Her Favorite Professor, Always

"Please come in," he said, opening the door for me.

I kicked off my shoes when I entered out of habit and looked around. To the right, there was a small formal dining room with a round table. There was a shiny black upright piano against one wall. There was a living room to the left with a big bay window that looked out into the front yard. It was furnished with two chairs and a couch. Elegant and clean in style, but still looked practical and comfortable. There was also a coffee table and a couple bookcases. I could tell the kitchen was in the back of the house, but I couldn't see much of it from where I stood.

"Have a seat," he said, indicating the living room. "Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water?" he offered.

"No thanks, I'll be okay on caffeine for a little while." I went into the living room and took a seat in one of the chairs. He sat down in the chair next to it, angled to face each other slightly.

"Shall we get started then?"

"I don't think I've ever had a brainstorming session with another person in real life for my erotica," I laughed awkwardly.

"Define real life," he said curiously.

"Face to face," I clarified.

"And the alternative?"

"Online and stuff with other writers. That's more what I'm used to."

"You don't have a partner to bounce ideas off of?" he said casually.

"Well, now I do," I smiled at him.

"I was referring to a romantic partner..." he raised a brow.

"Oh." My cheeks were burning. "That's not what I meant... But, um, no. And in the past when I did, we didn't talk much about it. I mean, they knew what sort of things I wrote, but it wasn't really part of the relationship in any way."

"Well, I'm honored you'd include me in your process."

"Thank you, for offering to help me," I said earnestly. "I really appreciate it."

"Would you like a notepad?" he offered.

"Oh, no, thanks. I actually have my iPad." I pulled it out of my purse. I almost always carried it with me since it was a Mini and small enough to tuck into most of my bags--my reason for buying it.

"Where would you like to start?"

"I did come up with a rough beginning actually." When he nodded, I continued, "As I mentioned before, I'd thought of a ten years later scenario."

"How does it start?" he prompted.

"A lot like the first one. I wanted the beginning to be similar. You know, with her standing outside his office door, about to enter. Only now, of course, they haven't seen each other in ten years."

"When would the last time they saw each other have been?"

"I know I set up that they would meet the following Thursday, but I think it would be more powerful if they only were together that one time, so I was going to come up with some reason it didn't happen again. Probably end of the semester--busy--something like that."

"That makes sense," he nodded. "Why did she come back now? Specifically to see him?"

"Same reason I did, probably, which wasn't just to see you--no offense. You know, going back to school. I'm a lazy writer," I admitted. "I just write the truth until I decide to deviate."

"I wouldn't call that lazy," he said, looking at me thoughtfully. "You have to think about it deeply. Recall details. Fill in where your memory fails or where reality wouldn't be consistent with the story you are trying to tell. The creativity is in the way you twist the truth into fiction." He was so eloquent sometimes.

"That's a nicer way of looking at it, I guess." I paused, considering it, "I think maybe she has come back just to see him... That's a stronger choice, isn't it?"

"It does streamline it in terms of backstory as well," he nodded. "I do like the idea she has come back just to see him. You said you outlined the beginning already?" he asked.

"Yeah, not a lot but a bit of a start."

"Would you like to read it to me?" he asked.

"Okay," I nodded bravely, opening the document on my iPad.

My mouth felt very dry as I stared at the words in front of me. It wasn't even that bad. Nothing dirty was happening at all. I'd read my work aloud to him many times before. This was no different. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

It had been more than 10 years since the last time Megan had stood in front of this door. She felt suddenly just as nervous as she had been then.

Prof. David Collins

She wondered if he'd recognize her. She was dressed differently. Her hair was different. She hadn't been 18 for a long time.

She started second guessing her decision. It would be humiliating if he didn't remember her, but so many years had passed. And there she was--almost a stranger now--showing up at his office hours out of the blue. Her throat felt dry and she swallowed.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shirt, and poked her head around his open door. "Excuse me, Professor Collins." She stepped into the doorway and he looked up from his computer. He looked almost the same as she remembered, despite the fact she knew he must be near 60 now.

