The Professor Day 10: Parting

The Professor

Recap: Molly has approached her former professor on whom she has a deep crush. They exchange stories to explore their fantasies and philosophies as he attempts to rein in her emotions.

Sunday, Day 10 What Might Have Been

"Professor, Thank you so much for everything." They had finished carrying her belongings into her refurbished apartment. Outside there was a warm rain that fell intermittently. They had come back into the house for her purse, and she stood before him in her tan raincoat buckled at the waist, wearing her new boots. "I confess I didn't sleep much last night. I wanted to leave you with another story."

"Another one? I would love hear it."

"It's dedicated to you, of course. I call it 'The Professor.'" She handed him a few pages.

"You are not going to read it?"

"This is only the beginning. I've been thinking about it for a while. I only have the first few pages."

While Molly unpacked, Stephen sat on the edge of the bed and began to read.

The Professor

Prologue

I knocked tentatively on Dr. Morris' door. He called loudly, "The door's open." He was sitting with his feet on his desk when I looked in. "Molly! What a surprise. Please come in."

I was so nervous - I had the biggest crush on him. No, that makes me sound like a high school kid. He was handsome and recently tenured and the smartest person I ever knew. I'm a serious student surrounded by kids who couldn't give a fuck and he respected me for that that. He took time to help me learn and he took my ideas seriously. He treated me like an adult. You know how few people in your life really care enough to do that? I think he likes me, too. He has always been friendly and seemed to be looking at me when he could. The only thing keeping me from being all out in love with him is the fact that he always kept professional boundaries. I tried to take as many courses from him as I could before this year; but I know that if he crossed the line it might ruin his career. So, I never told him. On the contrary, I had to start avoiding him - until now. It was all or nothing, so I screwed up my courage.

"Professor, I hope I am not disturbing you."

"Not at all. Please take a seat." He hastily sat up and removed a stack of ungraded final exams from the nearest chair and waved me into it. "How have you been, Molly?"

"Fine . . ."

"What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Well, I'm graduating . . ."

"Congratulations."

". . . and I thought I would take a year off. I have a job in town. Not much of one. Working in an office pushing paper. It starts in a month. But it will give me time to prepare for the LSATs and apply to law schools in the fall."

"I'm glad to know your talents won't go to waste."

"I have a favor to ask of you. A couple, perhaps. While I'm studying . . . could you perhaps coach me? I mean write me letters of recommendation, and so forth?"

"Of course. I would be delighted to. And anything else I can do."

I fumbled with my purse. I'm sure I was blushing by now. "And there is something else. Everyone has family coming in for graduation. Someone to wave to in the stands and pat them on the back. I won't have anyone there. Would it be terrible for me to ask you to be my family?"

"In loco parentis?"

"Something like that. I mean I'm feeling alone right now and it would be great to know you were thinking of me."

"Where are your parents?"

"My mother died a dozen years ago. Cancer. My father hasn't paid much attention to me. I put myself through school. He's not going to come."

"Of course, I would be happy to be your family next week. It's also traditional for families to take their graduates to dinner. May I?"

My heart leaped. "Oh, I couldn't."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Thank you."

"Give me your phone number and I will set something up."

"By the way, I wrote a story for you." I handed him an envelope.

"Thanks. I'm sure it will be much more interesting than these." He gestured at the unread term papers.

"I should hope so. I would love for you to read it."

"I'm not a literary critic."

"This isn't literature. I know that." I handed him a folder and rose to leave. "But I would like to know what you think. Or maybe, I would love for you to know what I think. Thanks." I disappeared before he could reply.

The next day he called me. He had made dinner reservations for after commencement at his favorite restaurant. It was in the next town over - far enough from campus to avoid the crowds or run into students. I didn't hear from him again until he came to pick me up. I imagined him reading my stories. Could he possibly understand what I was trying to say?

Submission

Annie headed to the Garden House for lunch. She anxiously scanned the tables. With some disappointment she sat down at an empty one next to the sidewalk.

