The Research Assistant Ch. 01

It was the last day of final exams at The College of Perpetual Hope in mid-December. Sarah breezed through her Anthropology 101 exam while most of her classmates struggled with the first page. She looked over her answers, re-read her essays, picked up her coat and her test paper, and walked up to the front of the room. She handed the exam to Dr. Peterson and was turning toward the door when he called her back.

"Sarah," he said quietly to avoid disturbing the other students. "I was wondering if you could meet me in my office at three this afternoon. I have a research project that I thought you might be interested in for a full course credit. I've got a couple other students meeting me as well." Even though Sarah was now done with her exams and had planned to head home for a well-deserved rest, she jumped at this opportunity. Anthropology was not her major. In fact, she was half way through her sophomore year and still hadn't decided on a major. But the idea of finding out about the people of some foreign land and time fascinated her. Dr. Peterson seemed pleased and she put on her coat and headed out onto the frozen campus.

When Sarah arrived at the professor's office shortly before three, he had not yet arrived. There was, however, a very jumpy young man and a young woman who looked as if she had fallen asleep leaning against the wall. At five after three, Dr. Peterson arrived with an armful of final exams and led the small group into his office. Sarah had never seen the professor's office before and was fascinated by the shelves of pots and statues, all ornately designed. There were framed photographs on the walls of ancient runes and ruins.

"OK," said the professor, rifling through his desk. "I've called the three of you here not just because you all have a talent for the study of ancient peoples, but because you all seem to have a genuine interest in it. As I mentioned, I have a project for which the college has agreed to give full course credit to anyone who participates. If successful, it could also result in your names, as well as my own, being recorded in the history books." At this thought, a tiny smile appeared at the professor's lips and a sparkle appeared in his blue eyes. "Now, I know it's a lot to ask, but it would require you to work through the winter break, so..." At this, the jumpy young man and the sleepy young woman stood.

"I... my Mom... she's expecting me home for the holidays and..." he said no more, but simply disappeared through the door.

"I'm going back home to Massachusetts," said the young woman. "Five brothers and sisters are all coming back from all over the country. Sorry professor." She followed the young man.

Sarah and the professor sat alone in his office. The professor seemed a little discouraged. "And you?" he asked.

Sarah laughed. "I have absolutely nothing better to do," she said. The professor didn't like this answer either. "I mean... I would love to do this and I've got some vacation time coming at work, so... I'm all yours." Sarah realized after she said it how cheesy this sounded, but some of the smile came back to the professor's face. He seemed to have found what he was looking for in his desk as well as in a research assistant.

"Have you ever heard of the Island of Paradisio?" he asked. Sarah shook her head. "It's a tiny volcanic island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It's said that it was once inhabited by a tribe that had discovered the Fountain of Youth. The Paradisians, however, disappeared without a trace more than a thousand years ago and with a volcanic eruption at the turn of the seventeenth century, their villages have all been wiped out. All that archeologists were able to find were a few bits of pottery." At this, the professor held up a photograph of a piece of pottery.

The piece was gray with ash, but the design was still pretty clear. Three vertical wavy lines with an upright triangle on either side were etched into the clay. "This is the most basic of the designs found, but this is said to be the Fountain of Youth. The one river on the island does flow between two volcanoes, but it is so polluted with ash that it is impossible to drink leading me to believe that there was some other source for the Paridisian's strength and power. Also, no one is quite certain on the fate of the people, their origins, their daily life. Everything that is known about them is purely guesswork as far as I'm concerned."

Sarah tried to drink in all the information she had just been given. "So are you in?" he asked. Sarah mirrored his smile and nodded.

For the next week, Sarah and Dr. Peterson scoured every bit of information in the library gathered about the findings on the Island of Paradisio. It seemed that the island had been rediscovered in 1868 by an off-course American fishing boat. About ten years later, a team of archeologists began a dig and when no logical picture of the history of the island could be made from the shards of pottery, the investigation was dropped. Funds and interest both faded fast.

