Pupil: Inspired By a True Story

by Zoey Long

  I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and remove my shoes, wipe my face with my hands and work the back zipper on my black dress down all the way. It’s warm in my dorm room, so I slip the dress off my shoulders, put it on my bed, and walk toward the bathroom.

  The bathrooms in Earnsley dorms are little more than just a shower stall and a toilet. The walls are simple white tile, you’re lucky to get a bathtub. I turn the soap scum-covered knob and warm water spurts to life. That’s one thing I’ll say for the showers, the water gets hot almost immediately.

  I remove my bra and panties and step into the shower, the water so warm it makes goosebumps all over my body, my nipples standing erect immediately. I wet my hair, let my head dip under the inviting faucet, and try to get a handle on the last forty-eight hours. If I shower back at school like this, scrub my body with my Earnsley soap and rinse in Earnsley water, will it be like nothing happened? Will it wash away the kisses, the feel of his strong hands and fingers, his tongue all over my body, kissing my pussy? Erase the feel of his cock in my hands and mouth? I shiver at the thought of him pounding inside me, first in missionary and then against the wall.

  I reach down to rinse my vagina and feel that I’m wet just thinking about everything this water is supposed to erase. I don’t want to masturbate right now, I’d rather wait to see Adam again. Even if he watches me touch myself to orgasm. I think he’d like that. Maybe we could do it in his office when we’re supposed to be having conference? That’d be hot. I’d like to come on his desk. The thought of him sitting in his three-piece suit at his antique wood desk makes me flush with desire.

  I hear the room door unlock.

  “Holy shit.”

  It’s Michelle’s bombastic voice that enters the dorm room, she shuts the wooden door loudly behind her and I hear her heavy feet loping toward the bathroom door. I’m nearly finished with my shower.

  “Carrie! Where the fuck have you been?”

  She’s so excited to see me that she opens the shower curtain and pokes her head in. I’m about to turn off the faucet when I see her thick glasses and dark hair poke through. I don’t cover myself up. I don’t mind if she sees me naked.

  “Were you abducted?” she asks me, a big smile stretched across her face. She looks my naked body up and down once.

  “I don’t see any offending marks. Were you taken to another planet and lobotimized?”

  “Let me get out of here and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She smiles excitedly and leaves me as quickly as she appeared. When I squeak the old shower knob shut, I realize how much I wish I could tell her everything.

  When I step out of the bathroom, Michelle is sitting in her desk chair, but she’s moved it to the center of the room. She’s wearing her tight black skinny jeans with the rips over the thighs, not because she bought them that way, but because she actually wore them through. Her t-shirt is grey and ill-fitting, and she looks like she spent the entire weekend in tech theater for some reason, and most likely, she did. She’s manspreading in the chair like men do on the subway trains, taking up more than their share of the subway seat, waiting for me to fill her in on my weekend.

  I have a white towel wrapped around my body, and out of the corner of my eye I see the face of my phone is lit up. My heart skips a beat, hoping it’s from Adam. I can’t make out who the text is from at this angle. I look back at Michelle, who is still waiting expectantly.

  I move toward my closet and pick out a pair of jeans, careful to hold the towel fast around me. We’re close, but we’re not that close.

  “Seriously, man?’ Michelle laughs, turning her head toward me. “You’re gonna leave me hanging? Where have you been?”

  I pretend not to hear her for the moments it takes me to pick out a shirt. It’s juvenile, I know, but I honestly have no idea what I’m going to say to her.

  “I know you were gone all weekend,” she begins, not looking at me while I slip on a fresh pair of underwear that feel as good on my skin as a brand-new set of sheets does on your skin the moment you lie down. “I wasn’t here for most of the weekend, but whenever I did come back, you weren’t here. Your bed wasn’t touched. Did you go home? Why are you being cagey?”

  I let the loose cotton of my boatneck charcoal t-shirt fall over my bare breasts and torso, adjusting my jeans and drying my hair with a towel. It’s so wet I have to blot it, and I take care to do so, making sure it doesn’t drip all over my shirt. I sit on the bed and Michelle turns around. I can’t help but look at my phone and see that the text is indeed from “A.” I don’t dare pick it up right now, though. There’s no way I’ll be able to hide my delight if I look at his message right now. Whatever it is.

  Michelle is staring at me now, wide-eyed, incredulous. I suppress a small giggle. “Secret lover,” she blurts out.

  “What?” I blink my eyes and swear I can feel the blood red A creeping its smooth satin legs back over the skin of my chest, blinking sleepily under the fabric of my t-shirt, before shining brightly over my heart. Even though I ran hot water over my whole body and scrubbed, I can’t erase it. I think about how hard it is to tear satin, how delicate it looks, but how strong it is.

  “That’s what it has to be. You have a secret lover. Let’s see…”

  Michelle leans back in her chair and mimes the famous thinker pose, holding her thumb and forefinger to her chin for dramatic effect. She begins to speak like a detective trying to solve a very confusing case. My heart is pounding.

  “The last time I saw you, you were in your black cocktail dress. Not your opulent ‘opening night’ black cocktail dress, but the ‘oops, this old thing, what?’ cocktail dress. You seemed nervous, almost like you had a theater engagement but I know you didn’t…I think you put on the matte red lipstick I suggested...”