Annie was a jeweler with her own shop. She loved to design new pieces and had just launched her own line. She considered herself moderately successful and was ready to settle down and work on her empty personal life. She usually didn't go out to lunch, but had been forced to a few times recently when she had nothing to bring from home. One time she was asked to share a table with a handsome stranger named Joseph Steckel. They had a warm conversation and she regretted when the lunch hour was over. The next time at the restaurant she ran into Joseph again. Since then she had frequented the restaurant more often hoping to run into him.

Annie felt a great debt to Joseph. He had used his business connections to arrange a showing of her creations, and since then her work had taken off. Over several months their friendship grew and Annie was hoping Joseph would take it further, but he seemed reluctant. She had really fallen for him. Lately she has started taking more pains with her appearance. In her mind, her flirtations had reached a point just short of suggesting they get a hotel room. While he had not responded directly to them, he didn't push her away, either; and for a while he was showing up at the restaurant pretty regularly. But he did not respond as warmly as she had hoped. She knew little about him. He worked in one of the large financial firms nearby and appeared to be single and living alone. She found him a bit eccentric but very intriguing. On the outside he was staid and reserved, but he was extremely smart. And just when he seemed to be oblivious to the person across from him, he would say something insightful that showed he was both attentive and very perceptive; yet she never knew what he was thinking. This left her on edge and quite intrigued. He also seemed to be more interested in the arts than sports, and this gave her encouragement.

She ordered a salad and glass of wine and busied herself with a magazine until a shadow fell over the table, and a familiar voice asked politely, "May I join you."

She smiled. "Of course, I was hoping you would show up."

Today over lunch he seemed a bit preoccupied. She struggled to keep the conversation moving. She decided she would have to make the next move in their relationship, but his distance said this was not the right time. Joseph apologized and said he was working over some issues at work and needed to get back to the office. Annie rose as he stood to day goodbye. Impulsively, the gave him a brief kiss. He froze for a moment, then acted is if the gesture were perfectly natural; but he held her hand for a while before leaving.

Annie was going crazy trying to figure out what was in his mind. She didn't even know where he lived. A fear passed through her mind that he might be married. She searched for him in the phone directory and the internet and found three J Steckels. She looked them up on a map. One was in a poor black section of town. A second was in a western suburb and the third in a wealthier older section near the downtown. She reasoned the third was most likely to be her Joseph, but she had to be certain. She knew he worked late, so she decided to investigate.

After she closed her shop, she drove to the house and parked on the street where she had a good view. The house was dark, which was a good sign that he was not home yet. She sat in the car for two hours as the sun set and almost missed him. A BMW turned into his driveway almost before she noticed it. It disappeared around the back of the house. A few moments later a light appeared through the shades.

Annie had not even glimpsed the driver. All she knew was that someone had come home. She got out of her car, closing the door quietly. Keeping to the shadows of bushes, she crept into his yard and tried to see in a window. The shade was pulled all the way down. The same was true for the next one. The third window allowed her to peer into the room along the side of the shade, but it was empty. She crept onto the porch. There was no screen door, so she put an ear to keyhole and listened.

Almost immediately the door swung open and she tumbled inside flat on her face.

"Annie!" She thought she saw a smile for an instant before it was replaced by a stern expression.

Oh, God, what have I done. "I can explain". But she couldn't think of an explanation. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. He didn't help her stand or invite her in or even close the door. His expression was accusatory and she felt like she had committed a terrible indiscretion.

She struggled to her feet. "I just wanted to know . . . to see . . . to talk to you."

"Well." He was not making easy for her.

"I'm sorry for intruding. Really."

"Maybe it was better when you were on your knees."

Huh? Annie knelt in front of him, confused, as he closed the door behind her. "I wanted to . . . but I wasn't sure if this was your house. So, I . . ." She fell silent.

"What am I to do with you? You come breaking into my house in the middle of the night . . ."

"I wasn't breaking in." She was close to tears.

"I could have been on a sensitive business call or in bed with a lover."

"A lover." She hung her head.

"What do you want?"

