I surprised Dr. Finfrock when I turned in his make-up assignment, the one that had caused my current naked predicament.
“I’ll have a grade for you on Friday,” he said after I handed it to him at the end of class. “And if there’s anything I can do to help you in your current state.”
“No, I’m good. I wasn’t so sure on Monday, but things are better now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I appreciated his concern, even though it had been his report that had nearly cost me my scholarships (and had cost me the dignity of wearing clothes).
After Spanish class, I walked over to the Chemistry building to find Dr. Biden’s office. As usual, I had a small crowd of followers with cell phone cameras. The number of double takes I saw from people in front of me seemed to be decreasing with each walk across campus I made. Could my naked body actually become a fixture around Coachella Valley University?
Dr. Biden was alone in his small office, the door propped open, when I arrived. He looked up from the book he was reading as I approached and jumped to his feet.
“Miss Keaton!” he said. “Please come in. Sit down.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk as he walked around and closed the door behind me.
I dropped a black butt towel in the chair and took my seat. Dr. Biden walked back around and sat across the desk from me.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. His voice cracked a little. I looked at his hand on the desk; it was trembling.
“No problem,” I said.
He was looking me up and down. “I was trying to think about what you could do instead of the labs, but what happened in class yesterday keeps clouding my judgement.”
“What do you mean, what happened in class?”
“W-with you. The way you were sitting, spreading your, you know, legs.”
“Oh. I’m sorry about that. I was just… I don’t know.” I’m sure I was blushing.
“It’s all right. Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”
He stopped talking and just looked at me, his gaze intense, his breath labored. I fidgeted in my seat, wishing that the door to his office had been left open. I turned away and looked past him out the window. Dr. Biden started to stand up but then sat back down again. He fidgeted in his seat but never took his eyes off me.
“I did come up with something,” he finally said. “I want you to sit here on my desk.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, looking back at him.
He put his hands on the blotter on his desk and swept them away from each other, indicating that his desk was clean and smooth. “I want you to sit right here. With your legs spread.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to pass chemistry. Because you want to show yourself off, and I want to see you.”
I could feel how wrong the situation was, and my anger was rising. I tried to keep myself calm. “Look,” I said, “this, my being nude, is not about sex. I’m not exposing myself to get any kind of thrill. I’m sorry about yesterday. It was a case of boredom more than anything else.”
“Bullshit,” Dr. Biden said. “Now, get on my desk, or you can forget about ever passing my class.”
I thought about turning to leave. I could drop the class before he could fail me. There was still time to do so, but the tuition money was not refundable and would come out of my scholarship fund, meaning that I would have to pay myself for a replacement class. It would also derail my graduation schedule. He just wanted me on the desk, I told myself, not on him. As long as he just looked, I would be OK, I thought. But if he tried to touch me, I would be gone.
“You know, I am the only faculty member who teaches Chemistry 1401,” Dr. Biden said, “and I know you need that class for your degree plan. So get up on this desk or forget about ever being able to graduate from this university.”
Shit, I thought. I stood up and took two slow steps around to the side of his desk. He pushed his chair back, and I saw with disgust that his pants and underwear were down around his ankles, his stubby but erect penis throbbing with each beat of his heart.
“Oh my God,” I said, looking away.
“Come on,” he said when I faltered.
Looking at the ceiling, I stepped between him and his desk and lifted myself onto it. I pushed myself back, my legs dangling off the side.
“Put your feet up on the desk, legs spread,” Dr. Biden said as he stroked his penis with his right hand.
I pulled my feet up and doing so spread my legs further apart, my vulva splayed out in front of him.
“That’s it,” he said, pushing his glasses up with his left forefinger. “My God, that’s beautiful. Lay back.”
I lay back, spreading my arms out on the desk to hold my shoulders and head up since the desk wasn’t wide enough to accommodate my full height, keeping my gaze up toward the ceiling. I was still a virgin. In fact, I was proud of my virginity. This was not the way I wanted to lose it, to a professor turned rapist. And that’s what this was, rape. The only question was, how far was he going to go? Even though I tried to be strong and brave, tears started to fall. I sobbed when I felt his hand over my pubic mound, the tips of his fingers stroking and tickling my pubic hair.
“Shut up,” Dr. Biden said. “Just enjoy it. I’m not going to hurt you, for Christ’s sake.”
I cringed when I felt his breath hit my vagina, and I braced myself for some other violation. I was wondering what I should do, whether I should bite his penis off if he tried to stick it in my mouth, wondering how much pressure I would need and how long it would take to completely sever it, when I realized that I was wearing a microphone that was supposedly monitored at all times by one of Dr. Slater’s research assistants. Surely, someone was listening and could tell what was going on. And if not, I needed to keep talking and to keep him talking.
“I’d rather you didn’t touch me,” I said.
“But you’re so beautiful. Your pussy looks amazing.” He was breathless, the masturbating he was doing with his right hand had quickened.
