Page 17 of Dad's Best Friend Professor
“I’m not. Are you scared?”
“No. I just don’t fit in.”
“Have you ever tried to fit in?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t see the need to.”
“Right,” I say. “You’re a spoiled kid and you can afford not to please people.”
His jaw falls. “Are you giving me a lecture?”
“No, I’m giving you my two cents,” I say as I sit up and slowly grind my bottom on his recovering boner.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You are a little minx.”
“And you are a dirty but brilliant professor. Maybe I haven’t paid enough attention in your class, but I’ve read some of your papers, so I know how good you are. Hell, I think I’m going to declare major in history, too, so that I can take more classes with you. But of course, that depends on whether you’ll stick around.”
His eyes twinkle as I speak, and for a moment, I think he’ll agree to the deal I proposed. But the light dims momentarily, and he lifts me up and pushes me away.
“You’re just infatuated with me, Anna. You don’t know who I am,” he says with a stern face. “You’re right. I haven’t tried to fit in, and I don’t plan ever to try it.”
He picks up his clothes and puts them on, making it clear that it’s the end of the conversation and the steamy sex.
Shit. I screwed it.
I put on my clothes too, and before I leave his office, I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“No,” he says. “I don’t want to be distracted when I grade and my house is still clean. Let’s skip this week.”
I know it’s an excuse for not wanting to see me. I’m hurt but I nod calmly. “Okay.”
Chapter 12
Tony
I’m sitting at my breakfast table, grading exams while sipping coffee. I’ll probably spend the entire Saturday on the task but I’m in no hurry to finish it. I have no other plans for the weekend, except perhaps some yard work. From experience, I don’t expect any brilliant essays, especially not from a two-hour midterm. I’m thankful as long as students are able to regurgitate my lectures using relatively coherent sentences.
When I see the name Anna White on the cover of the next exam, my blood rushes south. The memory of what we did to each other yesterday rushes back like a wave, completely destroying my calm. I put her exam at the bottom of the stack because I didn’t want to be distracted too soon. But now I can’t avoid it.
The girl isn’t just a temptation. She’s a drug. I’ve always been proud of my integrity and professionalism over the years of teaching—I never crossed the line before I met Anna. With her, it’s like something in me just snaps and I can seem to have control over myself.
Damn. Four more weeks to face the little vixen.
I take a big gulp of coffee before I read the first line she wrote. Anna’s answers to the first few questions are nearly perfect, showing her effort in studying for the exam. I’m pleased with the fact. The last essay starts with clear uncertainty. I can see the erased sentences underneath the new lines. And there is a huge question mark within the indent showing her frustration. The first two sentences are mindless ramblings. “There are hundreds if not thousands of theories on war. Margaret Mead says war is a social invention while Sigmund Freud thinks the fear of death causes war,” she starts. “Most of them make a lot of sense to me…”
This is not good. It’s a sign she doesn’t have an opinion of her own. I sigh and go on reading. “Most of these theories only address the symptoms and do not explain the root of the problem. But if I have to pick one, I’ll go for Marx’s conflict theory. Many wars in human history started because of the need to compete for limited resources… It explains not only human behavior but wars among other species as well…”
I smile. Not bad. I read on, and after I finish, I read it again. Despite the slight incoherence in her argument, the girl has grasped the point that might be so obvious that many overlook. Most human behavior only requires a simple explanation, but unfortunately, we academics make everything so much complicated than it really is.
I don’t hesitate to mark an A on the cover of her bluebook. And unable to help myself, I comment:See? You didn’t need those antics to get what you wanted.
And then I sit where I am and think about our conversation about applying for tenure here at Sunnyvale. The truth is I was tempted by her deal, not because I was dying to claim her rear hole, but because of the prospect of having her in my class again in the future.
I’ve come to like her presence not just in my classroom but in my life as well. She’s so eager to please, not to mention smart, beautiful, and fun to be with. I know from her dad that she doesn’t have to get a job but she wants to pay her own bills.
A wish has secretly crept into my mind. I want this feisty little girl in my life. I want to own her. Life will be exciting with her, not to mention hot.
Why not give it a try?John has openly encouraged me, more than once. But Anna was right. I’m scared. The reason I’ve never applied for a full-time job anywhere is because I’m afraid I won’t get it… I’m a coward. And I don’t want to commit. I can tolerate people attacking my views at seminars or in journals, but I can’t stand sharing elevators with them every day and pretending to be friendly. That’s why I change schools all the time.
