Catalysts

It was a warm afternoon for the end of October. The sun reflected dramatically in the leaves of our backyard maple tree, and the fiery red matched the cloaks of our centurion costumes. Though their armor was plastic, they looked reasonably realistic. With the tall wooden fence blocking out the rest of the neighborhood, my two housemates looked a lot like a scene from a gladiator movie, had it not been for the beer bottles in their hands.

"Hey, Alex, do you want another one?" David asked, noting that my bottle was empty. He pointed to a beer-filled cooler.

"Nah, I'm good," I replied. "Better not get drunk before the party starts, hey?"

"It's another hour 'til the guests come, and, for once, we're ready too early," Marco said. "What shall we do, general?"

He referred to me as such because my costume was different from theirs. The cloak was longer, and the helmet had a large plume. We intended to get matching outfits, but the store only carried the officer version in my size, whereas my shorter friends had to settle for the common soldier version. So, to stick to character, I was the general for the day.

"I guess we should go tell Professor Fredriksen about the party and apologize in advance," I said.

"I ran into her yesterday," Marco said. "Her kid is staying with his dad for the weekend, and she said she won't mind some noise."

"Great," I said. "But let's try to keep the music down. I don't want to get on her bad side."

We couldn't believe our luck when we got the lease for our house. Many landlords wouldn't want three male college students as tenants, but ours didn't care one way or the other, as long as we didn't cause any problems. The house was in a great neighborhood, close to our campus but away from busy traffic. It was at the end of the street and had only one neighbor. Less ideal, that one neighbor turned out to be our history professor.

History wasn't what drove me to go to college, but our curriculum required that we took at least one social sciences course. And when we reluctantly went through the list of courses, we stumbled on History of Engineering. It sounded like a loophole but ticked the box. It turned out to be one of my favorite courses, and Professor Fredriksen was no small part of what I liked. Her lectures were always interesting, and she had a charismatic demeanor that made whatever she said interesting.

And, admittedly, she was attractive. I didn't usually have a thing for older women, but there was something very appealing about her. She hada sweet, round face with dimples that deepened every time someone correctly answered one of her questions to the class. Needless to say, I came well prepared to every lecture.

Still, I was nervous to have her as our neighbor, especially since all our friends decided that our place was the best place for big parties—one of which was about to happen tonight.

"Teacher's pet," David teased.

I was just about to retaliate when I heard a strange noise. It sounded like a woman in agony.

"What's that?" I asked, holding up my hand to silence my friends.

"Sounds like it's coming from the neighbor's house," Marco said.

There was a dull smacking sound, followed by a meek yelp. Was someone hurt?

"Are you OK, Mrs. Fredriksen?" I yelled.

There was no reply, but the moaning continued. By now, I was convinced she was in pain. My mind raced, trying to make out what was going on. Maybe a robber had broken in. Or maybe she'd just fallen and hurt herself.

"Kristin!"

In no way was I at first name basis with her, but this was no time for manners. Still, there was no response.

"Come on, let's go!" I commanded and started to climb the fence.

"I don't think..." Marco began, but I didn't care what he had to say. Our neighbor and teacher was in trouble and needed our help.

Taller than my friends, I was the first to make it over the fence. I landed on my feet and scanned around her backyard, searching for signs of an attacker. But instead, my eyes landed on Professor Fredriksen. Her living room had large windows overlooking her backyard. We stared in shock at each other.

And we would have been an unexpected sight to appear on her lawn. There I stood—a roman general—foolishly reaching for the plastic sword at my side, as though it could scare off a potential intruder. Behind me, two more centurions dropped down from the fence.

But her appearance was even more unexpected. She was naked, lying chest down on her couch. The curve of her sizable ass poked to the ceiling, raised by a pillow under her hips. Though there was a voice in the back of my head telling me I shouldn't stare, I didn't have the willpower to look away. One of her arms was wedged beneath her, and her hand had obviously been busy between her legs. Even more shocking, her other hand held a paddle and she seemed to be in the midst of swatting herself. A laptop was open on the coffee table in front of her, and though I couldn't see the screen, I could still hear a woman screaming. Now I recognized it as a mixture of both pleasure and pain. I couldn't tell to what extent the sounds we'd heard came from our neighbor or the porn she was watching. And had there been any doubts about what she was doing, the collection of sextoys next to her computer made it obvious. Her blonde hair partly covered her flustered face.

