by Lane Hart
Doing as he asked, I walk around and sit on his lap, which is not professorly at all, especially when he wraps an arm around my waist and kisses the side of my face sweetly. Using his free hand, he starts moving the wireless mouse around on the top of the desk and clicking on icons. Within seconds we’re looking at my slackass Facebook page I made just a few weeks ago. The one that has just ten likes, my mom, Josie, and eight other friends and family members.
“The first problem here is that there’s no picture of your beautiful face,” Gage says, using the pointer to show me the profile picture box with the standard white flag placeholder. “Your fans need to see who you are.” His hand disappears, and then his phone is in my face, snapping a picture.
“Whoa!” I complain, trying to stand up from his lap, but his arm around my waist holds me down. “I look horrible after…after what we just did.”
“You look stunning as always,” he says, showing me the photo. “Maybe better since I know I’m the one who put the rosy glow on your cheeks and tousled your hair while you were on your knees.”
Reaching for a cord, he plugs his phone into the laptop. “Now log in to your account, and we’ll get to work on it.”
Leaning forward, I start putting in my email address and password. It’s not as easy as usual to remember how to type because Gage’s palm cups and caresses my bottom the whole time. It takes at least three tries to correctly put in “daddysgirl.” Once it’s done, I sit back down on his lap and try to concentrate like a good little pupil.
“Your last post was over a week ago, and all you did was share an event about a…what is that? The Festival of Legends?”
“Yeah, my friend Josie and I went,” I explain, leaving out the part about meeting a psychic and buying a love potion.
“Try to post something original every few days, and repost several news stories each day,” he instructs before placing another kiss on my cheek.
And that’s how the next hour goes while I sit on my professor’s lap and he shows me the ins and outs of social media, while continuing to shower me with sweet kisses. The only reason our private lesson had to stop is because he had a faculty meeting to get to.
“So will you come back tomorrow?” he asks as I go to the door and start gathering my discarded textbooks and notebooks from where he attacked me earlier.
“Um, sure. Nine?” I ask. “Unless you want to come over, you know, tonight?” I throw the invitation out there, hoping he’ll take me up on it. Time’s running out. Tomorrow’s Wednesday, so we’ll only have five days to seal the deal.
“Sorry, Reagan. I would love to, but that’s too risky as long as you’re my student. We should probably keep our visits strictly here on campus.”
“Right,” I say, my shoulders slumping in discouragement. Gage may be willing to have oral sex in his office, but I get the feeling that he’s not gonna take my virginity here.
“Don’t worry sweetheart. In just a few weeks you’ll graduate, and then we can figure things out for the future,” he says, obviously reading my depression. “I mean, if you still want me to come over then, that is.” Clearing his throat, he shoves his hands in his pants pockets and lowers his eyes like he’s suddenly shy. Does he think I wouldn’t want to?
“Of course I want to keep seeing you,” I tell him.
“Oh, well good,” he says on an exhale. “What exactly are your plans after graduation?”
“I’ll probably stay around here, you know, close to my mom.”
“What about your dad?” he asks.
“Oh, well, he died thirteen years ago,” I explain, pushing my hair behind my ear.
“I’m so sorry, Reagan.”
“It’s okay. What about you? Are your parents close by?”
“No, they’re in Maryland. This place was the only job offer I got seven years ago, so here I am. Trish and I bought a house and moved down…I’m not sure why she hasn’t moved back to her family.”
“Because you’re here,” I say without thinking.
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “She knows it’s over, and there’s no going back. Maybe after the divorce is official, she’ll give up and finally go home.”
“So you were married for…”
“Seven and a half years,” he replies, followed by a chuckle. “I can’t believe I endured for that long. Actually, if I had listened to my gut the weeks leading up to our wedding and even the morning of, I would’ve never married her. I think I was just expecting things to get easier, better with time, but it only got worse. It took me years to get the courage up to tell her I wanted out.”
“When did that happen?” I ask.
“Last October. One day I came home and just couldn’t stand to look at her. I realized that she was the reason I took a boring teaching position in the first place, because it paid more and she didn’t want me traveling around as a reporter. Her wants and needs were all that mattered in our relationship, and I was so tired of it. We had stopped sleeping in the same bed weeks before I filed for divorce because I had no desire to….Anyway, I better get going,” he said, throwing his bag over his shoulder and leading the way to the door.
“See you tomorrow,” he says with a quick kiss on my lips, and then he’s gone.
Chapter Seven
Reagan
“So, how’s Operation Nail the Professor going?” Josie asks when she opens her front door for me later that afternoon. “Holy shit! You look like a stripper and vaguely like you got fucked.”
“Oral sex only,” I tell her with a sigh before sinking down into the sofa. “It’s so hard, Josie. Why won’t he just screw my brains out already?”
“It’s been what, three days? You’ve still got plenty of time.”
“Yeah, but here’s the thing. He doesn’t want to come to my place until I’m no longer his student, and I don’t think he’s gonna pop my cherry on the desk in his office. Can’t say that’s the way I’ve ever pictured it going anyway.”
