Awkward, a Love Story Ch. 03

Spoiler alert: All the action takes place between two people in a psychiatrist's office. If that sounds boring, this might not be the best story for you to read!

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"What's on your mind, David?

"Not much."

She cleared her throat, which I knew to be one of my cues.

"Well, I do have a thought. You know how I enjoy situational ethics?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"Are you being sarcastic, sardonic? Whatever those words mean. I'm sensing an edge."

"I just sense a pattern, but sure, go ahead."

"Okay, it's about career advice I gave to a junior faculty member."

"You've been wanting to talk mentorship."

"I know you enjoy talking about sex with teens, but this is more pressing. Plus, Gemma went home for a couple days."

"Oh?"

"No biggie. Don't worry--she and her squeak will be back soon enough."

"What did you tell her?"

"Who?"

"The mentee."

"Why do you say she? Isn't that a little sexist? I mean, I'm chair of an academic department that has men and women. It could have been a man."

"Just playing a hunch."

I smiled.

"Good hunch. Yes. A woman."

I leaned back and let the ethical quandary wash over me.

"So, I directly supervise a few different groups of faculty members. The most senior ones, of course, and then two groups of more junior folks. One group is the stars. They're smart, diligent, and churn out papers in which I'm often the senior author; it's a win-win for both of us. Then there's a small group of junior faculty who are likely to be fired, and I'm trying to get help them avoid the chopping block, even if it is my chopping block.

"You fire people often?"

"Let me rephrase. They're folks who likely won't get tenure, whose contracts probably won't get renewed, but who might just make it. I root for that group. Frankly, that's my own group from back in the day. I hung in there, got lucky, and here I am. There are other groups, including a group of young faculty that I know for sure aren't going to make it, and I don't supervise them. It's a waste of my time and kinda depressing."

"David, maybe you could tell me up front about your dilemma so I know what to listen for."

"Sure, this young faculty member came to me to tell me she was worried about her job, as--I might add--she should be."

"What happens if you don't grant her tenure?"

"Most likely, she'll become an adjunct somewhere, which is teaching, but much more work for less money, power, time, control, and prestige."

"Uh huh."

"She's a stand-in, really, not a strong long-term candidate.

"Shouldn't she have been in the pile with the folks who are doomed?"

"I make exceptions."

"She's pretty."

I shrugged.

"What were the circumstances in which she came to you?"

"She popped by on a Friday, without an appointment."

"What time?"

"Like at 6 pm. You may think I'm lazy, but I actually work very hard."

"I didn't say you did."

"You implied I was ducking out early on a Friday."

"I was asking because I was wondering if she came by at 11 am, when there would be a lot of people running around, including your assistant, or at 6 pm on a Friday, when the place would be vacant."

"Touche, herr doctor. That's why you get the big bucks."

"But aren't you on summer vacation? Why were you there at 6 on a Friday during the summer? And what about your, uhm, houseguests."

"My, UHM, houseguests had not yet arrived. You toss out 'uhms' like nobody's business. Anyway, this was a couple months ago, so they weren't a glint in my eye."

"And it's an issue now?"

"The mentorship issue? Yes. In conjunction with an issue with my girlfriend, who returns to the States in a week."

"Where has she been?"

"On a dig."

"Digging for what?"

"Old stuff. And she's coming back so that we can argue, and then she's headed back to Turkey."

"Argue?"

"She was irritated with me when she left in June, which is when she said I could just go fuck whoever I felt like, including myself."

"Does that relate to mentorship?"

"And sloppiness."

"So, what did your faculty member want from you specifically?"

"Well, she said she was desperate to stay on faculty, and then she detailed her woes and how they'd kept her from academic productivity."

"What were the woes?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, maybe."

"Her woes won't matter if she doesn't get her dissertation published into a very good book."

"What did you do?"

"I looked at her sympathetically. You think I'm a monster? I felt her pain."

"I'm not saying you didn't feel her pain. What happened next?"

"She said, professor, I need this job and would do anything to keep it."

"So that's the dilemma?

"Well, not really. I'll get to the dilemma."

"So, what did you say?"

"What could I say? I'm her chair and mentor, so I gave advice, tried to get to the root of her issue, etc."

"How did you phrase all that?"

