The Halls of Academe Ch. 03

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A mysterious adversary disapproves of their affair.
6.6k words
18.7k
4

Part 3 of the 7 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 07/10/2006
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"Glenn, why do you want to do this?" Jon Evans asked. We were in his spacious office in the main administration building.

After almost three decades at Steelman College, ten years of it as Provost, Jon's hair had mostly turned silver from its original dark brown. His eyes, though, were still that color, bright and slightly too prominent, giving him a look of perpetual inquiry. They were set in an angular, intelligent face.

"And why now? Why not finish out the year?"

I was going to have to tell the whole story, as I'd suspected.

"You know Drew, of course."

"Of course. A bright young addition to your department, and to the Steelman faculty."

"He and I have, well, become involved."

A pause. "I see." I couldn't read anything from Jon's expression.

"To continue as his chair, specifically, to evaluate his first-year performance would be a conflict of interest. That's why I'm asking to be replaced."

"How long has this been going on?"

"As of last night."

Jon Evans chuckled. "You don't waste any time." He grew sober again. "I agree that this could create some awkwardness, possibly damage morale within your department if you're not careful. However," he smiled, "You're going to be hard to replace. You've been chair quite a while, and a good one. You think Marcia could do it?"

I thought of Marcia's reaction when I'd teased her about being chair. "She won't be pleased. Not one bit."

"You see what I mean? And she's the likeliest candidate. How about terminating this thing with Drew if I raise your chair's stipend?" Jon laughed at what must have been my shocked expression. "I'm only teasing. I know you never would."

He was silent for a minute. "How about this. I'll relieve you of the responsibility of writing Drew's first-year evaluation. Surely Marcia would be willing to take on that one task. You stay on as chair until the end of the spring, while I soften her up about taking over next year. What do you think?"

I did some quick thinking. "There's just one problem. Marcia's going to have to know why she's doing Drew's evaluation."

"True. The other alternative would be for me to do it. I'm not sure, however, that would be fair to Drew. It's important that faculty be evaluated first by other faculty."

He had me there. This was a cornerstone of Steelman's governance system.

"Okay," I said at last. "I'll just have to swear her to secrecy."

"Glenn, may I offer some unsolicited advice?"

"Of course."

"Marcia is a good person. She'll keep your secret. But trust me, people are going to find out. Do you remember what I said at your candidate interview?"

I looked at the floor. "How could I forget? I owe you my career."

"I still believe what I said then. But you and Drew can do a lot to minimize fallout by the way you conduct yourselves."

Jon leaned forward and lowered his voice. He was talking to me now as a friend, not as an administrator.

"You know of course that Kevin is a Steelman alum. He and I started our relationship after he graduated, and well after he had been in one of my classes. But to this day you'll hear that I seduced him when he was my student.

"People are going to assume the worst about you, no matter what the truth is. I wish you and Drew well."

He paused, then winked. "Hell, I'm jealous. I told Kevin we could double the circulation of the Steelman alumni magazine by putting Drew Ohlen on the cover in his workout gear."

"So what did he say?" Drew asked that night, over dinner at the local Applebee's. Neither of us was much for cooking.

I sighed. "I can't say enough good things about Jon."

"So he's okay with it?"

I told him what the provost had said. Drew frowned.

"I wish Marcia wasn't doing my spring eval. She doesn't like me."

"I'll see to it she's fair, Drew. I'm still chair."

He shrugged. "If this means you're not going to dump me, I guess I can deal with it."

"Don't joke about that."

He grinned, unfazed. "You're so uptight. Guess we'll have to loosen you up some more."

He pressed his knee against mine under the table.

"When?" The word stuck in my dry throat. I saw the glint in his eye.

"Just as soon as you finish your vegetables, Glenny."

We went to Drew's tiny apartment that night, changing locales like fugitives.

"I know it's not as nice as your place, but at least it's not next door to Elden Lewis," he said, emerging naked from the bathroom. Drew definitely was a bit of an exhibitionist. Then again, he could get away with it. Even in repose his cock was a prize specimen, matched by his heavy balls in their hair-brushed sack. I felt my own cock stiffening underneath the covers of his bed.

"You really don't like him, do you?"