Now Annie lost it and began sobbing. "I want you," she finally managed to get out.

"You don't even know me."

"I want to know you."

"No, I don't have any lovers. I am a confirmed bachelor who likes his privacy. I can be cruel sometimes. Sometimes I just don't want to talk to anyone."

"I've seen something different."

He stood over her in silence. She did not dare look him in the eye.

"Please."

"Stay there." He sat in an upholstered chair and picked up a book that he evidently had been reading when she intruded. After that he appeared to ignore her presence.

Annie didn't know what to do. She had already offended him, but he could have thrown her out. Why didn't he talk to her or offer her something to drink? She was afraid to stand up or be presumptuous enough to sit on one of his chairs. She could simply leave, but she sensed that would be the last time she saw him. So she stayed in her knees. After a while - perhaps ten minutes, but it seemed like an eternity - he glanced at her and then turned back to his book. This assured her she was doing the right thing, bizarre as it was.

Joseph waited a full half hour before leaving the room. When he returned, she bowed her head to avoid eye contact. He stopped in front of her and dropped a heavy leather collar on the floor. She picked it up, examined it and fit it about her neck. It was tight and stiff. It held her chin up and made it harder to bend her neck. It buckled in back and her fingers fumbled a while. Joseph watched as Molly struggled. When it was buckled, he dropped a small padlock on the floor. She obediently locked the collar about her neck.

He stood over her for a while longer. Then he reached down and attached a leash to the collar.

"Are you afraid?"

"No. I am only afraid of being pushed away."

"Why not?"

"I . . . I trust you." Those words seemed very odd at that moment.

"You trust me to do what?"

She paused, trying to make sense of it. "I trust you to do what is best for me."

"Now you know who I am. Am I a monster?"

"No. I love you."

"Perhaps you do. Perhaps you will change your mind as you know me better. You can understand why I did not call you. I could never ask a woman to do this."

"I came here on my own."

"And yet if you wanted to leave, you could not without my permission."

"I put the collar on my neck myself."

A gentle tug on leash brought her to her feet.

"Tell me again what you want."

She knelt. "I want you."

"I have been waiting for you to come. Who am I?"

"My master."

"And who are you?"

"Your humble slave. I beg you to accept me."

"What will you do?"

"I have no will. Only your commands."

There was a long silence. Finally, he spoke.

"Stand." His hands helped her up."

"I accept you as my slave." He kissed her.

On Friday, Professor picked me up and took me to the commencement. I lined up with the students and he with the faculty. We met up afterwards, and he gave me a fatherly ceremonial hug before leading me away from the noise. "Thank you," he said. "I sit through these things every year. It's much more meaningful when I have someone special in the graduating class to think about."

I took his hand and held onto it. "Once was enough for me. And I don't think I could have borne this one if there were no one to meet me at the end. I appreciate your being here."

We made small talk about the speaker as we drove to the restaurant.

Over dinner he said, "I was disappointed you didn't take my seminar this semester. You always had a lot to contribute."

"Thanks. I actually thought it better to keep my distance."

"Oh?"

"I had a boyfriend for a while; but it didn't work out. He couldn't measure up. I doubt anyone could."

"Measure up to what?"

"To you, of course." Now I had his attention. "Surely you knew I had a crush on you. I also knew you were not allowed to have relations with your students. I'm not your student anymore."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that. Molly, I'm much older than you. I'm 37."

"And I will be 29 in September. We're both grown-ups. Did you read what I wrote?"

"I did."

"What did you think?" I braced myself for whatever was to come next. This was the moment when he could reject me.

"You are really alone in the world. Now I can see why you are grasping for some security."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that your stories seem to be longing for a father figure."

"You're not a father figure."

"Molly, what do you want from me?"

"I wasn't obvious enough? But I didn't want to chase you away."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Molly, I'm very strongly attracted to you. But there are rules and they are for your protection."

"I'm graduated. They don't apply to me anymore."

"I don't want to take advantage of you."

I moved forward, inches from his face. "I want you to love me."

