Chapter 2

I take one last deep breath that comes dangerously close to resembling hyperventilating and I get out of the car. I take measured steps to the door and finding it open, I walk through it. I wind my way down the corridor and past the now dark and closed offices of the other members of the faculty and I spot his office. His door is open, the light from within spills out into the corridor. It's odd seeing just this spill of golden light in contrast to the darkness of the surrounding areas. Everyone else has long cleared out by now for the long holiday weekend. Wonder why Professor Bono hadn't mentioned plans for the holiday? Maybe he's like me? He doesn't really have anywhere to spend the holiday but here and no real family to spend it with? I have no idea why that thought has popped into my head at this exact moment. Maybe it's because I've just come to his door and I'm so completely desperate to keep my mind from panic that I'll think of just about anything else.

I stop at his door and find him reading through papers of some sort, he's not looking all that happy about it either. I knock on the door lightly so as not to startle him and he ushers me in with a light wave and a half heartedly spoken "Come in" without so much as sparing me a glance. I move the few steps inside his office and remain standing. He slowly looks up and gestures to the chair facing his desk. "Care to sit… or are you just planning to stand there and stare?"

I'm feeling that familiar sense of anxiety again and know that I will never have the confidence to offer any part of myself to this man for any reason. I sit and lightly clear my throat, sitting with my hands under my knees at first until I realize I'm wearing this stupid dress and then remember to cross my legs. I look up then and catch him looking at me with that slightly raised one eyebrow look that says he's analyzing the situation and it makes me feel small and inadequate as it always does. He is beautiful despite the look of disdain he seems to wear on his face just for me. He speaks while nodding to the notebook I hold on my lap, "Are we taking notes today, because I hadn't prepared a lesson". He smirks and I suppose that's the first evidence that I've seen that he has an amused side and it relaxes me some, even if it is at my expense.

"I just thought I might be able to ask you some questions on how I can improve my work for you and I thought a notebook might come in handy with… uh… any… uh… advice you might be able to… I mean… if you… you know… wanted to offer an assignment… I could write it down… in this… notebook." I nearly roll my eyes in disgust over my own nonsensical babbling.

He's not changed an iota of facial expression save the increasing irritation I see in his eyes. There's the look I'm used to and I feel oddly comforted by it.

Seeing as how he doesn't make any move speak, I babble on. "Um… I am not doing all that well in your class Professor Bono and I really… I mean… I just don't understand why? I was hoping maybe you could tell me. Um… do you mind if I stand? I have a back… injury… and it helps to stand," I lie. And I have to stifle a laugh at my own pathetic excuse.

I find myself on my feet now without a clue as to how to approach this. I could sit on the corner of his desk facing him or I could walk behind him and… and what? Then what would I do? I fight back the feeling of despair and the urge to quit and am still doing this when he rises from behind his desk.

"I'm not able to sit while a lady is standing. It makes for bad manners conversationally and more importantly I don't take well to being spoken to from the upper hand position by a student."

I can feel the blush creeping up my neck and heating up my face. God, I'm such a cretin. I babble, "I- I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I didn't mean anything by the gesture".

Again with the one raised eyebrow look. "No, I'm sure you didn't." "But this is fine, I don't mind a standing conversation so long as you're not planning a showdown here then."

Apparently this thought amuses him and I'm awarded a view of a rare but beautiful grin that seems to change his entire face. It almost makes that normally complacent look he wears so well appear slightly arrogant and I think I just may have to change my thong now and I've taken to staring as my gaze wanders down to his mouth and lingers there.

My mind has been wiped clean and I'm wondering what it would be like to touch that mouth with my own mouth, to taste it, taste him. I'm lost in this thought a second but I'm brought back from the fantasy realm abruptly as I suddenly realize I've been caught openly daydreaming about this man in front of him. And I'm sure he knows it.

He comes around to my side of the desk. "Ms. Manning, possibly you could tell me what exactly it is that you would like to go over tonight so that we could get on with this meeting and I could get on home like the rest of the staff and students, and you as well. I would imagine you'd have plans yourself for the holiday weekend?"

I take a chance and glance up at him, then immediately away as I suddenly am feeling rather guilty that I have misread the situation and am obviously keeping him from the plans he does have and is waiting to get to while I stand here feeling like a complete moron wasting his time without a clue about what I'm going to say or do next.

"Miss Manning?"

Caught daydreaming again, I look back to him as if I'd not been present in the room for the last bit of conversation and he regards me with a look of increasing irritation as he continues to speak, "Surely you've plans of your own you're wanting to get to then?"

