as it was on my phone. Hollander had given me an F on the midterm exam, which would make my GPA drop like a hot rock.
The only hope I had to hold on to was that it was a mistake and things would be fixed on Monday. I sat on my bed and stared at the computer screen until my eyes hurt. I was about to log off and go to sleep when my phone pinged with a text from Rachel.
The text read: That douchebag Hollander gave everyone in the class an F. Get on FaceSpace. People are going fucking nuts!
I logged onto FaceSpace and clicked onto the Trent State group page. I typed in the group password and waiting for the page to load.
The group was supposed to be a way for professors and students to communicate with one another. As you would expect, it had basically turned into a platform for students to bitch and post stuff totally unrelated to school.
The top post was started by a boy in Hollander’s class named Melvin Ayers. I vaguely knew Melvin. He always sat at the back of the room with a hoodie over his head.
He had posted: Dickwad Hollander gave me an F on the midterm. What the fuck????
The first reply was from B
eth Hooper. Me 2. WTF????
There were seven more replies from people in the class, all who had been given Fs.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It had to be a glitch in the system. Or everyone in the class really failed, even Rachel. I seriously doubted that was the case, but stranger things had happened.
The screen kept refreshing each time someone added a comment. Now there were a dozen replies and responses on the thread. Most of them were from students who had been given Fs, but then everyone seemed to pile on and the tone went from confusion to anger to pure nastiness.
Former students were adding comments. Students who had never even taken Hollander’s class but had heard of his tough reputation. It turned ugly quickly, as things often did when you had dozens of drunk people online late at night.
My hands had almost stopped shaking when I saw a reply in the thread that had my name tagged. I read the words with my mouth hanging open.
The post was from Duke. It read: Hollander couldn’t teach a virgin how to come! Right Audrey Ross? LOL HA HA HA!!
I read the words again. What the fuck? I grabbed my phone and sent Rachel a text.
DID YOU SEE WHAT DUKE POSTED????
As I sat holding my breath, waiting for a reply, my computer pinged to let me know that someone had added another comment with my name.
This post was from one of Duke’s football buddies that I didn’t even know. It read: Maybe old man Hollander can give Audrey Ross private lessons. Maybe his old dick could pop that sweet cherry since she thinks she’s too good for us!
Then another football player piled on. Hollander’s a dick. Maybe if Audrey spreads her legs for him he’ll lighten the fuck up on the rest of us!
Oh my god, I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Another post: A virgin at Trent State? No fucking way! Where is she? Who is Audrey Ross?
Then another: Oh please Audrey fuck Hollander into giving us all A’s!
And another: Hollander couldn’t get a hard-on at a whore house on freebie night!”
And another: I heard Hollander’s wife left him because he was such an asshole. Go cheer him up Audrey Ross! Give that old drunk some pussy!!!!