Read my Lips

Chapter 33

The door was open. But Malia announced her presence with a soft rap of her knuckles on the doorframe anyway. Pulling her hand back, she clutched her binder against her chest. Her criminology professor invited her into his office with a wave of his hand. He made the gesture without turning around or looking up from his computer screen. Malia stepped through the doorway, hovering just inside. The man still hadn't bothered to verbally acknowledge her. She shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other, unsure if her professor was expecting her to wait until he'd finished what he was doing on the computer or hurry up and explain herself.

Malia's anxiety was running high. The rumors she heard about her teacher from her fellow student swirled in her mind. She almost turned back at the entrance to the building. But her acceptance into the academic program of her choice depended on the grade she was about to receive in his class. She got food poisoning and missed her mid-term. Which meant she had no choice but to appeal to her professor's generosity and pray he allowed her to make it up.

"What can I do for you?," Professor Rader asked as he finally turned towards her. "Come in," he encouraged, waving her further into his office and pointing her towards the only other chair in the room that wasn't currently occupied by him.

As Malia sat, she released the hold she had on her binder to tug the hem of her skirt down over her knees. It was significantly cooler in the professor's office than it was outside, or even in the building hallway. She could hear the steady hum of his small window air conditioning unit running on full power in the Carolina heat. When she reached to tug on her skirt hem, Maila lowered her binder into her lap. But as she felt her nipples tweaking in her thin cotton bra from the temperature change she snatched the binder back up and held it against her chest.

"Is it a secret what you're doing in my office?," he asked, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes raked over her, lingering on her legs before he met her gaze. There was no doubt in her mind that her criminology professor was a handsome man. He was tall and well built with dark wavy hair and piercing blue eyes. It was no secret around the university that a lot of girls took his intro level classes as electives for that reason alone. Or that more than a few of them had slept with him. But Malia wasn't in Dr. Rader's office because she wanted to sleep with him. She was there because she had no other choice if she wanted to maintain her GPA.

"Uh," Malia stuttered. She knew she was naturally soft spoken. But she did her best to speak up. "I'm in your Tuesday morning Criminal Statistics Analysis Class…" She paused when her professor rose from his rolling office chair. He moved across the small space and shut his door, leaving them alone inside his office. Malia clutched her binder tighter as he moved back towards her. He was afraid of what he might do to her now that they were alone. But all he did was cast a look of amusement in her direction and lower himself down into his chair again.

"Repeat that," he requested. "Which class?"

"Tuesday morning Criminal Statistics Analysis."

Dr. Rader wheeled his chair towards her. Malia froze as he reached forward. She had no idea what he planned to do. The horrible possibilities flooded her mind. Her mother warned her about American men. But when the professor pulled his hand back, there was a leaf between his fingers that he plucked from her hair. A nervous giggle escaped her as he flicked it into the trash can under his desk.

"What can I do for you…" There was an awkward pause as Malia realized he was waiting on her to give him her name.

"Malia Patel," she said, nearly choking on her own last name.

He smiled, nodding in approval. "What can I do for you, Malia?"

"Ummm… I um." Malia struggled for the right words. She was hoping she might be able to lead into the whole please make an exception for me part. But instead, she just spit it out and hoped for the best. "I got food poisoning and missed the midterm. I was hoping you'd allow me to retake it."

"You know my policy, Malia," he chided. "There are no retakes in life. If I make an exception for you, I'll have to make exceptions for everyone."

"I know but…,"

"But you thought you were special?," he suggested.

"No. I mean yes. I mean, I didn't mean to miss the test. It wasn't my fault I got sick."

"Maybe not," he countered. "But lack of intent doesn't excuse you from the consequences. I'm pretty sure we covered that in chapter ten of intro to Criminology."

"Yes…," Malia agreed. She swallowed hard, gripping her binder so hard the plastic was digging into her hands. "But you also said there's personal discretion at every level of the judicial system. And I could really use a little of that right now."

"Touche," he said, following his reply with laughter. Malia waited quietly until his low toned chuckles died down, hoping beyond hope that this laughter was a good sign. She forced herself to stay quiet and wait for him to speak again before she dropped down onto her knees and started literally begging him for mercy.

"You're asking me for a favor," he clarified. "I'll be expecting something in return." Malia's heart jumped in her chest. She really really needed this favor. And she'd do almost anything to get it. She'd grade his papers. She'd make coffee runs for him. She'd even clean up his pigsty of an office. But it was his tone when he spoke that gave her pause. That and the way his eyes kept raking up and down the length of her body. His hungry gaze made her feel like prey.

