by J. Nichole
Chapter Four
Five classes. Only five classes stand between graduation and me. If only these five classes would be easy. If only the professors would be empathetic to the fact that it's the last semester of our last year. No. Four of the five of my classes require a final project of some sort.
By the end of my second day of classes I'm exhausted. It's only the second day. When I make it to my last class of the day I lay my head on the desk. I contemplate walking out and going home to take a nap, but I remember it's my last semester. Only five classes stand between graduation and me.
"Laila, you alright?" I look up to see a familiar face. "Don't look like you'll make it through this class. I hope it's your last class of the day."
I nod my head. As she continues to talk about her expectations for the class I try to remember how I know her. Last year. Denise? Danielle? "I know we had class together last year, but I am so sorry, I'm horrible with names."
"Dionne. Don't worry about it. I have a weird memory that won't let me forget names."
"Lucky you." Professor Dorian walks into the room and throws a stack of papers on the front table.
"Good afternoon." He searches through his pile of papers. He finds a sheet and looks it over before scanning the room. "Looks like we have just about everyone who is supposed to be here this semester. Listen, you are all seniors now. You know how to manage your workload; you know how to study. At least I hope. I'm going to let you be accountable for yourselves."
Chatter breaks out around the room. "Now, while you are here I do want us to have open dialogue, but when I need to give you important details I need you to listen." He pauses while the chatter dies down.
His picture on Rate My Professor doesn't do him justice, and I didn't think it possible for him to be sexier than that picture. His skin is smooth and his teeth pristine. When he smiles, his dimples are deeply set. I try to ignore his looks so I can listen, but unless I close my eyes it's damn near impossible. "We'll have a few exams, and if you're in class you'll know exactly what they'll contain. Because this is Media Ethics, I'll emphasize ethical behaviors."
Someone in the front row raises her hand. "Do we have a final project?" The class groans. It's like, don't ask, don't tell is an undisclosed rule in the classroom.
He shakes his head and says, "Not unless you'd like one, Ms."
She responds, "Ms. Durr."
"Alright, Ms. Durr, if you give me a few more minutes I'll let you know what else you can expect from this class." He proceeds to review the syllabus that he hands out. Unlike my other classes, the syllabus is a single, one-sided page, and I couldn't be happier.
Once he confirms Ms. Durr has all the information she needs he proceeds into the lecture. The forty-five-minute lecture is engaging, and when he prepares to dismiss us I'm surprised class is already over.
"I think I'll like this class." I walk beside Dionne as we exit. "I'm glad we don't have a senior project."
She looks at me and nods. "Have you had any classes with Ms. Durr?" Before I can respond she continues, "I've had her in a few classes. And she's always like that in the beginning. She'll come to class, ask questions, participate in the lecture. Then she just falls off." Dionne looks at me with an eyebrow raised. "I don't know how she passes."
"What are you implying, Dionne?"
Her mouth drops and she says, "Nothing, I'm not implying anything. Just thinking about how she can matriculate and be with us in our senior level classes if she skips as much as she does."
I shrug my shoulders. "If all her professors are like Dr. Dorian then maybe she doesn't need to be in the lecture. She can just study the material."
When we get to the faculty offices, I break away from Dionne. Walking past Professor Douglas' office is difficult, but I manage so that I can visit Professor King. Her door is closed, and I knock just in case.
"It's open." I open the door and find Professor King stretching her arms above her head. She's dressed in gym attire and tennis shoes. "Just wrapping up for the day and I was going to get in some gym time. How are you doing, Laila?"
Professor King's body rivals most students’ on campus, even those who escaped the fifteen pounds freshman year. "Do you go to the gym on campus?"
"I sure do." She kicks a leg up on her desk to stretch her hamstring. "We have a great facility. Do you ever go over there?"
I laugh and pat my thighs where my extra weight has decided permanently to reside. "I don't, but I should."