“So just go to his house.”
“You can’t be serious. What if he gets angry or…or if someone sees me?”
“Go in disguise. Slutty student is probably not the best idea. Try a trench coat with nothing on underneath and some sunglasses. Maybe dye your hair?” she says, plopping down on the seat next to me.
“Huh?” I ask, leaning my head back on the arm. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Yes, but that’s what it’s gonna take to make this happen – hard work! Lawson and I are depending on you getting it in!”
“I know,” I groan. “Just give me another day or so. And if he doesn’t cave, ugh, I guess I won’t have a choice.”
“No, this can’t wait!” she exclaims. “You need to be more aggressive, keep the momentum going full speed toward happily ever after.”
“You really think I should show up at his house?”
“Yes. Just not like that.”
“But don’t I need to look as sexy as possible to seduce him? This could be my chance if I show up and catch him off guard.”
“True. Go the trench coat route with those sexy, lacy lavender hose and garters you bought last night underneath.”
“Fine,” I groan. “I’m just so nervous and don’t really know what to expect for the first time.”
Josie winces, telling me it’s gonna be awful. “It doesn’t feel great. But if he gets you good and ready, it won’t be too bad. It’ll just…sting a little.”
“No matter how bad it is, once it’s done we can be together and not worry about anything else at least.”
“That’s true, and I will be so freakin’ relieved,” she says.
“All right. Well, I better go get ready,” I tell her, getting to my feet to leave.
“Good luck and call me afterward!” she says when she walks me out.
“I will,” I assure her. “But it may not be until the morning!”
…
Once it’s good and dark, I drive over to Gage’s house, the address of which I
had found on my handy new cell phone. I’ve also been keeping up with all my social media profiles on it, which makes me realize exactly what all the fuss is about.
Even though I’m barely wearing anything underneath my long, black dress coat, I’m all sweaty and nervous, my teeth nearly chattering. It’s my own fault for building up the night I lose my virginity. If I had just lost it when I was a teenager, it wouldn’t have been this big of a deal. But now, well, I want it to be great. As long as it’s with Gage, I know I’ll never forget it. All the years waiting will be worth it to share the moment with someone I love, or will eventually love.
Taking the last turn onto Cornwallis, Gage’s road, I start looking for address numbers on the houses, trying to figure out if his is on the left or right. The right side of the road has even house numbers, so I start slowing down looking for 2246.
I don’t know what kind of car Gage drives, but I doubt it’s the flirty looking red, two-seater convertible parked in the driveway. Creeping up behind it until I come to a stop, I put my Prius in park and glance toward the house, which has huge floor-to-ceiling windows, making it easy to peer inside and eavesdrop.
Gage is definitely home, standing with his hands on his hips, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid sleep pants. He’s so yummy, except…there’s a bitchy redhead in there with him.
I thought he said they were divorced, or on the way to getting divorced. Why is she here? Does she still live here? What if he still cares about her? If he didn’t, wouldn’t he tell her to just leave already? He doesn’t while I watch. In fact, she lunges for Gage, plastering her tall, model perfect body against him as her mouth claims his in a passionate kiss. He doesn’t pull away while she continues pawing at him for several long, painful heartbeats.
When her hand cups the front of his pants, I can’t take anymore. My chest feels like it’s ripping in half, tearing me apart from the inside out. A sob escapes as I hit the accelerator with tears dangerously blurring my vision, but I have to get away.
Is she the reason why he insisted that we “keep our visits strictly on campus”? So his wife wouldn’t find out about us?
Showing up at his house was a horrible idea, but at least now I know the truth. This whole week has been incredibly humiliating as I threw myself at Gage like a slutty little homewrecker. I was obviously wrong about him because if I’m nothing more than his dirty secret on the side, then the two of us are just not meant to be together.
…
Gage
My head feels like it’s gonna explode if I have to stand here and put up with another minute of her nagging. The same shit she’s been saying for months: Are you really gonna just give up on us? I thought you loved me. Don’t I mean anything to you?
Yes, nope and nope are still my responses, ones that she doesn’t want to hear but, yeah, I keep repeating hoping Trish will get the hint and give up.
“Why don’t you just move back home with your parents?” I ask after she bitches about her tiny apartment across town that doesn’t have room for all her clothing.
“I’m almost thirty-six! I can’t move back in with my parents!”
“Then I guess you’re gonna have to do the unthinkable and get a fucking job,” I tell her, refusing to budge from the middle of the hallway because I don’t want her to think I’m offering to let her stay or hang out.
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve never talked to me that way before, but I forgive you. Let’s just start over, okay? I can make you happy,” she rambles before suddenly throwing herself at me.
Apparently as a last ditch effort, she slants her lips over mine and kisses me, nearly choking me with her tongue plunging down my throat in a move I assume she thinks is seductive. While I want nothing more than to push her off of me, I stand there, refusing to kiss her back until she realizes that there’s nothing going on here. Just her tongue repeatedly jabbing down my throat, which is only slightly less revolting than having a tonsillectomy without anesthesia. There’s not an ounce of heat, or passion growing between us, unlike what I feel just looking at Reagan or thinking about her, so maybe, this time, Trish will actually realize it herself.
