Professor with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  “No--I’m not.”

  “But you didn’t want to sleep with my wife? I don’t get it. She’s gorgeous.” His tone is a little angry as he grabs his shirt and starts buttoning it, like there is something wrong with me because I turned her down. He shakes his head.

  “But there is something I should probably tell you,” I admit, and he arches an eyebrow. Fuck it, if I’m going to bring up his daughter, now is as good a time as any. Rose and I might have started out as friends with benefits, but we’ve flown past that. I’m right about at the ‘fuck it’ point. I want the world to know we’re in love, and I don’t give a shit about the consequences. And something is telling me there’s no way we’ll be able to keep our secret hidden for much longer in this tiny damn town.

  I straighten my posture and look him in the eye. I’m going to deliver this news man-to-man. “I’m concerned about the consequences of saying out loud, Jerry, but it needs to be said. I mean, especially after that whole sexual harassment seminar. I felt it was weird how your wife came up to me--in front of you--but now it makes sense. Anyways, I’m getting off track with what I want to say.”

  I’m about to admit to him what’s been going on between us. Control the story, control the narrative. Rose isn’t the naive little woman they think she is.

  Right at that moment, a fucking secret bookcase slides open and Dean Allison is standing there in fucking lingerie.

  “Hello Professor Hanks,” she says in a seductive voice.

  My eyes bulge out of my head, and something tells me I need to get the fuck out of here right this second.

  “You’re waiting behind the bookcase!? Were you going to try and watch us hook up?”

  “We had a backup plan,” she says, her voice sultry.

  I turn to leave, but Jerry grabs my arm. “Cole. We won’t tell a soul about this, I promise. I just want you to give my wife one night of pleasure. Maybe we don’t make love anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”

  I shake off Jerry’s grip, and I’m about to exit the room, but my inner curiosity spurs me on. This situation is so fucked up. Maybe it’s the professor in me, but I need to ask a question before I leave. Just short of the door, I turn, face them, and fold my arms.

  “When did you know you were gay? I mean, how long has this been going on? Decades? Or just years?” I ask. I’m curious how long such a big secret can be repressed in such a small town.

  Jerry clears his throat. “We went through couples therapy a few years ago, hoping to fix our sex life. And then we found out why I wasn’t interested in sex any more--the answer being that I just didn’t want women. I never thought I was gay--hadn’t considered it. But looking at my past behavior, there it was, the answer sitting right in front of me. We decided for the good of our daughter and for our jobs to keep this a secret. Please Cole, I’m begging you. Just one night with her.”

  “Please,” Dean Allison repeats. “I know you probably think I’m a bad person, but you have no idea how much nerve I had to work up to go into your office and proposition you. I’ve never done that before.”

  I run my hand through my hair. Suddenly, so many things make sense. Rose’s drive to become a couple’s sex therapist. It’s such a perfect reaction to unaffectionate parents, even Sigmund Freud himself would be proud of Rose.

  “Look, I’m not one to judge,” I say. “But this just isn’t my cup of tea. Jerry, I’m sorry you live in a small town like Blackwell, where being openly gay is going to be hard as hell for you. And Dean Allison, I’m sorry your sex life has taken a tumble lately. No one deserves that. But for me, there’s only one person I want to sleep with anymore. And it’s not a one night stand situation. I’m done with those.”

  “Who is it?” Dean Allison demands. “I haven’t seen you around with anyone.”

  With the two of them staring me down, I hear the doorknob turn, and Rose’s sugar sweet voice call my name.

  My heart clenches. There’s not enough time for any of us to react or hide.

  We freeze as Rose walks in and assesses the situation. I’m the first thing she sees.

  “Cole, what are you doing…” her voice fades as she sees her mom in lingerie and her dad with a half buttoned shirt. Jerry runs to block his wife’s half naked body, like that will do anything.

  “Rose, I know how this probably looks, but it’s not what you think,” I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how cliche and stupid I sound.