Kristin was the first to react, and she released a cascade of anger, which her windows did little to mute. "What the fuck are you doing here? Stop staring, you morons! Get the fuck out!"

She did her best to cover her breasts with one arm while using the other to projectile the paddle towards us. It banged against the glass. Collectively, my friends and I apologetically held up our hands.

"We're so sorry!" I shouted. "We thought someone was in trouble!"

With our tails between our legs, we climbed back to our side of the fence.

"I'll fucking report you!", she yelled after us. "Stupid idiots!"

* * *

I walked in anxious circles in our backyard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I chanted. "This is not good. This is not good."

Sure, the sight of my naked teacher had been nothing but a delight, and the image was forever imprinted in my memory. I had already had more than the occasional impure thought about her. Even though she always dressed conservatively in class, her feminine curves were too apparent to be hidden. She was the ultimate combination of the MILF next door and the hot-for-teacher fantasy. And yet, the erotic sight of her naked form surpassed any fantasy I'd ever had. But all I could think about was how ridiculous I had been, thinking I was going to rescue some maiden in distress.

"I told you they weren't moans of pain," Marco said.

I shot him an angry glance. I vaguely remembered his cautious objection, but this wasn't the time for "I told you so." The way I saw it, our entire futures was at stakes. Could she get us kicked out of the university? And what did she mean by reporting us? To the police? Though our intentions were good, we had broken into her property. I was panicking.

The sound of our doorbell cut me off. I glanced at my watch.

"Shit," David sighed. "Is it too late to cancel the party?"

"Well, it's a bit late if someone's already here," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. I wasn't the slightest in the mood for a party, but maybe a drunken evening could distract me from my worries.

But when I opened the door, any hope to forget about my neighbor and professor vanished. There she stood in a conservative blouse and skirt, much like I knew her from her lectures. I just gaped at her.

"Hi, can I come inside?" she asked and glanced anxiously around her.

"What? Yeah, sorry..." I stuttered. "Of course, please. We're in the backyard."

She followed me through our Halloween decorated house.

"We're having a party," I said, nervously stating the obvious.

My friends looked dumbstruck when I reappeared with our professor behind me.

"Hi Kristin," Marco said. "I mean, Professor Fredriksen."

David just stared at her with his mouth open.

"I won't stay long," she said. "I just have something I'd like to bring up. Three things, actually."

In many ways, she sounded like she did in her lectures—calm, structured, and professional. But there was no doubt she was nervous beneath the collected surface.

"First off," she began. "One of you dropped this."

She held up a plastic sword.

"That's mine, I guess," David said, and she handed it to him.

"Second," she continued. "Am I to understand you climbed over the fence because you thought someone was in trouble?"

We nodded in unison, and I was sure she was about to lecture us on how stupid we were.

"Sorry," I said. "It sounded like someone was in pain. But..."

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," she interrupted me.

Stupefied, we looked at her.

"Uhm, what?" I started. "We should..."

She held up her hand to silence me. "You thought someone was in trouble and acted on it. I always say the world would be a better place if everybody did the right thing one time too many rather than one too few. I just forgot about that when you caught me..."

She trailed off, as if realizing she'd just reminded us all of what she'd been up to when we barged in on her property. She blushed but tried to look unperturbed.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," she said.

"OK," I said, unable to believe my luck. I glanced at my friends and they seemed equally confused.

"And finally," she said. "I'd like to ask you all a favor."

"Uhm, of course," I said.

"Anything," David added.

"As I'm sure you understand, I would appreciate if you kept what happened to yourself," Kristin said. "What you saw, I mean. I don't want there to be rumors or misunderstandings."

Caught up in the worries about my own future, I hadn't even thought about what an incident like this might do for her reputation.

"Of course," my friends and I said in unison.

She nervously licked lips. "So, I have your word, then? You won't go blabbering about it with your friends tonight?"

