by Debbie Zello
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Please leave your assignments on the table before you leave. Tomorrow we will go over Tennyson’s poems so be prepared,” I said as the class filed out. I watched as paper after paper was left on the table. I grinned at the faces they made, wondering what they were thinking.
I gathered everything up and placed the papers in my bag and headed out. It was a glorious day outside. The leaves had begun to change color and fall from the trees. It was still warm and sunny, just a perfect day. I walked to my car breathing deeply and enjoying the birds that were singing.
It was Friday, but Understanding was still home when I got there. “Hey, baby,” he said when I walked in. “How was your day?”
“Good. Are you heading out?” I asked walking into his arms.
“In a few minutes. At least I’m local tonight, so I won’t be in too late,” he said holding me.
“I miss not spending time with you. It was such a lovely summer with us on the same schedule. I hate sleeping alone and then leaving you in the morning.”
“When you’re a big fancy professor at Yale and making six figures, I’ll give up some of my work and stay home. I can be your sex slave. Walk around nude and ready to pleasure you,” he said giving me a mega-watt smile.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Mmm-hmm, I would love it. Say when!”
“You’re a bad man. Sky warned me about guys like you. All sexy and trouble,” I said narrowing my eyes at him.
“You love my trouble. Say it!”
“I love your trouble. I love you, period.”
“I love you too, period. What are you going to do tonight?”
“I have papers to read. It will be quiet with no interruptions, at least until early in the morning.”
“I’ll be sure to interrupt you as soon as I get home. Call me if you need me,” he said pressing a sweet kiss to my lips.
“Have a good night and please be careful,” I said kissing him again. I watched him walk out. Dragging myself up the stairs, I changed out of my stiff adult clothes and put on a comfy pair of soft faded jean shorts and an old tee shirt. It’s funny how just a change of clothing can relax your mood.
I got back downstairs, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat on the couch with my bag to begin reading the eighty or so papers.
My name is Beth Ann Bridges and I’m from New York. I’m taking this course because I have to have three English classes in order to graduate. I want to be a doctor’s wife and I figured this was the best place to meet one.
I tossed that paper on the floor. Beth Ann Bridges majoring in husbandry. Check!
Hi, I’m John Cunningham and I’m here to study the law and become a defense attorney. I guess English is important to me because I have to speak coherently in court. I have to write briefs and motions, and stuff like that. I have to read old law books and they’re in English.
John Cunningham, Esquire. Remember that name in case I strangle a student sometime I might need a defense attorney. Check!
I sip my wine as I struggle through the next few papers. Not one, I’m glad to be here and I love English, amongst the lot of them.
I finally grab a yogurt for dinner and sit on the back deck to watch the sun set. I took a quick shower and got into bed to continue reading the mound of papers.
“Mmm…you’re all sleepy and sexy. Tell me you’re naked under that sheet,” Understanding breathed against my neck. He took the papers in my hand and set them on the nightstand.
“I’m naked under that sheet,” I said sleepily. I peeked through half-closed eyelids to see my incredibly handsome fiancé.
“God help me! Why are you naked under that sheet?”
“I was hoping for a tumble with my exceptionally sexy mate,” I said with a giggle.
“Is that so? Can you stay awake enough for me to take a very quick shower?”
“I think I can, especially if you strip in here and give me a peepshow. That might wake me up,” I say smiling.
“Be careful what you ask for,” he crooned as he took off his shirt. As he walked to the ensuite, more clothing came off in a slow dance to the door. His boxers were the last thing to hit the floor as he stuck his butt out towards me. He didn’t turn around, but at the door he said, “There is a lot more where that came from. Don’t fall asleep.” How could I with that show?
I took my glasses off, lit a candle and turned off the light on the nightstand. I loved the soft glow of candles when we made love. It made everything sweeter.
He was still moist and warm when he slid in next to me. The look on his face was so open and raw with emotion. He kissed me and let his hands roam freely all over my body. He stopped to caress and hold me. He moved his lips to my neck, ears and chest. The whole time he whispered sweet things to me. How beautiful I am. How wonderful I feel to him. How good I smell and taste.
He made love to me with his words, hands and lips long before the actual act. When he finally entered, I gasped and held his shoulders. “I love how you do that. The sound that you make at our first contact,” he whispered in my ear.
“It always feels like the first time. I know what’s coming but it still feels so new.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For the first time and every time since the first. For being you and making me a better man than I was. For giving me this gift in the first place.”
“You are a wonderful man and I’m the lucky one. I’m grateful for what I have found. So maybe we are both blessed.”
I didn’t want to see the sun come up. I still felt boneless from the workout he gave me. He had extra energy when he came home and used it all on me. The man was a machine, a finely tuned and well-kept machine.
