She wouldn’t hint that the men would be part of a book because that would affect their behavior. They would try to fit into what she wanted instead of acting naturally. Her thesis was that men couldn’t remain friends if a woman stood between them. When she proved it and put it in writing, the book would be a best-seller and the college would be sure to pick her up for fast-track tenure.
The phone rang and she went into the kitchen to pick up, her mind on organizing the book.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Leah.”
Oh, no. Her self-confidence shriveled to the size of an acorn. “Mother. How nice to talk with you.”
“I called to say you need to find another route to tenure. Don’t give up!”
How did she find out? “Of course I’m not surprised you know already. Have you told Daddy?”
“He told me. He knew the tenure lists would be coming out and he called your dean. They met at a conference last year, so your father keeps tabs on your progress.”
Of course he does. How lovely. “I didn’t know.”
“You can imagine how disappointed he is. How disappointed we both are.”
“I understand.” Her stomach clenched. She clutched the receiver with a death grip as she bent over to try to quell the cramps.
“So do you have a plan? Would you like me to make one for you?”
“No, Mother. I have a plan, a great plan.”
“And what is it?”
“A book.”
Silence met her announcement. “A book. Everyone writes books. One of your brothers has written three, the other, two. Between us, your father and I have written twelve. How is writing a book going to distinguish you?”
So writing a book is helpful for everyone else’s career. Just not for mine. “No one has written a book like the one I have planned, I promise.”
Her mother sniffed. “Well, that had better be true, or you’ll languish there. Why don’t you move back here to Chicago? Then we could help you better. Introduce you to the right people, influence how you move up the ladder. With our cachet here, we could do wonders with you.”
Anger bubbled to the surface. “You mean you could do wonders with me or for me?”
“Don’t get touchy, Leah. You know what I meant.”
Yes, she did. She would stand naked at the top of the Empire State Building before she moved any nearer to her parents. “I’m fine, Mother. I can do this on my own.”
“You never have thrived on your own. Remember when you could only manage one year away at that school in Ohio?”
“That was a very long time ago. I don’t need your help, thank you.” She hoped this was the end of the conversation. “Does Daddy want to talk to me?”
“No. I don’t believe he has anything to say at this time. I’ll say good night.”
“Good night, Mother.” She held the receiver to her ear much longer than necessary. The click from the other end told her that what her mother intended to say had been said. The rest was up to her. That meant the book.
The book, the book. It became a mantra. This had to work. She had to do one stupid, fucking thing that her family would approve of before she died. Fast-track tenure was it. At last they would have to admit she was equal to the rest of them, that she could succeed faster and farther than her female counterparts. That she had intelligence and ability.
She did, didn’t she? Yes. This new idea will do it. Don’t start thinking like them or you’ll be doomed.
Away from her family, she exuded confidence. Only with them—the people she should be able to count on for support—did she become a child again, unable to function as an adult who had long taken care of herself. Ignoring her stomach’s stress cramps, she went back to the table.
She had started her search immediately after receiving Whitestone’s rejection, as the new idea formed in her brain. Her outlandish costumes had been intended to test her colleagues between classes, not her students. She wore the leather shorts and satin bustier and then the miniskirt to start a buzz in the Shirock Hall faculty lounge. And she had. But instead of one of the teachers, she found herself attracted to a student.
A professor-student relationship was strictly forbidden at Herrisville, and with good reason. No matter that Beau Johnson sent shivers down her spine, she would never—not ever—engage in a liaison with a student.
But she needed someone like him, a man who could stare at her bared stomach during class and still perform well on a test at the end. Obviously, Beau was able to separate his right brain from his left. Such a man would manage to have impassioned sex with her but still let go at the end of her experiment.
Leah sipped from her glass and wrote BEAU on the page next to intriguing—just for pretend. “He’s not hard to look at, either.” In fact, he stood a good six foot two, had smoky-gray eyes and dimples. Yes, she could fuck him and not mind in the least.
Next to his name she wrote:
1. Confidentiality agreement
2. Must get permission—sign contract
- Standards—always condoms
- Must be up-front and honest as we go forward (fodder for the book)
- EXCLUSIVITY
3. Doesn’t need to agree with my opinions but should disagree with Man 2, for conflict
Leah stared at the paper then picked up her pen and scratched a big X through it all. She would not have sex with a student. Not if he was the last man on Earth.
Chapter Two
Leah marched across campus and into Shirock Hall covered in her new Ralph Lauren raincoat. Today she dressed as she normally did for class—a silk blouse, straight skirt, and jacket. Her earrings were classic gold buttons. Her only other jewelry was a watch with the twelve, three, six, and nine discreetly noted with diamonds. It paid to have a grandfather in the jewelry trade.
As soon as she entered the room, she sought him out. He calmly lounged in his chair, notebook on the desk, pen in hand, and legs crossed, one ankle on the other knee. A half smile formed on his lips, as though he knew exactly what she thought. Was he waiting to see what she wore under the raincoat?
She cast her gaze across the room. Many fewer students filled the auditorium. Tests during the first week always culled a class. Well, good. This was a real class. Wimps need not apply.