"Does anybody?" Drew asked, climbing onto the bed in a graceful, panther-like move, muscles rippling in his back and shoulders. He lowered his head toward mine for a kiss. It was a moment before we resumed our conversation.

"How's his son doing in your World History Survey class this semester?"

He shook his head. "Not so hot. I'm telling you, Glenn, that's a gay boy."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really."

"Think Elden knows?"

He snorted. "Not likely. I wouldn't want to be his son when the truth comes out. Let's not talk about him anymore. It's spoiling the mood. What're you hiding underneath those covers anyway?" he said, flinging the blanket aside. He rolled his eyes. "Jesus. You still have your shorts on."

"That's the way I sleep."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" In a flash my boxers were down to my thighs and Drew's head was in my crotch. I closed my eyes and sighed as my cock grew to full length in his expert mouth. Drew paused to finish stripping me and flung the shorts to the floor.

"I'm going to have to get you different underwear. Screw this grandpa stuff."

Tonight he got me on my knees with my head down, ass in the air, and took me from behind. I felt the thrusting power of his cock more intensely in this position, almost to the point of pain, grunting as he slammed into me, his swinging balls hitting mine on each downstroke.

Every time I reached for my cock he grabbed my hand and pulled it away. I wasn't going to concede. We collapsed into a wrestling match on the bed, panting and laughing, his cock still inside me.

"That does it," Drew said. He pulled out and disappeared below the edge of the bed. A minute later he reemerged, a look of mysterious triumph on his face, holding a lace from one of my school shoes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, still lying on my stomach, as he took hold of one of my wrists. "Oh no, you don't," I said, as I figured it out. I tried to wriggle away but his grip was iron.

"C'mon, Glenny. I promise you'll like it."

His voice was low and persuasive. I looked into his face, a small smile on his lips. His charm was as potent as it had been last night, when he had persuaded me to give up my ass to him.

I might have been his superior in everyday life, but right now my junior colleague was running the show. My mouth was dry as I said the words.

"Do it before I change my mind."

In another moment I was back where we had started, face on the pillow and butt in the air, my hands tied behind my back, unable to protect myself. To my amazement I was rock hard, my erection aching with need. Once again Drew was taking me to places I'd never been.

He applied fresh lube, working his finger into my sensitive places, stroking the head of my cock as he nudged my prostate. He got behind me again, letting me feel the blunt head of his penis bump against my hole, teasing me by withholding entry until I was begging him to fuck me. My incoherent words turned into a long wail as he suddenly sank all the way in, pressing his pubic bone against my butt.

His fucking this time was slow and deep, making me feel every inch of him as he pulled out and thrust into me again and again. His hands roved around the front of my body, pinching my nipples, stroking my cock almost to the point of shooting but never quite far enough, covering my mouth or thrusting fingers inside for me to lick.

His hot breath bathed the back of my neck, his teeth nipped at my earlobe, his tongue tickled me until I was helpless with laughter.

And there wasn't one thing I could do about any of it.

Finally Drew must have sensed I was reaching my limit. He withdrew, flipped me onto my back and took me into his mouth, thrusting two fingers into my stretched, sensitized hole, blowing me in long, hard strokes until I gave up my load with hoarse shouts of triumph, every drop of it going down his throat.

He pulled the rubber off and straddled my chest, pressing my pinioned arms painfully into the mattress while he stroked himself off, delivering his own spunk in hot splashes in my face. Not until then did he turn me onto my side and untie my hands.

I rolled slowly over onto my back, extending arms stiff from their long restraint, keeping my eyes closed, sticky fluid running down my face and neck.

"You okay, Glenn?"

I opened my eyes. Drew was kneeling beside me, a trace of anxiety in his eyes.

"Was I too rough?"

It was another moment before I could speak.

"Tying up and fucking the department chair. Every junior faculty member's fantasy."

He chuckled. "You're fine." He went into the bathroom, got a towel and cleaned me up before lying back down next to me. I turned and kissed him.

"Seriously, thanks. I'd never felt like that before."

Drew smiled. "At your service, Mr. Chairman. Besides, I'm getting my part of the deal too."

"What do you mean?"

"The ancient Greeks thought young scholars could acquire the wisdom of their elders by drinking their sperm. Where do you think the word 'seminar' comes from?"

