Sylvan Courtyard 5: Fair Play Again

This is a long one, and takes some turns before it gets to this episode's action. Hang with it. Everything in it is meant to be entertaining, and to serve the longer-term story.

Sylvan Courtyard -- Five: What's Fair Play Again?

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"Here, I'd rather you break this sentence down into three separate ones, instead of this complex rats nest you have here," Patty Bohannon told me, circling the latest part of my writing that offended her sensibilities. I didn't mind. I had asked her to red-pen this segment of my draft dissertation after all. Well, I didn't mind much...

I still preferred to keep my ornate, overly complex style of writing, but I could see her point here. I had agonized over that sentence and it never was quite right. Sometimes simple sentences are necessary.

I paused my own work to make the change in my computer, then I resumed going over Patty's math, trying to catch any that didn't work. We had developed a good working relationship recently, once we determined that we were not going to have a good personal relationship.

Patty was the promising date that had ended up anything but, the night that Becky and I had begun the little voyeuristic dance that had led eventually to our recent occasional pleasant exchanges of bodily fluids. While Patty was damned attractive, and we found we liked each other very much, we were in irreconcilably different places in our lives.

Patty, like me, was a doctoral candidate, but she expected to burrow in once she had her degree and stay here at the University, whereas I knew for nearly certain that my professional future lay in many possible places, but not where I currently was..

Patty also was in the market for a long-term, hopefully permanent guy. I obviously did not check her box since she was staying and I was leaving. Meanwhile, I was utterly opposed to even having casual sex with someone I feared might be a good fit for me long-term.

This was in part because I knew there was no path to tenure for me here, but also because I had had two wonderful, serious relationships in my life, both of which had ended horribly due to outside circumstances. I was in no mood for another such heartbreak--ever. So, as long as I was here, I was just going to have to settle for the occasional rambunctious sexual escapade with a variety of hot women. Woe is me.

I did still occasionally look wistfully at Patty, because if she had been down for a one-off or even a series of hookups, I'd have boned her into next week happily.

Instead, I settled for a productive friendship where we helped each other with our academic weaknesses. There was something about her that had begun to itch in the back of my mind, but I was not sure what it was. It would come to me eventually. In the meantime, I found myself taking fewer of those wistful looks.

"Hey, this proof doesn't work," I said, spotting a problem for her. "Look, I think you are safe, and you can find a way to pull it off, but you took an unsubstantiated leap here. See?"

"Oh! Shit. The step is just so obvious, I... Gimme that."

*

The relationship math I had reviewed while having my working lunch with Patty sprung back into my head as I sat in my last-ever class with Professor Thames. Ever since a joke in bad taste by one of my buddies, I had found myself examining my professor more and more. The more time I spent examining her, the more I became focused on the fact that, despite her being at least 15 years older than me, she had the sort of body I'd really love to have some rambunctious sexual escapades with.

At the moment, she was reviewing subject matter that I had down cold already, so my mind kept speculating more even than usual. However, my usually wandering eyes instead focused more and more on the way her superstructure made for a tight fit of her businesslike white dress shirt.

Dammit, I'd love to get with this woman. After all, I told myself in rank justification, it was not out of the realm of possibility. She was not seeing anyone specific, and I had seen her bring multiple different dates to the various kinds of events where that was expected. Not all her dates were her age, either, if maybe not as young as me...

Nor would she and I be out of the range of propriety. After my exam in a few days, and a few more days for the grade to be reported, she would no longer be my teacher, and would have no chance to be my teacher in the future either. Moreover, she was not likely to sit on the board before which I would eventually defend my dissertation.

In seven to ten days, I would still be a student, but never again would I be her student. She would be a colleague from that point forward.

The only problem was, she was my mentor and advisor's bete noir. The two were the sort of collegially open rivals within our department that could be more easily described as enemies than frenemies.

Making a pass at her, successfully or not, could possibly (probably) piss off the most important man in my professional existence--a man I liked and respected as much as any man I'd ever known... except Dad.

Not worth it.