She placed her briefcase on the floor. A couple of stragglers wandered in and hurriedly took their seats. Slowly, as though she wanted everyone to prepare for the feast that she would present, she untied the belt then unfastened the buttons. She shrugged and let the coat slide off her shoulders, catching it before it hit the floor altogether.
Her conservative attire caused disappointed gazes on some faces, but—she was surprised to see—approval on Beau’s face. She tossed her coat over the back of the office chair behind her desk. The bell rang. All business now, she began lecturing. Soon, lost in the topic of interactions in the inner city as opposed to the suburbs, she strolled from one side of the room to the other.
Twenty minutes into the fifty-five-minute session, she said, “Put away your notes and take out paper and pen.” She waited through groans and whispered comments that surely the bitch wasn’t having another test. Yes, the bitch is.
“I have just expanded upon your reading assignment from last night. Now, list five influences on urban living, particularly in inner cities, and five that affect the suburbs, and explain why they enhance or restrict interaction. You have thirty minutes. Leave your papers on the desk before you leave and I will return Friday’s graded test.”
There were more moans of displeasure throughout the room, but she paid them no mind. Within ten minutes, people came forward to drop off their work. They would be ones who wouldn’t be back—they had been caught up in her experiment with clothing last week, but they didn’t want an educational experience.
Leah tried to hide her disappointment when Beau Johnson placed his paper on the desk after only fifteen minutes. He couldn’t have done as well as before, not in that short amount of time.
She handed him his test from the day before. “I’m sorry today’s work won’t be as good as last week’s. Your tests have really surprised me.”
He smiled, and the room of students faded to nothing. He was handsome and very well built. She glanced down. He had big hands. She loved for a man to have big hands.
“Don’t count me out yet.” He took the paper she held out to him but didn’t take his eyes off her. Then raising his brows as if in question, he left. She followed him with her eyes. Suddenly, with his exit, the oxygen left the room. She almost gasped for air.
“Dr. Morris?”
Shaken, she turned to face one of the few women in the course. “I’m sorry.” Leah quickly consulted her seating chart, recalling the girl by picturing where she sat in the room. “Janice, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
Leah felt the girl’s gaze while she searched for her previous test.
“That was a great blouse last week. The see-through one.”
“Yes, I knew which blouse you meant. Thanks.”
“Where did you get it, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Years ago, when Leah was a student, she never would have asked a professor anything so personal. But the social change in the last decade had affected more than politics and the war, it had lowered all the barriers across status. Leah didn’t like it or dislike it. The culture change had become a force of nature once it started.
“I don’t mind at all. I found it in a little boutique in Chicago. I’m not sure where you’d find it here.” While the town population expanded greatly during the school sessions, Herrisville, Virginia, was basically built for the spending power of college students, which was to say not high-end shops that carried specialized see-through blouses.
“Oh. That’s too bad. I don’t suppose you would loan it to me sometime…?”
Leah smiled. “I don’t suppose I would. In fact, at this moment, that blouse is well hidden in my closet. I was trying out an experiment last week. I don’t normally dress like that. The tests were the other half of the experiment and they will remain the same.”
“The tests were an experiment, too?” Janice laughed. “In what? A way to reduce the number of students in the class? You succeeded.”
“Well, hang in there, Janice. The people we end up with will make a much better class.”
“We’ll see,” the girl said and left.
Curiosity won out. While waiting for the others to finish, she found Beau Johnson’s paper. He had listed six influencers for inner city interaction and two stressors. His discussion of the influencers on suburban life was thorough and correct. He had earned another one hundred.
How? She knew he had reacted viscerally to the sexy outfits and seemed to show approval for her conservative dress. But when it came to testing, neither her sexy outfits nor her conservative ones made a difference. No matter what, he maintained his cool. He was inured to whatever feminine wiles she possessed. She could never—would never—develop a personal relationship with him, but she liked to think she made an impression on people. The other night she had appreciated his ability to compartmentalize, but she didn’t appreciate his being able to do it to her. The thought left her a little depressed.
“Dr. Morris?”
She recognized the voice, though he’d hardly spoken ten words all the previous week. The tingle that ran down her spine told her who had entered the room. Beau. “Yes?”
“I hope I’m not stepping too far out of line, but I wanted to come back and say how glad I am that you’re dressed a little more conservatively. I was afraid every day last week you’d be mobbed before you reached your car.”
“I didn’t seem to affect you that way,” she said, a little pouty.
He chuckled. “Were you trying to?”
She turned, but one glance at his handsome face sent warning spears of lust to her pussy. She stared over his shoulder, lest she lose herself in his amazing gray eyes. “Of course not,” she lied.
“So that’s how you often dress for class?”
She said nothing. Breathing became difficult and desire started her juices flowing. Her libido in full swing. She’d be rubbing his leg right now if she were a cat.
“Because if you were trying to distract me so I’d do badly on a test, it won’t work. I’ve spent two tours in ‘Nam. When I have to protect myself, I don’t distract easily.”
“Do you feel the need to protect yourself in my class, Mr. Johnson?”
“Oh, hell, yes, ma’am. I sure do.”