I hooted. "Nice try, Dr. Ohlen."

Drew's eyes were dancing as usual. "Well, I believe it. And, Dr. Reynolds," he leered, "I intend to acquire as much wisdom as I can from my department chair."

In another time and place I might have enjoyed the look on Marcia's face when I asked her to take over the task of writing Drew's first-year evaluation, and told her why.

"Well," she finally said, "This is a surprise. I wouldn't have expected this of you."

"What, wanting a little happiness in my life, Marcia? What's wrong with that?"

Her expression was sober. "I'll admit, I'm not a real big fan of Drew's. But I can't help wondering whether happiness is what you're going to get out of this."

"I appreciate the concern. But maybe I'm old enough to make my own mistakes."

"If it were just about you that would be one thing. But like it or not, this concerns the department as well."

My voice was stiff. "That's why we're making this change. Anyway, whether this has a negative effect on the department depends mostly on your discretion. I'm assuming you're not going to start blabbing about this as soon as you get of here."

Her eyes snapped with anger. "Of course not." After a moment she sighed. "Sorry, I'm way out of line. I've no right to try and tell you how to run your life." A glint of humor appeared in her eye. "Is my not wanting to be chair a valid reason for hoping it doesn't work out?"

I laughed, the tension between us broken. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Word got out about us, of course, despite Marcia's promise. People just know. For a while, though, it seemed like her worries were unfounded. I tried to treat Drew exactly as before at work, and thought I succeeded. After hours, of course, was another matter. I remember those next few weeks not only because of the hot, almost nightly sex Drew and I had, but because we were so happy.

Whether it was because I had conceded his dominant role in bed, or because I was no longer sitting in on his classes evaluating him, I don't know, but Drew's and my relationship changed, I think for the better. We still talked about his teaching, but informally, over lunch or after work. He showed me drafts of an article he was working on. I was flattered that he was even asking my opinion, and told him so.

"Why, Glenn? Did you think I was just saying that about your mind? I've read some of your stuff. It's damn good."

I was surprised and pleased, but tried not to let on. "You must've really done some digging. I haven't published anything for years. Not since I became chair."

He leaned forward, that familiar wicked glint in his eye. "So I did you a double favor by seducing you. You're going to give up being chair and go back to being a scholar, like you should."

I tried to parry. "Assuming you stick around here. I'm betting you take off as soon as that book you're working on comes out, and the glowing reviews pour in."

"Don't be so sure."

Of course, that was the one thing that kept me from abandoning myself to the joy of being with Drew. To his credit, he never made any promises, nor did I ask him for any. We enjoyed our time moment by moment.

I didn't even take the first signs of approaching disaster all that seriously.

One afternoon Drew stopped by during my office hour. One look at his face and I could tell something out of the ordinary had happened.

"I saw Jon today."

"What's going on?"

He produced a one-page letter, written on University stationery. I started to skim through it, then stopped short.

"Someone's filed a sexual harassment complaint against you."

"Well, I know that." It wasn't like him to snap at me, so I knew he was really worried. "This is bad, Glenn. What can I do about it?"

I tried to reassure him. "This is a notification the administration is required to give any time a Steelman faculty or staff member is named in this kind of complaint. It doesn't mean it's going to go anywhere."

"How I am I supposed to defend myself if I don't even know who made the accusation? The letter doesn't say."

I know there's a lot of concern now about the rights of the accuser in cases like this, but the thing about dealing with sexual harassment at Steelman was that the deck was stacked the other way. Unless the alleged victim consented there was no obligation to inform the accused who the accuser was. There would be a hearing where a "Sexual Harassment Advisor," a designated member of the faculty or staff, would present the case. I had heard of a past case where a professor hadn't found out who had accused him until he walked into the hearing and saw the student sitting there. It was like an inquisition, and was loaded with potential to ruin a professional career, especially of a young faculty member like Drew.

Steelman was a small campus, though. It didn't take me long to find out who had pointed the finger. About a week later I was sitting in the cafeteria by myself, having a late lunch. Suddenly I became alert. Someone in a group of students at a table nearby had mentioned Drew's name. I was sitting with my back to them so they hadn't noticed that a faculty member was within earshot.

"You really think Ohlen did it?"