He was staring at her in disbelief. As if she couldn't possibly be real. At least that was a sign he probably recognized her.

Finally, he found his voice, though he spoke softly, "Megan?"

"Hi," she smiled shyly.

"Please come in," he gestured to the chair with his hand. "You're really here," he said, when she sat down.

"I hope that's okay... dropping by out of the blue."

"More than okay. This is a surprise--a pleasant one."

The sudden urge she felt to kiss him was strong and unexpected. She hadn't come in thinking that's what would happen. She hadn't fully realized there was a desire for him within her that had continued to live on quietly and unobtrusively in the background for a decade. Not until she saw him there in front of her. She wondered if he felt it too.

"That's all I have so far," I said when I was done. I was relieved to be finished. The last part had been the hardest to read and that made me feel silly and awkward and confused.

"It's a nice beginning. I like where you're headed so far," he said. "What happens next?"

"Well, I don't know... I don't want it to be the same as the first time."

"The goal, I assume, is for them to have sex again?" he checked.

"Yes, that's the goal," I chuckled. "But I think maybe he wouldn't want to risk it happening in his office again, even if she's not his student anymore."

"I think you're quite right about that," he agreed. "So, does she proposition him? What would she say to him?"

"Um... would you like to meet up not on campus sometime?" I said lamely.

"For coffee?"

"Or drinks? I don't think they'd just go straight to one of their houses, right? There has to be transition."

"Then what will bridge the gap between being in a public place and going back to one of their homes?"

"I have absolutely no idea," I admitted. "Who do you think would make the first move, in terms of that anyway?"

"I thought it was quite brave of Megan--albeit risky and perhaps reckless--to seduce him the first time. She's proven she's confident enough to do it, but maybe she doesn't need to this time. I think Professor Collins will be pretty aware of why Megan has come back, and I think he would jump at the opportunity to see his young lover again."

"So, he'd ask her to come to his house? Not pretending it's for any reason other than what it is?"

"I would think so. It would be worth considering if either of them is involved in other romantic relationships, since that could cause guilt, conflict, etc."

"I sort of assumed they were both single so I could avoid that."

"Why would a beautiful, smart woman like Megan find herself single and nearing thirty?"

"Uh..." I stared blankly at him. "I've been asking myself the same question for a couple years." I couldn't help laughing a little as I said it.

"I didn't mean that as a personal criticism or question, for the record. I simply meant you should know the answer to the question for your story because it will add clarity for the reader."

"I think she's been chasing her career."

"Is that what you've been doing too?" he asked softly.

"I thought you said it wasn't a personal question," I raised a brow.

"That one is," he smiled. "I'm not asking why you aren't in a relationship. I'm asking what you've been doing for the past ten years."

"Yes," I said simply. "I was chasing my career."

"Past tense... no longer chasing that?"

"I caught it," I shrugged. "And then I realized, it didn't really do much to make me happy. And then I realized, I'd spent so long chasing it that I didn't know what made me happy anymore."

"And that's your break between projects you mentioned?"

I nodded. "It's why I've been focusing on writing more lately." And it was why I was going back to school. If a six-figure salary before the age of thirty didn't fulfill me, maybe having a degree would make me feel validated. Or maybe I'd come back because I wasn't on track to give my parents a grandkid anytime in the near future, considering I hadn't had a serious relationship for over three years. At this point, finishing my degree seemed more attainable. Hey, if I couldn't make them proud grandparents, at least they could be happy that I wouldn't be the first person in the family not to graduate college.

"I think that's a good thing, at least in my opinion," he said, pulling me from my thoughts. "You are too talented not to pursue it."

"Thank you," I said modestly.

"What happens when they get to his house?" he asked, refocusing the conversation on the task of brainstorming.

"I guess they would talk a bit, like we are. But probably less time spent talking since they both know why they are there."

"Where in the house are they when the intimacy begins?"