"Maybe I already do."

"You are my knight, my captor and rescuer. My owner and possessor. My happy ending." He was flustered for words. I pressed home. "I want you to be my master. And I want to be your fantasy."

The intensity in my eyes told him I was no longer speaking in metaphor. "Do you have any idea what you are asking?"

"Yes. And what I am offering. Anything and everything."

He sat back. "I need to think about it."

"I think about it every night."

"May I take you home?"

We were both quiet on the drive back. I was afraid I had overstepped my bounds and pushed him out of reach. He seemed uncomfortable. When we reached my apartment, I didn't invite him in. Instead I gave him a sealed envelope and pressed it in his hand. "Read this when you get home. And thank you for everything." I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and closed the door. I was afraid I would never see him again.

When he got home, Professor looked at envelope. "Professor Morris" was all it said. Inside was a typed contract, in duplicate.

I, Molly Slavens, hereby agree to surrender my freedom to Prof. Stephen Morris for a period of _________________ days beginning the _______ day of June, 2012. During that time, he may do to my body whatever he desires. I will obey him in every respect. I will wear what he wishes me to wear, go where he tells me to go, and perform whatever acts he orders. I will speak only when he permits me to speak. I place my love and trust in him. For this I ask nothing in return.

The contract bore spaces for two signatures and dates. I had signed both copies. He pondered the letter long into the night. In the morning he signed it and put one copy back in the envelope. On the outside he wrote, "If you accept this contract, please return it to my office at 11:00 a.m. on June 6." That would give me 48 hours to think it through. He put that in a larger envelope with her name on it and placed it in the mailbox of the residence where I was staying.

I arrived at Stephen's office at exactly 11:00 a.m. I stopped at his secretary's desk. "Good morning, Mrs. Baker. Is Professor Morris in?" She waved at his office.

He was sorting files and sat back when I entered.

"Professor? Here I am." I closed the door.

I was wearing a long black fake leather trenchcoat buttoned to the neck, and tied with a belt at the waist. I carried a small handbag and an envelope, both of which I placed before him on his desk. He opened the envelope. It contained my signed copy of the contract.

"I wanted to . . ."

He placed a finger on my lips to silence me. My servitude had begun.

He opened my purse. It was nearly empty except for my wallet, a toothbrush, and a room key. When he looked up, I had unfastened my raincoat and held it open to show that I was wearing nothing underneath except for thigh-high black leather boots.

"Professor, what do you think?" I felt very clever and wondered just how long it would take for him to fuck his little slave girl. I envisioned sprawling on top of his desk. Or perhaps he would take me straight home to begin a week of non-stop sex.

He strained to keep a straight face and merely nodded in acknowledgment. From his desk drawer he produced a steel ring and placed it on the desk where my handbag had been. "Place this on your neck. Under the circumstances, you no longer need to call me 'Professor'. How about 'Master'?"

"Yes, Master. I like the sound of that." Unlike a pet collar, the ends locked as they closed. A smaller ring in front could be used to attach a leash or chain. I picked up the collar, looked to see how it fastened, and placed it around my neck.

"Remove your coat."

"Yes, Master." I let it slide off my arms onto the floor.

He handed me a matching pair of leather cuffs that I locked around my wrists. Then he gave me a small padlock. I understood it was to join the rings on my cuffs. What he did not expect was that I would choose to cuff my hands behind my back. I struggled with that for a while and dropped the lock twice before I was successful. I finally knelt on the floor to put them together.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, Master," I replied without hesitation.

Then I stood before him waiting for his next command. Master lifted the raincoat over my shoulders and buttoned it all the way down. He knotted the sash, turned up the collar and pulled the lapels together so that they mostly covered the leather around my neck. He tucked the empty sleeves into the pockets, paused, and then frowned. With two safety pins he attached the sleeves in place. Now I looked like a Cold War spy with my hands in my pockets. Or like a flasher, which was much closer to the truth. Reaching between the lapels, he placed his finger through the ring on my collar and gave it a tug strong enough to make me take a step toward him.