Before Malia could reply, there was a knock on Dr. Rader's office door. She let out the large breath of air she hadn't even realized she was holding inside her. The door opened. Malia was expecting another student. But it was a man that stepped inside the office without waiting for an invitation. A handsome man in a baseball cap. He wasn't exactly old. But he was old enough that she immediately assumed he wasn't a college student. The man looked to be about the same age as her professor and had a similar muscular physique. Her first assumption was that maybe they were work out buddies.

"Nick," Dr. Rader said, reaching out and briefly grasping the other man's hand with his. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wish I could say the pleasure was mine," Nick replied. "...but I'm afraid this is official business." He cast a pointed glance at Malia, making it clear without a word that he wanted her out of the room before he said any more. Her professor stood up, motioning her towards the door.

"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," he told her. Malia shifted between the two men, totally unaware how close she was to one of the most dangerous predators in the entire state of North Carolina.

"Oh," she exclaimed, pausing in the still open doorway. "My retake?"

Dr. Rader was clearly more concerned with his other visitor than he was with her. "Email me and I'll set up a time for that," he promised as he ushered her out the door. She thanked him, nearly bouncing with relief and gratitude for his unexpected visitor as she quickly exited the building.

"What the hell?," Dr. Rader asked, barely getting the door shut before he barked out his question. "I haven't heard from you in months… and you show up here, barging into my office talking about official business." He gestured towards the other man's casual attire. "This doesn't look like official business. You're making me real fucking nervous right now."

"You should be nervous," Nick replied. "We got another complaint about you. And this time, I'm not going to be able to just make it disappear."

"What was the complaint?," Dr. Rader asked. He lowered himself back into his chair, raking his perfectly tousled hair back from his face.

"What do you think it was?," he quipped. "She's claiming sexual harassment. And rape."

Dr. Rader buried his face in his hands, cursing repeatedly under his breath. "Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck FUCK!" He spun around to face his desk, picking up the keyboard to his computer and slamming it down against the surface of the desk a few times. "Which one of these little sluts was it?," he demanded. "You know I installed cameras in my bedroom." He clicked at the keyboard until a series of video files popped up on the screen. Each one had a name and date on it. "Tell me her name and I'll show you the video proof that she loved what I did to her."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Nick replied. "Because she also said you video taped her without permission and forced her to participate by threatening to fail her in your class."

"Can't you deal with her?," Dr. Rader asked. "Like you dealt with the last one?"

Nick shook his head. "She's not some visa dependent exchange student. I can't just run her out of town. Her parents are well connected. I told you to leave those rich daddies girls alone."

"Fuck man, isn't there anything you can do?" Dr. Rader pulled his tie loose, unfastening the top button on his shirt as the heat crawled up his neck. He knew enough about crime and the justice system to know how this situation was going to play out. She would say one thing. He would say another. It was unlikely that he would spend any actual time behind bars on a he said she said acquaintance rape. But there were other ways a person could be punished. He was going to have to publicly admit that he slept with a student. He would lose his job. He would lose his tenure. He would be a pariah in the educational community. He would never get another teaching job.

Nick shook his head again. He leaned forward, setting his hand on Dr. Rader's shoulder. "I'll drive you down to the station. And I'll take your statement myself. Then I'll talk to her. Once she realizes that pictures of her blowing you are going to end up all over social media, maybe she'll back down and drop the charges."

There was some grumbling and a lot more under the breath cursing as Dr. Rader followed his old friend out to his unmarked squad car. He climbed into the back without complaint. The window partition in the center of the divider between them was open, allowing them to conversate as Nick drove. Dr. Rader was so focused on fishing for information about the girl and her complaint that he didn't even notice they were driving in the wrong direction until they pulled into an overgrown parking lot near Little Lick Creek.

"Where the hell are we?," Dr. Rader asked. "I thought you were driving me down to the station?" When the other man didn't respond right away, he leaned forward and knocked on the plexiglass divider. "Nick! Hey! Nick! What the hell man?"

Nick reached for the stun gun he had resting in the passenger seat. When he turned around, he pointed it straight at Dr. Rader's chest. There was an eerie smile on his face. And when he spoke, it was without any trace of his southern accent. They were the last words Dr. Rader heard before his body started to convulse in pain.

"From now on, you can call me Casanova."