  ‘Not what you think’ is what you say when you’ve done something terribly wrong.

  She steps inside and, seeing the three of us, she shuts the door behind her. “Oh my God! Not what I think?! Not what I fucking think!?” she seethes.

  “Honey, please,” her mom says, trying to stay calm, but she looks ridiculous, hiding her half-nakedness behind her husband. “We were just having a...discussion.”

  “A fucking discussion!!” Her face turns a rosy shade of red, she’s fired up. I’ve never seen her this angry. She walks quickly to the desk and slides a stack of books off, right onto the ground. “I’m so sick and fucking tired of you all hiding things from me! I’m twenty-two years old! I think I deserve a damn explanation of what’s going on here!”

  “Well,” her dad starts, “Honey, we are having an adult discussion about some adult things.”

  I seethe. I clench my fists. My association with general comments from Rose’s and my discussion last week comes back up. And as badly as I want to spill the beans about her father being gay and her mother trying to hit on me--as fucked up as it all is--she might not believe it coming from me.

  That information needs to come from their mouths. Yet I have my doubts that this guy has the balls to come out right now right here, to his daughter.

  “An adult fucking discussion,” Rose repeats. She glares at me with those beautiful brown eyes. “I guess I’m a kid who can’t be trusted.”

  “Why don’t you get a little more specific?” I urge.

  “There are some things you’re just better off not knowing,” her mom chimes in. “We’re protecting you.”

  Rose nods, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t believe I trusted you. I really did,” she says, looking at me. “This is so fucked, up, I don’t want to believe it. Tell me I’m seeing things. Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”

  My voice is firm when I speak. “Alright. Listen up, you two. You just dropped some news on me. Well, I’ve got some news for you. I’m in love with your daughter.”

  I step up next to Rose and take her hand. “Trust me,” I whisper in her ear.

  She glares at me, but goes along with it.

  “What?” Dean Allison bellows. She’s suddenly irate. “She’s a student, Professor Hanks!”

  “Yeah, I get it. But I’m in love with her. I’m prepared to deal with the consequences of my actions. Are you two prepared to deal with the consequences of yours?”

  I burn my eyes into the couple, waiting for an admission of guilt regarding what is going on here. I say a silent prayer. Rose’s eyes glance back and forth between me and her parents.

  “Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!” she demands again.

  I raise an eyebrow at Rose’s dad. I can’t put the words in his mouth. As much as I want to, I can’t come out of the closet for him. In Boston, I had a ton of gay friends, and I know more than half of them said coming out is something they’ve got to deal with for themselves. It takes a lot to do it, and someone else yanking that chain, well, that can open up a whole can of worms that I really don’t need right now.

  He takes a deep breath, looks at me, and then looks at the ground between us. “Honey, Professor Hanks told us he wanted to sleep with your mom. He’s been following her around, trying to get with her, and he said if she dressed up in lingerie during the party today, he would finally leave her alone. I found them in here, and I’m not letting that happen, obviously.”

  My blood boils like I’ve just heard the biggest bold faced lie of my life.


  Because I have.

  “What the fuck!?” I turn to Rose. “That’s not even remotely true.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Rose starts to cry. She slips her hand out of mine and pushes my arms away. “This was all just fun and games for you. None of that shit you told me was remotely true, was it! You’re not in love with me! I’m just a fucking toy that you use and will get rid of once you're bored.”

  “No! I swear to God, everything I said to you was the truth,” I plead, and I don’t like the sound of my own damn voice. I’m not a fucking beggar.

  “Get out,” Rose says, sternly.

  I flash a glance at Rose’s mom and dad, and shake my head. “I hope you two are happy with your decisions. I’m in love with your daughter, and I don’t give a shit who knows anymore.”

  “Yeah, well you should probably keep that love to yourself. Because I don’t want to see you again,” Rose barks. “Get out!”