Unfortunately, Trish doesn’t seem to be comprehending any of this. So when her hand reaches for the front of my pajama bottoms I let her feel just how soft and unaffected I am before I do finally grab her shoulders and push her away. At the same time, I take a step back, putting distance between us.
“Trish, I’m not sure how many other ways I can tell you that I don’t want you in any way but out of my life, which means stop coming by, stop calling, and for fuck’s sake, quit calling my parents and whining to them! The divorce will be finalized in just four or five more months, but for all practical purposes you can consider us done and leave me the hell alone!”
“I’m not stupid; I know there’s someone else!” she counters as her shoulders slump in disappointment.
“Get out,” I say through clenched teeth.
“There is, isn’t there? That girl, the hippie from the hospital.”
“For the last time, I never cheated on you, and I haven’t been with anyone since we separated. But if I decide to start dating someone, it’s none of your fucking business. Now get out of my house!”
“It’s half my house too,” she replies.
“Not unless the court says so. Until then, you can keep living in the apartment that I’m paying for, and shut the fuck up about it!”
The truth is I don’t care about the house or want to keep it. It’s a convenient location to the campus, but I could pack up and leave it behind tomorrow if I have to. I’m just not willing to concede it to her until the end of the school year. During the summer, I’ll have time to get it all sorted out, especially since I may not even be in the state if I get one of the reporting assignments I applied for.
My plan had been to get away from Trish, the divorce, and from the memory of Reagan, knowing I would have to stop thinking about her after graduation. But now…now I’m not sure what’s gonna happen with her. Does she seriously want to keep seeing me? I’ll have a hard time believing that until she graduates. After that, if she still shows me that she wants more, then I’ll definitely do whatever it takes to make that happen.
…
The next morning I can’t get out of the house fast enough, in a hurry to see Reagan before my ten o’clock class. When I get there a few minutes before nine, I open up my laptop to check up on her social media. She’s been a busy girl.
Last night she posted several things, oddly enough about marriage, cheaters, and Lorena Bobbitt, of all things. Huh. But at least she did add a few original photos of the campus, which I click on to give a like while I continue to wait for her to show up.
At nine-thirty I give up, assuming she’s not coming. Angry that I was so excited to see her and she bailed, I send a message to her Facebook page asking where she is, but she doesn’t respond before I have to leave for class.
My thoughts were distracted the whole time, wondering what’s going on with Reagan and when I’ll get to see her again since she didn’t show up in her usual meditation spot underneath the tree. Surely she’ll be in class tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait that long. Of course I know where her apartment is, but I can’t just show up there while she’s still my student. The only thing that gets me through the day is waiting for her to respond to my message on her page, which never comes before I fall asleep after midnight.
…
Reagan
Walking into Gage’s class, I nearly growl out in outrage when I see Hannah flirting with him, practically shoving her tits in his face. Ugh. I’m only here because I need to pass this class to graduate. My other two classes, advanced photojournalism and the independent study course on career management, are both going great, easy As, unlike this social media bullshit one with Professor Cheater.
“Reagan,” Gage calls out to my back as I make my way up the stairs to my usual seat. I don’t turn around, afraid to face him and say all the hate
ful things I want to say in front of a room full of his students.
“Yes, sir?” I ask from across the room after I sit down, making it clear to him that he’ll have to say whatever he wants to say in front of everyone.
Instead, he comes toward me, the creasing of his forehead conveying his confusion at my attitude.
“Where were you yesterday?” he asks, leaning down to clutch the edges of my desktop in his hands, making me think of all sorts of inappropriate things, like the way he would grab my hips that way when we were together… “Reagan?” he prompts when I remain silent.
“Busy,” I say, avoiding his sapphire eyes and instead focusing on the buttons of his light blue dress shirt and navy blue suspenders. It sucks that I never got to see him completely naked.
“Too busy to try and salvage a passing grade so you can graduate?” he grates out softly between his teeth.
“I’ve decided to take a more…indirect approach,” I say, code for I’m not touching him again, even if I want to so badly that my hands are grasping fistfuls of my long, burgundy dress to keep from doing just that.
“Why didn’t you let me know that yesterday? I sent you a message, and you never responded.”
“You did?” I ask in surprise, making the mistake of looking up into his eyes. And they seem honest. Well, too bad they weren’t honest about his wife.
“What’s going on, Reagan? Talk to me,” he says before he closes his eyes and shakes his head. Turning around to head back to the front of the class, he adds, “Not right now but after class.”
“No,” I say to his back, causing his feet to freeze. He doesn’t respond, just moves to the podium and starts the lecture. The whole class period I keep my head bowed, taking notes without looking at him. Today’s the last class before the final exam and projects are due next Thursday.
Giving up on him, on us, is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Not only do I feel miserable about the thought of being lonely, but I worry about what Josie will say when I don’t fulfill my responsibility for the love potion. She and Lawson are solid together, so I just don’t see that falling apart because I can’t make a man sleep with me.