College Chronicles Ep. 12

I knew going was risky; Jaxx might be in, and if he woke while I was there I had an idea of what would happen. But I liked the risk, and I was too enamored with his gift to let an opportunity for its use pass. Natalie wouldn't be at classes that day, and had decided as soon as I woke up to spend the day as Sami.

I told myself it was just an excuse to wear a cute outfit, to make my hair and skin smell like sweet ambrosia, look at myself in the mirror and fuss over my accessories and makeup. But really, under all that, I wanted more of the dangerous thrill of men's rapacious eyes. I didn't think about what I would do if anyone approached me, without Cindy's protective presence. I wasn't really thinking at all.

Jaxx was in when I reached 001, but sleeping off late night debauchery. A naked blonde was asleep in his bed, still straddling his broad, cut body. The smell of alcohol hung around them like a cloud; they wouldn't wake up for hours. Perfect.

I grabbed a few items from my closet, then went to the bathroom to prepare for the day. A hot shower cleared my head, and I was almost meditative as I rubbed creamy lotion into my skin. Then I applied my face of makeup; subtle, natural. I was becoming more used to being Sami in public, but I still wanted to blend in, not stand out.

I pulled on my clothes, carefully. Royal purple panties with an elaborate black fringe and a matching bralet, followed by thigh high socks and a white undershirt. Then a black faux-leather skirt and Cindy's yellow sweater, which hung loosely around my torso. I took a moment for myself, putting on my butterfly earrings. They were DEFINITELY too much for a day of sitting in lectures, but I was enamored with their elegant beauty, and once the idea came to me it wouldn't leave. As embarrassing and revealing as it is to admit, they made me feel valuable, desirable. Those weren't feelings I had very often, and their siren call was irresistible. As final touches, I grabbed a small black clutch Cindy had gifted me, and a pair of black 'low heels,' also from Cindy.

With Sami fully donned, I primped and preened in front of the mirror, delaying while I mustered courage to pass Jaxx. Sure enough, I needed it. In our main room, his nightly conquest had slipped off to the side, cuddled up against him in her sleep, and I was distracted by her beauty; perfect curvy hips, a hint of a little patch of well maintained hair just above her crotch. But I was more distracted by Jaxx's monument, freed to stand prodigiously erect from his reclined, sleeping form. It was like one of those perspective paintings, where the eyes seem to follow you around the room. Instead of eyes, his cock head loomed menacing, watching my progress as I made my exit on tiptoes. I needed to put my back to the door, take a deep breath to calm my nerves, but with him behind me I could only see sun on the horizon, and set out to classes with a strange optimism.

It was still too early for any lessons to begin, so I started my day by grabbing breakfast and a coffee at my cafe, pointedly avoiding looking at or thinking about what had happened to Natalie in the bathroom. No one bothered or even spoke to me, but I felt eyes the entire time. It seemed like every man who entered the building did a quick doubletake when they saw me, before pretending to be engrossed by the menu or their phones. I caught one of the baristas sneaking looks in the quiet moments between making drinks; he stared for a second too long when our eyes met, sending a chill down my spine. An older business man walked past the large window at the front, and his head turned to follow me the whole way. I couldn't help but laugh at his unexpected half collision with a sign pole, the guilty look on his face as he stepped into the street, newly focused on where he was walking.

Eventually I left the coffee shop, and found that admirers abounded all about campus. It was a heady feeling, turning heads and drawing poorly hidden glances from most who passed me. A strange power, controlling the attention of all those within sight. I was getting more comfortable as an object of interest, beginning to admit to myself that I liked being looked at, and as Cindy reminded me often, that was okay! At first I kept track of the admirations I earned, but by the time I left my second class of the day, I'd lost count. They never lost their novelty though; each lingering look sent new warm tingles up my back, pushed my buttons, fueled pride that was no longer totally shamed to love the feeling of being hot.

But a flip side of the intoxicating power was the vulnerability of being on display. I was reminded every time I caught someone watching my ass, by each man who came just a little too close as I waited to cross a busy intersection, each time I caught staring eyes, and they met mine with bold challenge. It was like they thought that by intruding into my space, it might give them some common ground, advantage in... whatever they hoped might happen.

