by A. L. Wood
***
Silence. Lord, it's too quiet. But I’m enjoying it as my days are rarely quiet.
“Afternoon, Dr. Marshall,” I hear in the background. It's the janitor for the building, a worn down old man who's been here since I played ball here. I smile at him. “Hey, Duke,” I call him as he walks like my dad's role model John Wayne, bow legged in a way, like a cowboy hunched over from age.
I decided to stop in at campus and put some work in on the lab knowing that Maggie had already left early this morning. I’m hoping to solve the variance or problem before Monday. That’s was when we pick back up, so we can go right back into full swing and not drag out the research. Granted, I never wanted to teach someone this way. I would much rather show a student what they did wrong and give them the right answer, by showing their mistake and how to correct it.
But … Maggie. I can tell her eyes are always searching for mine, and with things being rough between Denise and myself, I'm not trying to make things even more confusing.
Looking through Maggie’s research paperwork I discover that she solved it. This formula is correct. That's weird, it's done perfectly. I don't even see eraser marks on the page as if she had to restart, like she …
“Hey, Dr. Marshall,” a girl's voice calls to me—Maggie.
I don’t comment on the fact that she isn’t supposed to be here until Monday. “I thought you had trouble with finding the variances, this is perfect. There is no variance. You solved it, and from the looks of it, you didn't even need my help.”
“It was easy, honestly. I didn't need your help with it, I just needed you here.”
Be careful of what you say, Marshall.
I hesitate, slowly closing my eyes. I say to myself. Before lashing out at her. I need answers from her. I take a deep, calming breath and reply, “What why?” You didn't need me here.
“You just don't see it or you're not trying very hard to see it!” Maggie exclaims as she begins to walk closer. She looks tempting, wearing her dark skinny jeans, a teasing satin V-neck button up with a dark jacket over it. Her hair is done up in a messy bun and pearl-studded earrings in her ear lobes. I won’t lie, I am extremely tempted to take her right now.
She stares at me intensely, her blue eyes shimmering in the light. Maggie’s bright-red lipstick is very elegant and clean. I study her every move, beginning to feel my heart shudder. I can't tell if it’s because I am in fear, like I’m being hunted with her piercing gaze or because maybe something is just off with me today. I take a step back and turn to grab my briefcase and satchel that I’ve had since I was a freshman in college with worn-out straps that are about to tear in several spots that Denise has had repaired like a hundred times.
I haven’t replied to Maggie, and because of this, she turns away from me, headed for the exit. “You can't leave, I …” I pause. “Maggie, I have idea to where you're taking this, and you know I'm married, I can't do this.”
She slowly takes few more steps toward me. “Oh, but, Marshall—”
“It's Dr. Jackson.” I side-step to get around her. “Look, Maggie, I’ve seen this happen to colleagues before and nothing good ever comes out of this. I get it, you're lonely, and we spend time together in a lab. Maybe it's because I’m older and have an appealing demeanor or persona. I know that sometimes students confuse infatuations or crushes with their professors but this cannot happen.”
She steps a little closer but not enough to touch me, “You're right, I’m sorry. We have to keep it professional. Whatever you say, I’ll do.” She grins deviously.
A slow grin appears as she says the last sentence. I hesitate for some reason, trying to walk backward but my feet are stuck at the same time. She starts to walk toward me again as my back is toward the entrance. She grabs the center of my shirt before I get a chance to move away from her touch, “Let the professionalism begin,” she whispers in my ear then kisses my cheek and continues to walk out of the room.
What in the hell just happened?
What should I do?
Should I make it clear that nothing will happen between us even though I’m attracted to her and want something to happen?
Midafternoon, I decide it’s time to head home. The sky is beautiful but not overly bright to where I’m blinded. Vibrant, white clouds mix in with the blue hues of the sky and I find that I am at peace. As calm as I should have been from how this morning started.