"If you're open, I teach a dance class over there in the evenings a couple of days a week. Check me out." She surprises me even more. She has to be in her forties, but she is putting me to shame with her energy and activity level. "How are your classes so far? I was hoping to see you in my ethics class."
"I will check out your dance class and even convince my roommates to join me." She smiles wide. "I was signed up for your class, but a glitch in financial aid dropped all my classes. When I re-enrolled I guess your class was full and they put me in the same classes with different professors."
"So do you have Dr. Dorian?" Her eyes twinkle.
"I do." I wink at her knowingly. Most women have preferences in what they like in a man, and then some men are just generally sexy to everyone. Dr. Dorian is one of those guys.
"I would have offered to make a spot for you in my class, but I'll save myself the trouble." She giggles. She looks down at her watch and shuffles out the door with me beside her. "I'll be looking out for you in my dance class." She waves as she trots out of the building.
Instead of following her out, I stop by Professor Douglas' office. It has yet to be occupied and remains empty. I remember the last time I saw him in this office. He was clearing it out. Removing all his books, plaques, and notebooks. Throwing them in a box as I tearfully confirmed that I knew what he had done. He had sexually assaulted his students. One of the girls resembled his wife. It was there in his office, on that day, that I saw his wife's picture and made the connection.
"They tried to give me his office, but I couldn't bring myself to dwell in that space after all that happened with him." I turn around to see Professor Dorian looking into the office over my shoulder. "I can't imagine it would be easy for his previous students to visit me in his office, either." I look back at the office. "But in case you do need me, for ethics class, my office is a few doors down." He walks away and I watch him disappear into his office.
"But this dress," Josh whispers in my ear, "and the memories from the other day." He caresses my ass as we walk through the door of the hotel lobby. "I know you came home to go to this event with me, but I'm tempted to skip it and take you back to my apartment."
"Mr. Jones, who do we have here?" An older gentleman ogles me as Josh responds. I wore this black form-fitting dress for Josh and didn't expect his co-workers to take notice. After all, most of them are old enough to be my dad. But I guess sexually they are adolescents.
Mr. Tatum directs us to the event space and after signing in we join Josh's colleagues. Amongst the crowd there are some thirty-somethings, sixty-somethings, and their significant others. I find a few ladies huddled together who seem to be accompanying the thirty-somethings. They welcome me with a warm, "Hello."
I introduce myself and one of the ladies says, "Who are you here with tonight?"
I look over at Josh, who is standing amongst the sixty somethings. "I'm here with Josh." She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and I return her question. "And you?"
With her head held high she says, "I'm here with Tony." I'm sure the dumbfounded look on my face leads her to continue. "He's the Vice President." She looks in his direction. "He's close to Josh. He has on the blue jacket and plaid tie." I look beside Josh and see the old man who was ogling me earlier wearing a blue jacket and plaid tie.
"Right, I met him earlier." I look to the other ladies and expect them to describe their companions but when they don't offer any details I don't pry.
Kim, Tony's girlfriend and leader of the group of l
adies, suggests we hit the bar. "After all, it's an open bar, and the guys will reserve themselves tonight. At least till the deal is over." I line up beside her at the bar and order a glass of white wine. She can get white girl wasted tonight but I'm not here with the VP.
The conversation is superficial and mundane. I excuse myself from the group and walk outside on the balcony.
This hotel is on the boardwalk and overlooks the ocean. From the balcony I can see the stars reflect on the water, which seems to extend for eternity. I imagine what life would be like if, instead of having my career, I were a cheerleader on the sidelines of my husband. Supporting his dreams and aspirations. Pampering myself, lounging around the house, and catching my favorite shows when they air instead of On Demand or binge watching on Netflix. Then the realistic Laila whispers, "Yeah right. I have dreams, goals, and aspirations. I'll need my own cheerleader before it's all said and done. When I become the editor of a renowned publication, my husband can take care of the house."
I take the last of my wine to the head and smile as a shooting star burst across the sky.