"I said, 'hmmm, an offer of anything covers a lot of territory.'"

Head tilt.

"And she said she'd chosen her words carefully. She knew what she was getting into. And she knew she liked me, and I liked her, and so it would be a win/win."

"Uh huh."

"And I said that I'd be in for a world of pain if I showed favoritism or abused the power differential, even if we kept it platonic. And she said, 'who said anything about platonic?'"

"So, what did you do?"

"Well, all of this didn't arise in a vacuum. We did have a mutual attraction. We'd bantered before. If she hadn't been a faculty member, and if I didn't have a girlfriend, I'd have asked her out in the more traditional way. Though who knows if we'd been attracted to each other without the power differential? I mean, seriously, where's the damn traction without some sort of power differential?"

"Where was the girlfriend while the other woman was seeking your mentorship? In Turkey?"

"At that moment? She was up in Berkeley, where she's an archeology professor. Very smart, very successful. My age. Calls me on everything. We get together on weekends. I can present, incidentally, as normal. And, by the way, I know you had slipped into sarcasm, but mentorship is exactly how I saw the situation, even after she propositioned me."

"Okay, so this woman has come to your office, and you have a dilemma."

"The first dilemma is to avoid entrapment. So, I didn't say anything but I did get up from my chair and grabbed her phone, backpack, and jacket and tossed them out on my assistant's desk in the outer office. I then scribbled on a sheet of paper that she should stand, and that I was going to check her for a wire."

"A wire?"

"I didn't want to be taped."

"Do they still have wires?"

"Doctor, this is why we get along so well. You and I think exactly alike."

"I'm not sure about that."

"Like you, I had the thought, 'does anybody wear wires outside of old gangster movies?' Here is where our thoughts and behaviors might diverge, because I walked up to her and stood inches from her, cutting deeply into her personal space, and looked at skin. As if she had crafted a pale wire that I'd be able to see."

"How'd she react?"

"She seemed amused. I scribbled more on my paper."

"What did you say?"

"I wrote that she shouldn't speak. And then I burnt the papers."

"You burnt the papers?"

"I like having a candle going in my office. It's relaxing, and I like to break university policy, which obviously forbids open flames in old wooden offices in old academic buildings."

"So, I patted her down, slowly but in such a way that there would be some small chance that I could explain that I was just frisking. I did unbutton her blouse and feel under her breasts with only the smallest of gratuitous boob brushes. It was easy because she wasn't wearing a bra and she's small. Not particularly small overall, but small breasted. For her legs, I just asked her to lift her mini skirt and turn around, slowly, a couple of time. I didn't stick my hands in her panties and didn't specifically grab a breast."

"You're above that?"

"As I've tried to explain, I'm an adult and not some adolescent perv. Obviously, I was aware that such behavior was expected of me, but I wasn't going to fall for such shenanigans, at least so quickly. I had other plans."

"This story is going to reassure me that you don't have some sexual issues?"

"It's not over yet."

"It's going to need a strong recovery."

"Watch me."

"So, your hands are under her shirt, and you're mentoring."

"You keep busting my chops."

I smiled to indicate I had a sense of humor.

"By the way, doctor, you once called this supportive psychotherapy. Is this what you call supportive?"

"I think we now mostly do exploratory and insight-oriented psychotherapy, so anything goes."

"Anything?"

"Within reason."

"I'm hurt, you know. I spill my soul, and you act like I'm raping the woman. Remember, she came to me. Don't be so judgy."

"Okay, sorry to interrupt. Keep going."

"You sound skeptical, as if I'm lech just because she's 12 years younger, cute, and dependent on me. Hell, it wasn't really an implicit offer on her part. She was clear that she'd do anything, and given who I am, there is really only one path that I knew how to take."

"What's the path?"

"You know me well, so I bet you can figure it out. But give me some space."

"Okay."

"So, she sat back down, and there was silence for perhaps a minute while I looked her over. She was intense, attractive, dark haired, wearing a black mini skirt, a black t-shirt, and these black boots that are apparently handed out along with social science doctorates."

"Uh huh."

"She knows I find her pretty since--well--anyone would. And a minute's a long time to mull. I was struck by the short skirt. She was usually a jeans and tennis shoes kind of gal, but she'd obviously gone to some trouble to find the sort of clothes that work for seduction, whether sexual or professional. And, as is generally the case, both of those issues were on the table."

