Power Play Pt. 12

MORNING: "TRIAL"

Still naked and sticky, Hollie sat next to me. Jesse had left already. I was getting dressed, getting ready for my meeting. "Look here," she showed me her phone and an app of some sort with photos of different young women she was swiping. A bit like Tinder, I thought, but frowned nonetheless. "Which one do you like?" She handed me the phone.

It was difficult to choose. They were all young, in their 20s by my reckoning, and most quite beautiful and hot. Eventually, I chose a blonde one looking to be in her early 20s with long curly hair and pale complexion. "This one." I looked up at Hollie. "Why?" I was puzzled.

"This is Jill." She leaned in to kiss me. "You can have her later today if you want to."

My puzzlement grew. I frowned more until deep wrinkles cut across my skin. "How do you know these women, Hollie? What's this all about?"

She chuckled lightly. "Let me tell you."

* * *

A mere 50 minutes later, I was out of the door, with the memory of moans, groans and my cock engulfed by hot, dripping wet female flesh still quite crystal clear in my mind. Presently, I was entering the building of the university with some trepidation. As previously advised, I had already set my phone to audio-record. The phone was on mute and my suit's jacket-pocket.

The meeting was to be held in room 354A, a large board-room-style conference room for small teams. I rapped on the door; my knuckles were a bit sweaty. "Come in, sir," a strong-sounding female voice arrived from the inside. I pushed the door hand down and the door opened, creaking slightly upon entry.

Behind a long time with a classic exam-style green cloth laid over it, three women sat, looking rather serious. "Please be seated, Mr Outerbridge," said the one in the middle. The set-up was exam-style or, shall I say, interrogation-like. Dean Felicity Withers was sitting directly opposite me, Dr Helena Cortez to her right and Dr Dawn Carruthers to her left.

I don't really remember all that was said in there -- a lot of it, particularly at the beginning, was reading off university regulations as informed by state policies, regarding disciplinary meetings such as this. I kept nodding throughout it, just to appear interested and engaged, and saying, "I understand" or "I acknowledge this" in relevant places, but decided -- in fact, couldn't refrain from it -- to relive in my head some of the moment from earlier this morning. It was also impossible to not think about the story and offer Hollie made me just before I'd left home for here -- but more on that later!

I gave them my full attention when they started talking about what the accusations were about.

"... being accused of using hate speech in his lectures, uttering frequent microaggressions and denying his students their lived experiences."

I stopped her. "What does it even mean, lived experiences? Do they have some unlived experiences?" I smirked.

Felicity Withers continued, no reaction discernible on her face. "In particular, this relates to presenting to students lectures and debates involving Don Stark, Aida Unwin and Alexander Sutcliffe (reader -- these names are made up; I have other real-life public intellectuals in mind!). Do you confirm that showing the videos of lectures of these individuals have been shown to your classes?"

"Yes, indeed." I was puzzled by why these people should be problematic to show to anyone, particularly in university setting.

"The report presented to us states that doing so represents microaggressing against the students in their class and denies them their experiences."

A silence fell. I could not quite believe what I was hearing. "These videos, which incidentally had previously been shown on major television networks -- namely BBC and ITV -- simply show these people's opinions on the matters discussed with the students, namely that equality of outcome can and did lead in the past to tyranny and despotism. I did not share my own views with the classes on these matters -- I simply presented a variety of opinions on the subject to my students for their consideration."

Three pairs of eyes studied me silently for about ten seconds. The moment was demonstrably awkward. Then Dr Cortez stated firmly, "Presenting -- or shall I say, giving a platform to -- such ideas in academic setting is equal to hate speech."

My eyes widened and jaw dropped. She saw that. "Uh—what?"

"It is equal to—"

"I heard you the first time!" I exclaimed. It was clear to all they put me out of balance. "Isn't it academia's job to expose young people to different ideas and allow them to make up their own minds? Is it not that that teaching critical thinking entails?" I stopped. They listened, blank expressions on their faces.

"You would not present Adolf Hitler's speech in your class, would you?"

I shifted in my chair, nervously. This was a witch-hunt. At least it was getting recorded.

"I cannot quite see how presenting views of Stark, Sutcliffe and Unwin is in any way comparable to the views of Hitler," I snapped back. I took a few deep breaths and then straightened myself in my chair before adding, "And yes, I would if it meant that my student ended up knowing more about his views and actions. Clearly, knowing about evil does not mean promoting evil. The more history we know, the less likely we are to repeat it." I felt like they were students in my class.

Not that any of this would help. They were ideologically possessed. Being exposed to different views, apparently, meant that my students were offended, disturbed and unable to take it emotionally and thus they were somehow "denied their life experiences". So pressing "play" on a Sutcliffe video equalled actual violence in their view. Nerves were obvious in my face now -- it was clear that this Spanish inquisition board's hearing outcome had already been decided. There were no attempts on their part to meet me anywhere half-way.

I asked them some additional questions. I wanted to know who actually accused me and filed the report. Was it just one student or more than one? A minority of the group (and which group)? Or a majority? None of this would be provided -- "we don't have to tell you that" sounded truly like something out of a Soviet bloc communist regime or, more aptly, from a novel by Kafka.

Eventually, I realised resistance was futile and resigned myself to my fate. "The outcome will be decided and communicated to you within 24 hours", but there was no chance that it would be anything less than dismissal.

I leaned back in my chair, nonchalantly. "Do what you want."

I was not even planning to go back to work the next day.

* * *

I sighed with relief on the other side of the door. It was all hazy in front of my eyes -- although I had made my decision to not come back to the wretched place, I had spent 10 years in the place and given a lot of time to the place and to this profession. It felt slightly unbelievable and unreal.

Slowly, dragging my feet a bit down the stairs, I walked outside the building and found a bench outside. It was a sunny and pleasant morning, and the glorious sunshine cheered me up a bit. I brought out my phone, stopped the recording and hit 'Share'. Then 'Send to Katie Richards'.

It was then that I noticed a message from Hollie waiting. "Get over here as soon as you can. You've got a Jill waiting for you."

Instantly, the day brightened up even more somehow.