Except... The more I looked at her, the hotter she became.

*

When I eventually got my grade, I started thinking again whether I wanted to or not. I know, my mind goes to dangerous places when I've spent enough time watching a beautiful woman.

My advisor and I have lunch every Tuesday, where we go over the state of my own research, and just as importantly, whatever I am currently doing to assist him with his. We also talk basketball, baseball, and sometimes comic books.

Lately, I had begun to notice that when we talked college sports, a lot of the universities he'd mention were ones that either had respected, or more often up and up-and-coming, departments in our field. I knew what he was doing, and I thanked him for it, but it was a bit silly the effort he kept expending to keep my thoughts about my future focused elsewhere than here. There just was no tenure-track place for me at the university, and I knew it. Everybody knew it. Even the department chair had started being a real dick to me lately, and I suspected it was because he wanted to discourage me from asking for an instructorship in the vain hope of something more meaningful opening up later.

I loved the university. I loved my life at Sylvan Courtyard. But when I finally received my Ph.D., I was going to have to go elsewhere. I could not abide the thought of New England weather, and I was not going near any West Coast cities, the way things were out there. My thoughts were on the mountain west or the surrounding plains.

Ah, mountains...

"Listen, Professor," I interjected, realizing I might be about to piss him off. He was in a good mood that day, so I figured that it was as good a time as any, if I was going to pursue this cockamamie idea at all.

And I was going to pursue it, because PhD-level mind or not, I think with my dick more than is good for me.

"I honestly am not sure if I'm glad to be done with Professor Thames' class or not," I mused, as if making idle conversation.

My mentor, as he always does when her name comes up in virtually any context, rolled his eyes. "Grow a pair, Ken. Call her Mandy now. She's a colleague, not your teacher." He chuckled in good-natured evil. "In fact, tell I told you to call her Mandy. That'll piss her off."

Noted. Do not under any circumstances tell Professor... Mandy that he had told me to call her that.

"Why on Earth are you not glad to be done with that class?" he went on. "She was always one for assigning gratuitous amounts of work." I shrugged in wry acknowledgment of that point. "And not that it really matters much, but I assume you got an A?"

"Yes, sir. Of course," I smirked. "But it has been a while since I have gone into a final where I wasn't sure of that outcome to start."

He smirked at me in a way that told me, whatever their problems, he approved of her making me work for my A. Then he asked, "Then why are you of a mixed mind about escaping her fevered, not-terribly-academically-inspiring class?"

Here we go.

"Well, have you looked at her?" I asked, with a humorously glum expression.

He pushed his glasses down his nose and rolled his eyes at me again, not terribly impressed by the question.

Of course. He was a single, heterosexual male in the prime of life who worked in uncomfortable parallel with the women. He'd seen her.

"Of course, I've seen her," he snorted. "But even that body isn't much to look at, the way she dresses these days. Certainly not enough to want to extend your endurance of the irrelevant piffle that is her work," he scoffed.

I was simultaneously bemused at his use of the phrase, 'even that body', and just the tiniest bit irritated that he called her work and her class 'irrelevant piffle'. Whatever my opinions on her tendency to issue far too much work, I suspected that Professor Thames was probably his intellectual and professional equal, and that was high praise for them both.

But I mostly focused on, 'even that body'. He had known her far longer than I had known either of them. He must have seen her dressed at times in outfits other than what I'd seen. Despite his dismissive tone, he was giving me further motivation to risk pissing him off.

"I just... I know you guys have your difficulties," I began. He snorted again. "But I brought her up because, well, I wanted to know if you'd have any serious concerns or objections if I were to... I was thinking of asking her out, um, on a date, now that the class is done," I finished in a rush.

He just stared. It was not the happiest stare he had ever awarded me. Much worse, he did not say anything. Not one word. I hate when he does that. I tend to babble when he does it, until he finally lets me off the hook. He doesn't do it often, and this was the first time I had gotten The Stare in a good long while.

