The Halls of Academe Ch. 01

by K. Nitsua. Newly revised version copyright 2021 by the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Readers of The Steelman Tales may recognize characters in this related series. Check out "The Steelman Tales" on Amazon Kindle under my pen name, Adam Gawron. DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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From the moment I saw him at the airport that March I knew that James Druther Ohlen--"Drew" to all his friends, he told me when we met--would be trouble. He was the last of the finalists for an open faculty position in History, my department at Steelman, the small college where I still teach. As the department chair and member of the search committee I had volunteered to pick him up and take him to campus for the grueling two-day interview.

It's hard to believe now, but I walked right past him in the crowd. A voice called, "Professor Reynolds?"

I turned, and found myself looking into deep blue eyes in a smiling face. As I shook his hand, I sized up the rest of him--blond hair, firm, dimpled jaw, and even white teeth. I let my eyes flicker over the rest of a compact, trim body. I knew from reading his C.V. that he was thirty-two, fresh out of a major California university, a top graduate of their Ph.D. program in history.

"Call me Glenn," I said. "How did you know it was me?"

"Well," he replied, "Let's just say you had a look about you. The look of a man who needs to find someone very badly."

His cobalt eyes twinkled. Flirting with someone who was evaluating him for a possible job was outrageous--but he got away with it easily. I started walking to counter the weakness in my knees. "Baggage claim's this way. Did you check anything?"

"Just one piece--but it's a big one." His smile flashed again.

Drew turned out to be a stellar candidate, delivering a brilliant demonstration lecture and answering endless questions patiently and with good humor. He charmed students, faculty and administrators alike. Halfway through his visit an unspoken consensus had formed: he was our man, assuming we could get him.

We were alone together only a few times, but one was memorable. It was in a men's room in the main classroom building just before Drew was to give his lecture. I had finished my business and was standing at one of the basins when he entered, dressed in a dark suit. His walk was jaunty and he looked pretty relaxed for someone whose future was supposedly on the line.

Drew doffed his jacket, hung it on the hook near the door and headed for one of the urinals, choosing the one furthest from me. As he unzipped I stared into the mirror. Though I was washing my hands carefully my eyes were focused elsewhere. A moment later my furtive efforts were rewarded. My heart gave a leap as I saw the size of the soft cock held casually in his hand. Golden liquid issued from the healthy pink, circumcised head, flaring out just the way I liked it from the shaft.

All too soon he finished and flushed. I made a show of pulling paper towels from the rack and drying myself. As he came up to the mirror I said, "Good luck."

Drew smiled. "Thanks." He put on his jacket, then said, "I feel fine about this part. I think I've already had the real interview."

He left before I had a chance to think of an answer.

The next day I drove him to the airport. We chatted and laughed in the car as though we had known each other all our lives.

Drew's adroit gaydar had extracted from me the fact that I was unattached. "What's a nice guy like you doing all alone?" he asked, as we swung onto the access road.

I wasn't about to get into it. "Long and boring story. What about you? No one who'll be heartbroken if you leave L.A. for the Lone Star State?"

Drew shook his head. "I fall in love every two weeks, but you know what they say about the good ones all being taken."

I parked the car and walked with him into the terminal. At the security checkpoint I stopped and gave him his bag. I held out my hand. "Have a safe trip, Dr. Ohlen."

Drew pursed his lips in mock reproach. "So formal." The next moment I gasped as I felt a hand on my crotch, squeezing gently. I looked around, wondering if anyone had seen, but people continued to mill past us unconcerned. Drew released me and shook my hand, still extended in my state of shock.

"Thank you, Dr. Reynolds." He added in a low voice, "I saw you checking me out yesterday. Now we're even."

As he walked toward the line of passengers waiting to have their baggage inspected, he said over his shoulder, "See you in the fall, I hope."

My mouth was still open. I closed it and walked away. As soon as I could I quickly adjusted what was pressing painfully against the front of my pants.

Drew Ohlen joined the Steelman faculty the following September and quickly settled into life at a small college. I had been appointed as department chair starting that fall, so I saw quite a bit of him. He treated me courteously and never referred to the singular way he had said farewell the previous spring.