The common theme in all of the pieces of pottery found was this river between two mountains. There were carvings of the river with a man drinking from it rising in strength and power. There were carvings of the river with a man refusing to drink falling into a heap in the shore. There were carvings of a serpent swimming against the tide between the mountains and returning with a baby. All of these gave rise to the idea that the Paradisians had discovered what they believed to be a Fountain of Youth. But then there was a carving of a woman lying on the bank letting the water of the river wash over her hand that didn't quite fit into this theory. She seemed so calm and happy as she looked into the water, but she was definitely not young or strong or healthy.

Sarah and Dr. Peterson worked day and night in the empty library, tossing around ideas, jotting down notes. They talked little about themselves, but seemed to growing closer, though neither of them could place a finger on how or why. Sarah began to find joy in the simple presence of this extremely intelligent and enthusiastic man. He was old enough to be her father with his silver hair and wrinkles around his bright blue eyes, but age didn't seem to be a factor inside the walls of the library. When he would find a new bit of information or have some sort of idea, he seemed like a kid in a candy store. His eyes lit up and he struggled to steady his speech through his excitement.

On Christmas Eve, Sarah was unable to meet the professor as she had to attend the wedding of her best friend. She couldn't wait to get out of that wedding hall and get home to change her clothes. She was so used to sweats that wearing this dress made her feel like she wasn't herself. Her curly red hair was pulled up into a bun instead of in the usual braid that whipped around her hips. And make-up, that horrible stuff that had to have been invented by a man. She had given up on the idea of panty hose long before she had left her house and couldn't get them on.

On her way home, it had begun to snow and so she chose a more popular route over her usual back roads. This route took her right past the college and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lights on in the library. She knew it had to be the professor, but why would he be working on Christmas Eve? She parked her car in the deserted student lot and walked through the snow to the entrance of the library. She knocked on the door. The professor appeared on the other side of the glass and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Sarah tried to mime that it was cold outside and Dr. Peterson quickly unlocked the door to let her in, never taking his eyes off of her.

"What are you doing here so late, Professor?" she asked.

"I found a different study," he answered and in the same breath, "You look... different."

"Don't get used to it," she joked, now extremely self-conscious without her baggy sweats. "You found a new study? I can't wait to see!"

"Shouldn't you get home before the snow gets really bad?" he asked.

"What, and let you take all the credit? I don't think so," and she pushed past him to the table that she had pretty much called her home for the past week. Dr. Peterson followed. The table was covered in notes and books and photocopied pages. The lust for learning overcame her self-consciousness as she stripped off her wet coat revealing her form-fitting, sleeveless royal purple dress, sat down, and said, "Let's get to work."

The hours passed as the pair read and searched for answers. Sarah's hair was slowly slipping from the bun and so she let it fall about her waist. Something about the night, the snow, her outfit, the pictures that she had seen many times made Sarah feel as if the library was a magical place. The only sounds were the shuffling of papers and the breathing of the professor at the other end of the table. It was about ten, after Sarah had been pondering a particular carving that she said out loud, "Professor, take a look at this."

It was a carving that she had seen many times before that for some reason in this new magical library caught her attention. "The man who is drinking from the river," she said as the professor came around the table. "He isn't using his hands at all. Usually when you think of drinking from a river, you think of someone taking the water from the river and drinking it. The man is leaning in and drinking with his tongue like an animal." The professor, standing directly behind her, leaned in. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell a faded cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.

When the professor spoke, he talked directly onto her neck, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "Come to think of it," he said, "In all of the carvings, no one uses their hands. What do you suppose that means?" He asked this question with his face turned to her cheek. She turned her head to face him, inches away. That smell, this magical feeling, his heat, this handsome intellectual man pressed against her, the picture. Sarah felt a tingling between her thighs and fought the urge to kiss this handsome man. The picture... Her eyes opened wide as she jumped out of her chair and ran down one of the aisles with bookshelves stretched to the ceiling. The professor, stunned, followed her.

