Crossing the Line

by Lauren Landish

  My phone rings, and when I see the number, a little cold ball of ice forms in my stomach. The Club. They've never called me before since the first month simply to confirm my membership. I haven't even thought of The Club in a week, and inside me, my sleeping demon chuckles. Last night with Rafe was good . . . but this is what it really wants. “Hello?”

  The suave, cultured voice that pours into my ear sends another thrill through me, but this isn't the good kind. It's the dark and dirty kind. “Hello, Sandy. How are you this morning?”

  “I'm . . .” I start to answer, almost telling Mr. Robinson that I have class in twenty minutes, but I stop. He doesn't need to know anything about my life. “I'm just getting ready to start my day. Is there something wrong?”

  “Not at all,” Mr. Robinson says, his voice still so confident and sure. My demon is starting to rattle inside its cage, telling me that mind-blowing fucking with Rafe might be good, but I don’t deserve it. “Actually, I apologize. I know it's a violation of Club rules, but I felt it was urgent to reach out to you.”

  “What?” I ask. “Did I not send in my health check?”

  “No, you did that just fine,” Mr. Robinson says. “Actually, it's that I was approached by a very . . . discerning member. He also knows that it's a major violation of Club rules, but he’s very persuasive. He wants to meet you. At The Club, of course, but he’s interested in setting up something outside. A long-term arrangement.”

  Seriously? I’m no fucking prostitute. I want to go off on him, but at the same time, I don’t want to risk my membership by cursing out the manager. Things with Rafe seem to be going great, but who knows if I’ll be able to keep myself under control? “You, more than anyone, know that’s against the rules.”

  “I know, but I also know that your finances aren't the best,” Mr. Robinson says. “A sugar baby setup could allow you to be much more comfortable. Just think about it. Think you could come by around nine, just to hear him out? No obligations.”

  I’m proud of the words that come out of my mouth. Proud of who I can be, the side that's become stronger over the past few months, and especially after my night with Rafe. “I'm sorry, Mr. Robinson, but tell him I'll pass. I'm comfortable as I am.”

  “And yet you like being very uncomfortable,” he insinuates, and my demon chuckles. “Well, I can't say I'm happy, but I understand. Enjoy your nine o'clock class this morning, Shawnie. See you tonight.”

  He hangs up before I can reply, fear gripping me at his last words. He knows all about me. He even knows my fucking class schedule. And the insinuation in the last sentence is even worse.

  Chapter 12

  Rafe

  The staff meeting was boring as usual, leaving me sitting in my office, tapping on the wood of my desk and chewing my lip. Melanie Petersen, who's covering some of the administrative load for me since my latest TA quit, looks up from the desk. “Is everything okay, Professor?”

  Professor. Ah well, I can't break her of that habit, and honestly, after Shawnie, I don't feel like worrying. “Just feeling bad about keeping you in here instead of doing your real job. How are the charity collections coming?”

  Every year, the College of Engineering does a charity drive in order to give a big gift right before graduation to some worthy cause. Unfortunately, engineers are pretty stingy fuckers, and engineering professors are even worse, so the gift isn't always all that big. “We've got four thousand dollars still to go on our goal,” Melanie says, shrugging. “It's okay though I guess. Better than last year.”

  I nod and reach into my desk drawer. I've still got the fucking thing around somewhere—I never did turn in my pledge form—and I quickly write down my credit card number and then fill in the amount. Folding the paper up, I walk over and set it in front of her and sit back down. She smiles and unfolds it, her smile disappearing when she reads the amount I've written in. “Ten . . . ten thousand?”

  “It’s for a good cause,” I remind her. “They need it more than I do.”

  Melanie stutters, then takes a deep breath and puts the form in with the others. “Thank you, Professor Meyers.”

  “Can I ask you for some privacy on this though? I’d rather be a silent giver. Got a reputation of being an asshole to uphold, you know.”

