Rosalind laughed as she separated from her roommate. She watched the future nurse bounce off toward her math class. Lauren was a bright woman and Rosalind approved of her intensely. They had long conversations about their goals when they graduated. They were both committed to careers with passionate intensity. Rosalind was under the impression her roommate fancied her, but that was pleasant in its own way. Of course that could easily be her own arrogance, so of course she never said anything. It would be too embarrassing to be either wrong or right, anyway. Lauren often spoke of finding love but Rosalind dreaded the very thought of it.
She looked up at the building that contained her first physics class. She took a moment to admire it, her heart pounding in her chest. She gripped her books tight to her chest, wondering if Lauren had laced her up too tight. She didn't think she'd ever be able to take this for granted. She'd worked so hard to get here, and now she was about to enjoy the rewards for that labor. The fact that the reward was more work didn't bother her a bit. She couldn't wait to get started on her new life as a scientist.
She opened the door and went inside, striding purposefully down the hallway. She checked her schedule against the room numbers, pausing in front of the correct class. When she stepped into the room her knees felt weak. This was the cornerstone of the tower that would be her adult life. This was the beginning of something wonderful. Today she would finally start down the path she'd dreamed of walking most of her life.
She took her seat and withdrew a pencil from her bag. Her hands shook a little, but she was so excited she couldn't get the motion under control. There were other students in the room, but Rosalind didn't even spare them a glance. She didn't care if they noticed her or not. She was too happy to be there for any of them to make her feel inadequate or nervous.
Her effervescent joy and excitement dried up when the teacher entered the room. She recognized him immediately. The dark beard and his merciless dark eyes had haunted her dreams for nearly a week after her encounter with him at a party. Her stomach tightened and hre breakfast threatened to escape. *This* was her teacher?
Her mood only worsened when his gaze met hers. He gave her a smirk, then went to the blackboard and outlined his class rules. Rosalind did her best to take good notes but she worried the whole time that this man would cause her problems. It seemed inevitable. She knew a great deal about teachers and their methods, and his struck her as being very arrogant, probably even narcissistic.
The bell was a huge relief. Rosalind packed herself up and waited patiently for the other students to file out. She had no intention of getting into a shoving match with the young men. Now that she'd been broken out of her happy place she saw that many of them were giving her strange looks. She sighed softly, rising to her feet when the room was nearly empty.
"Not so fast, Miss Lutece." His voice was loud enough that some of the boys in the hall turned to glance back into the room. Rosalind turned toward the teacher, clutching her books so tight her hands hurt. "Come to the front of the room. I want to speak to you."
She thought about ignoring the command. It wasn't his place to order her around once class was over. However, she assumed her life would be easier if she made attempts at complying with simple commands. It rankled her to give him that power, but there was no help for it. She turned to march to the front of the classroom, her face locked into a cool, distant mask to hide her rage and fear.
Mr. West was at least a foot taller than Rosalind and he loomed over her when she approached. She kept her hands on her books and her books tight against her stomach. Something told her that she didn't want to put herself into a position where he could grab her. "I'm quite surprised to see you, Miss Lutece. I didn't think you had it in you to get this far."
Rosalind stood up as straight as she could, her expression set into that hard, protective mask. "I shall get much farther than this." It was all she felt she needed to say to him. She had no intention of failing, and she saw no reason she should do so.
The teacher laughed that horrible braying laugh again. Rosalind amused herself with the thought of hitting him over the head with the 'Introduction to Physics' book. He probably wouldn't see it coming. Still, it was best not to act. She couldn't afford to be expelled.
"I'm going to test you, little girl. You think you're so smart? We'll see how smart you are. I'm going to enjoy making you fail." His words were full of venom and malice. Rosalind wondered what she'd done to deserve such attention. She knew the answer already. She'd done nothing. This was him being an asshole because he could, or because he enjoyed it, or because he didn't like women. She couldn't stop him from being an asshole, and it seemed she'd have to tolerate it.
