by Gray Gardner
Class ended all too quickly as she slowly stood and packed up her bag. Dr. Frasier sorted his notes as he watched her over his glasses. Her turquoise jeans clung tightly to her legs, gathering at her knees and ankles as if they were just a little too long. Her simple white knit shirt hugged her small waist and perky little breasts, and he laughed to himself as he saw what appeared to be small circular sweat rings under her arms. She was nervous.
He ignored the annoying questions from the suck-up turtlenecks and bolted to his office like it was Christmas morning, making himself very comfortable behind his desk and pouring a scotch and waiting.
Mary knocked lightly on the door with the fogged glass and black lettering. No answer. Well, that nice TA must be out, and she didn’t want to be alone, and he probably wasn’t in there anyway…
“Miss Tucker?” a voice called from deep within the office.
Crap. She slowly pushed inside and closed the door behind her in the small waiting area, then carefully stepped into the dark, wood paneled office of the scariest professor on campus.
“Miss Tucker,” he greeted, standing from behind his desk and holding a hand out to a dark leather wing backed chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, sit.”
She pressed her lips together and slowly progressed into the room, setting her bag quietly at her feet as she teetered on the edge of the large chair.
Dr. Frasier noticed her posture; her legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting in her lap… this girl knew manners. Too bad she couldn’t extend her well-groomed upbringing towards him. He cleared his throat and gestured at his crystal decanter. “How do you take your scotch?” he politely asked, dying for her to ask for something like tequila or a wine cooler instead so he could tease her.
“Neat,” she softly replied, knowing that she’d need some liquid courage to last through this meeting.
He walked around and handed her a glass, then returned to his authoritative position standing behind his large desk and took a sip from his own glass. “I think you know why you’re here, Miss Tucker.”
She swallowed the scotch and it burned her throat all the way down. Slowly, she turned her eyes up to him and shook her head.
“Your exam answer?” he asked leadingly, raising an eyebrow. “The impossible answer that no one but you answered correctly.”
“Yes,” she replied, suddenly frowning and shifting in her chair. Hadn’t they already covered this?
He sighed and set his glass down, grabbing a piece of paper he’d printed out earlier and holding it up to her. “Does this look familiar?”
She squinted her eyes and leaned forward. It had a few paragraphs, pictures and what looked like maybe a timeline on it. She couldn’t read it from so far away, though. Her eyes turned back up to his inquisitively.
God, he loved that look on her face. Too bad it would soon be replaced with utter malice when he said what he had to say next. “It’s a Wikipedia entry… and matches your answer almost verbatim,” he stated, setting the paper down and placing his hands low on his hips, where his dark gray slacks met his neatly tucked-in light blue button-down shirt with loosened dark gray silk tie.
“Wikipedia?” she loudly asked, jumping out of her chair and reaching for the paper across his desk. She snatched it up and read it, a look of disquiet spreading across the flawless features on her face. “Professor Frasier… I… this is… it doesn’t matter what this is! What are you trying to say?”
“I think you well know what I am insinuating, Miss Tucker.”
Her eyes closed into tiny slits as she slammed the paper onto his desk and her cheeks flushed with anger. “You think I cheated? Just because I got a correct answer that no one else could… you actually are saying that you think I’m a cheater?” she shouted, holding her arms out and glaring up at him.
He tightened his lips together and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. This girl was adorable, even when she was angry. He pressed his finger against his lips and stared right back down at her, trying to be serious. “I don’t know what else to think,” he responded, assessing her body language.
She huffed and grabbed up her crystal glass, downing the scotch and then pointing a little finger at him, glass in hand. “I… don’t… cheat.”
“The evidence points to the contrary…”
“Then take it to the fucking dean!” she yelled, smashing the glass onto his desk, shattering it into tiny broken pieces and crystal dust. She grabbed her bag and ran out of his office.
Holy shit, had she just done that? She should have stayed and defended herself. She should have proven him wrong. He was a respected professor at Eastland. And what did she do? She destroyed a $70 crystal glass and stomped out like a petulant princess. Ugh, he wasn’t going to be pleased with that.
Dr. Frasier’s feet were glued to his expensive imported rug. What in the hell? No one had ever shouted at him, called him a liar and stormed out of his office. He had evidence of her misconduct. And his poor Waterford highball glass…
It didn’t take him long to find her, stomping through the dimly lit campus with her nude scarf wrapped around her neck and flailing around behind her. He straightened his dark gray suit jacket as he approached her. He had to be unyielding now or he would totally lose control for the rest of the semester. He inwardly grinned. She drove him crazy in the best of ways.
“Keep walking, Miss Tucker,” he growled, placing a hand on her back and shoving her forward as she tried to pause out of surprise.
Shit! What was he doing, following her? She looked up at him as he pushed on her back, forcing her to cross the street and continue on to her house on Roosevelt. Oh God, just apologize, just start profusely apologizing now.
Swallowing hard, she stared at her heels clicking on the smooth sidewalk before she worked up enough courage to look back at him with utter regret. “Sir, I… I’m so sorry… it’s just that… I felt a little assailed when you confronted me with that accusation…”
He looked down at her sincere blue eyes peering up at him, filled with apprehension. He almost lost his nerve, but in truth he really was pissed. She was intelligent. She didn’t need to be cheating at a place like Eastland.