I snuck out of bed looking back at the sleeping Adonis with the sheet tucked around his hips. I had to lick my lips and swallow the drool. What does looking at that man do to me? I made coffee and cracked some eggs to make French toast. I thought I would surprise him with breakfast in bed. I might drip maple syrup on his chest so I’d have to lick it clean. Errant thoughts seem to be my specialty these days. I blamed him.
I made a tray for him with juice, coffee and the French toast artfully garnished with sliced bananas. As soon as I walked into the room he groaned, “Something smells delicious.”
“I made breakfast. You smell French toast and coffee,” I said giggling.
“I smell you, my love. You smell like sex and me. I believe we shared some bodily transference last night,” he joked.
“I like that description. Bodily transference has a sexy ring to it,” I said placing the tray on the nightstand. He sat up with his back against the headboard. I sat on his side and leaned over for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around me.
“Come back to bed. While I appreciate the breakfast, I’m hungry for you.”
“It will get cold.”
“That’s why I have a microwave.”
“You have an answer for everything,” I said leaning against him.
“I love you, you gorgeous, sexy woman,” he growled.
I’m not sure how the nuked breakfast tasted, but he ate it without complaining. I sat on the couch to continue the reading of the assignments I had given out. Two papers in, Understanding said, “I have some paperwork to get through and calls to make. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” I nodded, chewing on the end of my pen.
I picked up the next paper to read ‘The Old Switcheroo by Have Wemet Before AKA Jaycon Greenberg.’ I laughed this should be good. I love it!
The Old Switcheroo
By
Have Wemet Before
AKA
Jaycon Greenberg
My life began ordinarily enough on April 1st 1980. I should have realized that date would be a precursor of exactly what was to come but alas, I was so little, weighing in at eight pounds and two ounces.
Mom and Dad were as normal as two parents could be. Mom taught me all about feeding myself, w
alking, talking, and everything in between. Dad kept a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my stomach. He schooled me on sports, belching, and how to be a man. In other words, I knew nothing without them.
I graduated from high school, then college, graduate school and then enrolled in a Doctoral program. That brings me to meeting her. She sat in the third row left, the third seat on orientation day.
She was lovely, like the spring. Soft and sweet smelling similar to the new flowers, lilacs and hyacinth, kind of purple and white. I loved her immediately. She had a brightness of mind and soul. I was neither, but willing to become anything she wanted or needed. She was my student and therefore unattainable.
The day came that we could finally be together; she could be in my life. We went for rides on my bike, dinners and got lost in conversations. She shared her childhood with me. She told me about Sky and the ranch. She wanted a tattoo that would serve as a permanent reminder of her safe place.
I took her for her ink but I couldn’t stay. Watching her get hurt was something I could not endure. It was on her hip where only someone intimate with her would see it. That’s how special it was to her.
That day, I was picking her up from work on my bike. We were going for a ride by the ocean and have dinner. Then I was taking her back to my place and I was going to make love to her for the first time. Of course, fate always has other plans. I felt the pain only briefly and then there was peace. She held my hand and she cried the tormented tears of loss. I was unable to help her from where I watched. It was sheer agony not being able to go to her and comfort her.
I was mist and vapor, no form or substance. I had no pain. I saw no light. Nor sound but that of the silence. I drifted like the clouds on the breeze. I had no thought or direction and no idea of the passing of time.
As abruptly as I entered this state, I left it. Pain the likes of which I have never felt before invaded my head and body. I felt the weight of consciousness and tried to open my eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality of what I had become.
There were people around me, talking, whispering, and I heard the shuffling of feet. A voice said, “I’m giving you medicine for the pain. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”
Slowly, I grew stronger and my life made less sense to me. I was me, but soon realized no one knew the me that I knew. To them I was Jaycon. I had no explanation as to how I came to be within him. Clearly, I was he. I looked through his eyes, felt with his hands, walked on his legs. My thoughts and memories were my own and not his. I began to think I was crazy.
I knew if I could find her, see her, I would know all of the memories were true. I found her as soon as I could, riding his bike for an hour to where I remembered that she worked. She saw me with his stapled head and noticeable limp. She was still so beautiful and sweet. I saw her from time to time waiting and growing until I could find her in college again. Maybe she’ll remember me, as I remember her.
You asked for my story. As crazy as it sounds, this is my life story. I’m sorry to shock you with it. Truth is far more astonishing than fiction.
Firelight…I am Royce.
I wasn’t sure who was screaming until Understanding came running in the room and picked me up. “What happened? Are you all right? My God, Neomi what’s wrong? Talk to me, please!”
“Read it!” I said shoving the paper into his hand as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I fell to the couch with my head in my hands. I could feel the contents of my stomach revolting. I quickly got up to run to the bathroom where I deposited everything in the toilet. I was rinsing out my mouth when he walked in.
“Baby, what is this? Who wrote it?” he said with his hand on my back. I turned to hold him with my cheek on his chest. He wrapped his comforting arms around me.