And another reminder of that vulnerability lay in wait to disrupt my fragile happiness.

*

My final class of the day, calculus, was about to wrap up, and I closed my laptop and put it in my bag as the professor read a few final announcements. I wasn't listening, just thinking about my date with Cindy, trying to ignore a small group of preppy looking boys a few rows behind who I knew were talking about me.

"... and... Sam White, I need to speak to you. Please find me at my office upstairs. That's all, you can go."

I was surprised to hear my name over the microphone, and jumped a little in my seat. Swinging my attention up to the podium at the front of my hall, my gulp echoed in my chest.

It was Dr. Syndegaard. Natalie's Syndegaard. I froze for a bit as students chatted and filtered out around me, watching him step from the dais, joke with a TA, then exit through a back hallway that lead to the offices above. And I still sat, waiting, as most of my peers cleared off, until just a few stragglers were with me in the nearly empty hall.

I was nervous. Even as a first semester freshman, I knew that a professor didn't call you in to his office for any good reasons. It could only be bad, and I wracked my brain for answers. Had I missed an assignment? Probably a few... It couldn't be about attendance; I'd improved from my rate at the start of the year. Plus, it was college-- professors didn't give a shit if I skipped every lesson, as long as tuition was paid.

So why did he need to see me? The obvious answer was too much to consider.

When the only other student still in the lecture hall was making their way towards the exit, I stood and followed the professor's track towards the back hallway. It was quiet and dark, a surprisingly long walk that lead to a cramped, dingy spiral staircase. It creaked with each step, and I winced at the sounds, wishing I could just turn and run.

But it was a professor, upon whom my grade, maybe even my future, rested. I couldn't run.

So at the top of the winding stairs, I took a fortifying breath, and made my way down another long hallway, this one well lit and lined with offices of the university math faculty, each door marked as such by cloudy glass windows and nameplates for their occupants.

Finally, I reached my destination; the plaque outside read 'Ossian Syndegaard' in bold letters and an austere typeface. I took another deep steadying breath, failing in my fight against clinging, niggling strands of anxiety. As much as I couldn't run away, I also couldn't stand outside his office all day, and the sounds of another professor down the hall spurred my hand to tap quietly at the solid wooden door.

After my knock, I stepped back half a foot, as if the door might swing out violently, or a trap door would open underneath. But neither happened, and when a minute passed without response, I figured I'd been too timid. I stepped forward, raising my hand to knock again. Then it did swing open, but inward, and I was left hand in air, mouth hanging open, looking up to Dr. Syndegaard.

It was the closest I'd actually been to him, all our other meetings from a distance in the large, crowded lecture hall. The first thing that hit me was his height, as he towered over me. I hadn't realized how tall he was, assuming his imposing stature was more perception than reality. In class, it had been easy to see his close cropped blond hair, the matching goatee around his mouth. Within arms length, I was struck by the sharp brightness of his eyes, the lines of his face that gave him an impressive, austere sincerity. He was middle-aged, maybe even older-- but he carried himself like a younger man, back straight, head held high. When he found my eyes, his lips curled into an enigmatic half-smile.

"Sam White?"

"Uhm... actually... Sami..."

I mumbled slightly, bringing my hand and eyes down to the floor, shying from him, suddenly deeply ashamed of myself, in all my silly dress up and strutting. He stepped back and to the side, holding the door open for me.

"Really? Well, come in. We must speak about your academic progress."

His voice was deep and smooth, with a trace of an accent I couldn't place. His tone was all business, and I followed his instructions without thinking, looking around the office as he closed the door behind us.

It was a very impressive, serious looking room. The back wall was nearly entirely glass, a large window overlooking the winding thoroughfare of campus center. The ornate curtains were open, and the room was lit entirely by the late afternoon sun. One wall was dominated by a wide, tall bookshelf, so stuffed with folders and papers and books that it seemed like it might topple with any small addition. The other side was more open, with a music stand occupied by massive open tome, and coat stand tucked away the corner. Just before the window was a grand looking wooden desk, carved in geometric shapes and patterns. The top was tidy: a stack of papers; a laptop, charger, and mouse; one of those little clicking ball desk things. In front of the desk was a single simple chair, almost pathetic compared to the other intimidating furniture in the room.