They reached the steps to her house, and when she stopped at the bottom, he took a firmer hold of her shirt and practically lifted her up to her doorway with him.
“Unlock it. We’re going inside to have a little talk,” he ordered, not looking down at her.
She sucked in her breath and stared up at him. His hair was winged over his ears as the chilly night breeze swept over them, but his brown eyes simply would not look down at her. What should she do?
“Um, Professor Frasier…”
“If you refuse to open the door you’re going to get your talking to out here in front of all of your nice neighbors.”
She hastily retrieved the keys from her black bag and shoved them into the lock with shaking fingers. He pushed her inside and slammed the door behind him, pausing and taking in the chandelier lit foyer, complete with dark hardwood floors leading into a dining room on the left, stairs in the middle, a hallway to the kitchen in the back, and a large living room on the right.
“Do you live here alone?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. The house was not only enormous, it was gorgeous.
“Um, well, um, my roommates are abroad.”
“Good,” he simply stated, releasing her shirt and taking off his suit jacket, hanging it neatly on a peg by the door.
Turning, he unceremoniously took her elbow, led her into the dimly lit living room and stopped at the overstuffed eggshell couch. Without a second thought he bent her over the arm and pinned her there with his left hand pressing firmly into her back. She reached out forward with a squeal as her hips hit the armrest and kicked her heels behind her.
“What… Professor Frasier… what are you doing?” she asked, clawing at the large cushion of the couch, trying to find something to grab onto so she could pull herself forward. What in the hell was
he going to do? He couldn’t possibly be serious. She’d smashed his glass; he was just trying to scare her.
“Tell me why you’re here, Miss Tucker, bent over your couch,” he demanded, holding her back down with his left hand and her upper thigh with his right, preventing her Stuart Weitzmans from kicking him across the face. He liked the way they looked swinging through the air, though. He quickly cleared his throat and turned his attention back to her.
She huffed as she pushed her hands into the cushions and lifted her head up, trying futilely to free herself. A sudden smack caused her to momentarily give up and let out a short squeal. She turned her head over her shoulder and looked back at Dr. Frasier, glaring down at her. Had he really just done that? What the hell?
“Tell me, Miss Tucker,” he said, bringing his hand up and smacking her again.
She gasped this time as she tried to find her voice. Her vocal chords appeared to be completely paralyzed as she stared face down at her couch. “Professor… I…”
Smack!
“Ow!”
“Tell me!” he ordered, smacking her again as she wiggled around underneath his grasp.
“Ow, shit! I don’t know! Because you’re a fucking lunatic?”
The next smacks came in quick succession, causing her to quit fighting and simply squeeze her eyes shut, squirming a little as his hand repeatedly came down on the seat of her brand new Seven jeans.
He made himself stop and rest his hand on her perfect ass, noticing that she’d long given up the fight. Her quick breathing underneath her curtain of strawberry blonde hair told him that she was at least still alive. God, this was hot. He took a breath and brought his momentary arousal down to an acceptable level before he spoke again. “Miss Tucker, you have to tell me. Why am I giving you a spanking?”
She cringed at the sound of that word. Jesus, this was real, wasn’t it? Her professor was angry with her and was actually spanking her. Her shoulders were up around her ears but she knew she couldn’t hide forever. Clearing her throat, she tried to squeak out a reply. “Um, I-I spoke disrespectfully to you and I, um, broke your glass.”
“And?” he asked, slightly rubbing his hand on top of her jeans to soothe her a little. He had to stop, though, because he was getting too excited. This was all so thrilling, way more pleasurable than simply sleeping with an undergrad. No wham bam scram. He was building something here.
“And… I left before you dismissed me,” she quietly said, her face feeling permanently pink. God, this was humiliating… and painful. When would he stop?
“And?” he prompted, raising his hand again.
“Shit, I don’t know! I promise! I don’t know what you want me to say, but I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” she replied in a high voice. She would have said anything at that point. Her ass was burning.
His hand came down on her repeatedly until he was satisfied she would finally say what he wanted to hear. He hoped she would soon, too. His hand was on fire and he needed to go home and… take care of things with that hand.
“I want you to tell me that you deserve a spanking because you cheated, Miss Tucker,” he said, pausing and resting his hand just below her back pocket. He didn’t want to get the dean or Honor Council involved. He really just wanted her to learn a lesson. She didn’t deserve expulsion.
“What?” she screeched, turning her head and straining to look him in the eye. That’s what this was all about? He had to be out of his mind. She renewed her attempts at escape as he continued to easily pin her down. “I fucking told you I didn’t cheat, you mother fucker! Just let me up and give me five fucking seconds and I’ll prove it!”
Chapter 4
“Do you think that’s an appropriate way to speak to your professor?” he asked in a demanding voice. He grabbed a hold of the waistband of her turquoise jeans and yanked her back up on the arm of the sofa as she tried to wriggle away. The scalloped top of white lace panties came into his view and he strangely found himself turning his head to the side so as not to stare. God, he was losing his touch. He would have had those in his teeth in seconds if she had been anybody else.