"You can try." She conceded with a slight nod of her head. "I welcome the challenge, in fact. The test is standardized so you can't give me an unfair disadvantage going into it. You want to prove to me how stupid I am? Feel free. I will rise above anything you do to bring me down." She let her mask fall away in bits and pieces as she spoke, her eyes lighting up with passion, her voice rising in volume with each word. She relaxed her stance, letting her right hand loose from her books so she could make a grand, sweeping motion toward the blackboard. "If you have something to teach me, Professor West, then do so."
He stared at her for a second as though he was stunned speechless. Rosalind stared back at him, her chest heaving. All that emotion and speaking so loudly had made her short of breath. He shut his mouth and turned away from her, packing his briefcase. "I will. We'll see whose will is stronger, Miss Lutece."
She nodded, turning toward the door and marching away. "I don't have to beat you. I just have to learn from you. *You* have to beat *me*." She walked out of the classroom and kept marching until she reached the outside.
Once she was outside she leaned against the outer wall. Manic giggles bubbled up in her chest and throat and she had no way to contain them. She laughed long and loud, feeling giddy and horrified at what had just transpired. She couldn't believe she'd just told off a teacher so thoroughly and she couldn't believe she'd actually dared him to make her life hell. She hoped Lauren would find it as amusing as she did. She'd very much need her roommate's support.
Professor West's office hours were quite convenient for Robert. His French class ended right before office hours began, so he was able to make his way to the office at his leisure. He didn't need much help, but for some reason he'd always had trouble understanding centripetal force. There was another student in line before him when he arrived, so Robert took a seat and began to work on some homework while he waited.
He wasn't waiting long. The man who got there first left in a huff, pulling Robert out of his conjugations. He frowned slightly as the man slammed the office door. That was rude. Professor West had come off as a somewhat abrasive fellow but Robert couldn't imagine having that kind of reaction. He closed his French book and stood.
The professor rounded the corner and called him back just as he got to his feet. Professor West studied Robert for a moment. The expression was strange. Robert felt as though he was being assessed. He wasn't sure he enjoyed it, but he had no intention of taking offense. He had a question he needed answered. "Hello, Professor. I was wondering if you or your aide had a moment to go over yesterday's lesson with me? I need a little more help with centripetal force."
The professor nodded and led the way back into his office. He held the door for Robert and motioned to a couch next to his desk. This seemed irregular to Robert, who had expected another hard backed chair like those in the waiting room. It would be difficult to work out any problems without a table to write on. "Have a seat Mr. Lutece. I've been hoping to talk to you, anyway." The professor closed the door and went to take his seat at his desk.
That the teacher wanted to speak to him surprised Robert. He dropped onto the couch with as much grace as he could muster, setting his textbooks on the open space to his right. "Indeed, sir?" He put his hands in his lap, suddenly feeling quite nervous. He hoped his performance was up to snuff.
Professor West nodded and gave Robert another thorough once over. Robert felt himself blushing a little. He'd admired the professor a little. He found dark hair to be attractive, and the older man's neatly clipped beard was quite pleasant. It enhanced his face and made him look the part of a professor. It was the man's large hands that Robert liked best of all. He found himself looking at them, and he licked his lips nervously. "You stand out with all that red hair."
Robert's stomach sank a little. He felt like his coloring was the bane of his existence. "So I have been told, sir." He didn't like his hair color one bit. It was not a good color for a man. The freckles made it even worse. His athletic childhood had taken its toll on his complexion. He looked down just enough to put the professor out of his line of sight. He didn't think he could bear to be teased about his looks by this man.
The professor tapped his pencil on the desk. "Are you familiar with 'Leaves of Grass'?" The question took Robert by surprise. He frowned and glanced up at the professor, trying to decide what bearing that had on the conversation. He felt completely at a loss.