  I could beg. I could plead more. I could call Rose’s parents liars right in front of her, call him out on being gay.

  But one look at Rose tells me there isn’t one fucking thing I could say or do to fix this.

  I turn, head out the door, and lament the fucking day I stepped foot back in this shitty damn town.

  Only in Blackwell, small town in the middle of nowhere, USA, could something like this happen.

  Fuck this.

  Chapter Twenty - Rose

  On the last day of class, Professor Hanks stands at the front of the classroom. He looks pale, dehydrated, and almost haggard.

  Serves him right.

  “Final exams were, in general, good,” he says as he passes them back to us. “I wrote some comments on them about your responses. There were a lot of good responses.”

  He sounds like a robot today, not like everyone’s favorite professor.

  Liz pokes me. “What the matter with him today? Professor McHottie doesn’t look so hot.”

  “No idea,” I say, smiling fakely.

  “Yes! Seventy-six percent,” Liz says, clenching her fist in victory.

  I don’t make eye contact as he places my test face down on my desk.

  “Ninety-eight percent. Incredible work” is all mine says at the top.

  The cold and impersonal note is in stark contrast to almost every other paper of mine Professor Hanks has corrected and given back to me.

  Once he passes out all of the tests, he stands in front of the room and looks out at everyone.

  “Well you guys, this has certainly been an interesting summer. Thanks for having me. I’ve decided to cancel the presentations for today and just give those people automatic A’s.”

  “Alright!” a couple of stoners in the back remark, and high five each other.

  Someone else raises their hand. “I don’t think that’s really fair to those of us who did the presentation. Why would you do that?”

  “Because, fuck it, that’s why,” Professor Hanks says before he pulls out a flask from under his desk.

  The crowd gasps collectively.

  “Holy shit! The final day of classes is a party!” the stoner yells again.

  “Yep. It’s a party, because I don’t give a shit anymore,” he rants, and I freeze up. “You’ve all been asking me for some real shit during this class. We’re talking about the Psychology of Sexuality. Analysing it like if we read all the studies in the world we’ll figure it out. Well, do you want to know the fucking truth!?”

  “Hell yeah, Professor Hanks! Preach!” a jock in the front row yells, cupping his hand over his mouth. The class giggles.

  I sink further into my chair. Maybe I loved this man once, but now, I can’t believe a damn word that comes out of his mouth. Still, I watch him with the same morbid curiosity that all of the students have right now.

  “The truth is, you can’t fucking talk about the truth any more. As much as I love Academia, we’ve gotten to a place where we can’t fucking talk about the truth if it makes us uncomfortable. Two months ago, I sat in a seminar saying that it is “illegal” for professors and students to be attracted to each other. That is some Orwellian shit right there, if I’ve ever seen it.”

  “What’s Orwellian?” the same jock yells from the first row.

  “Shut up and google it!” the girl next to him seethes. I’ve never seen the class so engaged as they are right now.

  Professor Hanks continues. “Who you are attracted to isn’t a choice. Deciding to act on it, well yes, that’s a choice. And I made a choice this summer.”

  I want to crumble into my seat. The man is in full denial. And despite the fact that he’s ranting like a madman, I want to believe him. I want to somehow think he wasn’t getting into some fucked up sexual shit with my mom the other day--but I can’t unsee what I saw with my own two eyes.

  I can’t get the image out of my brain of him, my dad, and my mom half naked.

  Only in Blackwell, USA, could something as fucked up as this happen.

  “I made a choice with the full knowledge of those consequences.”

  Liz turns to me and whispers. “Holy shit! Did Professor Hanks sleep with a student? Who was the lucky girl?”

  I swallow, and turn bright red. I clear my throat.

  Liz sees the look on my face and damn near goes cross-eyed. “Oh. My. Dear. God. It’s you. You’re the one he’s talking about right now.”

  I don’t say anything. I grip my pen hard, and write spirals into my special idea journal, pretty symbolic of how I feel right now. My mind runs in circles as Professor Hanks continues.