"Um, here--not here here," I added quickly, "I mean, the living room."

"How are they seated? Together on the couch? It's hard to initiate contact if they are in separate chairs," he pointed out.

"I guess the couch would be natural. But I think seated in chairs could work too. He could take her hand and kind of pull her over to him. Maybe into his lap..." I faded away, not sure I could keep going. I felt very warm and my heart was beating faster. "I-I'm sorry. I want to do this, but I don't know--I'm having a hard time, uh, saying these things aloud... to you," I stuttered, deciding to just tell him the truth.

Instead of looking offended, he looked amused. "You already let me read your story--I'm not going to be shocked by your language."

"It's not... They aren't things I could say out loud to my..." I couldn't even seem to form the word I was so tongue tied.

"Aren't they though?" he said lowly, as if he was looking straight through me. My heart was pounding in my throat. "You've already shared one piece of your fantasy. You can share the rest with me now."

"Okay," I swallowed and nodded, trying to find my voice. Why was I so flustered? Why wasn't I able to handle this with the professionalism I would be able to do with anything else I had written? I needed to be a mature adult about it and not act like a child. "They're seated in chairs, like we are," I said evenly. "They're just chatting. Maybe flirting a little."

"What do they say?" he asked. "Feel free to write it out first if you need to."

"Yeah, okay," I said, thinking that would probably help me. I turned my attention to the document open on my iPad. "I really hate first drafts."

"It's part of the process, you know that. I am not expecting you to be refined or eloquent in what you put down. Consider it an exercise," he said. "Write dialogue for them for the next two minutes. Anything you can think of that they might say to each other while they are sitting in his living room talking or flirting or whatever you think they are doing. I'll time you."

"Okay," I nodded. That helped. I liked guidelines. It felt more comfortable for me to do it when he framed it as an exercise assigned by him. I wondered if he suspected that and that's why he had done it. I guessed so. "Should I do any descriptions or qualifiers for who is speaking?"

"Try to avoid it," he said. "Two minutes starts now."

He sat silently while I turned my attention to my iPad again. My eye flicked up a few seconds later. He was not staring at me which made me feel a bit better. He was just gazing off absently at things in the room with the face of his watch turned toward him so he could easily keep track of the time, presumably. I turned my attention to my assignment.

"You look beautiful."

"Oh, thanks. I look older."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I dunno. Nothing. I guess I'm not used to it yet."

"Well, it will keep happening."

"Yeah. I guess you're right about that. You look the same though."

"That's kind of you to say."

I stopped typing and looked up when he said, "Time is up. Read it aloud to me, please."

I did read it aloud. I didn't particularly like what I had written, but I didn't feel nearly as awkward as when I read the first section to him. It was just a writing exercise. Just an assignment from my professor. I swallowed and looked away from him. For some reason when I started thinking of him as my professor again, I started getting kind of squirmy but I wasn't quite sure why. Probably because I had eroticized it for the purpose of my story, but apparently it still had cemented itself somewhere in my brain. I didn't share that realization out loud though.

"Good," he said when I had finished reading. "How do you feel about it?"

"Not in love with it. It could have been worse though."

"Keep it for now. What do you need to make the conversation more dynamic?"

I stared at him, pondering the question, not having an immediate answer. I hadn't been asked questions like that for a long time.

"What does she want?" he said, changing the question since I was still wracking my brain.

"She wants him. I think we determined that," I said. I didn't do it, but on the inside, I was rolling my eyes just a little bit.

"What is she willing to do to get it?"

"Um, go to his house?" I said lamely.

"The first time, she wanted him so badly that she seduced him in his office on campus, not knowing if he would reject her or not. Is the only thing she's willing to do this time go to his house and wait for something to happen?"

"Well, maybe? I kind of liked the idea of him taking the lead a bit this time."