  “Sure, Professor. Is that all?” Melanie asks, and I shake my head. I can't tell Melanie anything about the war inside my head, the battle raging all morning since dropping Shawnie off and coming in to work. Half of me is saying that taking Shawnie home last night was just what we both needed, the other half of me saying I'm going too fast, that I'm risking her long-term mental health going this recklessly. But I can't help myself, which scares me all the more. I've never been out of control before. At least not over a woman.

  “Nothing you can help me with. So, has the dean found any new candidates for me?”

  “I'll go check, but I doubt it. Face it, you hit the jackpot last semester with Shawnie. She was always nice when she came by my office too. Too many of the TAs act like they're already professors and I'm just some dumb admin assistant. She never did that, and I loved her accent. Then you had to go and promote her.”

  I laugh. Melanie's always had a good sense of humor. “Well, having her just get me coffee was a waste of real talent. There's a lack of that around here.”

  “Maybe. Let me go put this form in, and then I've got some things I have to get done,” Melanie says as she gathers her things and leaves, and I turn my attention back to the problem at hand. Am I going too fast with Shawnie? And what am I going to do about Club Paradise?

  After my undergrad class and a quick lunchtime workout, my mind is still twisting as I enter the lab.

  I see that Simone and Dustin are arguing over the materials designs, which seems to happen pretty regularly with them. Part of me wonders if they wouldn’t be better off as lovers. “Hey, calm down, guys,” I interject before they can come to blows. That happened last week. I don't need it again. “Where’s Shawnie?”

  “She's been holed up in the simulator all afternoon,” Simone says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to the broom closet-sized space. “Won't come out for anything.”

  “Okay . . .” I say worriedly. First, though, I need to handle the children. “You two, write up your arguments on both sides and send them to me. I'll look it over myself and make a decision if you can't find a common ground. In the meantime, let me see what's going on with Shawnie.”

  “Probably her time of the month,” Dustin grumbles, and I have to resist the urge to backhand the man. Rude is not something I normally care about. Hell, I’d be a hypocrite to. But this is Shawnie, and the side of me that's claimed her won't tolerate disrespect. Still, I just have to give him a look as Simone takes care of the slap in the head for me before I head on over to the simulator room, opening the door to find just a frozen screen on the displays, blue sky and clouds lighting up the pilot's seat but nothing happening.

  “Shawnie?” I ask, and she shifts around, sitting up and turning to look at me. One glance in her eyes and I see that she's in trouble, and I quickly close the door, locking it behind me. “What's wrong?”

  “I've tried . . . I've tried to control it,” Shawnie says, her voice soft but I can hear her plain as day in the soundproofed closet. “I tried to get work done, but I . . .”

  “Shh, it's okay,” I reassure her, coming over and sitting down in the tight space next to the pilot's chair. “What are you talking about?”

  Shawnie takes a deep, shuddering breath, then looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Do you think I'm pretty?”

  She wants to ask me something else I can tell, but she's trying. “Shawnie, you're beautiful. I thought I was pretty clear about that last night.”

  “Yes . . . made me feel that way for a while, but this morning, I was reminded of . . .”

  “Of what?” I ask, and Shawnie looks down, her hands twisting in her lap. I reach out and take her hands and hold them still, causing her to look at me, and I see a ghost of the e
vil woman that I fucked in Club Paradise flicker across her face before the miserable expression returns on her face.

  “His name was Chris Lake,” Shawnie says before she starts telling me her story. It's difficult at first, fits and starts as she pauses, but as she continues, her voice gains strength as if it's helping her unburden just to tell me.

  She tells me the things she didn't tell the cops, about how the drugs set her body on fire and what he did. “When it was over and Dane rescued us, they took me to the hospital, but when I came to, I wasn't alone anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, and Shawnie gulps.