I was just about to say something else when the door knob rattled. Dr. Biden jerked his hand away from my vulva. He had locked the door, of course, but the rattling was followed by three loud and insistent knocks. Dr. Biden shot up from his seat, his erect penis hitting my foot.
“Who is it?” Dr. Biden said.
He motioned me up, so I rolled off the desk and stood against his wall, wiping the tears from my face with my forearm.
“This is Lorraine Slater! Now let me in!”
“Shit,” Dr. Biden whispered under his breath, but I breathed a sigh of relief. They really were listening to the feed all the time.
Biden got his pants zipped up and straightened and unlocked the door. Dr. Slater didn’t wait for him to open it; she just barged in. I saw Greg in the hallway behind her, the backpack slung over his shoulders with one of the straps pointed into the office. I smiled at him, tears still rolling down my cheeks, and tried to cover myself with my hands. I had never wanted clothes more than I wanted them right then, to hide myself from the disgusting Biden.
“Just what in the hell do you think you are doing?” Dr. Slater demanded.
“I am trying to have a conference with a student over make up work. For the labs that you yourself had asked her to be excused from.”
Dr. Slater took a deep breath. “That didn’t sound like any student conference I ever heard of.”
Dr. Biden looked at me and then back at Dr. Slater. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you demanding sexual favors from Danielle in exchange for a passing grade; that’s what I’m talking about.”
Dr. Biden smiled. “I don’t know what you think you heard.”
“Oh, I heard everything. In fact, it’s all recorded. That necklace Danielle is wearing is much more than a necklace.”
Biden’s face fell as he looked at me again, at the necklace.
“What the hell?” he stammered. “Was this some kind of
set up?”
“Nope.”
Biden looked at the floor. “What do you want?” he finally asked.
“First of all, Danielle gets an A in your course. Second, she never has to attend your class again. I can’t trust you with her. Danielle is an English major; she doesn’t need to learn anything else about chemistry anyway, isn’t that right, Danielle?”
“Y-yes ma’am,” I said.
“I can’t just give her an A she hasn’t earned,” Biden said.
“Oh yes you can. Or I will have the campus police in here in two minutes to arrest you for attempted rape and improper relationship with a student. I think the audio recording would be very compelling evidence, don’t you?”
Biden looked at me, then back to Dr. Slater. “Do you know who I am?” he said with a tone of defiance.
“Yes. And I don’t give a damn that your second cousin is the Vice President of the United States. I’m sure he would be just as appalled at your behavior toward this young woman as I am.”
Biden was silent for what seemed like a long time. I moved from the wall to Dr. Slater’s side. Even though my feelings about her were mixed, I was never happier to see anyone in my life.
“Fine,” he finally said, waving us all away. “She gets an A. Now, get the fuck out of my office.”
Dr. Slater took my hand and said, “Come on, Danielle.”
I let Dr. Slater lead me out of Biden’s office and down the hall toward the front door of the building. Greg stroked my other elbow and whispered, “Are you all right?” I nodded to him. We stopped just before the building’s main entrance. Classes were in session, so we were the only people in the hall.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said to me.
I realized I was shaking all over, from fear or anger or a mix of the two. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“Yes, you can,” Dr. Slater assured me. “You have been incredible so far, much better than I could have ever hoped for. And please know that we will never let anything happen to you. I know today was scary, but I did expect that eventually someone in a position of power would try to take advantage of you.”
I wanted to say something, to tell her she was crazy for having me continue in this, but I couldn’t get any words out. Dr. Slater stepped close and gave me a hug. In spite of myself, I put my arms around her as well. We stayed like that for just a few seconds before she broke it off and resumed her normal distance.
“So he just gets away with it?” I asked.
“Oh no. He won’t be teaching here again after the semester ends. He just doesn’t know it yet. I’ll have someone watch him for the rest of this term. But for now, this project needs to run to the end. You understand? And you never have to see him again. Ever.”
I nodded, emotionally drained by the whole thing.
“Where do you need to go now?” Dr. Slater asked.
I didn’t feel like swimming any more. “Back to the dorm,” I replied.
“Greg, can you walk her back?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Good. Keep your chin up Dani. You are doing great. You look magnificent, and we are getting some very interesting observations of the people around you. This is going to be so wonderful. OK?”
I nodded.
“Good.” She leaned in and kissed me on the top of my head and made a hasty exit out of the building.
I stood there for a moment, my arms wrapped around myself but under my breasts, pushing them upward.
“You sure you’re ok?” Greg asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. That was just unexpected. The asshole.”
“I know. As soon as I realized what was about to happen, I called Dr. Slater just like I was supposed to. She was already on her way. She likes to listen and watch as much live data as she can. But what I really wanted to do was kick the door in and beat the shit out of him.”
“Thank you,” I said. The thought of Greg coming to my rescue was a comforting one.
“You ready?”
I nodded, and he took my hand as we walked outside. The sun was still shining brightly; its warmth felt good on my bare shoulders. I noticed much less staring and even fewer followers with Greg walking beside me. He had let go of my hand after we had walked outside, but he stayed right by me.
“You know, I volunteered first,” Greg said as we neared my dorm.
