May & December

Ben frowned, as though he could read my thoughts, and a wave of pity washed over his gentle features. “Well then,” he offered slowly. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m available. If I’m going to lose a student, I’d rather it not be to heat stroke.”

Then, hurriedly, as though he feared my gratitude, he rose and called for the nurse. Paperwork ensued, a list of ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’ and within a half-hour I’d been consigned to Ben’s care for the short ride home.

Ben popped me into a wheel chair and chauffeured me down to the main entrance. “Now just wait here,” he cautioned. “Relax, and I’ll drive up front in a few minutes. How are you feeling?”

I smiled. How could I tell him that I felt like shit, that my head was pounding and that I still felt like every breath was going to be my last?

“I’m fine,” I lied, attempting to keep my voice steady. I’d had enough melodrama for one day. All I wanted now was to curl up in my cozy bed with nothing but the low moan of my air conditioning filling my mind for the next week or so.

“Good” he nodded, not quite convinced. “You just wait here, then.” And with that he trotted down the stairs, past the wheelchair ramp and vanished behind a thicket of white oleanders.

He was a nice man, I thought as I watched his lanky frame lope solidly down the steps, a decent man…the kind who cared for no other reason than the fact that it was the right thing to do. He was a rarity, a diamond in a world full of rhinestones.

Ben Gates was special.

In no time at all, I saw a desert-beige SUV pull alongside the curb, and Ben trotting merrily toward the door. “Hang on, Jillian. We’re going for a ride!” he announced, maneuvering the infirmary’s wheelchair gingerly down the ramp. “I have the best AC money can buy, all cranked up and waiting for you, so just sit back and enjoy the trip.”

Carefully, he drew abreast of the passenger door, then opened it wide to allow me entry. The cold blast of air hit me like a welcome zephyr from the arctic. Immediately I felt the goose flesh begin to rise on my arms, my nipples hardening and my lungs drinking in the chilled essence of it all. Oh, what a relief, I thought. Air conditioning is a true miracle!

Once inside he asked “So…where are we going? I may need directions on this. I live in Ahwatukee, and some of the side streets around here aren’t all that familiar to me.”

“Oh, no problem. It’s not far. Just head south on Mill Ave, take a right on Broadway, and I live just over the tracks on Farmer. It’s an old place with a really eclectic yard…a John Deere tractor and a Japanese koi pool if you can imagine. I think the owner has a weird sense of humor.”

He smiled…a smile that shouted out the pure joy he brought to life. “Yeah, there are lots of places like that in the old part of town, I’ve heard. I even passed one place with a scaled –down Eiffel Tower filled with geraniums sitting right in the middle on the front lawn…and another with a fountain made out of vintage toilets! It’s a crazy town, but unique…very unique.”

“Ah…a politician, I see,” I joked. “’Unique’…not everyone would be so diplomatic.”

“Well, “ he paused, a gleam in his eye, “When you’re as old as I am, you learn to walk on the safe side of the road. It gets you there in one piece a hell of a lot more often.”

There it was again. How old was he, I wondered. Certainly not more than 40…45 at the most. His broad chest and firm body attested to a life of healthful activity and youthful pursuits. Surely he couldn’t be all that old! Suddenly, the devil grabbed my tongue and I blurted out the thought that was foremost in my mind.

“And how old is that, if you don’t mind my asking?” I posed. “You make it sound as though you’re Methuselah’s grandfather.”

“Well…” he began slowly, “I’m probably old enough to be yours, or pretty close to it. I’m 55, and teaching my last semester before a well-planned retirement. So what are you…18…19?”

“I’m 20!” I retorted, trying to sound indignant. And, I’ll be 21 in a few months. I’m not quite the baby you’d make me out to be!”

He smiled again, my attitude apparently a source of amusement. “Okay…okay. Not a sin to be young, you know. We all had it once. We just got over it!”

I laughed. He was disarming, this patient man. He had an unflappable sense of humor that took the sting out of the situation with a gentle ease borne through many years of practice. I could get used to this, I thought, the idea warming me. The way he makes me feel, the pure pleasure of his company could get to be habit forming. Maybe fate had taken a hand today. After all, it had brought Ben Gates into my life, hadn’t it?