Somehow, I feel like the entire situation with Maggie is just the beginning of a downward spiral of chaos. Like the highest point on a rollercoaster, that feeling you get right before you fall. You know the old screamers where you didn't need loops or flips, just the height of the coaster gave you chills and the free fall grabbed the pit of your stomach giving you the most vulnerable and frightening sense of fear. A sensation unlike any other. Yet, even with that flip flopping my stomach, I feel calm.
Realizing I should just stop thinking about her, I pay attention to the music booming from the spears in my car. Quickly recognizing the words to one of my favorite songs by one of my most favorite bands, the song, light and carefree urges me to sing along. So, I do.
“The Joker” plays on, well into the chorus, my windows are down and the wind blows through my short hair. A nostalgic feeling washes over me, of moments just listening to Steve Miller Band with my Dad. Great memories of all the road trips we took together, listening to great tracks. I was lost in the music the entire way home; and as always, I never actually reach the right notes of any of the songs I sang along to.
I pull into the garage of my house and cut the car off. Denise’s car isn’t in the driveway or the garage so I assume she’s out doing something with the kids.
I almost hesitate to go inside, scared of the emptiness I will find there. Of not having my family there to greet me. I know I have to find a way to tell Denise what happened. I know she will demand I report it to administration, and even more so that I fire Maggie as my intern. But I don’t want to.
I don’t know what I should do.
But I don’t want to be a jerk.
Sitting in my study, I begin playing through all the scenarios of what has to happen and what I must do, but none of the situations have pleasant outcomes. The university could try to say even with my undisputable reputation that I somehow encouraged the act. Denise would surely believe me … I think.
Maggie calling me wouldn’t help my case any, so there’s some doubt there whether or not she'd believe me.
I also don’t want to risk losing what small spark Denise and I have found over the last few days. I think we could have a shot at rekindling our marriage. Telling that Maggie came on to me would put out those flames quickly. I’m not stupid, I saw the accusation in her eyes when she brought up Maggie.
What do I do?
***
The door slams shut. “Marshall were home,” I hear upon waking.
Nightfall is just beginning; I must’ve fallen asleep at the desk. I can hear Ryan and Josh running to their rooms. They must be exhausted. Denise probably had them out all day.
I holler to the kids, “No running.” As usual, they pretend to not hear. Which results in me laughing sometimes, because kids will be kids.
“They’re getting ready for bed. We had a great time today. You should have joined us visiting the zoo.”
“You didn't even invite me. If I remember correctly, you stormed out of the house this morning,” I reply.
She rolls her eyes and an exasperated sigh escapes her mouth. “I wasn’t aware that I had to invite my husband along.”
“Denise, that's not fair, I would have gone if you had asked me. Instead, you didn’t. You just left. You made it seem like you didn’t want me to come and that I should stay home,” I argue back.
“Of course I have to spell it out for you when it comes to understanding things. You could have come if you wanted to, you know that the boys love spending time with you. Maybe last night was just some fluke. I don’t understand how we can connect passionately during sex bu
t outside of the bedroom it’s like you’re a completely different person. We might as well be on different continents.”
“Denise—”
She cuts me off, “Stop. Look, I don't know what's going on with you lately, but it's been a fucking roller coaster with you. I know it hurt not getting to stay pro, I know that it has bothered you greatly to not be fulfilling your dreams, but that wasn't mine or the kids fault. You chose to stay and you still made it. You got injured, I won’t lie, yes, it is a shitty situation but you have to let go. Embrace where you are and who you are. You’re loved and adored and the kids both idolize you. You’re a God to them, Marshall! You need to get your shit together and until then you're sleeping in your office. Don't come up to our room, you can sleep and shower down here. Use the boys’ bathroom; I need a break from us.”
I couldn't reply. I had no rebuttals, she was right. I was actually somewhat on her side. But at the same time I was completely pissed off. As her words registered, I became more and more pissed off. This was bullshit. I mean she has held this in this entire time, instead of coming to me and telling me how she feels. She decides now to just blow up and drop this in my lap.