“Do you think this is an appropriate way to discipline your students?” she grunted through clenched teeth as she continued to struggle under his grasp.
He promptly spanked her ten more times. “Care to revise your answer?”
“No,” she huffed, opening her eyes after having them squeezed shut for so long and blinking a few times. She just wanted it to stop. “Y-yes. Yes sir.”
“Good,” he replied, still holding the waistband of her pants. Wow. It had worked.
“But… please,” she begged, still trying to get her breath. “Please let me show you that I didn’t cheat.”
Suddenly he pulled back on her waistband and her heels found the floor. She pushed her arms against the sofa and quickly stood, wobbling a little bit as her legs regained their feeling. Holy shit, that had taken a lot out of her. She turned her eyes warily up at Dr. Frasier as he held her arm for support.
“I’m waiting with bated breath, Miss Tucker,” he quietly said, squeezing her arm to show her that even if his tone was artificially sugary his intent was still sour.
Mary nodded and leaned down to the coffee table, wincing as she slowly stood back up with her iPad. She quickly typed something in and turned the screen to him, unable to look at his face.
“This is the Wikipedia entry… right?” she asked timidly, her heart rate returning to normal even though there was a steady throb in her jeans.
Dr. Frasier nodded as he scanned the page. He refrained from rolling annoyed eyes at her as she scrolled down, though. Where was she going with this?
“Here,” she croaked, clearing her throat. She needed to get a grip. He would see that she wasn’t lying. She wasn’t a liar. She wasn’t a cheater. She felt the familiar tingle of anger bubble up in her stomach. “Under the references.”
Sighing heavily, he read the first line aloud. “Tucker, M. M. Brother Against Brother: The Final Battle of the Civil War. Texas Publishing…” he paused and furrowed his brow as he tried to comprehend what he was reading. M. M. Tucker? Was that her? Wait… she’d written a book? About the Battle at Palmito Ranch? Had he been stupid enough to click on the Wikipedia link and not investigate the sources further? Uh-oh.
“Yes, the only reason I knew the answer to your trick question is because I wrote a short somewhat unsuccessful book about it. Everyone in Texas knows about that battle. We’re proud of it,” she stated, gaining back some confidence as she watched him set the iPad on the couch and begin to look down at her with a twinge of guilt.
“Miss Tucker,” he began, shaking his head slightly. “Perhaps I acted rashly…”
Whack! Her balled up little fist struck his left cheek with such force that he stumbled back into the foyer, where the chandelier was providing the only light in the downstairs of the townhouse. Then she marched forward and pushed him with two hands against his chest, causing him to stumble back even further and hit the front door. There was that cute angry face again.
“The only reason I didn’t stitch my lips to your ass and brag about being published is because I’ve found that professors tend to be extremely supercilious smug assholes who would give me a hard time about it instead of commendation! I guess I wasn’t wrong, was I?” she shouted, grabbing his jacket and shoving it into his hands as she pulled open the door.
Well, he’d really thought he’d had her. He’d had her right where he wanted and now he’d nearly lost all his power because of his eagerness to discipline her and his carelessness in investigating her crime. Damn it.
“Miss Tucker…”
She slammed the door and he barely had time to jump out of the way before it hit him. He tripped down the steps and caught his breath on the street. Well, it had started out fun… and unfortunately had ended tragically. It would have been interesting to take her, a published pretty little spitfire of a grad student, on as his project for the remainder of the semester. Th
at was all over, though. He wouldn’t be surprised if she filed a complaint about him.
He tenderly touched the sore side of his face as he reluctantly left her house.
Mary heaved air into her lungs as she leaned her head against the front door. Good Lord, what had that been all about? She’d lost count of how many times he’d spanked her. And bent over her own couch in the front living room? Thank God the room was fairly dark or she would have been even more mortified than she already was.
Grabbing a bottle of Pinot grigio from the fridge, she dashed upstairs and decided a long bath would help get her head in order. Maybe she should file a complaint. But how would she prove it? She certainly wasn’t getting naked for the fat old bastards in the administration, that was for sure.
Maybe the German exchange students who’d seen him swat her in the parking lot? No, she wasn’t familiar with the language or the culture. Perhaps they would believe that to be the norm.
She took a swig of wine straight from the bottle and turned on the Jacuzzi tub. Her face flushed as she caught a glimpse of her pink splotchy ass in the bathroom mirror.
Ugh. She wanted to just forget this whole situation ever happened. He wouldn’t dare push her any further. He was probably frightened at that very moment that she was speaking with a number of deans and the department head. Served him right to worry a little.
She wasn’t even sweating the fact that she’d just punched a professor at Eastland in the head.
Sucking her breath in through her teeth she slowly eased into the tub. That God damned asshole better be grateful she was a Christian with a heart full of forgiveness… and only a little revenge.
Forgetting that he’d actually wronged Mary Tucker had been easy after a bottle of red wine. Forgetting the way she felt under his hands or how he felt as he held her down was an entirely different story. Definitely couldn’t deny the discoloration on the side of his head and the fact that he’d spent half the night with an ice pack smashed on his face.