"I mean, I find her interesting, and despite her clothes, I've kind of been fixating on her ever since..." Yeah. I was going to shut up before I said something about Petey and his impertinent suggestions. In fact, I was going to shut up period, and wait until The Man said something. It was past time that I treated him as if he were now my colleague too and not just a person that I was utterly beholden to for help and approval in my career.

"Let me get this straight," he said at last. His face was unreadable, but at least he was no longer leaving me to stew in my own juices. I thought... hoped he was giving me some respect for shutting up and waiting him out for once. "Let me get this straight. You are asking me if I mind if you try to fuck my ex-wife?"

"Wait! What? You and she were married? When?" I yelped incredulously. My mind wanted to panic afresh, and in spades. But my fundamental nature had me almost laughing out loud.

"You didn't know? I thought everyone knew. I thought Mongolians on the steps used to hear us argue," he mused. "We married the month after we got our bachelors, and I didn't escape that matrimonial durance vile until eight years ago now, right after we both got tenure."

Well, at least I could put this idea to bed now... but he didn't shut up about it.

"Ken, I cannot say strongly enough," he said earnestly, with some actual affection and caution in his voice. "If you think you are developing feelings for that woman, please run away as fast as possible. She is utterly impossible to live with, let alone work with or even near." His eyes speared me. He meant what he said. Emphatically.

I nodded. No way would I piss him off. This was why I had asked, and he had given me his answer. To his credit, he couched it in terms of advice, not a directive.

Then he relaxed, seeing my expression, and leaned back in his chair. He chuckled to himself a little. "On the other hand, if you are just inclined to take a run at her for some fun in the sack, I say go for it. She's a five-star fuck all the way. Would totally recommend."

I thought my eyes were going to fall out of my head.

He laughed at me. "I'm serious. The woman is a fucking force of nature in the sack. If you can pull it off, you would be insane not to enjoy the ride. Just run away quickly afterward, just in case she decides that is the moment she is going to start eating her lovers' heads. It's only a matter of time before that happens."

The man could have told me that his research was secretly funded by little green men from planet Zorklon and I would have been less incredulous than I was at that moment.

"I said I wanted to... to ask her out on a date, not... not fuck her," I stuttered, at a loss for what else to say.

"Pull the other one," he said, skeptically. "Why would anyone want to date that woman, if not to get his hands on that body, and his dick inside it?"

I wanted to object. I wanted to actually scold the guy for saying such a crass thing. I was truly a little disappointed in him.

But, since I, if you really broke things down to the elemental level, only wanted to date her so I could get my hands on that body and my dick inside it, making everyone involved in the process as happy as possible, I felt a little awkward about calling him out.

Instead, I asked him, "Do you think I have a chance?"

He considered it. He wore the same expression he did when I asked him for professional advice. He was evaluating the question, and evaluating me. "Maybe. Mandy may have lost her appetite for relationships about the same time I did, for similar reasons," he admitted, "but I know she hasn't lost her sexual appetite any more than I have. That said, she's quite picky," he added in warning. "Did she like you, beyond as a student?"

"How should I know?" I complained.

"See? This is why I like you, Ken, and how I know that you will go far. You are setting out to bang a full professor, my ex-wife, without even knowing if she so much as likes you? You are never going to let unknowns stand in your way, are you?"

"I kind of like unknowns," I grinned.

"Good luck! You are going to need it!"

Swell. Now I not only had permission, I kind of had an assignment. Hopefully, this homework would suck...

*

That evening, I was enjoying having no actual academic homework to do or to grade, and was celebrating by sitting at my dining table and swearing at myself for a couple of errors I had found in my data tables. One of those errors made me happy, because correcting it made my thesis stronger. The other error was less enthralling, as it told me I needed to extend my research in that area... an area I thought I was done with.

There was a knock at my door. I popped up, eager for a distraction from my grumbling.

As I suspected, it was Jesse at my door. The techno luddite hated calling or texting when he wanted to talk. He tended just to knock on people's doors, like some kind of nineteenth-century neighbor. "Ken! Listen, can you give me a hand? I'm trying to fix Davis's front door, and I need an extra hand," my landlord said uncomfortably.