“I asked the students to write their life story as an ice breaker. One of them wrote this. No one knows my name except for you, my family, Royce and Professor Miller. None of you would have a reason to discuss it with a student you don’t even know. No one knows about my tattoo except for you, Royce and the guy that did it. For a student to write this, know my name and Royce’s. How would that be possible?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out!” he said angrily.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Once the initial shock of what I had read wore off, I sat on the couch wrapped in Understanding’s arms. To have this strong and confident man to lean on was saving my sanity. When the shaking and crying stopped, he whispered to me, “I’m going in my study to look up what I can find out about this kid. Do you want to come with me or stay here?”
“I’m going to stay here. I can’t even think right now.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said getting up. He kissed my forehead. I watched him walk out of the room.
I felt like I was in some kind of nightmare. My logical brain told me that something like this was quite impossible. Then I read his words and realized he knew things that only Royce would know. Even if he had researched me, he wouldn’t have found these things out. Sky would never have talked to anyone about me before talking to me first. My head is spinning.
I got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. I washed my face with cool water and then brushed my teeth. I drank a glass of water in the hopes of settling my stomach. Still feeling miserable, I went back to the couch.
An hour or so later, Understanding came back to me. He sat next to me on the couch and said, “Well, there isn’t much on him. He has just turned eighteen in July. He graduated valedictorian of his class.”
“He barely survived an accident almost five years ago. He was hit by a car when he was jogging on the side of the road. He had a very bad head injury and his left leg was messed up.”
“It says that when he came back from the accident he was different. He went from an average student to exceptional. He reported short-term memory loss in some aspects of his life, but knowledge he hadn’t possessed prior in other subjects.
“I’m having him followed and his background looked into more closely. He hasn’t threatened you so involving the police is a bit premature. Still, Monday, I’m calling a friend in the department to get his take on this. I can’t get a bead on why this kid would go to all the trouble, to acquire this much information on you. You’re not rich, political or a star. Sure, you could be embarrassed and that might threaten your career, but you don’t have money to pay anyone off, so why do it?”
“I don’t know. The first time I saw him was when he walked into the coffee shop. He had a horrendous scar on the side of his head. He walked with a noticeable limp. In short, he was a mess. I was especially nice to him because I felt so sorry for him.”
“He came in a few more times. Then he was at my graduation. Then I didn’t see him for a while. I saw him again at school when he came with his parents for a pre-admission visit. Now he’s in my class.”
“Miller comes back on Tuesday, right?”
“Yes. I think his plane lands on Monday early in the afternoon.”
“Good, you need to see him Monday night. We’ll go together. I have questions for him. You’ll have to pretend you haven’t read this Jaycon kid’s paper on Monday. Do you think you can do that?” he asked with his arm around me. I rubbed my fingers across my forehead thinking. I had never been much of an actress nor a poker player.
“I can certainly try. If I purposely don’t look in his direction, I might be able to pull it off.”
I went to bed that night completely emotionally exhausted. Understanding spooned against my back holding me tightly against him. I felt protected and safe, similar to how I feel in my field of tall grass. I drifted off to a fitful sleep, complete with dreams of kneeling next to a covered body in the middle of the street. I hadn’t had that particular dream for over a year.
Sunday, some more information came in about Jaycon’s early childhood. His parent’s messy divorce, an aunt’s suicide that had affected him deeply. He was in and out of treatment for depre
ssion. All of that, suddenly disappeared at the same time as his accident. This was blamed on his apparent loss of memory.
The really odd thing was his mediocre grades prior to the accident that turned into an A-plus student after the accident. That was remarkable and documented in both his school and medical records. No explanation could be given for a head injury that added to a person’s mental ability. It usually detracted. No case studies could be found for a raise in intelligence after a traumatic brain injury.
I read the reports agreeing that this was at best an unusual and complicated set of circumstances. No wonder all of the experts could not come to a consensus as to reasonable diagnosis. Jaycon was an enigma.
In bed that night, all of the weekend’s turmoil weighed on me. I felt that I had lost all control of my life. I wanted something that I knew was mine. I turned in Understanding’s arms to face him. Gently I pushed him to his back and mounted him.
I could see his smile in the dim light of the moon coming through the window. I rarely took the initiative in our lovemaking. I preferred to let him start things. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“I want to feel normal.”
“I would have thought making love would distress you.”
“I want to. I feel connected and not so isolated.”
“You feel isolated? I’m sorry, I thought I was helping being here. You should have said something to me.”
“No, you’ve been wonderful. You took the weekend off to stay with me. I know what that costs you. No one could have been sweeter to me. Without your love and support I would be completely lost,” I said sinking down to lie on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and feel it against my cheek. His hand smoothed my hair and back.
“Okay, baby. You don’t need a reason to make love; I just didn’t want to hurt you in any way.”
I dressed for class in a beige pantsuit and white blouse with pink accents. I wanted to look put-together and business like. I would pass out the papers I had already read and tell the group I would have the rest on Wednesday for the next class.