I sat without being told, hugging my bag to my chest. He walked around the other side of the desk and settled into his throne, taking mouse in hand and clicking open files on his computer. With extended proximity I noticed cologne, rich and earthy, and couldn't hold in the shiver that ran down my back.

"'Sami.' Hmm. On our register, you are Sam. SamUEL."

My blood ran cold, that he had so bluntly addressed my secret; less and less hidden each day. I stammered for a bit, struggling for anything more than a lame response.

"Uhm... I... I'm... I... changed..."

"Yes, I see. Well... 'Sami'... I'm sorry to say that you are failing."

My mouth fell open, but I really shouldn't have been surprised. I knew I had missed deadlines, even tests. I think I'd just convinced myself I could pass on knowledge alone. He continued; aloof, detached.

"You have simply missed too much; crucial lessons, three major examinations. You do know a portion of your grade is attendance, yes?"

He was reading from the computer screen, but his eyes stark blue eyes darted up from the screen to pierce me. I hadn't known; assumed attendance was optional. My eyes sank to the floor with my heart, though I nodded dumbly in answer.

"You know... I am quite close with a friend of yours. Natalie?"

I blushed bright red, immediately thinking about Natalie tied up, Jaxx telling her off for fucking the strangely attractive old man now delivering me devastating news. I was overwhelmed, but I could hear how my change in color amused him through the smile in his voice.

"Oh now, aren't you precious. I see you know our relationship. Well, she has told me about you, as well."

I looked up at that, but he paused for a long moment. He might have been listening to my heart beating out of my chest. What--how much-- had she told him?

"You seem... confused. 'Sami.' When Natalie described you, I was very curious. I looked into your other classes. Do you know what I found?"

I nodded, following his thread, but he patronizingly elaborated anyway.

"You are failing quite a few classes. Quite a few. Maybe in danger of losing your funding?"

He rose from the chair, and in a few long strides came around to sit on the edge of the desk before me, less than a foot away. My heart thumped, and I felt frozen, staring into the middle distance. He was right. If I failed just a couple of classes, it was enough to cut off the financial assistance the school had provided; the only reason I could afford to attend.

I was in deep shit. My eyes fell again as the magnitude of my mistakes set in, lip trembling with barely contained tears.

Then a hand entered my vision. I flinched, but he took my chin in cupped fingers, lifting my face to his. His smile was genuine, but also somehow... false. Like he'd practiced it one time too many. I remembered Jaxx's words about Syndegaard, and could only imagine how many freshman girls had seen it before me.

"No no no, none of that, little girl. We will take care of this, you and I."

His eyes flickered to the side, and his hand left my chin, trailing along my jawbone to the side of my head. I trembled like a leaf in wind at the unexpectedly familiar contact, more vulnerable than ever. But he moved slowly and casually, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and gently lifting a hanging earring with one finger. I remembered I was wearing my butterflies, and my blush renewed.

"What a gorgeous piece. A lucky girl, to have such a generous boyfriend."

I stuttered and stammered, unbalanced by the abrupt topic change, unsure of how to respond. Was Jaxx my boyfriend? If all that counted was buying me things, maybe. But he didn't treat me like we were in a relationship. No, I was with Cindy. Cindy was my girlfriend, and Jaxx was an asshole with a lot of money and a big dick. Certainty of thought clarified my words.

"I... Uhm... He--I... I don't... have a boyfriend."

His hand dropped from my ear, and I thought I saw a sly smile flash across his face, replaced immediately by a very thoughtful, serious expression.

"No? Astonishing. But do not be worried--I am sure some young gentleman will... snap you up soon."

The smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and I shuddered. Why was he so sure I wanted to be 'snapped up?' He continued, jumping back to an earlier topic, catching me off guard again.

"So, what about your situation, then? Surely it would be tragic if your time at our institution was cut short..."

I tensed, on edge. Where was he going? He leaned forward again, and his hand found my thigh this time, splayed on bare skin between my skirt and my sock, cold against the nervous heat of my body.

"I think I could find time to give you some... personal tutoring. I am sure I could help improve your grades."