"He's such an arrogant prick. Sure. I could see him telling some girl he'd pass her for a blow job."

"Dude, it's better than that. It's a guy. Well, sort of."

"No shit! Who?"

"Nathan Lewis."

"That little faggot?" Raucous laughter. "That's pathetic."

I picked up my tray and left. I'd heard enough.

"Nathan Lewis?" Drew was incredulous.

"Seems to be the rumor."

"But Glenn, he hardly talks to me. Sits in the back of the room. Never participates. Never comes in during my office hours. Turns his work in, more or less on time. Pretty marginal student on the whole, though he's passing."

"Well," I said, "If you've had no contact with him, he has no case. I don't understand why he's doing this."

Drew looked thoughtful. "Maybe this has something to do with the notes I've been getting."

"What notes?"

He opened his desk drawer and brought out a stack of paper, held together with a clip. "I've been getting these in my campus mailbox this spring. One every week or so."

I took them and flipped through them. The lettering on the small, creased paper squares was laser-printed--the author hadn't wanted to be ID'd, for obvious reasons.

"Hot bod." "Stud prof." "Nice basket." Despite myself my lip curled upward. I stopped reading and handed them back.

"Someone has the hots for you, that's for sure. Not guilty. Though it's obviously a male."

Drew rolled his eyes. "I didn't think it was you. But what if Nathan's doing this?"

I nodded. "He has a crush on you and you haven't responded. The spurned lover takes revenge."

"Makes sense, doesn't it? Only what do we do about it?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"We don't have any proof Nathan wrote these. Your best hope is to wait for the hearing and tell the truth, that you've had little or no contact with him. They can't possibly find for him. And if the charges aren't upheld nothing will go on your record."

"That doesn't mean people won't find out they were made," Drew said, in a gloomy tone. "Obviously word has already gotten around."

"It sucks, I know. But the best way is to ignore them."

"Easier said than done."

"I'll go to Jon and ask him when he's going to convene the hearing. The sooner we get this behind us the better."

Drew sighed. "This whole thing has been such a distraction. I haven't been able to get any of my own work done lately. Of course," he brightened a bit, "There have been other distractions as well..."

I chuckled, glad to break the somber mood. "Now I'm guilty as charged."

"The poor guy. Nathan, I mean. I hope he gets some help, and soon."

Thinking back I shake my head at how naive we were. Now that we knew who it was things didn't seem so bad, especially since the accusation was ridiculous. A few weeks, some bureaucratic hassle and life would revert to normal.

Instead, it got worse. Much worse.

On Monday morning a couple of weeks later I walked into the classroom building to teach my nine o'clock. As I approached my office I saw a couple of students I didn't recognize standing in front of it, pointing to something on my door. They saw me coming and turned tail, practically running down the hall. This was weird--Steelman students by and large were a friendly bunch.

A moment later I saw why they hadn't wanted to talk to me.

At least whoever did it hadn't defaced the door itself. They had attached the two squares of hot pink posterboard with duct tape. The block lettering on both was printed with indelible black marker. "FAG" said one. "OHLEN'S BITCH" read the other.

My knees felt rubbery and there was a roaring in my ears. As if in a dream I pulled at the hateful signs until they tore away from the wood. I wanted to fling them as far as I could, but instead I held them as I fumbled for my keys with a trembling hand. I'd need them as evidence.

Once I got inside and shut the door I dropped the signs behind my desk, out of sight, then stood, clutching at the wood as I took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Someone obviously didn't approve what was going on between Drew and me. But who?

At that moment there was a knock at my door. When I opened it there stood Drew. One look at his wide eyes and pale face and I knew what had happened.

"What did yours say?" I asked him.

"How did you know?" Drew said, his voice tight with anger. Silently I fished out the signs and showed them to him.

Drew snorted as he looked at them, but I could tell he was shaken. "Well," he said, "I had two myself. Orange. One said "QUEER BOY" and the other said "SUCKS GAY GLENN'S DICK." He shrugged. "Maybe they were supposed to form one complete sentence." His jaw set. "Nathan Lewis did this."

I wasn't so sure. "You really think so? He's accused you of sexual harassment. He's got to convince everyone's he sweet and innocent. Targeting you and me wouldn't be the smartest thing for him to do right now."

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