"Why are you out here all alone?" A hand touches my shoulder. "Did they scare you off?" When I turn around I catch a glimpse of a royal, wine-colored dress. She continues, "My first event with them was overwhelming." She places her hand on the railing next to me. Her short, natural curls are blown into messy perfection.
"I could only take them in doses." Watching the ocean as the waves recede I say, "Besides the ocean was calling me. I miss its calming effect."
She turns away from the ocean to face me. "I saw you come in with Josh. We've been working together for several months and I didn't know he had a girlfriend."
Fortunately, the ocean has me in a trance and I'm not quick to respond negatively. "Seems like we've talked about everything else, but you." I feel the effect of the ocean wearing off and my face forms into a scowl.
"What's your name?" I turn and we stare each other down. With her heels on, she hovers over me by a few inches, but I stand tall and un-phased by her attempt to rile me.
"It's Joseline, but Josh calls me Josie." Her eyes cut away to the building.
"Joseline doesn't ring a bell." I shrug my shoulders and try to recall her ever coming up in conversation. "Not sure he's talked about you to me, at least not by name."
She looks beyond me and a grin forms. I look over my shoulder at Josh walking towards us. He places his hand on my lower back. Excitedly he says, "We got the deal." I turn to him and give him a hug that lingers. He doesn't budge and neither do I. I can feel Joseline's eyes burning a hole into my back.
"Congrats, Josh. You deserve every bit,” Her emphasis on 'every bit’ causes me to release my hold on Josh and turn around to hear her finish the statement. "Of that commission you'll get off of the deal."
With my hand on my hip, I cock my head to look at Josh and wait for his response. "Thanks, Joseline." He rubs his hand across his face. "Wait, you two have met?"
Joseline nods her head and says, "I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Josh." The confidence that exuded from her voice earlier is replaced by high-pitched whining.
Josh nonchalantly shrugs and says, "Work isn't the place to bring up my personal life." He reaches for my hand and we entangle our fingers. "Now that the deal is over we can get out of here. Ready?"
We leave Joseline standing on the balcony with her mouth hanging open and the stars illuminating her brown skin. On our walk to the car Josh feeds me details of the deal, and without being ignorant of his job, which he's explained to me on multiple occasions, I just listen.
After he finishes with his details I let the silence linger long enough to prove I was listening and not just thinking about Joseline.
"You haven't said much since we left. Are you okay?" We haven't made it far from the hotel and we aren't near his house or mine. Car arguments are the worst because there is no escape.
"Honestly, I wasn't fazed by Josie initially but it seemed like her attempt to piss me off was unwavering." I watch his silhouette as he stares straight ahead. I hope this doesn't turn into an argument. "What's with her?"
A hearty laugh escapes from him and I take a deep breath. "I'm glad you find it funny."
He laughs a little harder then stops when he turns to my stone face, lacking any indication of joviality. "Listen, Joseline lives in an imaginary world where she can have anything and anyone she wants, including me." His hand moves from the steering wheel and he cups my chin, rubbing his thumb across my cheek. "I choose to keep her as far away from my personal life as possible." He taps his hand on the gearshift and says, "But we just had a conversation about trust. We both agreed we'd trust each other, right?"
I look out the passenger window and roll my eyes so he doesn't see me. "You're right. And it's not you I don't trust. It's her." This conversation sounds eerily familiar. Before, it was Courtney I couldn't trust. She turned out to be more trouble than I could have ever expected. Although Josh benefited from the drama of my last relationship he knows how much I hated that situation.
"I got you. You don't have to worry." We are around the corner from his apartment, but he pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store. "Let me just grab a few things."
I pull my phone from my clutch and scroll through it while I sit and wait. Facebook notifications fill my alerts with tags about Jennifer and the L.O.S. They had a party tonight, and I suspect the alerts are pictures. Then a text comes in from Monica asking me to call her.