I might have known Drew would be a fitness buff. He certainly was easy on the eye jogging or cycling around campus. It was hard not to notice the wide shoulders, the flat stomach, the way his exercise shorts fitted his thighs and butt, and especially how the elastic material outlined the equipment between his legs.

I swam laps for exercise myself, and ran into him at the pool as well. Most of the males on campus wore baggy boxer-style trunks, especially those of us past a certain age. Drew, though, kept with Speedos. I found it hard not to stare at him when he appeared on deck, lean and muscled and nearly naked. He was a much faster swimmer that I was and was always out and dressed before I was through. This was a good thing as I don't know what I would have done if we'd ended up in the shower together. It was bad enough that we sometimes got to the pool at the same time and I had to stand next to him in the locker room, trying to carry on a conversation, while he peeled down to nothing.

I was not going to get involved with a colleague, especially one I was supervising. I'd had a workplace affair at my first job and it had blown up in my face. I'd been forced to resign and spent several years out of teaching, which nearly killed me. To get hired here at Steelman I'd had to give up all credit toward tenure.

It had been a long, hard climb back up, but I had done it. Most people around here knew I was gay, but no one knew anything about my past. I had the reputation of being a discreet "confirmed bachelor." I was determined to keep it that way.

Drew had other ideas. He often stopped by my office, ostensibly to talk about work. One of my duties as chair, after all, was to mentor new faculty, and make sure they were on the right track toward tenure. I had my doubts Drew would stay the course at Steelman, not because he wasn't cutting it. James Druther Ohlen was a brilliant scholar, the best we'd ever managed to land in the department. He had already published articles in top-tier journals and was working on his first book. Sooner or later a more prestigious institution was going to grab him. It was just a matter of time.

Drew always claimed afterward that he hadn't hung around the department all those evenings just to hit on me. "Give me a break, Glenn," he said with that smile that always made my knees turn to rubber. "You had me scared to death with all that talk about perfecting your teaching, keeping up with your research, and pulling your weight in the department. I was working like a dog."

So was I. The administrative duties of a chair in a small college department are heavy, and you don't get any release time. Besides, I didn't have anybody at home waiting for me.

One evening that fall, getting on toward mid-semester, I'd stayed in the office to work on some budget details. About six o'clock I leaned back in my chair, yawned and rubbed my aching eyes. Two empty cans of Diet Coke sat by the computer. I had to take a leak, and bad.

I hurried out of the office and down to the men's room in the hallway, my bladder screaming for relief. I barely got unzipped in front of the urinal before the floodgates opened.

As the pressure began to ease I closed my eyes and sighed. Then the door creaked open behind me. My bashful kidneys clamped shut. With an effort I got myself going again, staring straight ahead, determined not to acknowledge the intruder.

"Hello there." The voice came from right next to me. I turned my head and saw Drew. I was able to hold his gaze only because to look elsewhere would have meant looking down, and I wasn't going to get caught doing that again.

"Hello," I managed to say.

"Working late, I see," Drew said, unzipping and letting loose. How could he be so casual? I couldn't do anything except nod. Carrying on conversations at the pisser wasn't my usual style. Thank goodness I was just about done with my business.

"You work too hard, Dr. Reynolds."

I shrugged, and reached down to zip up. To my horror I realized that my anatomy had a mind of its own, and had reacted to the fact that I was standing with my dick out next to an attractive man, also exposed.

I gritted my teeth as I worked to stuff myself back into my trousers. Drew stood there all the while, saying nothing, a small smile on his face. My own face was burning.

Finally I got myself put together and lurched toward the sink. As I ran water in a noisy stream Drew flushed and joined me.

I washed my hands carefully, saying nothing. I could hardly help catching his eye in the mirror. Drew grinned.

"Looks like you could use some serious stress relief."

"What--" I started to say, then realized he had shifted his gaze to my crotch, still bulging.

My younger colleague shook his head in mock reproach. "Got to keep those pipes cleared, Glenn. You're getting to the age where it's going to catch up with you." Exactly as he had done the year before, he wiped his hands and left before I could think of a rejoinder.