  “I call it my demon, but I don't know if that's the real word to use,” Shawnie whispers. “It’s just what I call it. When I woke up, it wasn’t that bad, but as the days passed, it started whispering to me, reminding me of all the times I came from what he did to me. It disgusted me, but the voice kept bringing me back to it. It got to the point that I practically craved to be used, abused, and degraded. I looked for outlets to feed that need inside me. That’s when I found out about the Armory down in San Francisco, because they've got a website and they were easy to find. After a while, they kicked me out.”

  “Because they found out you're seeing a counselor,” I say, and Shawnie looks up, shocked.

  “How do you know about that?” she demands, pulling her hands away and looking at me with distrustful eyes. I swallow and think about revealing all of it to her, but this simulator isn't the place to do it.

  “Shawnie, I researched you after you came in for your TA interview. I saw something in your eyes, something that told me that . . . that you've been hurt. That you're trying to put yourself back together and not doing too good of a job of it. I have a few contacts. I've known for months about Chris Lake.”

  “So you know, but you still slept with me?” Shawnie asks, still stunned.

  It's time to drop a little truth bomb on her, not the whole truth, but enough. She's not ready to handle everything yet. “Shawnie, last night meant something. I know you felt it too.”

  “It was something I didn't think I’d ever feel again,” Shawnie says, reaching out with her left hand, putting it on my chest and rubbing. God, it feels so good, and she's so close. She wants me, right here, and I'm so tempted.

  “No, Shawnie,” I say, my voice uncertain as I gently but steadily hold her still, leaning back and putting her hand back on the armrest of her seat. “Not right now. Not here.”

  “Why not?” she asks, confused. “Don’t tell me you want to be my boyfriend and knight in shining armor or something. I haven't had one of those in a long damn time,” Shawnie says, her anger rising. “Besides, I think we both know I’m not worthy.”

  “You're not yet,” I say, hating myself for the three words because they hurt as much as they're needed. “But you could be.”

  Shawnie looks at me, stunned for a moment, before she gets up out of the seat and leaves the simulator, storming out of the lab. I want to run after her, to gather her into my arms and tell her that I'm in agony over what she's putting herself through. That the only thing I want to do is to heal her.

  But I can't heal her with just pretty words and kisses and comforting. Strength is built through hard work that breaks down muscle before the body rebuilds it in the restful times, and the same is true with Shawnie right now. Instead of racing after her, I force myself to walk casually into the thankfully empty hallway, where she's shivering and clutching herself. “Shawnie.”

  She turns back, her eyes blazing in desperation. “What do you want from me, Rafe? What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  I walk slowly to her, seeing the confusion and fear in her eyes. I'm forcing her to confront the other side of herself, and hopefully, giving her a reason to want to prevail. “What I want from you is the girl I know you can be. I've seen it in your papers, in your work in the classroom, in the lab. Last night, at my house, I saw it too. Free that person inside you.”

  There are tears in her eyes, tears of anger, frustration and fear. Her hand flashes out, slapping me across my cheek, left then right. “You're a bastard, Rafe.”

  “I know that,” I say softly, not angry at her at all. I can barely feel the pain from the slaps anyway, although she can throw hands pretty well. “But I'm not a total bastard.”

  “What do you mean?” Shawnie asks.

  “I'll be here for you, just like I've tried to be the past few months. I'm not going to cut and run.” Her tears start to slide down her cheeks, but she wipes them away quickly, sniffing them back. Still, she's lost and scared, and when she reaches out, I take her hand. “I promise you, I won't abandon you.”

  I pull her close and give her a hug, not passionate but just supportive. “I'm scared, Rafe.”

  “I know you are, Shawnie. I know. I'm scared too.”

  “You?” she asks, not lifting her head from my chest. “Why would you be scared?”

  “When you're ready, I'll tell you everything. Then you'll understand.”

  Shawnie stays in my arms for a few more minutes, and it's the best moment of the year for me. “I'll hold you to that. But I think I should go home.”

  “Want a ride?” I ask, and Shawnie turns, shaking her head. “You know, to get home safely?”