"I beg your pardon sir. The book of poetry Whitman produced?" He almost asked what that had to do with physics but then he saw the professor's expression. It looked. . . hungry. He'd seen that expression before, but never simultaneously on a man and directed at him. His chest tightened as he met the older man's eyes. He knew his own eyes must be wide as saucers, his mouth hanging slightly open. It only became more shocking when the professor began to recite a poem, his dark eyes staring directly into Robert's lighter ones.
"How they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,
How they inure to themselves as much as to any—what a paradox
appears their age,
How people respond to them, yet know them not,
How there is something relentless in their fate all times,
How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same
great purchase."
The words rolled off the man's tongue and Robert found himself nearly entranced by the cadence of the man's words and the way his lips moved as he spoke. He thought for a moment of a small mammal being hypnotized by a snake. His hands slid to his sides, gripping the cushion of the couch tightly.
The professor stood and came around the desk again. He moved Robert's books to an adjacent table and took the spot they had previously occupied. "I thought you might be a fan of poetry, Rob." His voice was low and soft. Robert leaned in a little on instinct to be sure he heard the words correctly.
Robert's mouth felt so dry and he trembled slightly. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he hoped it wouldn't stop. "Whitman is a genius, sir. I didn't think you'd be as interested in his work."
The professor laughed once. It sounded rich and musical to Robert's ears. A shiver struck down his back and he felt himself becoming aroused. He worried that the professor would see and judge him for it, but they were so close that it would be impossible to adjust himself covertly. "Sir, eh? I like that. Keep calling me that, Rob." The professor tilted Robert's chin upward slightly. He had somewhat rough hands. When the professor stroked his calloused thumb over Robert's lips the younger man couldn't contain his reaction. A soft moan slipped out and his arousal went from potentially embarrassing to almost painful.
When the older man closed the distance between them and kissed Robert it felt like electricity was shooting through every nerve in his body. Robert shuddered under the alien sensations, his knees jerking lightly. The kiss was brief and soft, lasting perhaps half a second. Robert was still breathless and blushing when it ended. He sat there in a daze for a moment. His brain scrambled to accept that he now lived in a reality where he'd kissed his physics professor. When he came around he met the older man's eyes again,reaching out to tentatively touch the man's face. The wiry hairs of the professor's beard felt strange under his fingertips. "I still need help understanding centripetal force, sir."
Professor West laughed again. Robert's body reacted with violent enthusiasm. He wanted desperately to pleasure himself while listening to the professor talk about poetry or physics or whatever the man might care to talk about. He felt a need unlike any he'd ever experienced before. "We'll go over it, Rob. Meet me for dinner tonight and we'll discuss whatever you like afterward."
Robert watched as the older man wrote down his address. Those hands had filled a fantasy or two before. Now Robert was certain he would never need to fantasize about anything else again. When he took the address from the older man his own hands were shaking. The professor lifted one and planted a kiss on the knuckles. His bristly facial hair caressed the smooth skin of Robert's fingers and hand and he felt another jolt of electricity. He carefully tucked the address in his pocket, then took a deep breath and tried to speak. "When?" He was breathless and the word came out as barely a whisper.
"Six pm. Don't be late." The older man stood and went to the door. Robert couldn't help that his eyes traveled entirely down the professor's body. The younger man's eyes fixed squarely on the tented portion of the older man's pants. Once again Robert's mouth felt dry and his mind went off on wicked tangents without consulting him.
When Robert stood his legs wobbled like those a newborn colt. He barely trust himself to get out the door, much less back to his dorm. The pressure and friction of his pants was almost cruel, but he took a deep breath and tried to force his mind to other things. "Th-thank you sir. I will be punctual." He wobbled toward the door, nodding once to the older man. He wasn't even sure this was the real world anymore. It felt like a fantasy, and a particularly good one at that. He left the office in a daze, repeating the phrase, "six pm, don't be late," over and over to himself as he left.