  Her eyes dart to the floor, looking at my bag slunked against the side of the bed. I’m glad I took the expensive lingerie Adam bought me out of the pink bag with the tissue paper, folded it up and hid it in my tote. I silently thank Adam for keeping my red evening gown. A huge black garment bag would have given me away immediately, not to mention piqued her costume interest to no end.

  Perhaps Michelle should be a private investigator instead of a stage manager.

  “I don’t have a secret lover,” I say, deadpan.

  Michelle sits back and stares at me, narrowing her eyes. “I was fucking kidding.”

  Michelle looks at my phone, it’s blinking again. She snatches it off the bed in an unsuspected aggressive move.

  “What the fuck, Michelle? Give me my phone back.”

  “Who is A?” she asks, but I have the phone out of her hands before she’s able to read anything more. Now I’m pissed.

  “You had no right to do that. I don’t touch your shit. What the hell?”

  I’m breathing heavily, my chest is red. Curse my pale skin for showing every emotion, from ardour to exhiliration to blind fury.

  Michelle looks at me, shocked. We’ve never had a fight before. She looks concerned, blinking at me.

  “I’m really sorry. Clearly you’ve got some shit going on. I won’t pry into your business again.” Michelle turns away and picks up her big backpack. “I’m gonna go, see you later.”

  Michelle slings the heavy black bag over both shoulders, pulls her curly brown hair out from under the straps and leaves without another word. The door closes behind her with a hollow thud. I don’t want to fight with Michelle. It feels wrong. It’s Sunday, so I know she doesn’t have class. But the thought of us sitting here in awkward silence while she needles me over who A could possibly be is more than either of us can take right now.

  I’m left standing alone in the middle of the dorm room, holding my phone. I finally look down and read the message that Adam sent. The screen reads:

  “Hi babe. Hope you got in OK. Thinking of you. It’ll all be okay. ”

  My hands are shaking as I type a reply.

  “I’m here. This suck
s. Yes.”

  I erase the “this sucks” part and hit send, I’ve only been back on campus for an hour and I’ve already almost spilled the beans to the first person I saw. He’d be right to be concerned if he knew that. I need to get my shit together.

  I empty my bag and the sight of the navy corset and underwear stir a different kind of excitement in me. I close my eyes and let myself be transported back to his apartment on Friday night, when he first dressed me up, then again in the fitting room, and finally, the photos in the hotel. My heart lurches at the thought of there being photographic evidence of our affair.

  “I miss you” I type, and hit send to him before I have the chance to chicken out.

  The next morning I wake up with a sickeningly sour stomach, the way I used to feel on the first day of school back home when my mother would make me oatmeal with raisins and peanut butter for breakfast and I couldn’t touch a bite.

  Michelle’s bed is already made and I look at my phone to see that it’s 8:30 am. I jump up and get dressed, ready to go to Adam’s photo class. I choose a simple emerald green dress with short sleeves and run into the bathroom to retrieve the navy thong he bought for me. I washed it in the sink the night before and let it dry over the shower curtain rung. I slip the familiar panties over my bare legs and bottom before sliding the fabric of the dress down again. The hemline hits just above my knees.

  I fish a pair of leather Mary Janes out from the bottom of my closet, ones I haven’t worn in quite some time. They have small cutouts around the toe and shiny silver buckles. A quick swipe of lipstick and I’m out the door. I’m clutching my books to my chest as I round the corner to the visual arts building, my eyes involuntarily searching for any glimpse of Adam, even though I’m trying so hard to look nonchalant and normal.

  “Whoa, what’s with you?”

  No such luck. It’s Alexis who creeps up behind me, wearing a flowered maxi dress that floats diaphanously around her legs and a headband to match. She’s paired it with bright neon pink lipstick and black kohl rimmed eyes. A bit intense for nine am if you ask me, but it could be from the night before. Last night’s makeup is sometimes even prettier than when you first apply it.

  “Hey,” I say, giving her a quick hug.

  “You look like you’re expecting someone to jump out of those bushes,” she says, pointing to the shrubbery that surrounds the entrance to the building. “What’s up with you? And for your information,” she adds with a hushed whisper, “the bushes are fake. I touched them.”

  I look at her very doubtfully before she punches me in the arm, signaling that she’s only kidding.

  “Jerk,” I kid. My eyes still search for Adam, even though I pretend like nothing is up.

  “Right, because plastic shrubbery is a thing.”

  “It is a thing,” I assert, looking her dead in the eyes. Of course it’s a thing. “Astroturf? Fake plants? I wouldn’t put it past the administration to fill this place with fake greenery...”

  “Whatever, where the fuck have you been?” she asks suddenly, shrugging me off and smacking her lips together.

  I look at my phone and realize I’m running late for class. I really don’t want to walk in after he’s started teaching and disrupt things, making things obvious. No, that’d be bad. I quickly apologize to Alexis and run off without any further explanation as to my whereabouts all weekend. She’s luckily distracted enough by her phone to let me go without a fight.

