Page 13 of Dark Ink

I was happening.

“That’s quite alright,” I said. “You were teaching this course before, but not anymore. I’m teaching it. So you’re free to go.”

The old professor blustered.

“Free to— No one said anything to— Professor Merrick, does the dean know about—”

Whatever words the dear, sweet professor intended after that caught in his throat like a hunk of meat.

I hadn’t meant to scare him. Really all I did was sigh, set down the eraser, and turn fully toward him. It wasn’t my fault I was taller. Obviously stronger. Probably looked a little terrifying with my sweater pushed up showing off the dark ink—dark as my glare—all over my forearms and neck. It was probably my fault that I had a certain…reputation around campus. For erratic behaviour. For instability. But even that wasn’t really my fault given the role society had cast for the troubled artist, was it?

They liked me a little high. A little mad. A little violent for the sake of my art, should I be pushed too far…

The professor swallowed heavily and to save face turned to the eagerly awaiting auditorium and said, “Class, today—” He stopped to clear his throat. “We have a guest lecturer—”

“Get out,” I said, pointing toward the door. I hadn’t wanted to get angry. “Get out now.”

The professor blubbered something about needing to collect his things. I swept up what was on the desk into my arms, stalked to the door still wedged into the wall, and threw everything outside. Before he had even sulked away, I wrote in big, sloping letters across the board as I said, “This class is now Seducing Out Your Artist’s Voice.”

The piece of chalk snapped in half when I finished by jamming the end against the board.

“Forget everything you learned about suppressing yourself for some corporate ego,” I said as I turned around. My eyes found hers like they were true north, me a helpless needle. “We’re going to strip everything away till all that’s left is you.”

My Raglan Road girl, my Eithne, shifted uncomfortably in her desk. Students around her whispered, cupped their gossiping lips and crowed at one another. But I didn’t care.

“We’re going to strip away everything outside of our true artistic selves,” I continued, my hands flinching as I imagined tearing clothes off her. “We’re going to expect and settle for nothing less than perfect, vulnerable nakedness.”

The thought of Eithne naked and before me made me let out a low groan.

I was going too far. I was losing control. If I wasn’t careful I was going to get an erection right there in front of a hundred students. I was going to get carted off to prison. Or a loony bin.

But I couldn’t stop myself.

The sight of her was driving me mad with lust, with need, with irrepressible desire.

“I want nothing between us,” I said, throat raw and rough, my stare burning into her, promising her everything I would do to her. “Just skin against skin. Soul against soul. Nothing around us but art. Nothing between us but wet…paint.”

I’d looked at her too long. I’d kept my gaze fixed on her too long. Everyone knew I was looking at her. Everyone knew I couldn’t turn my gaze from her. So they were looking, too. All of them.

And still I couldn’t stop.

The only sounds in the auditorium were my ragged breathing and then the sudden screech of a chair as she pushed up from her seat. Everyone turned to me, but I had my eyes on her as she fled, arms full of her books, head lowered.

The door hadn’t even closed behind her at the top of the lecture hall and I was already moving toward the exit.

“Is there homework?” a girl shouted.

“Get a life,” I shouted back.

Get a love, I thought as I hurried after my Raglan Road girl.

Get an obsession, I thought as I took the stairs two, three at a time.

Get a drug, I thought as I followed Eithne out into the sunlight.

Get a poison, I thought as I caught sight of her and didn’t let go. Get a blissful, beautiful poison.

And don’t let go.

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