Sarah scanned the top shelf for the book she needed to validate her hypothesis. Finding it, she jumped up, but could not reach it. "Professor, give me a boost," she said, kicking off her shoes. Dr. Peterson, still shocked, did as he was told. He went down on one knee. Sarah placed one bare foot on his other thigh and lifted herself to reach the top shelf. She the slid down, not noticing the professor's knee between her legs and his face at chest level. He stood as she flipped through page after page until she found what she was looking for.

"The serpent," she said, showing Dr. Peterson what she had been looking for. "At one point we had thought the serpent was stealing the babies of the Paradisians. The people all on the banks are reaching out for the baby. But none of them look scared!" Sarah's excitement was growing at the possibility that her theory could be correct. "In fact, they all seem happy, as if they're greeting the snake and receiving the baby. What if..." she took the pencil from behind her ear and drew feet on the outermost points of the triangular mountains. "What if the baby is being born?" With the feet drawn on the mountains, the picture became clearer. A woman with her legs spread and a baby coming out from between.

Dr. Peterson stood looking at the picture for a moment before he fully understood what Sarah was saying. "So if what you're saying is correct," he said slowly. "The river symbolizes the vagina?" Sarah nodded, smiling. Dr. Peterson walked back to the table. Using Sarah's method of drawing feet on the mountains, he looked down at the picture of the man lapping up the river water. "So this..." he trailed off as Sarah looked at the new picture that was obviously a man performing oral sex on a woman. He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair. "I need a cigarette," he said as he quickly made his way to the door.

Sarah was disappointed at the professor's reaction. She was sure he would have had that same enthusiastic expression as he had at all of the other ideas passed around between the two of them. No matter how ridiculous the other theories were he was always sure that they would somehow lead to the answer. She followed him outside, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

Dr. Peterson stood on the front step, staring out into the snow. He did not turn when Sarah came out. Smoke billowed out of his mouth. "Professor, I really think..." Sarah began.

"Can you imagine going public with a theory like this?" he asked. "What would I say? 'The former inhabitants of the Island of Paradisio were really horny'?" Sarah could sense some humor in his voice, but she was still annoyed at his reaction.

"We can tell them that the people worshiped womanhood," she answered snidely. Dr. Peterson turned with a smile on his face.

"Now what made you think that a river might be the symbol for a vagina?" He asked. Sarah couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

"Well, there are the banks and then the three wavy lines as the water," she answered.

He laughed again, not so nervous this time. There seemed to be some of that kid-in-a-candy-store look back in his eyes along with something mischievous. "No, I mean we've been looking at the same pictures for a week straight with no fucking clue as to what they might mean. What happened tonight that you made that connection?" Sarah blushed and stumbled to get something, anything out that would explain without telling the truth.

"The scientist often uses himself, or in some cases herself, as a model." He stepped closer to Sarah, throwing his cigarette butt on the ground. Sarah had butterflies in her stomach. "Is that the case here?" he asked. Sarah lowered her head, a nervous smile playing on her lips, refusing to look him in the eye. Dr. Peterson reached out and touched Sarah's face, lifting her head to look at him. "Is that the case here?" he asked again. Sarah was looking deeply into the mesmerizing blue eyes of the professor. She shivered in the cold. Dr. Peterson smiled. "Let's get back to work," he said gently and opened the door for Sarah to go in first.

Once inside, the professor set about reorganizing the papers stating that he had to go back through all of the documents with this new theory in mind. Mid-sentence he was interrupted as Sarah said, "Yes." Dr. Peterson looked up, surprised. "Yes, the scientist is using herself as a model." And like the river in all of the carvings, the words just began to flow out of her mouth. "You leaned over me earlier and... and my body reacted and so the thought was there and the picture was there and... stuff."

"You're going to have to do better than that in front of a panel of historians," he said, putting down the papers in his hand. "They're going to expect details... and stuff." They both laughed.