“What?” I looked at him, and he nodded.
“I was going to do what you’re doing. But Dr. Slater wanted a female. She said that she had seen what had happened to Andrew Martinez at Berkeley, and she thought a female would find greater acceptance. Especially an ‘attractive yet virtuous female’ as she put it. I have to say, she hit the jackpot with you.”
I stopped near the dorm’s side entrance and turned toward him. He obviously didn’t know about my plagiarized paper or how Dr. Slater had used that to force me into volunteering.
“You are beautiful,” Greg continued. “Amazing in every way.”
“Thank you,” was all I could think of to say as I stood there near him, looking up into his eyes. I lifted my chin, hoping, praying that he would get the hint. He did, leaning down and kissing me softly and all too briefly on the mouth.
“I’ll see you around, Danielle,” Greg said and turned to walk away.
As I practically floated up the stairs to my room, I couldn’t help but feel thankful to Greg for helping me put the awful experience with Dr. Biden somewhat behind me so quickly. And I wondered if his sensitivity toward what had just happened to me had made his kiss such a gentle one. I really hoped I would get to experience a not-so-gentle kiss from him in the near future.
Chapter Nine – Celebrity
The first thing I thought when I looked at myself in the mirror on Thursday morning, day four of my constant nudity, was that I had made a huge mistake. My conversation with Diane had put the idea in my head, and then, last night in the shower, I had been so disgusted by the memory of Dr. Biden’s fingers in my pubic hair that I shaved it all off. That feeling of fresh bareness in the shower had even prompted another masturbation session. I was now getting myself off two or three times a day. I had only been a once a week gal before the whole nudity thing started.
Now, Thursday morning, I looked at myself, at how bare I looked, with my labia majora and the little hint of the inner lips poking out, unobscured by hair. And the area of skin where a razor had never before been used was still pink from the burn. In my current situation, I couldn’t cover it up. I had to let anyone and everyone see me like this. The private parts of my body were no longer private, and it was frustrating, infuriating even, which was why I tried not to think about it, to just go through my day, go to my classes, as if I had clothes on. I shrugged as I continued to look in the mirror. I could start to let my pubic hair grow back, and how the stubble looked when it appeared would help me determine whether to keep letting it grow or shave it again.
When I went to my survey of American lit class, I kept my binder in front of me as much as possible, hiding my pubic area from the view of as many people as I could. I rushed straight to my seat when I got to class. The discussion on The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn droned on around me, but I had trouble keeping my mind on anything but my constant nudity and vulnerability. I kept thinking about Dr. Biden’s office, at having to spread my legs for him. How had I let myself be caught like that so unprepared?
Thoughts of last night’s walk with Greg helped to push aside those memories of Dr. Biden. After Greg told me what he had, I couldn’t help but imagine him naked walking across campus, his long penis swinging with each step. Had he really volunteered for Dr. Slater’s nudity study? Or had he told me that at the time just to calm me down? Dr. Slater had told him to walk me back to my dorm, breaking the protocol of the research assistants staying out of my regular interactions. Had his admission of being a volunteer and his gentle kiss outside my dorm been part of the plan to keep me cooperating with this crazy project? I hated to mistrust him, especially a
fter what I had felt during and after that kiss. But I couldn’t let Greg’s good looks cloud my judgement, especially after what had happened with Brandon. Dr. Slater was using me, using the vulnerability created by my plagiarism, to force me to humiliate myself in previously unimaginable ways. Biden had done basically the same thing, so was Dr. Slater any better than he was? And was Greg merely one of her pawns, just doing her bidding?
I tried to push all such thoughts aside. I had grown up to be a generally trusting person, believing that most people wanted to be good. Maybe I had been sheltered. My family had attended a Southern Baptist church my whole life, and we had lived in an upper middle class neighborhood in one of the better school districts in Texas. I’d had good friends from both church and school, but when I thought about it, I had never had a real enemy.
The thought of my church friends made me cringe. What would they think if they could see me now, naked in public, exposing myself to anyone and everyone on campus? I’d probably be thrown out of the church if my pastors ever found out. That thought alone made me grateful to Clarissa for not using my last name in her article.
When my American lit class ended, I found myself with nothing to do. Chemistry was over for me, thank God, so I left English class and wandered over to the Fine Arts Building. I don’t know why. Perhaps I was hoping that one of the classes had had a model not show up and would recruit me from the hallway. I had rather enjoyed my first modeling assignment on Tuesday. Of course, Matt’s class didn’t start until 11:00, and he had booked me for the following Tuesday, not today.
No one asked me to model, of course, but I got lots of looks and stares from everyone who saw me. Then again, I had gotten looks and stares from every single person who had seen me since I had left Dr. Slater’s office that Monday morning. The looks made me feel like a circus freak, a sideshow, like something was wrong with me. And I guess there was. How could a person just go anywhere and everywhere with no clothes on? Covering ourselves was our defense against people like Dr. Biden, and that I was being denied that defense really should have angered me.
The Volunteer Page 11