Alone in bed late that night, I thought about Drew--his toned body, glinting blue eyes, and mellow voice. His smile. I pictured the times I'd seen him riding his bike, or at the pool. As my hand began to move on my cock I imagined myself in front of him, hooking my fingers under the waistband of his tight Speedos, seeing his rapidly hardening dick flop out as I fell to my knees and my mouth opened.

Afterward I blotted off the hot spurts just beginning to cool on my stomach with my jockeys and drifted into sleep, naked under the covers.

Still, I managed to control myself at work, giving Drew nothing. He must have taken that as a challenge.

It was after lunch one day in late October. We'd been having a string of sunny, ninety-degree scorchers, unseasonably warm even for central Texas, the kind of weather that gets people talking about climate change.

I was working at my desk, the door open. I heard a knock.

"Listen," Drew's voice said. "What's this I hear about a nude beach around here?"

I looked up, startled. He was lounging in the doorway. I quickly motioned him in. It wasn't till I shut the door that I answered.

"Look," I said, "I'm going to have to ask you to be a bit more discreet."

Drew looked contrite. "You're right, Glenn, sorry." Then he smiled. "But anyway, can you take me there?"

I sighed. "Why? You don't need me. I'll just give you directions. People will be falling over themselves to share your beach towel."

He took the implied compliment with practiced ease. "I'd rather have you. You're free this afternoon, right? It's a weekday--we'll have the place to ourselves."

I was weakening. "I'll have to cancel my office hours."

He winked. "I'll never tell."

An hour later we stood on a shelf of rock by the waters of the large lake west of town. This was the only clothing-optional public waterfront in the state, a relic of slower, more laid-back days. Some rich nudist had deeded the land to the state on the condition that it be kept a clothing-optional park in perpetuity. Thanks to him, people in this area could still get naked and lounge by the water with beer in hand, as if this were still the seventies.

We were lucky and found a spot with a jutting overhang of limestone above, getting shade and a bit of privacy.

I hesitated when the moment of truth arrived, but Drew calmly peeled off his clothes and started applying sunscreen.

"Do my back, would you, Glenn?"

I obliged. As soon as I was done, Drew jumped in the water and swam out with strong, sure strokes. I stripped and breast stroked leisurely after him. Maybe this would be okay, after all. I could enjoy the sun and the water and Drew's good company. Not bad for an afternoon when I should have been working.

I got out first and perched on my towel. Drew was at the line of floats that marked the edge of the swimming area. I watched his body cut gracefully through the water.

After a while he turned and began swimming back. In a few minutes he emerged, muscled and dripping, blond hair darkened by the water and plastered to his skull, a pagan god in full glory. His cock hung flaccid between his legs, his heavy, full balls swinging beneath.

Drew picked up his towel. "The water," he announced, "is magnificent. This is the best, Glenn. Thanks for bringing me out here."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Suddenly he crouched before me, so close that I sensed the moist heat rising from his body, smelled the coconut fragrance of sunscreen, felt his warm breath on my face. Before I could react he leaned forward, cocked his head to one side and pressed his lips to mine.

"I've been wanting to do that ever since I saw you," Drew whispered.

I sat stunned for a moment, then rose and picked up my towel. I started gathering my things and stuffing them into the duffel bag I had brought.

"Whoa," Drew said, laughing, "What did I do?" I continued to pack, ignoring him.

"Glenn, are you abandoning me? We came in your car."

"I'm sure you can find someone to give you a ride." Where the hell were my shoes?

"Geez, you're really mad. C'mon, lighten up. What's a little kiss between friends?"

I faced him. "Can't you get the message? I'm not interested."

Drew's expression was challenging. "Then why did you come out here with me? Why'd you flash your hard-on at me? I didn't imagine that."

My shoulders sagged. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Do I have to spell it out? Because you're smart. Funny. And fucking handsome. Because I want you, Glenn."

"Don't." I turned away. I wanted to punch something, maybe scream--anything to keep from turning around again and falling to my knees in front of him.

I felt his warm presence behind me. A strong arm encircled my chest and pulled me against his chest. At the same time his other hand grasped my cock. His warm breath tickled my ear.

"C'mon," Drew whispered. "Go for it."