And the grand reveal; he wanted to snap me up himself, or at least have a taste. His expression was stoic, but his bright eyes lanced into mine, and I teetered at the edge of panic as he continued.

"Of course, it would be very hard work. You would have to apply yourself... studiously. My personal attention is valuable, you see. I so rarely find students who are deserving..."

His hand was still on my leg, light but unmistakable pressure from his fingertips putting me on edge as much as his thinly veiled innuendos. I was so fucked. What could I do? It felt like he was my only option, there in his domain. Powerful, respected around campus. He could definitely change my grade in his class, maybe even in others, like he said. But what would he want in return? He was so old-- maybe even older than my dad. I was a little scared that I wasn't totally repulsed by the idea of seeing his cock.

Out of nowhere, she surfaced in my mind. Cindy. She would have options for me. She would know what to do. I had to see her. But how could I get out? Luckily, her presence brought her words along too, echoing from memory in my mind.

'Just be quick, polite, and clearly say no. You can do this. Remember: you're wayy out of his league.'

"Uhm... I... I don't... think... I have to think about it..."

I failed every part of her advice, dragging out my impolite stammered non-answer as I tried to stand, panicking when his hand didn't let go of my thigh. I could only look at him with my best doe-eyes, hoping it was enough to convince him to take pity, leave me for another day. His chilling stare never left my eyes, arresting me even as I tried to flee.

"Think very carefully. This is your future we discuss; you should not make a decision that would put it at risk."

He relented, lifting his hand, and I nearly bolted for the door, struggling to open the handle. With my back turned, so close to freedom, tears began coming to my eyes, breath quickly approaching panicked gasping. Then his voice raised again behind me, firm but soft.

"'Sami...'"

I turned with dread in my heart, thinking my escape foiled.

"Names are very important. They communicate so much about us. Sam is a beautiful name for a young woman. Samantha. You should go back. I do not like the... 'Eee.'"

A roguish smile crossed his face; he knew how much our conversation had affected me, and he held his hands up, shooing me out.

"Only my opinion. You may go, we will speak soon."

I turned and rushed through the door, too relieved by freedom to think about his foreboding promise.

*

I sped across campus unaware of where I was going, totally lost in thought. How was I going to get out of it? I couldn't see any options. There were no other professors I knew well enough to go to, my frequent absences erasing the chance of positive relationships. I didn't know who to go to in the college system-- Dr. Syndegaard seemed so well liked, an institution on campus. No one would believe my word against his. And I definitely couldn't talk to my parents without explaining... the context, so that was off the table as well.

I did think of Natalie, briefly. She had a relationship with him; he'd admitted it. But my own relationship with Nat was so rocky. I couldn't go to her with a problem like this, especially when I'd just failed to come to her aid so spectacularly.

All I was left with was Cindy. There was no particular reason to think she would have any extra access or understanding of the system. But I was ninety nine percent sure that she would have some solution for me. The remaining one percent was a tiny, niggling dread; a termite chewing away at the foundations of my emotional stability. I ignored it, hoping it wouldn't do any harm.

When I found myself outside Cindy's door in the sorority house, I barely remembered the journey, couldn't say who'd let me in. I knocked, and realized Cindy might not be there, since I hadn't texted or called. Luckily, the door swung open in a few seconds, and she stood before me, as gorgeous as ever, auburn hair glowing in the light, emerald eyes shining curiously in her vulpine way.

"Sami? I thought we weren't meeting up until later?"

I remembered why I had come, and suddenly the termite of dread had chewed far enough. I emotionally collapsed, a cry ripping from my lips, tears streaming down my face, falling into her soothing arms.

When I regained control, cuddling on her couch, I told her what had happened. As always, she was an excellent audience, active listening and holding my hand when I got to the tough parts; how close he'd been to touch my earring, how the pressure of his fingers on my thigh had lingered as I ran from his office. I didn't mention anything about Dr. Syndegaard's parting comment. A little part of me worried that she would be upset if I told her. But that was just me projecting the guilt that I kind of liked the idea. Going back to being Sam, or Samantha... No more of the 'Sami' that rolled off tongues so easily as a mocking pejorative.