Maybe this is the reason for the fire going out between us, and if so, that’s her fault.
That’s all on her.
To make me seem like a bad father is bullshit, I have been to every game, every practice for the boys. Hell, I coached the majority of them in their little league stuff.
How am I being a bad father or even husband?
Granted yes I’ve been distant, and I’m not innocent as of late with my thoughts, but a marriage crumbling takes two people. We both lost the spark or flame in our marriage, not just one. In addition, I do believe it was me who tried to spark things back up and bring back the flame in our bedroom. I point-blank asked her if she felt the same way, and I got chewed out for it. Limp dick my ass. I was the one in the last few days who was making the moves. So why now is she snapping? It doesn't make any sense.
This is fucking bullshit.
***
Lying on the couch with just my thoughts, Denise and the kids are asleep upstairs. I'm lying here in just my college basketball shorts and t-shirt from our NCAA tournament win. The pissed off feeling still lingers, it’s all I can think about. The fact that I’m sleeping on a couch instead of my bed—our bed.
Bullshit.
“Let the professionalism begin,” starts to float around my head. I begin thinking of my encounter with Maggie again.
Then I passed out and of course the ridiculous fight with Denise I forgot to even think about how I felt. Then I remember that tomorrow is Sunday, which is going to be interesting as I never miss Mass.
I wonder if that will be off limits with Denise too. Is she going to demand that I stay home because she’s mad at me?
Good riddance!
I’ve been visiting her church for so long that I would like a Sunday off. Actually, up-down-up-down is all I really get out of that church. I don't understand how that is so important. I do more cardio in that church than when I go on my jogs for cardio and it kills my knees. Up one minute and down the next, then back up say a prayer, back down. Lord have mercy, it's crazy. Like a live version of the human whack-a-mole from an arcade.
All I think about as I drift off to sleep is Maggie and her outfit and how she stood in front of me so persistent, witty, and confident.
In and out of sleep, I begin dreaming.
“Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?” I ask.
“It's me, Dr. Marshall, don't tell me you forgot about me,” Maggie says from behind the door of my office.
“Maggie, what in the hell are you doing in my house?”
“I heard about your fight with your precious Ne Ne, so I figured I would come make it up to you.”
“Maggie, you can't be here.”
“Oh, Dr. Marshall, but I'm not here, unless you want me to be.”
What the fuck does that mean? Who says something like that?
My heart is racing as Maggie starts coming closer. I'm trying to wake myself up.
She stands there in her teal shirt, soft and silky to the touch. I can feel it against me. I can't move, how can I not move in my own dream?
Her pants are off, and I don't even know how.
I didn't remove them.
What kind of dream is this?
She slowly begins to lift my shirt over my head and starts kissing down my body.
“Dr. Marshall, you're in pretty good shape. I'm surprise really. Ohh, you’re so tense. Maybe I should help you relax.” She starts kissing more. Softly, puckering her lips out, hearing the sound against my abs and chest as she goes from side to the other.
“I don't know what it is, Dr. Marshall, but I can't stop thinking about you.”
Slowly, bit by bit, I can feel myself enjoying the thought of her doing this to me.
Her hands start to rub my cock through my shorts, causing me to get harder, “I can't do this, Maggie.” I try to reach out to stop her from rubbing more but I can’t.
“Just relax, Dr. Jackson, or should I call you M.J.? Oh, you're so hard, M.J., you must like it. I wonder how it would feel in my mouth. How about we figure it out? This could be a study. We can conduct an experiment in my mouth, you tell me your conclusion, professor.” She slowly kneels in front of me, all the while pulling down my shorts. My cock twitches as I feel her hands stroke my already hard cock. A drop of precum is glistening at the head of my cock. She leans in and licks the head, she closes her eyes and then looks up, and smiles at me. “Mmmmmm, M.J., you taste so good.” Before I can even respond, she begins to insert my cock into her mouth.