In no time at all, we were pulling up to the curb in front of my small duplex, the sounds of the trickling fountain above the koi pool insinuating itself into the corners of my mind. It would be so good to get these clothes off and take a long, cool shower before tucking myself into bed.

Gratefully, I turned to my benefactor and tried to offer my thanks, the words forming slowly on my tongue like molasses on a warm day. Would it be inappropriate to invite him in for coffee, or given the heat, something cold to drink before he went on about his business? If he hadn’t been my teacher it would have been the natural thing to do, but…

“Would you like to come in for a minute” I blurted out before I had a chance to rethink the offer. I have cold beer, bottled water, pop… I won’t insult you with cash again,” I paused, “but would a can of pop be out of line?”

He looked as though he wanted to accept, like he might have actually enjoyed my companionship as much as I did his, but then the moment passed.

“Um…no, but thanks anyway. I need to be getting home. I have things to do if I’m going to keep ahead of that class of yours,” he grinned modestly. “You’re all getting too smart for me. Good thing I’m retiring after this semester, or I’d have to go back to school myself just to keep up.”

I laughed at that. What a guy! I’d checked up on his credentials before I’d ever enrolled in his class. The man had no less that three PHD’s , 30 years in the classroom, awards up the “ying-yang”, and here he was making jokes about his level of expertise. Where had this kind of man vanished, I wondered, remembering Scott back in Tucson? And, why hadn’t I ever met anyone like him before?

“Well, I guess I’ve embarrassed you enough for one day, Ben,” I replied quietly. “But, if you ever change your mind…”

Now why had I said that! He must have thought me a total fool! He’d as much as told me that he wasn’t interested, and there I was babbling like an idiot. What could I have been thinking?

Thanks again, Ben,” I finished inanely, opening the passenger door. “You certainly saved my bacon enough times today. I owe you one…or three.”

Then it hit me. The heat…my shaky legs…that clammy feeling washing over me like a tidal wave once more. With a stifled groan I slumped against the fender and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d anticipated after all. Already the shifting foliage in the yard was swimming before me, a sea of speckled sun and shadow. Was it going to…

“Okay…hold on there. I’ve got you. Just lean against me and take a deep breath,” he said, his concern wrapping itself around me. “Why didn’t you say you still felt like hell before we left the infirmary? You shouldn’t be on your feet, young lady. You need to be inside rehydrating with a cold washcloth over your eyes. Don’t you know how to take care of yourself?”

And with that he scooped me up in his arms…his strong capable arms and maneuvered the corded wooden walkway to my door. “Is your key in your purse?” he asked, relieving me of my small leather bag. “Let me get you inside before you start decorating the sidewalk with all kinds of unsightly stuff…then I’ll call the clinic and ask for advice. How does that sound?”

I closed my eyes. It sounded wonderful. No, more than wonderful, Ben Gates was proving to be heaven sent…the right man in the right place.

“Thanks,” I said once more. “I seem to be saying that a lot today, at least to you.”

Quickly, he carried me inside and lay me down on my worn, but comfortable sofa.

“Now, hold still while I call,” he ordered lightly. “Everything’ll be fine in no time.” Then turning toward the phone stand in the corner he began to dial.

Fatigued and disoriented, I lay my head back against the cushioning surface and felt myself begin to drift off. Somewhere, far away, I heard his voice… pauses… affirmations…and then silence. A solid pair of hands began to rouse me, a voice, far away directing me to take off my clothing…strong arms lifting me…carrying me…to where?

Then I felt it, cool and wet, the welcome caress of fluid touching my heated flesh, the soothing words of comfort that nudged me from my sleep.

“Jillian. You have to wake up now. I have to take your temperature,” he said. “Don’t fall asleep yet. There’ll be time for that soon enough. Here, open your mouth.”

I felt the bitter taste of alcohol as my thermometer tickled my tongue, and the warmth of his hand as it supported my neck. All around me the water swirled, caressing my skin, cooling my naked flesh. It felt so good. And then there was Ben, his voice in the darkness, touching me once more, his hands a lifeline to the outside world. I could stay like this, I thought. I could just drift on this sea of dreams and muted sensation for the rest of my life.

And then he shook me!

“Wake up, Jillian. You need to sip some of this. You need to get some fluids into you before you sleep.

I gasped, my drifting dream a shattered bit of crystal at my feet. No longer did I float weightlessly amid the clouds, my throbbing head a thing of the past. I was here, in my own bathtub, and Ben Gates was nudging a container of lukewarm bottled water between my lips.