“From what?”
He fingered the collar of her blouse, so close to where the blood pounded at the pulse point in her neck.
“From you, maybe.”
She smiled to herself. “So you are attracted to me? You’re not…say, attracted to men?”
He laughed outright, a full, open laugh. “No, ma’am.” He looked her directly in the eyes, a trait she’d always admired in a man, and smiled, showing his dimples. “I definitely like women.” Then he turned and left.
The aroma of arousal filled her nostrils as she took a deep breath. Student or not, she had to have him or die trying.
* * * *
Beau ran up the mountain trail trying and failing to erase the feel of Leah Morris’s shoulders under his fingers. She was soft and smooth with supple curves, and he wanted to take her clothes off instead of subtly touching the collar of her blouse. But he hadn’t made a move because even in her subdued clothing he felt a strange sense of protectiveness towards her. Why? He didn’t have a fucking clue.
He ducked under a low-hanging branch and stopped at the back door to stretch before going inside the cabin just outside town that Steve’s grandfather owned and was renting them. It was convenient to school but far enough away to be separate from all the college antics. They were far beyond that nonsense.
“Where you been?” Steve Hardin asked. He sat at the kitchen breakfast bar, chemistry books spread around him.
“Running.”
“School only just started and you already have female trouble?”
“What makes you say that?” Beau took a sports drink from the refrigerator and took a healthy swig.
“You never run unless some woman has screwed with your mind.” Steve tapped his pencil on the counter edge.
“It’s not like that.” But he’d like it to be more like that. “It’s my sociology professor. She’s hotter than hot. Well, you know. You saw her last week. I’m having trouble paying attention.”
“Your dick is at attention instead, huh?” Steve laughed. “Why don’t you switch classes? You only need an elective in any of the arts or social sciences to graduate.”
Yeah, why don’t you switch? But then he remembered that damn see-through blouse and the minishorts from last week. Hell, when he closed his eyes at night he saw orange with white dots clouding his mind. It had taken every bit of strength and determination he had in him last week to pay attention to the lectures. He remembered her strange comment that afternoon about his test scores.
“She’s got something in mind for me.”
Steve widened his eyes and made kissing noises. Beau shook his head and chuckled. “Asshole.”
“You sure you’re not exaggerating? You haven’t had a date since the second week we were home from ‘Nam. And that’s been ten months, two weeks, and five days.”
Beau wiped his forehead with the hem of his tee shirt and sat across from Steve. “I had a date the third week we were home. Remember those twins we met visiting my dad in Cleveland?”
Steve’s face took on a lecherous expression. “How could I not? We had a three-day orgy at that no-tell motel.”
Beau sighed. “That was before they told us they only wanted to see how baby-killers fucked.”
Steve shrugged. “Well, they found out. Just like the Goddamn motherfuckers who ran off to Canada and the ones who risked our lives with their riots and protests.”
Beau took another gulp of the orange drink. “Don’t hold
back on your opinions, now.”
Steve laughed. “So what else about this broad has your dick in a twist?”
“I don’t know. A feeling I have.” Beau stood and tossed the empty drink bottle in the trash. “I’m going to shower. What are we having for dinner?”
“Spaghetti with my mother’s secret sauce.”
Beau made a lip-smacking noise. “Have I told you lately how happy I am that I made friends with a nice Italian boy whose mama thought he should learn how to cook?”
“You tell me every time I make mom’s sauce, dickhead. Get out of the kitchen. You’re smelling the joint up, and I have studying to do.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Beau said good-naturedly as he walked down the hall, pulling his tee shirt off at the same time.
“Hey!” Steve shouted. “What’s this woman’s name again? I’m gonna look her up in the catalogue.”
“Morris,” Beau called back. “Dr. Leah Morris.”
* * * *
Steve wrinkled his brow. Leah Morris. The name sounded familiar. Leah. Leah. That was a Jewish name, wasn’t it? Growing up in New Jersey in a strictly Catholic family structure, he’d had little chance of meeting any Jews. It wasn’t until he’d gone to college the first time, in Ohio, that he was exposed to a whole new world.
He’d joined a fraternity and taken up party-living with more than a passion. Beau, one of Steve’s fraternity brothers, had led the way, and Steve became a faithful follower. He still remembered the party at a neighboring sorority house the night he lost his virginity. Sex had been a taboo subject in his New Jersey house, where one practically had to make the sign of the cross while going from room to room because his mother hung crucifixes above every doorway. But in Ohio the sexual revolution had already started. Steve fit right in.
Steve snapped his fingers. “Leah Morris!” Jeez, he hadn’t thought of her in years. She’d been a nice girl but a little out of place for the changing 1960s. Mousy, quiet. She’d seemed lonely. He struck up a conversation with her in an English class, just to be nice. Before he knew it, he’d asked her out a couple of times and found he liked her. Really liked her. Once she was comfortable, she talked and laughed and made jokes. She was intelligent and considerate. Steve found something else in Leah he’d never known, a friend who was a girl. He didn’t have to pretend with her. Or perform.
Teacher's Pets [Unlikely Bedfellows 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2