Memories came crowding back into my head. Another strong male body close to mine, a hand around my hardening cock. Another low voice murmuring into my ear. A man I had loved, lost to me forever.

Pain that I thought I would never feel again rose in my chest. I tried to hold back the tears that were spilling from underneath my closed eyelids, but couldn't.

"Please," I choked out.

Drew finally figured out that something was wrong. He let me go and backed away. I sank down toward the rock, fighting to regain control.

"Glenn, I'm sorry. Whatever I did--"

I waved one hand back at him. "Not you." The tears kept coming, as fast as my other hand could wipe them away. As upset as I was I was also mortified that Drew was seeing me like this, naked and blubbering.

Long moments passed before I finally started getting hold of myself. I turned, trying to think of something to say. Drew wasn't there.

Still sniffling, I looked further. My younger colleague was sitting on his towel some distance away, his broad back to me, looking at the water. After a moment I picked up my towel and went toward him.

Drew turned as I approached. "You all right?" was all he said.

I nodded, not yet trusting myself to speak, and unfolded my towel next to his. We sat silent.

"I'm sorry, Glenn."

"It's not your fault."

"Feel like talking about it?"

I looked up, startled. He looked at me, his eyes direct as always. My mouth opened, intending to utter a refusal.

"Before I came to Steelman I taught at a small school in Oklahoma. New College of the Nazarene. Ever heard of it?"

Drew's expression was wry. "Nope. A Christian school in Oklahoma. I can guess what kind of place it was."

I nodded. "You got it. I knew what I was in for, but I needed the job. I figured I'd teach my classes and do my work, and just hibernate the rest of the time while I looked for something else."

"But you found someone."

"Yes. His name was Dirk. He had an office down the hall from me. He had been teaching there a couple of years, in economics. Married, of course."

"That didn't stop him, did it?"

"No." I laughed a little through my tears. "I was so naive. I actually thought all married men were straight. Imagine how shocked I was when one day after a racketball game he hit on me in the gym shower."

"Let me guess. He was cute."

"Oh God, yes. Blond hair, tight body, blue eyes. Quite a bit like yours." I looked at Drew. He looked back at me. Nothing was in his gaze right now except sympathy. "I was going crazy with loneliness. I'm sure you can do the math."

"What happened?"

"We got careless. A female student who had a crush on him claimed she saw us kissing. The administration hauled us both into a hearing. We could have stood firm and denied it. It was our word against hers. Dirk caved under the pressure, though."

"Blamed you."

I felt the tears rising again. I could have stood it all, except his betrayal. "The ministers on the board bought his story that he'd been seduced by the evil homosexual. After all, how could he be gay, with a wife and little baby? They paid me until the end of that year, but they kicked me out right away. Told me to clean out my office, barred me from campus.

"Word got around town, of course. The anonymous phone calls and hateful e-mails went on until I left. Some of it was pretty scary."

"Bastards."

"The worst thing was Dirk freezing me out. He wouldn't return my calls or answer my messages. When I ran into him at the store or other places he'd look right through me, as if I didn't exist."

"By the time I got here I was a basket case. Sold cars, worked in a bank, tried to forget the whole thing. But I wanted to teach. I knew I was good at it. I got hired on at Steelman as an adjunct teaching an extra section of U.S. History one fall. When a tenure-track position opened up after a couple of years, I applied for it.

"I'd done a good job as an adjunct, but inside candidates aren't always shoo-ins. To get a full-time job I had to interview with the administration. I was a wreck. I figured someone would bring up my past record. But Jon Evans was great."

"The Provost?"

I nodded. "He cut to the chase right away. 'Glenn,' he said, 'I'm aware of the circumstances under which you left your previous full-time position, and I'm also aware they had nothing to do with your abilities as a teacher and scholar. Here at Steelman we take the position that private lives of faculty members are their own business--as long as they don't break the law or cause harm to the institution.'"

Drew nodded. "I liked him when I had my interview."

"It wasn't till months later I found out he was family."

He whistled. "Really."

I nodded. "Not only that, he'd caused quite a stir years ago when a male student who had just graduated from Steelman moved in with him. So he could relate to what I'd been through. Says a lot for him that even with all that they promoted him from the ranks when the head job opened up."