"I like that idea too, but you still need to know what she is willing to do to pursue what she wants. Remember, you know he's going to make the first move as the author, but she doesn't know he is going to be the one to make the first move. I imagine it's obvious to her the attraction is still mutual so she is probably not focusing on if he will reject her or not. Although, technically, you never mentioned the status of either's current relationships. I know you said they would both be single which I agree is easier--not in a bad way--but how would she know that if she doesn't ask him?"

"What if she doesn't want to know the answer?" I returned. "Maybe it's easier--not just for me as a writer--for her to not ask. To not know."

"Interesting," he said, looking intrigued. "That does show a willingness to disregard a potential relationship which is quite a statement."

"But also, he's not wearing a ring, so I think she makes the assumption that he's single. I know that doesn't mean he's not in a relationship, but I think that would be enough to take the severity of it away in her mind enough to justify her own desires in the moment. So, to answer your question, I think that she'd willing to commit adultery to be with him again."

"Good," he smiled. "He can still make the first move, but her actions will always have the underlying motive, even if only you know it. A strong one that has consequences. Much like when she went into his office the first time, knowing his job would be in jeopardy if anyone saw what she was about to do."

"When you say it like that, she sounds so reckless," I said pensively.

"Desire often makes people reckless. Isn't that what makes people want to escape into your stories in the first place? There are no consequences for indulging in their fantasies unlike there would be in real life. That is at the core of much adult entertainment, don't you think?"

"Yes, I agree," I decided. "Lust makes people selfish and stupid sometimes. I think that's why I went in that direction for her instinctually. Not because she's a bad person, but because her desire is dulling her attention to the damage it could cause."

"Now that you're aware of it, how does it change the conversation they are having? I want you to do the same thing again. Spend two minutes writing dialogue."

"Should I rewrite what I did or just continue on?"

"Whatever you want. Continue on. Start earlier in the conversation. Wherever your mind is right now, follow that train of thought."

"It's kind of hard with just dialogue," I said. "I mean, I can think of the internal dialogue more easily because inside she doesn't have to sensor her true feelings like she probably does when she speaks out loud."

"I'm not surprised you find that easier right now. It's easy to express feelings when you can say exactly what they are. But we rarely do that aloud, do we? Our internal dialogue often doesn't match the words we speak. Remember the I love you exercise?"

"Yes. Write a scene where the characters say I love you without ever saying I love you." It had been a really good exercise and was a lesson I'd carried with me in my writing. Never say I love you.

"Pretend we are doing that. Except have her say I'll do anything to fuck you one more time without ever saying I'll do anything to fuck you one more time."

"O-okay." I hadn't expected him to say that. Not those words. Not like that.

"Are you ready to start again?"

"Can I have one minute to think first?"

"If you'd like."

I nodded, thinking deeply and as quickly as I could. How to say I'll do anything to fuck you one more time without ever saying I'll do anything to fuck you one more time.

"Okay, I'm ready," I decided. I didn't really have a plan and I realized I wouldn't be able to come up with one in only one minute, so there was no point in not getting straight to it.

"I-I didn't know if you'd remember me..."

"I'll always remember that day. I've never fucked someone in my office before. Never been seduced by another student. Never been with a creature as young and beautiful and creative as you. How could I ever forget you, Megan?"

"Did you ever think about me again?"

"Time," he stopped me.

"Two minutes is so short," I said, looking back at the meager amount I wrote in the time he had given. I read it to him before he could ask me to.

"I didn't get much down," I said when I had finished, "but I think there is more feeling in it than the last bit."

"Agreed, I think it's much better. Although, I'm not sure she'd be all that concerned about him not remembering her."

"He's had so many students. She probably still feels like one of many."

"Even after making love to her, knowing he was only the second man she'd ever been with. Alice," he chuckled, "no one would ever forget that."

"Logically, sure. But she's not being logical, is she? She's nervous. Sure, he probably remembers her, but she doesn't know she's the only one who's done that with him, does she? I mean, she probably assumes she is, or she wants to think she is--not think to much about it, you know--but I do think there would be a lingering underlying anxiety that she was just one of many."