  By the time I reach Adam’s classroom, I can hear his smooth, velvety voice through the door. He’s not started class yet, he’s talking to someone else. Another student, no doubt, because I can also hear her higher pitched replies and small giggles, the way anyone my age gets around Adam. Except for me. The double wooden doors creak as I open them, and he sees me out of the corner of his eye. His recognition of my presence is only a millisecond long, but we lock eyes for that millisecond, and it shoots excitement throughout my whole body. I take my usual seat at the round table, feel my bare legs touch one another as I sit up straight. I can’t help but think about the panties I’m currently wearing, about how I can let him know I’m wearing them, without making a scene.

  Adam breaks his conversation with Heather, one of the students in the class, a girl with breasts way too large for her frame but accentuated nicely in a yellow V-neck top. She nods with a huge smile and takes her seat eagerly, still looking dreamily in his direction. Adam smiles at her normally, an act of courtesy, and I can’t help but giggle to myself because of his megawatt smile. He’s just being normal, treating this girl just like any other teacher would, and yet he has absolutely no idea the kind of effect he has on these people. I look around and see that almost every single person in the room is staring at him, watching his every move, playing with their pens in their mouths, pretending it’s some part of his body, leaning listlessly on one arm, batting their eyelashes.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get some pleasure out of knowing I’ve been fucking this gorgeous man all weekend. I’m sitting in a room full of people who would volunteer parts of their bodies just to be alone in a room with him, let alone kiss him, have him touch them...

  My mind, without my permission, wanders to the exact shade of his pubic hair, the size and girth of his penis, the way he looks when he inserts himself inside of me, his orgasm face.

  Adam begins instructing, and after about ten minutes of him going on about composition I realize that he’s decidedly looking in every possible direction but mine. I wonder if anyone else in the class notices. I look around casually, with my face still resting in my palm, and quickly realize… no, they wouldn’t notice me right now if I were on fire.

  Was it this ridiculous before I started sleeping with Adam? Was he really like a fresh carcass in a room of vultures? The man can’t blink an eye without someone smiling about it. Good thing I’m not the jealous type.

  “We should wrap up now, but please don’t hesitate to utilize the materials I have on hold for you online,” Adam says at the end of the class. He did it. He successfully went an entire sixty minutes without even looking at me once.

  “Ms. Desmond?” he says to me, finally. The sound of his voice directed at me but not calling me “baby” or “love” makes me jump.

  “Yes?” I respond, seeing that most students have left the class. I look up at him, but don’t lock eyes. I’m afraid if I do, our attraction for one another will magnetically pull me to his mouth.

  “We have our conference today, please go into my office and I’ll be there in a moment.” The few straggling students pack up their belongings and walk out.

  No, we don’t. Today isn’t our conference day. Why would he be asking to see me unless he wanted something else entirely? I thumb through the pages of my notebook before simply nodding in his direction, standing up to smooth my brightly saturated green dress, and walking out.

  The door to his office is open, just like the time he caught me in there trying to look through his personal photography portfolios. I walk in again, and the old door hinges creak as I enter. The air smells like old leather-bound books and paper. I sit in his desk chair for a moment and wonder how well he can see directly up the skirts of students, namely mine, from this vantage point.

  I hear rustling down the hall and jump up from his chair like the seat just caught fire. The hinges jerk with my sudden movement and I laugh at myself for a second. I can have sex with him all weekend in every position imaginable, but I can’t sit in his chair? It’s funny how the walls of this campus change everything. It feels so different now. I take my place in the wooden chair across from his desk, with my back to the door, and I’m once again his student. It opens and I hear footsteps come into the room, but don’t look over my shoulder. Then I hear the sweet latch of the door behind him. It’s a solid oak door with nothing but a keyhole below the knob.

  Then his hands are on my shoulders, firm and steady. I don’t jump, but instead melt into his touch like cool lotion does on w
arm skin. Muscle memory. I take a sharp inhale of breath, unable to believe that he’s touching me like this right now, but willing him to keep going. His touch on my skin feels electric and I close my eyes, my chest rising and falling rapidly. His hands travel from my shoulders to my breasts and squeeze gently, yet with intention. My nipples rise to meet his fingers, but I doubt he can feel them stand at attention through the thick material of my dress and bra. I lean into his touch further and let out the smallest moan.

  Adam’s hands move firmly to the arms of the wooden chair I’m sitting in. He grips them strongly, the hard edges of the wood digging into his palms. I don’t dare move, I’m so aroused thinking of what he might do next, my inhalations are catching in my chest, my heart beginning to thump in my ears. In one smooth motion, Adam begins to move the chair I’m sitting in, drags and turns it around so that the wooden legs scratch and squeak against the waxed floor, until I am face to face with him. He’s standing over me, I’m still seated.

  My face must be flushed, my lips feel swollen and billowy, my chest still rising and falling with excitement and anticipation. I know I’m looking at him like a cat about to pounce. Our eyes meet and the gaze is searing. His hands do not move from the arms of the chair, the air in his office is thick, the walls are lined with countless literary tomes, we’re completely alone, the lights aren’t even on, once again it’s just the smallest bits of spring daylight coming through the windows. But his blinds are drawn.