"Absolutely," I reassured her.

"Why don't you come over?" Marco suggested.

I shot him a stupefied look. Normally, Marco was the smartest of us, but this time he appeared outright stupid. Why on earth did he think she'd like to spend the evening with her students, especially after what happened?

"I mean, you can see for yourself that we don't talk about what happened," he added.

"Uhm, I..." Kristin began. "No, I can't. I don't have a Halloween costume."

Once again, her reaction surprised me. Not because she declined the invite, of course. That was entirely expected. But the excuse wasn't what I expected.

"Not everybody will dress up," I said. "At least not in Halloween costumes."

"Yeah, we don't look very scary, right?" David added.

I wasn't exactly sure why we were trying to persuade her. Most students don't want to embarrass themselves by being drunk in front of their teacher. But it appeared that she for a moment entertained the idea, and it intrigued me.

"Wouldn't it be a lot more fun to go to a party than staying home alone?" I asked.

"Surely you have something at home you could wear?" Marco suggested. "One of the guys last year just came in his hockey gear. If you wear a helmet, no one will even know it's you."

"I don't play hockey," she said after a long pause. "And maybe I'm going to another party. Sorry, I should go."

She suddenly seemed in a rush to leave, as if staying might make her accept our invitation. I followed her to the door.

"If you change your mind, you're always welcome to pop over," I said before closing the door behind her.

It was odd to talk so casually to my professor. Here I was, inviting her over like some folksy neighbor. Undoubtedly, the incident had changed how we saw each other. We hadn't just caught her naked; she had been pleasuring herself, watching porn on her laptop. And apparently, she'd attempted to reenact some domination scene by swatting herself with a paddle. I felt a stir as the image reappeared in my mind. She looked so vulnerable—her big round ass pointing to the sky. The sight surpassed any fantasy I'd ever had about her.

Arousal was followed by guilt. We'd barged in on her for noble reasons, but the thoughts developing in my mind were far from noble. I made a pledge to myself to not let the incident change my perception of her. I was going to pretend we hadn't seen what we'd seen. It wasn't meant for our eyes. Nothing good could come from associating her with what I'd seen. I wouldn't allow myself to even fantasize about my professor anymore.

But my pledge was soon put to test.

* * * * *

A few hours later, our party was pumping, and I had almost managed to forget about Professor Fredriksen and the incident. The masquerade offered many welcome distractions; most of our female friends had gone with a Halloween cliché. The house was full of sexy nurses, sexy cops, sexy superheroes—even sexy witches.

A couple of guests were leaving early, and seeing them to the door, I spotted Kristin outside our house. She was sort of loitering, and I got the impression she was working up courage to knock on our door. Still, I pushed that notion away, thinking it was my imagination playing tricks on me.

"Hi Professor Fredriksen," I said, struggling not to imagine her in the state I caught her in earlier that day. "Is everything OK? We're not disturbing you, I hope."

She looked flustered, as if I'd again caught her doing something indecent. "Oh, hi. No, I was just..."

She trailed off. She wore a long coat that covered her from the neck down, and she straightened a few wrinkles in the fabric with her flattened palm, as if trying to make herself presentable. With nervous fingers, she proceeded to check the buttons, making sure none had come undone.

"I was just on my way home from a party," she continued.

"Oh, so you went out after all," I said. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was fun. I decided you guys were right—I should make the most of my free evening. But our party wasn't as wild as yours, I think"

Behind me, the pumping music blended with drunken conversations and laughter.

"Do you want to come in for a bit?" I offered. It went against the notion to not let the incident affect how I interacted with my professor, but we'd invited her over earlier. It seemed rude not to reiterate the invitation now.

"I don't know," she said. "I probably shouldn't."

I was just about to accept her half-hearted decline when David and Marco appeared beside me.

"Hi Professor," Marco greeted her.

"How's your evening?" David asked.

"Good," she said and appeared even more flustered now that all three of were there. "I went to a masquerade after all."

Marco lit up. "Oh, so you found a costume?"