A pause (how long?), and then the thermometer once again made its presence known…a muted grunt, and I felt myself being lifted, wrapped in a warm towel, and carried to my bedroom.

The darkness closed around me in soft ebony waves as the drapes were drawn and the cruel sun made a hasty retreat. Once more I felt the water bottle against my lips, an arm tilting my head as I sipped, then slowly lowering me to the cushioned surface below.

Had I felt his fingers trail along my cheek then...his soft breath in my hair, or was it my imagination? All I can remember was the fear I felt every time his presence faded, and the desperation that overcame me as I curled my fingers into the fabric of his clothing to keep him near.

And so he stayed.

Chapter 4

I felt the warmth of him as though in a dream, long before the hard, solid length of him nudged my hip in the fledgling dawn. I gasped, waking with a start, then warm memories of the night before began to flow over me.

The heat…the infirmary…then Ben Gates to the rescue once again. I remembered my fingers clutching at him last night, responding to the empty fears that had filled me in the darkness, until he had finally lain beside me and chased back the dread.

And now, here he was, and poking me in the hip was his…

I blushed. Even knowing that passion had nothing to do with this morning salute did nothing to keep my response at bay. If the distortion of his jeans was any indication, then my rescuer was prodigious indeed.

Slowly, I raised my eyes to his sleeping face, to the gentle flow of his silken hair…to the full measure of his lips. What would it be like to touch him, I wondered, to feel that sensuous mouth move slowly over my own… over my body?

Without thinking my hip began to move against him, nudging his arousal in an age-old invitation. What was I doing! He was my teacher…my white knight. Not once had he given me reason to believe that he…

And then he began to move. Somewhere in the dim void between sleep and the waking world he began to respond, his hips pressing closer, his palms circling my naked body in a welcomed caress.

I hesitated at first, knowing that I was taking advantage of the moment, knowing I should wake him…but then I felt his lips against my throat and my nipples began to harden. Would it be so bad? Would any harm be done if we…

Slowly, I felt his hands flow across my flesh, downward… downward until his fingers cupped the downy triangle between my thighs and I surged against him.

The hard, male surface of him pressed insistently against my belly now, and I reached my hand between us to explore its rigid contours. So hard, so strong, I thought as my fingers nudged his zipper aside and probed the underlying warmth for his heated flesh.

And then it was mine! Breathlessly, I explored, releasing his member from its cocoon of clothing, running my thumbs over his moistening knob as he hardened even more in my palm.

He sighed, a long, drawn out moan and drew me close to him, his newly freed flesh seeking…seeking…

“Oh Jennie,” he moaned softly. “I’ve missed…”

“Jennie?”

And then, as quickly as it had begun it was over. Ben leaped quickly from my grasp and parted the curtains, his face scowling and disoriented, his manhood safely tucked away once more.

“Jillian, that shouldn’t have happened. I apologize… sincerely. I wasn’t…you’re not…”

The words, so hard to find in this awkward moment, failed him, and I knew I’d made a mistake. It wasn’t me he’d wanted in his arms…not me at all. It was someone named Jennie who’d filled his dreams…Jennie whom he’d sought in the intimate void between sleep and wakefulness.

“It’s alright, Ben. I understand. I was just as much to blame, maybe more. I knew what I was doing. I thought maybe you had too, but I was wrong. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

We stared at each other then, neither knowing how to continue. The heated memory of his hand between my thighs still had the power to arouse my mind, I realized. I’d let the situation get out of hand, and the responsibility for this current awkwardness lay primarily with me.

“I don’t know what to say, Ben. I thought that you’d wanted… No, that’s a lie. I just knew what I wanted. When I woke up and felt you so close, so warm and secure against me I couldn’t help myself. It seemed right at the moment…and so wrong now. Can you forgive me?”

“Forget it,” he replied, straightening his clothing. “No harm done,” he concluded, his gruffness belying his embarrassment. “It was my fault as much as yours. It’s just been a long time…” And then he stopped, as though betraying a memory, as though each word exposed a deeply hidden pain that had found solace in the cloistered recess of his heart.

A long time? Was he saying…? It couldn’t be, not for someone as obviously virile and deeply sensual as Ben Gates. But there it was. “…a long time…” he’d said. What did he mean?