"I didn't want to go over the line," she said.

"Over the line," he sighed. "Then I guess we should figure out where the lines are. "You telling me that you came to the conclusion that the Paradisians are worshiping female anatomy came to you because you got a little turned on when I leaned over you. Now I don't think that's over the line. That's two researchers sharing their methods." He began to walk toward her. "Me telling you that I reacted to this conclusion with a raging hard-on, I don't think that's over the line either since research has an emotional component and it's only right for fellow researchers to share these feelings.

"Now me telling you that I've wanted to throw you down on the table since you got here this evening and make love to you until the sun comes up, that might be over the line. And kissing you, that's definitely over the line," Dr. Peterson stood directly in front of Sarah, looking into her eyes. "Now as researchers, we have to figure out which lines we should stay away from and those that need to be crossed for the sake of science. I myself am hanging by a potential line by my little finger just waiting to either be pulled away from it or have the line cut by a fellow researcher."

Sarah smiled. "I think we need to keep in mind, for the sake of science, what the Paradisians would do in a situation like this," she replied. "By putting ourselves in their shoes, perhaps we can understand a little more about them."

Dr. Peterson laughed and leaned a hand against the bookshelves behind Sarah so that his face was only inches away from hers. "That sounds familiar," he said softly.

"First lecture of the semester," Sarah answered. "I pay attention in class."

"So do I," Dr. Peterson replied. He leaned in closer, kissing her, their lips barely touching. He ran his fingers through her long, soft, red hair to her waist and kissed her again, his lips just brushing over hers. Sarah shivered again, though not because she was cold this time. Dr. Peterson's hand slid around her waist to the small of her back and pulled her close to him. He kissed her deeply. Sarah had the fleeting memory of the guys who had kissed her who seemed to think that it was romantic to try to swallow a girl's face. Dr. Peterson, being the intellectual that he was, had no such thought and Sarah melted into his kiss, leaning back against the shelves.

Dr. Peterson's hands began to slide up her sides and she raised her arms up to hold onto a shelf above. His fingers trailed up the sensitive underside of her arms. His left hand clasped her hands together at the edge of the shelf as his right trailed back down her arm. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her ears. He whispered hotly in her ear, "I'm crossing that damn line. I want to make that river flow." Sarah's body trembled and she giggled as she wrapped her arms around the professor's neck. "Scared?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

"Nervous," she answered.

"Me too," he said, brushing his fingers across her cheek. "It's been a while."

Sarah laughed. "For me too."

Dr. Peterson smiled. "How long?"

"Um," Sarah pretended to think. "Never?"

A look of surprise passed over Dr. Peterson's face quickly replaced by another smile. "I didn't realize I was dealing with a freshman," he said. He took her hands. "I'll have to spend some extra time with you to get you caught up to the rest of the class." He kissed her again and pulled her away from the shelves. He led her across the library to the reading alcove, a small, entirely glass room just off the main room of the library. Two couches were nestled into the room, one with a blanket and pillow thrown onto it.

"I've been sleeping here since the end of the semester," said Dr. Peterson. "Saves time and gas." He flipped a switch by the entrance that turned off the other lights in the library. That feeling that the library was a magical place came back to Sarah as the small room was filled with light from the streetlamp outside and shadows of snowflakes danced over the couches.

Dr. Peterson stood before Sarah and slid his hands around her waist. "Still nervous?" he asked. Sarah nodded silently. "Come sit down with me," he said, leading her to the couch with the blanket. He picked up the blanket and sat, pulling Sarah down beside him. When she had curled her feet up beneath her, Dr. Peterson covered them both with the blanket. "So, what you have to ask yourself is which is stronger, the nerves or the desire?"

"Yes, Professor," she answered.

"And you have to ask yourself, do you really want to learn?" he asked quietly.

"I want to learn, Professor," she answered, relaxing a little.

"And if I were to be sitting here on the couch naked, would the nerves still be a factor?" he asked, his fingers trailing across her bare shoulder.