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll give me time to think. I'll see you tomorrow, Rafe.”

  Chapter 13

  The Counselor

  You look upset. I figured you were after you called my office this morning asking if I could fit you into my schedule. It's been a long time since you called for one of these.

  Yeah, thanks for that. I know Wednesdays aren't our normal day, but I just had to talk about this. I feel . . . I'm more confused than I've been in a long time.

  Hmmm.

  Hmmm? You went to school for how many years in order to say 'Hmmm?'

  Okay then. Tell me what's on your mind, Shawnie.

  Well, first off, I had sex with Rafe Monday night. And now I kinda feel like shit about it.

  With Rafe? You normally do feel bad after having sex. But this is the first time that I've heard you describe it as ‘having sex’. You’re usually a bit more blunt and uncaring about it.

  Your point?

  So, what happened to make you feel bad? What happened that led up to you and Rafe having sex?

  Like I told you, he challenged me, and I was a good girl all weekend. Monday afternoon in the lab, I was practically humming. I felt both so good and so horny at the same time. We went out for dinner before going back to his place.

  So how was it? I mean, was it different?

  Oh my God, I haven't come that hard without being tied up and kinked out before. And yesterday morning, I was all good and feeling gushy on the inside . . .

  Gushy? Is that an engineering word?

  Very funny. Anyway, my body felt great and content. Then I got a call from The Club.

  Is that normal?

  It’s not normal at all.

  An out of the ordinary call then. About what?

  A special offer, a so-called valuable member who wanted a private meeting, and maybe an offer to become his or her sugar baby. It sickens and disgusts me that I was tempted.

  You say tempted. So that means you declined?

  I did. Then Mr. Robinson called me by my real name and said good luck in class before he hung up. He even knew my class schedule. That scared me to death. If what I do on the weekends bleeds into my schoolwork, I don’t know what I’ll do. I just know that it could crush me completely.

  What do you know about The Club?

  You mean besides the anonymous sex? There's quite a few famous people, community leaders and stuff like that who wouldn't want their identities known. You can’t always hide your face. It’s just one of those places where you don’t talk about the details outside the doors. There are armed doormen who make people who don’t respect the anonymity rule disappear. At least that’s the rumor. I don’t know if that’s just to scare people.

  I se
e. Continue, please. What took you from there to having a problem with Rafe?

  When I was in class, I started thinking about my mom.

  Tell me about that. We haven’t gotten much into that. You don't talk much about that part of your past.

  She’s a secretary. She busted her ass for years, trying to take care of her family. And more than a few times, she came home late at night, a look of desperate shame on her face. I didn't know why at the time. I was so proud of her for taking care of us. I mean, both of my parents did their best, but my father has a conviction in his history and is trapped in a dead-end, low-paying job, like a lot of ex-cons. A few times, she'd come home, that look of shame on her face, and I didn't know why. All I knew was that after those days, she and my father would argue more, that there'd be tension in the house. It wasn't until I was in fifth grade that I figured out what was happening. It was all on the down low, but I figured it out. She was choiceless. Her boss kept her on though, even after I think they stopped, and every year, she'd get a nice Christmas bonus. That bonus was sometimes the difference between having presents or not come Christmas morning, I think.

  So you see yourself being like your mother?

  I've never judged her for what she felt she had to do, and I know it's done by now. She still got her bonuses after, probably for keeping her mouth shut instead of her legs open. Her boss was from one of those families where screwing around with someone like my mother would cause a lot of scandal.

  I see. And I see how it led to your thinking about Rafe. So then what happened?

  I went into the lab that afternoon, and I tried to do my work, but I couldn't focus. I just kept seeing my mama, and I realized that like her, I fucked my boss. No matter what decision I make, sugar baby or engineer, I'm fucking my boss. It made me feel so worthless. I couldn't take it, so I went to the only private place I could find, the simulator. Rafe came in, and I ended up telling him everything.