I'm at a loss. I can't even begin to fathom what's going on but it feels so good. My every thought becomes her as she continues to give me oral. Sucking slowly and holding it in her hand. Making me feel like I'm the best in the world, she groans as it goes to the very back of her throat. The tightness and her moans, vibrating my dick, makes me so hard, I almost see stars.
Taking in deep breaths, I watch her suck even harder as she looks me in the eyes. Getting lost in her eyes as she consumes me; and I no longer become someone who’s just here. I become a part of this. And she is enjoying it, enjoying me. There is no fuss or uneasiness. She begins to suck me in even harder. She begins to slow down, and as she reaches the head of my cock, I feel her teeth slightly graze the head. She glides back up and down, and then grips me even harder as she makes her way back up. I feel her teasing and sucking the underside where I am most sensitive, and then pulls away, making a popping noise as I leave her mouth. She coyly smiles up at me again, and I am impressed with her technique, as if she knows exactly what I like. I look down, smiling back at her and in a sultry, teasing voice I tell her, “Oh, Maggie you're so good, but you're so bad.”
“Oh, Dr. Jackson, do you like the way I make you feel?” she purrs. Just hearing her moan as she moves forward and begins sucking the tip again, her hand going up and down on my cock, on my shaft, I feel myself tighten as if I’m about to explode. I can’t control it, or give her warning that I am about to come. Without any thought or concern, I come all in her mouth.
***
“Dad, Daddy … Wake up! Mom says you have to fix us breakfast.”
“Okay, just go get Josh and meet me in the kitchen,” I urge him upstairs.
I start to get up in a complete daze, trying to decipher what happened last night. My dream felt so surreal, like it actually happened. I make my way to kitchen and begin to make the boys’ breakfast. I get the eggs scrambled, heating up the stove top for their eggs and pancakes. Once their breakfast is cooked, I put the food on the plates and serve them.
Deciding I’ll use my bathroom to get changed, I head up to my room. As I pull down my shorts, I realize I have cum everywhere. This is ridiculous, it must have been the dream. I replay glimpses of it in my head.
Changing my clothes then washing my hands, I collect my thoughts and go back downs
tairs to the kids. Ryan and Josh are sitting there side by side, eating their breakfast and bantering like brothers always do.
“So, how did you boys sleep?”
“Not as good as you did, obviously,” Denise chimes in, carrying a hamper of dirty laundry.
She found the damned shorts. “Oh, hey, Denise, and how did you sleep?” She gives me a blank stare; not wanting to fight, I just ignore her.
The boys devour their food in seconds, and are off and out the door toward Mass.
As they leave, all I can think of is what I dreamed about last night, and Denise when she looked at me it was if she knew exactly what went through my mind. Like she just knew that I had a wet dream and it wasn’t about her, like I was already under her microscope. She gave me the longest stare and I couldn't interpret the look she was still giving me as she got in the car with the boys. It was unsettling, and I honestly felt like she already knew about Maggie.
She has no proof. She could be suspicious, but she doesn’t really know.
I’ve made my mind up. I’m not going to tell Denise or report to the administration about Maggie.
In fact, part of me hopes she makes another move.
If Denise doesn’t care about our marriage, why should I?
I deserve some kind of happiness, even if it is strictly physical and impulsive.
Who knows what Monday will bring?
I shut the front door as Denise drives away. “Let the professionalism begin” rings loud and clear in my head.
If you would have asked me what I’d be spending my first Saturday off from classes doing, I wouldn’t have told you that I would be in lab fulfilling my internship criteria. Thankfully, I was able to get everything that needed to be done complete.
Thinking about my goal to seduce Dr. Jackson, I impulsively decide to call him; maybe I can put my plan in motion. He answers on the third ring.
“Dr. Marshall speaking,” I hear his gruff Southern voice reply.