I acknowledge him with a shake of my head and simply say, "No Professor, I actually don't have anywhere… uh… anything planned, I mean… um… I'm sorry to be taking you away from your plans."

He considers me a moment and I can see he's got something going on in those eyes of his, some new sort of analysis that I haven't yet seen. "Well let's have it then, what is it that you'd like to discuss… specifically, please."

He's now perched himself on the corner of his desk considering me with those eyes of his that have the most intense shade of blue now and I wonder how any woman can look into those eyes and manage to not drown in them. I know I have to do something now. Its fail or die trying, I guess.

Decided, I do my best to move in the most graceful and sexy way I know in an effort to move closer to him while I say, "I was just wondering if there was some sort of extra credit or anything I could do to improve the matter of my grade, Professor."

I've closed the distance between us and I reach out to touch his arm. He doesn't seem phased by the move so I keep my hand there while I give him my best 'come on' stare. He isn't getting it. So I move a little closer and I touch his other arm so that now I'm standing directly in front of him, hands resting on both his arms and looking up the short length of space between my face and his. Still he doesn't move a muscle. I tentatively step up and laying my hands on his shoulders silently cursing my hands for the obvious shaking they're doing and wishing them to be still. I lean in and touch my lips to his, softly at first before fully pressing my lips to his. I'm immediately surrounded by his scent and taste and yearn to taste more. His lips are soft, so soft and oh so very warm and I can't hold back the sigh that escapes. My lashes flutter closed as I part my lips inviting him to take, wanting him to, needing him to and… and … nothing. My eyes flash open as I realize that I'm holding onto this man, mouth to his mouth in surrender, yet he takes nothing that I offer, nothing at all.

Unless you count my dignity and every drop of what was left of my self-esteem.

I quickly try to avoid his direct line of vision but my eyes are drawn back to his briefly looking for some sign of my humiliation mirrored in them and I linger there trying to figure if it's a flash of humor I'm seeing in his eyes just before he says, "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Manning?"

It sounds mocking and cold and laced with disinterest. The feeling of utter humiliation and embarrassment hits me with a force that feels similar to having the wind knocked out of me and I stumble back a step in response, quickly removing my hands from his shoulders and wishing there were a corner I could crawl into and die right there and then. I feel the color drain from my face as I close my eyes on resign and I can't bear to look at him now. Can't bear to show the humiliation of rejection that I'm sure he will see clearly on me. And more importantly I couldn't stand to see the look of disgust he must have on his face right about now. A hot ball of panic forms in the pit of my stomach. I am blindsided by too many emotions at once. What pierces through first is the hurt followed closely, so closely it nearly hits me at the same time, is the shame of my actions. The threat of tears is close I can feel its sting just as I feel my eyes begin to fill. Not wanting to further embarrass myself with crying, I keep my eyes downcast as I feel the first tear spill over and run down my cheek. I don't know what to do but I know I need to get out of here. Now. I quickly glance up but I'm not really seeing him, I've the protection of the veil of tears now and I command my feet to move. I'm moving backward but it feels like a dream of images moving in slow motion. It's the sensation that you often feel in dreams when you need to run but your legs won't move and they feel as though they're made of lead. I finally manage to move away and turn to run out the door. Those plans are stopped as he manages to move from the desk and around me to get to the door faster. All I end in doing is running into him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Oh God, I didn't think I could be more mortified. I am now forced to look up at him and I'm surprised that what I see there isn't disdain or disgust. His eyes hold confusion or maybe it's pity that I see in them and while that isn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for I guess it's a step up from disgust. I have no idea what to do or say now and it feels as though time is stretching out for an eternity before he finally speaks. The look in his eyes… is that… could it be… care? No, I must be imagining that. The humiliation and shame must have clouded my thoughts as the tears have clouded my vision. I open my mouth to speak but nothing will come. It is he who speaks first and to my surprise the tone is soft and if I'm not crazy it sounds… warm. "Rebecca".

He waits until I look up at him fully before he continues. "What is this about? Do you really think yourself so untalented and have such little respect for yourself that you'd opt for sex with me in exchange for a passing grade?" I can say nothing. "I'm truly disappointed in you. I had expected so much more, maybe too much". He sighs and moves away from me. "I'm willing to forget this and you can be on your way if this is all you'd set out after by coming here tonight. You can earn your grade as every other student in the class is expected to do. Have a good evening then, Miss Manning."

And I am dismissed.