"Perhaps we could talk about the dilemma?"

"Again, doctor, you are sharp. I actually said that exact thing to her. Mind if I call her Violet?"

"Is that her name?"

"Yes."

"So, let's call her Violet."

"Okay, so I said, 'Violet, we have a dilemma. When someone in your position tells someone in my position that they would do literally anything to keep a job, well, that messaging leads down a single path. The someone in my position--let's call him me--well, my thoughts go to a very specific cluster of activities on your part that would influence my view of you, both in general as a young person as well as down the road a few months when time came for discussion about retention and tenure."

"Is that how you talk at school?"

"Yes. So, she just nods. And I say, 'listen, Violet. I could say the specific things that I'd want you to do, but they would sound banal. I mean, here we are. I'm me and you're you, and you already know the things I'm going to request. I mean, there aren't that many options when it all boils down to it.' And doctor, am I right? I mean, the list is short. And Violet nodded and bit her lip, as if trying to figure out where I was going. Or I could just behave, I told her, or maybe misbehave without speaking, but I'm more of a talker than a doer. Or, truth be told, I'm more of a talker while I'm doing.' And she kept looking at me."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Mixed. I liked the feeling of power. I liked the idea of secret sex, but I did have a girlfriend, and we'd agreed not to sleep with other people."

"Hadn't you just felt her up?"

"I frisked her. We hadn't discussed frisking for wires."

"How else did you feel?"

"I felt bad that she was vulnerable and embarrassed, though I also think she was exploring some sort of personal kink as much as she was trying to keep her job. But I was especially concerned about the danger to me."

"What danger?"

"What danger? Someone who's desperate enough that she'd do anything to keep a job might do anything, like report me to the university in exchange for a fat check. Do you not read the newspapers?"

No reaction.

"Hence the need to frisk and toss her stuff out of the office."

"What next?"

"I turned to my computer and typed three words and printed two copies. I put the 2 copies into two envelopes."

Head nod.

"Okay, I said, I'm not going to tell you what we're going to do, at least for now. First, I want you to get comfortable, because you're going to get clear about your needs and your wants. And she nodded."

"Uh huh."

"I motioned for her to sit back down, and she did. I told her that I would take her up on the offer on a few conditions, and I handed her a clipboard with a legal pad. I told her that I would do everything in my power to help if she followed my suggestions with passion and if she kept my mentorship private. As in, she can't tell anybody. She said she would. I added that in the world of me-too allegations and need for consent on campus, we should be clear about terms. So, I asked if we could lump everything we were discussing under mentorship. She nodded, and I got more explicit, I made it clear that she--being the less powerful person--could say what she wanted, but that I would need to stick to words like mentorship, and would often otherwise be vague, except in regards to my behavior, which would be straightforward. She said she understood."

"And your dilemma?"

"I'm almost there. I said the first step would be for me to get to know her."

"What did you need to know?"

"I asked if she'd done this before. She looked hurt, as if I were calling her a prostitute, which I guess I was, but I persisted. I clarified that by "mentor," I meant an intense older sexual partner where the boundaries might have gotten blurred, not that there would necessarily have been a quid pro quo like our relationship."

"Uh huh."

"She got silent, and if there's anything I've learned from you, it's that it's important to notice what isn't said. I asked for a name. She said John, a TA back when she was in college. I nodded and asked her to write down 'Mentor, John.'"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Aren't you supposed to be patient? Okay, I'll speed to the chase. It took a while, but she finally told me about other boundary-violating relationships. At that point, I wasn't trying to get all the details, but I wanted a skeleton organization."

"What did you find?"

"Lots of stuff, and each got a page of the legal pad. As I said I was going for highlights that would later get fleshed out."

"Like?"

"Well, the naughty girl had returned home after her college graduation and had, in one night, mentored her own brother's two buddies in their backyard. Can you imagine? Blowing both guys, in succession, while the others watched? Including her brother. Now, they were adults, or were somewhat adults, since they were 19 or 20, but sheesh."

"Now, who's judgy?"

"I was admiring of her candor, not so much judgy. So that would get a page, as would her lesbian fling with her high school coach, during her senior year. And then again with her college coach and 2 of her teammates. As I said, naughty girl."