Jesse is always uncomfortable asking for anything from any of his tenants. Josie less so. Neither ever asks anything unreasonable or difficult. Josie never acts like she is entitled to you helping her, the rare times she does ask, but she also doesn't view asking as a personal failure, like Jessie does. We are mostly all happy to lend a hand, the rare times either asks.

I reflected that Jesse needed to get laid. He and everybody else around here would relax.

"Glad to help, Jesse," I said, happy to get away from my currently annoying data.

My contribution to the security of Davis's castle was literally just holding a faceplate in place with two fingers for twenty seconds while Jesse dextrously screwed the mechanism back into place.

After that, I felt mentally reset and wandered out to my patio. I was restless, and walked around out there, rather than sitting down.

There were no interesting sights to be seen of any of my more attractive neighbors--no sights to distract me from thoughts about how I might pursue my ex-professor, the supposedly transcendent sex-machine...

I found that I was glad to have gotten my mentor's permission, especially now that I knew just how important that permission was, but I was less excited by the effects of the scouting report.

I was increasingly motivated, but much more nervous. I'd never been with a woman who I had heard about from someone else who had been there first. It was weird. And given how glowing said scouting report was, I felt a bit pressured.

How the fuck was I going to proceed here?

*

At work the next day, I took a deep breath and resolved to simply test hypothesis one: she even liked me.

The movements of faculty and other members of university departments seem pretty opaque to undergrads, but once you are an integral part of a department, as I had become during my doctoral journey thus far, you sort of know everyone's movements. Thus, it was fairly easy for me to find a time when Professor Thames would be alone in her office, and then drop by to see her.

I knocked on the open door frame and looked in. "Professor?" I said easily, seeing her at her desk.

"Ken! Hello there. Good work on your final," she said, looking up from her laptop. Her eyes smiled calmly at me through those thick lenses. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh nothing," I said, waving a hand and taking the opportunity to enter as if I had been asked. "I'm out stretching my legs, and I saw your door. I thought I'd drop in and say thanks for the class."

"Really? There were times last semester that I thought you were not so thankful about the workload," she said drily. But she did wave toward a chair in a vaguely welcoming manner, just being polite really.

But I took advantage and sauntered over to take the seat.

"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "But there were really only two times I fully chafed at the bit. Both were times you loaded us up with projects just as I had loaded my students up with work, and I knew that I would still have to grade their results while I was taking on your workload!"

"Sounds like you deserved it, then!"

I nodded with a small smile. "I finally decided, after much deliberation of options, to deal with it mentally by thinking that way. But that was the second time. The first time, I just hated you full-time."

"Ha!" she barked a short laugh. "What were your other options besides deciding you deserved it?"

Well, I could not exactly tell her I had considered trying to fuck her into having mercy on me...

"None that would have worked," I said simply. But I could not help grinning a little.

"I'm glad this did then. Did you know you were second in the class?"

"Really?" I asked, leaning forward in surprise. Three of the other five students in the class were pursuing research much closer to the subject matter than my own work. I figured that those three would all have easily beaten me.

"Who?" I asked. I should have just been happy. Was it Claude, maybe?

"Rashid got you by a point."

"Rashid?!?"

"He's very good."

"Well, yeah. He's brilliant. He's certainly the only one of us in the class that I think could maybe have a chance to be a better scientist over our careers than me. But I figured I was better as a student than him!"

"That was a very conceited compliment to Rashid," Professor Thames observed.

I looked at her. Talking about Rashid was not getting me anywhere that I came here for. "I am very confident about the things I do well," I said firmly, with the side of my mouth quirked up smugly.

"Oh?" she asked archly. Then she leaned forward onto her desk, interlacing her fingers and resting her chin atop them. "Pray tell, what else do you do well, besides research?"

Okay, slow down here, I thought. I came here to lay some subtle groundwork, maybe flirt just a little. Try to figure out if there was any return attraction. But here was Mandy pretty much flirting with me before I could do much other than show up.