Josh opens the back door and puts in a couple of bags. I put my phone back in my purse and ask him to remind me to call Monica when we get to the apartment.
Neither of us ate much at his function, and being pissed gives me the munchies. As soon as we walk into his apartment I raid his kitchen for something to snack on as he prepares whatever he bought from the grocery store.
I hop up on his counter with a bag of chips and he hands me a glass of wine. "I'm glad we can toast together," he says with a smile.
I take a sip and agree. "Wine and chips aren't ideal." I look at the food he has scattered across the counter. Strawberries, cupcakes, and a pizza. "I need to teach you how to cook. How often do you eat frozen meals for dinner?"
He holds up the box of pizza proudly and says, "This right here is five-star pizza." He points to the label. "It's an artisanal pizza, made by an Italian chef." We both laugh and wine squirts out of my mouth. "It's cool though. Mom holds me down most of the week." He puts the box down on the counter and steps between my legs. He nips at my neck. "Emm, but you taste better than that pizza."
"I'm sure the box it's in tastes better than that pizza."
He steps back and raises his eyebrow. "You talking a lot of shit about my pizza. How about next time you visit you whip me up a meal."
"I'm no professional, but I can pull something together." He leans in wrapping his arms around me. "In the meantime, we may want to fire up that oven and throw that pizza in there. When you're hungry anything will taste good." He laughs and picks me up from the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist. With one arm around me he grabs the strawberries with his free hand and walks us to his bedroom.
He lays me on his bed and says, "I've always liked dessert first." He feeds me a strawberry and as I chew he kisses me his tongue pushing the strawberry aside. His hand roams down my body, stopping to cup my boob, then on to my belly. Resting there before he moves to my thigh, inching my dress up. I swallow the remnants of the strawberry and feel around the bed for the carton. He kisses down my neck and I bite into another strawberry removing the stem.
Instead of chewing the fruit I place it on my panty line and Josh takes it into his mouth and licks from my panty line to my belly button. We continue with the path of strawberries until he reaches my lady parts. He eats until there are no more strawberries, and I'm in full ecstasy. When I think he's done and I can take no more pleasure he lays on his back and pulls me onto him, directing my hips over his mouth.
As I lower down, I unbuck
le his pants. His manhood is at full attention creating a tent inside his boxers. I let him free and encircle him with my strawberry flavored mouth. When he begins to moan, he grabs me by the hips and tugs me towards his chest. I rearrange myself to position my hips over his dick and before he pushes into me we kiss. He maneuvers around me to pull on a condom then thrusts into me. Devouring my mouth, he pulls out then hammers back in and repeats until I scream.
I collapse onto his chest and he pulls my hair away from my face and asks, "You okay?" I kiss his chest and close my eyes. "Don't forget to call Monica," he whispers.
Chapter Five
"I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with the new class of dancers." Jennifer paces the length of the living room. "This is all some bullshit."
"Does the ritual sound familiar?" Monica rubs the back of her neck. "Wait. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"Shit." Nicole smacks her lips. "Tell me. I want to know what y'all have to do. Dance all night? Hold an arabesque without wavering?" Monica and I exchange a look. "Whatever. You two are boring."
The L.O.S party last night ended with all the members of L.O.S being summoned by Student Activities for alleged hazing. One of the new dancers was rushed to the hospital, and after questioning her and her roommates, they concluded her injuries were related to L.O.S. With bruises across her back and a concussion the hazing Nicole describes would have been minuscule in comparison to what had to have happened.
When Jennifer joined the dance troupe during sophomore year, I remember her being out late, and participating in random events, but the only thing that resembled any form of hazing was her not being able to dance at parties where the existing members were in attendance. Although it caused no form of physical injury, mentally I'm sure it took all her strength to stay away from the dance floor.
Our campus has had a low level of known hazing events since we've been on campus. I'm sure it happens but it hasn't been severe enough to send anyone to the hospital, until last night.