She looked nervous and again fiddled with the buttons of her coat. "Well, yeah. I wasn't planning on going, so I didn't prepare. But I did what you said and wore something I had at home."

"What are you?" David asked. "Some private detective?"

Kristin chuckled. "Oh, no. I used to do a bit of belly dancing, and I decided to wear my costume. It's a bit tight, but it still fits. But I didn't want to walk around town in it."

My eyes were not the only ones dropping to her coat, imagining what she currently looked like underneath. My pledge to not see her in a different light temporarily went out the window. When I returned my gaze to her face, she appeared humbled by the attention but not upset.

"Great," Marco said. "So, then you'll come inside for a bit?"

She hesitated, and it was clear she at least entertained the idea.

"I shouldn't," she said. "Not dressed like this."

"Dressed like what?" Marco pressed. "In a coat?"

"No, in my costume, I mean."

"No one will care," David said. "You should see some of the other costumes in there."

"Go on, show us," Marco said.

I think we were all stunned by his boldness. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. My friends and I were far from the stereotype of testosterone-filled college guys who act inappropriate against women when drinking. We were three well-behaved engineering students, all of us with modern views of women and respectful of boundaries. Why did he suddenly think it was OK to be so pushy with our professor?

I was just about to nudge him to back off when something in Kristin's expression made me hesitate. Rather than being outraged, she looked nervously passed us into the hallway. Was she mainly concerned our guests would see her? I shut the door behind us, leaving my friends and me alone with her in the empty street. She faltered a moment, looking anxiously around her.

"Oh, well," she sighed. "It's not like you haven't already seen more of me."

She blushed as the words left her mouth, and she seemed to regret them. And it was unclear whether she was justifying her behavior to us or to herself. I couldn't tell why she didn't just refuse Marco's suggestion, but at that moment I didn't care. I was too mesmerized by the movement of her fingers, which were busy with her buttons. The cacophony of the party behind us continued, but I felt as if a bubble had formed around us, blocking out everything but Kristin's disrobing. In the gap of her parting coat sparkled gold and sapphire blue, adding to the impression that she was revealing a valuable treasure.

When her last button came undone, she took a bracing breath. She let the coat slide from her shoulders and left it hanging behind her with the sleeves around her forearms. A long blue skirt hung from her hips, and its long slits along the front of her legs reached all the way up to the waistband. The skirt was accompanied by a belt of coins and gems, drawing further attention to her curvy hips. In the center of her bare midriff sparkled a belly button barbell with jewel in matching blue. Yet, our attention was primarily drawn to her chest. The sparkling bra alluringly framed her breasts. It became clear what she meant when her outfit was borderline too tight for her now; she was overflowing in a way that made it impossible to not stare.

She was right, of course. We had caught her far more exposed earlier that day. But that was by accident—now she was exposing herself on purpose. And as far as I could tell, the only reason she was showing us her costume was because Marco told her to. She looked adorably bashful as she presented herself.

"Is that a face veil?" Marco asked, breaking our silent admiration.

Kristin reached for the light fabric wrapped around her neck like a delicate scarf. "Yeah. Most belly dancers didn't actually wear them. They were introduced in..."

She trailed off. Lecturing for us only emphasized that she shouldn't be dressed the way she was in front of her students.

"That's perfect," Marco said. "If you wear the veil, none of the others will know it's you."

Again, I was stunned by how pushy he was. Clearly, he didn't share my sentiment to not let what we'd seen change how we behaved around our teacher. Even more puzzling, she seemed equally prone to reshape our relationship. Not in a million years had I expected to find her on our doorstep, purposefully showing us her revealing outfit.

And perhaps it was inevitable that the incident would change our dynamic. My friends and I had stumbled on something we weren't meant to see—something she wasn't meant to show anyone. Neither she nor we wanted anyone else to know about it. Whether we liked it or not, the secret tied us together.

"I don't know," Kristin said. "Someone might still recognize me."

She was obviously intrigued, though I couldn't understand why.

"Nah, you'll be fine," I said. "Most of the guests are quite drunk by now, and they don't know you're our neighbor. They won't expect you there."

"Come on," David added. "I'll make you a cocktail."