I wanted to ask, to fill the void left by his words. But something told me it wasn’t the time, and I wasn’t the right person to be asking. And so the silence lay between us, long and heavy until finally he cleared his throat and collected his car keys and wallet from the nightstand.

“I should be heading off now. My office hours begin in thirty minutes, and I have a full schedule. Will you be all right? I mean…how are you feeling this morning?” he questioned, a little abashed that it had been an afterthought. “Do you need (was he blushing?)…ummm…anything…before I go?”

The vertical blinds cast thin stripes across his features, making him look for all the world like a convict pleading for a parole…and so I released us both.

“No…no. I’m fine. I’ll rest up for a while, and be in class on time this morning. I promise!” I smiled, grateful for the shadows that hid my eyes.

“Class?” he said, as though it had been the farthest thing form his mind. “Oh…CLASS!” he laughed. “I almost forgot. No…don’t worry about class. I’ll get my teaching assistant to copy my outline for the day and give it to you tomorrow, if you’re up to it. Just take it easy until you’re sure you’re on your feet again. Some things can’t be rushed.”

Then, turning quickly he opened the door and vanished into the glare of the early morning sun, leaving behind a curious void that whispered in somber tones…“This is not the end…” ------------------------------------------------- chapter 5

Now I know why so many students carry “sports bottles” loaded with chilled electrolytes when they travel around campus. Some of us just learned the hard way, I thought, clutching my newly purchased container in the crook of my elbow as I climbed the stairs to room 315.

I’d tried to come to class yesterday, but my knees just hadn’t cooperated. And so I’d spent the day soaking in the tub, and sipping an unending string of cool beverages. Finally, by the time the sun had set in a ball of flames in the western sky I was feeling like myself once more.

I slept well that night, plagued only by the dim memory of the morning before, and of the necessity of facing Ben once again when the new day came. But, he’d said it was all right, he’d understood. Hadn’t he? Only this morning would tell.

A little breathlessly I reached the 3rd floor, and turned toward room 315. The door was open, held by another student who’d seen me making my way down the hall. Quickly, I slipped inside and wrapped the cool, climate-controlled environment about me in delicious relief.

Quietly, I took the first available seat and began searching the room for Ben. He was there, alright, dressed in a casual tropical shirt of a deep blue that brought out the depth of his eyes. Once more I wondered how a man like that could be alone, when so many women would have given their eye teeth to share even a moment’s time with him. He was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, but he wasn’t mine to solve. He was my professor, and I his student. The lines between us had to be reconstructed after yesterday morning… and the time to start was now.

With a flurry of deliberate activity, I nodded in Ben’s direction then began to prepare my clipboard for this morning’s notes. If my actions were overly exaggerated, Ben chose not to notice and went on filling the chalkboard with the statistical formulas that we’d be learning that session.

And so the next four hours passed, Ben carefully avoiding eye contact, and I fearing that he wouldn’t. Finally, as the lunch hour neared, the class ended and we all made our way out into the atrium once more.

With small sips of cool Gatorade sliding soothingly over my tongue, the trip to the MU wasn’t nearly as frantic as it had been two days before. In fact, I’d barely broken a sweat by the time I felt the rush of cool air from the student union building welcoming me inside.

Today, lunch was foremost on my mind…that and the awkwardness of my morning class with Ben. How could we possibly continue for the next five weeks like that, I wondered…avoiding each other’s eyes, almost fearful of accidental contact? Being politically correct could be a bitch, I thought. There was still time to drop the class, but did I want to run away again?

Grabbing a taco salad from the serving line, I paid for my lunch with my campus “Maroon and Gold” meal card and found a seat in a blissfully shaded corner of the room to gobble my food before my next class. That’s when he came in.

I don’t know why it surprised me. Everyone ate here, unless they grabbed a sandwich from the “roach-coach” between Farmer and Payne. This was, by far, the better choice.

He didn’t seem to notice me as he made his selections and took a table in the center of the room. He sat alone, with the ease of someone who has gotten used to it. That was something I knew about all too well. But, he wasn’t alone for long. One by one students and faculty dropped by, nodding their greetings, asking questions or just acknowledging the presence of a familiar face. It was when he turned to nod at one such contact that he noticed me watching from the sanctuary of my dusky corner.