Professor Metcalfe's Temptation

"A person?"

She paused. You."

He leaned over the table, putting her fingers in the proper position, and was busy trying to not to get noticed as he watched her lips ask "like this?" when she whispered, "it's OK."

Julius felt his breath stop for a moment.

"What's OK?" he finally asked, sitting back but still holding her hand with the chopsticks in it.

"This." She trained her eyes on their hands. He tried to pull his own back but she reached and gently gripped it. "I like this." She watched him close his eyes and shake his head; a feeble, last ditch effort. Other than that, he didn't move until he looked at her.

"I..."

She interrupted him.

"I know. You admire my mind." She laughed again. He thought he would drown in the waterfall. She absentmindedly patted the back of her curly afro, which was pulled back by a cotton headband. "But I'm a woman, and I know for a fact you admire a lot more than my mind." She paused. One elbow rested on the table; her other hand was on her softly rounded hip as she leaned in. "And I like that too."

Julius was silent.

"I know you're probably thinking, 'Do you know how much trouble I'd be in?"

He snorted quietly and visibly tilted his head in stark agreement but didn't otherwise protest what she was saying.

Instead of answering the question, she suggested, "Do you mind if we get this to go?"

Julius felt his stomach flip just a little, tried to find a reason to say "No." When he did speak, all he could find his voice for was to say "I'd like that."

He followed her to her apartment. After the food was put away in her refrigerator and she had turned on the TV—some version of "CSI" was on -- Julius decided to plunge right in to the deliciously and uncomfortably inevitable.

"So...what now?" He turned to her from the kitchen table to where she was sitting on her sofa.

"Well, first, why don't you come over here?" She patted the spot on the cushion next to her.

"Ummm...maybe not yet." He had to laugh.

"I have an idea." She sat up perkily and crossed her legs. "Let's play a game: we'll both admit one thing that might be embarrassing." In response to his facial expression, she added, "I'll go first."

"OK, you remember when I told you I had been married for four years? Well, I got divorced because he was basically trying to control me: what I wore, how I did my hair—he always wanted it long. Didn't want me to do anything. You know, the 'I'ma take care of you' fake-me-out that was really a cover-up for jealousy? After a while, I couldn't take it anymore. I actually filed for divorce maybe six months before I came back to school. So, once that was done, I got a job working at the after-school program—which you know about. That felt good, it got me on my own, but I wanted to do more, so I cut all my hair off. And to really liberate myself," she put her head down and laughed, then audibly breathed in and out, "I decided to try to do something completely different as well as make some extra money by doing...let's just say 'exotic dance,' only a little more than a week before I came in to school to register."

Julius opened his eyes a little wider, but didn't say anything, allowing—wanting—Diondra to continue.

"The funny part is, I did OK in my audition...I have my background in ballet and African dance to thank for that, as far as being flexible enough..." she paused.

Julius suddenly felt warm somewhere inside. Again.

"...But I came down really badly from something I was doing on the pole and bruised my knee. At that point, I knew God was telling me I was out of my mind. Not that I have anything against all that...but clearly, it is not for me. So, I applied for financial aid, and when I saw what I was eligible for, I decided to come to the school to get started." She stopped. "And that's my story."

Before Diondra could say, "Any questions?" or "Now it's your turn", Julius spilled out, "I thought you were perfect from the moment I laid eyes on you, and this year has been hell. I haven't had sex since the middle of last semester because no matter how hard I tried—and believe me, I tried hard--I couldn't get you out of my head, but I also couldn't have you."

They were silent as they smiled at each other, measuring the moment, the air suddenly thicker. Diondra got up from the sofa, took Julius by the hand, guided him to sit by her.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice dense with confusion. "It's like you got me whipped and we haven't even..."

"Sshhhh." She placed his hand on the dance-toned thickness of her thigh.

"But..."

"Ssshhhhhh," She interrupted again. She put a finger tip on his lips. "I have another secret; you know, my good news."

He looked at her hopefully, warily.

"I'm transferring to the Midwest Arts Institute as a Dance major with a minor in Visual Arts. I have orientation in June. I might actually go straight through, 'cause they have a new combined Bachelor-Masters program for people who want to focus on Arts Education. Oh, and I have a scholarship, I'm proud to say." She kissed Julius' jaw near the base of his ear. He allowed himself to enjoy the wave of mild shivers.

"And I'm gonna need support to be able to keep it."

"You're also kind of perfect yourself," she added last. She kissed his cheek, then his neck. Julius remembered the words of his mother and aunt that he thought for the longest time were utter nonsense.

She slid a leg over his so that she straddled him, her multi-colored skirt spread out on both sides of his lap like a peacock's feathers. Her arms were wrapped around his neck.

"One more thing," she purred.

"What's that?" Julius murmured, still trying to figure out exactly how this was real.

"Remember when I said I had other reasons for taking your class? Well," she paused for efficiently dramatic effect. "When I was registering, I was trying to decide what classes to take as I sat there. It was between Sociology and World Civ., and then I asked who teaches both. The other advisor pointed you out while you were sitting there... and that was it for me. I didn't know for sure what I was going to do when you agreed to come eat with me tonight, but in my mind, you've been mine ever since that day...so yes, this year has been hell, and I had to end it, one way or another." She placed her lips on his, lingered for a moment, allowed him to experience their softness, and pulled back.

Julius was silent.

"What is it? Did I..."

"My father left..." He paused. Exhaled. "He committed suicide when I was seven years old." Julius looked off to the side. "Attachment is...difficult...for me sometimes." He breathed deeply.

"I don't remember the last time I said that out loud."

Diondra stared at him for a moment, sympathetic eyes starting to glisten. She started to move but he held her in place.

"I'm used to struggling. Or giving up quickly."

Julius looked at her, trying to say with his face what words wouldn't let him, eyes in pain, mouth smiling.

Smart. Beautiful. Unpretentious. Self-aware. Motivated. No kids, even. Giving. Honest. Understands me. What the hell do I do now?

There was really no need. Diondra started to pull off her purple tie-dyed halter top but he put his hands on hers to stop her. He shifted to lay down and pulled her on top of him. "No more one-nighters," Julius thought to himself.

Diondra nodded slightly, connected her eyes to his to confirm the unspoken understanding: "take it slow;" smiled, kissed him again, this time with her full mouth, and pressed her body into Julius'.

"I haven't always been too great with resistance, either. But ummm, you probably knew that."

"You did OK." Diondra reassured him, allowing herself a slight smirk. "I've been reeling you in for almost a year." She waited a moment, straightened her face. "You're safe with me," she whispered so that, at first, he wasn't sure at first what she had said. "I promise."

They pulled apart just a bit and breathed together, slow and deep. Julius embraced her, slowly running his hand over her back, massaging her neck; he inhaled her scent-—Eternity for Women, his favorite perfume (he remembered he had told her that some months back after he smelled it on her), thought of all the memories of times he got passed over and turned down, realized that his mother and aunt just might have been right after all. He remembered something else they said: "he'd be proud...but you're not him;" He let go. Giving up never felt so good.