  “I can tell you this, though. For all the research that’s out there, nobody really fucking knows what the ingredients are to true love and a happy marriage, happy life. I met a couple, lovely couple who celebrated their fiftieth anniversary just this past weekend. I wanted to ask him his secret. But I didn’t get that chance.”

  The class is so silent listening to Professor Hanks, you could hear a pin drop. And then the doors swing open.

  It’s my fucking Mom.

  She walks in, flanked by a couple of security guards.

  “Professor Hanks,” she drawls. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me. I hate to make this so dramatic, but you’re under the jurisdiction of the Blackwell U Justice Console now. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  The jaws of all the students in the room drop. Everyone’s but mine. Although I am a bit surprised at the dramatic entrance, I saw this coming.

  “Seriously?” Professor Hanks barks back. “This is what it’s come to. I’ve got thirty damn minutes left in my last day of classes.”

  My mom nods, and makes a come hither motion to Professor Hanks.

  “Like I was saying, guys,” he says to the class. “Academia is so far up their own ass at this own point, they’ve grown afraid of confronting any truth they deem uncomfortable. Naturally, any aberation in the realm of sexualty is at the top of their hit list. Like a Professor who hooks up with a student. You know what I really think? I think they should take a look in the damn mirror.” He shoots a look so deadly at my mom, I begin to think maybe--just maybe--he isn’t totally full of shit.

  But then I remember my mom’s words this weekend as she talked me off the ledge.

  Professor Hanks is a professional actor, honey.

  I can’t trust him worth a damn any more, and it’s a damn shame.

  The security guards walk up to Professor Hanks. He puts his hands up.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll go peacefully. Fine. Class is dismissed.”

  Our eyes catch as Cole gets ushered out the door.

  The class sits in their desks, stunned at what they’ve just witnessed: their favorite professor being dragged out based on sexual harassment charges.

  And it’s all my fault.

  I lean back in the chair in the Blackwell University mental health building as the therapist begins.

  “I want you to know, Rose, that this is a safe space. You can tell me anything here.”r />
  “Okay,” I say, staring up at the ceiling.

  “So tell me, how did the abuse begin?”

  I sit up. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve been abused by a Professor, Rose. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this.”

  I close my eyes. My mind flashes to Liz’s townie boyfriend from freshmen year, who would hit her. “Listen, I know what you’re trying to do, but I actually take offense to that term. Professor Hanks didn’t abuse me at all. I’ve had friends who have been through actual abuse, and I think you are really abusing that term.”

  Shit. Bad pun. That was not a funny joke.

  She scoffs. “Listen, Rose, you might not have known it at the time, but you were abused. He had a position of power over you and he took advantage of that.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, that's where you're wrong. It was my idea.”

  She furrows her brow. “It was your idea? What, exactly, was your idea?”

  “All of it. I begged Professor Hanks to sleep with me. First, he said no, actually. He told me to get the fuck out of his office, and that he wouldn’t sleep with a student in a million years.”

  “Tell me more,” she says, taking out her notepad.

  “But I want to be a sex therapist someday. And earlier this summer I realized I had a problem if I wanted to take that career goal seriously. I’d never had sex. I had no experience at all. Well, unless you count the half-hearted blow job I gave Brandon that one night.”

  She scribbles furiously. “Okay. Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, so I decided since Professor Hanks wouldn’t have sex with me, I was going to just walk into the Watering Hole and hook up with someone. I don’t know, I was feeling crazy that night. I just might have done it. But Professor Hanks happened to be there that night, and he agreed to help me after I pretty much begged him. I was pretty happy about the whole thing. I just can’t believe he turned out to be such a dick.”

  I tighten a little when I say the last words, and I think about how our thing was just too good to be true.

  “Good. How was he a dick, as you say?”

  “This is confidential, right?” I squirm a little in my seat.