"These are mentors/mentees or hook ups?"

"Well, I asked for power differentials and then asked for some preliminary information about which aspects of the relationship specifically got her attention. I told her I wouldn't carry out our deal unless I knew details, unless she were willing to wax poetic about each of these, that I wanted us both to know her inner sexual world better than she knew it herself. I told her I was looking for moments in which she felt humiliated, exposed, thrilled, pleased. I wanted to know what made her orgasm, exactly. Had she been punished, did she like pain in her sexual panorama, what things had she tried or wanted to try but had never gotten around to? Which things were beyond the pale, that she'd never do? It was quite a long list, and she wrote down copious notes on her legal pad."

"That's a lot to ask on a Friday evening."

"Those were the outlines. I assigned the essay for Monday. I'm sure she expected to spend the weekend on her back, but she instead she spent it writing a long paper on her own sexuality. I also insisted that it be longhand, with no copies."

"I still don't think we've identified your dilemma."

"Almost there."

"Well, we need to stop."

"I guess that'll be for next time, then."

Next session:

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. But maybe we should stick with you."

"Stick to me? Doctor, let's just stay on our respective sides of the room. You're making me nervous."

She smiled, but it was one of those twisted, forced smiles.

"You were talking about mentorship."

"Did I tell you Gemma's back? She returned a day early."

"Which should we talk about?"

"Your call, doc."

"What feels pressing?"

"Probably the looming reappearance of Tamara."

Silence.

"Where'd you go?"

"I was thinking that Gemma was really impressed by my Buddhist shrine."

"You have a Buddhist shrine?"

"It's in the hallway."

"Are you Buddhist?"

"No, but Tamara is. It's her shrine. She has lots of shit in my house."

"And Gemma was impressed?"

"Yep. The instant she saw it, that first day, she was reassured of what a good guy I was."

Clearing of throat.

Silence.

"Okay, so most pressing is the mentorship experience. That Monday, Violet returned with a big stack of legal pad paper. I took it and read. She has very nice handwriting, by the way. I read for about 15 minutes while she sat quietly."

"And then what?"

"I asked her to shut her eyes, that we were going to begin the mentorship."

"Uh huh."

"And I told her that when she opened her eyes, the moment she peeked, our mentorship was over. I asked if she understood, and she nodded and shut her eyes. I went back to my chair and sat for a second. She looked very cute in her running shorts and t-shirt, barefoot in my office."

"What sort of outfit was that?"

"Oh, she had instructions to wear running shorts and a t-shirt, no panties or bra, and to take off her shoes and socks before she entered the office."

"I guess that's to avoid her being able to bring in wires, or a microphone."

"Right. And to make it easier to frisk. I'd specifically asked her to wear those old-fashioned baggy shorts and not the newer spandex tight ones. I needed to ensure that she hadn't hidden anything."

"How would that help."

"It made it easier to frisk against skin."

"Uh huh."

So, she's sitting there, and I can look up to see all the up her leg, practically to the upmost edge, where leg meets, uhm genitalia. But I've already seen the nether regions, because I'd ask her to pull down the gym shorts, which I'd do each time."

"Of course."

"Don't get sarcastic. And she's blindfolded."

"Blindfolded? I thought she was supposed to keep her eyes shut."

"It's hard to completely keep one's eyes shut, and I wanted her to be relaxed, so I figured this would keep her from trying to cheat. You know I hate cheaters."

"Is that a joke?"

"Sometimes, I don't think you get me at all. Anyway, I told Violet that I wanted her to get to a different place, and while we got to know each other, I wanted her to feel comfortable."

"Okay."

"We are a friendly department, and I said she should continue to call me David, except during our mentorship. But when we are talking about the mentorship, she needed to call me something more formal."

"What did she say?"

"Well, she said that she was southern, which I already knew, since she'd written probably 100 pages on her legal pad, and she'd mentioned a couple of southern towns where she grew up. And she said that she sometimes felt pulled to call me professor, since she'd always thought being a professor was the most elevated job one could have. But she said she never did, because it would make her sound goofy. I said that professor was fine, as was sir. And I said that I was glad that she was in remediation and that I had high hopes for her. And she said thanks."