by Gray Gardner
Dr. Frasier had spoken with Christina Miles. He’d spoken with his mother. He’d had a cocktail with Dr. Johnson, the head of the history department. He’d gone to bed at a reasonable hour and had even attended an early church service with his family.
And the whole time his mind had never strayed from the image of her blue eyes that was burned into his brain. Scared, inquisitive, angry… he liked them any way he could get them. He’d thought of the agonizing anticipation of getting her out of that holding cell and back to her home. The adorable innocent little girl act she’d put on when she finally figured out that she was in trouble. The sharp sound his hand made when it slapped against her ass. The sound of her short squeals of protest. Her perfect, perky ass… turned every shade of pink by him. Her shoes swinging in his face. Her askew ponytail flipping around. Her tight, wet vagina. Her body tensing as she reached orgasm while lying across his thighs. Her sweet, forgiving kiss.
He shifted back and forth on the wet field as he watched her walk by. She was going to play football with them now? Oh, she was heading towards William McAndrews, who’d probably called her. Why hadn’t he thought to invite her? He couldn’t possibly feel jealous, though, as his attention was strictly occupied on admiring her. She had on tight, light colored jeans that hung low on her hips, met at the waistband by a pink windbreaker that matched her skin tone exactly. And God bless it, she had her hair in two long strawberry blonde pigtails. He didn’t know if this game was going to be wickedly fun or horribly torturous.
Christ, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. They were on opposing teams so it didn’t seem that strange, but he never got to touch her because of the adorable way she caught a football. She always turned and stopped, scooped the ball in both hands, clutching it against her chest and falling to her knees. Her head always turned with a smile as she squinted her eyes. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
“If you fall to your knees every time you catch the ball then we can’t advance very far,” Francie huffed at Mary as they all huddled around.
“Let’s try her at quarterback,” Dr. Britta suggested, as Mary looked apologetic. Everyone nodded in agreement and clapped as they lined up.
She stood behind Will and noticed Dr. Frasier staring hungrily at her. She blushed as she turned and called for the ball, backing up a few steps and then launching it at an undergrad down the field. He missed it, but Will jogged up behind her and gave her a quick slap on the ass.
“Good throw. Same play this time,” he nodded with approval as the others agreed.
She winced and closed her eyes, trying to recover with a nod and a laugh. Dr. Frasier was laughing and shaking his head at her. He knew what he’d done to her. She narrowed her eyes at him as she called the next play.
He loved that even though it was Will touching her, she still looked at him. She had a reminder of him temporarily imprinted on her little ass. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself as he thought about it. He totally missed the next play when she launched the ball into the end zone and they scored. He figured he would be absolutely worthless for the rest of the game; but just then the sky opened up and everyone was suddenly running for cover. It was the perfect time to corner her.
“Can I give you a lift home?”
She wiped the rain off of her face as she stood beneath a canopy of trees and leaves and frowned, expecting Will to be the first to offer her a ride. But the rain was coming down so hard she could barely see ten feet out onto the field.
She shivered as she looked up and replied, “N-no thanks. It’s a short trip.”
“In this weather it’s a short trip to a nasty cold, too,” he scolded, watching her tremble.
“I don’t need a ride, Dr. Frasier,” she sighed, giving him an annoyed look as she turned and headed back out into the drilling rain. He looked too good with that wet tee shirt. And she was furious with him, of course.
Sighing and rolling his eyes, he walked behind her and grabbed her elbow, pulling her in the other direction on the sidewalk towards his car.
“I said I don’t need a ride!” she hollered over the storm.
“I heard you,” he answered, opening his passenger door and lifting her inside. She glared at him as he grinned and walked around the car. Yeah, she was angry.
She shivered the entire two blocks and tried to refuse him as he got out and walked her up to her door.
“I’m trying to be nice, here,” he loudly said as the rain sprayed off of the short awning on her front stoop.
“Well you’ve failed,” she frowned, looking up at him as her hair stuck to her face and her eyes pierced right through him. She yanked her keys out of her pocket and had to try three times before she could steady her hand and hit the lock. And, as usual, he let himself in right after she walked through the door. “What… get out, you’re covered in mud!”
“So are you,” he softly replied as he turned and gently pushed her against the door. She sucked in her breath but lost the frown as he leaned down and barely touched her lips.
He had this annoying knack of waiting for permission that absolutely drove her crazy. She inhaled a couple of times before leaning forward and giving in. His tongue was immediately in her mouth as his hand cradled the back of her head so it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed her into the door with his hips. His other hand ran up and down her wet windbreaker and jeans.
She could feel how much he wanted her through his black track pants and responded by brushing her hands across his tee shirt until she could find the hem. Her hands slowly rubbed underneath on his warm, wet, hard abs. If she weren’t wet from the rain, she certainly would have been at that moment. It was totally illogical to feel the way she did about this man, but she couldn’t help it. She felt a certain urgency to get him out of those wet clothes.
“Can I get you a towel and… a drink or something?” she softly asked when he freed her mouth and began staring intently at her as he ran a fingertip across her bottom lip.
Chapter 8
Brad suddenly popped into his head, rebuking him and lecturing about recklessly snatching what remained of this girl’s innocence. Then his mother quickly joined in, scolding his behavior and reminding him of his responsibilities.
“I,” he breathed, swallowing as he conceded to the more accountable behavior of an esteemed professor. “I should get home and prepare for my classes tomorrow.”
She looked up at him as he stood up straight and stepped backwards. He wouldn’t be able to resist that captivating look on her face for much longer.
“Okay,” she whispered, looking down and stepping aside. Why would he kiss her like that and then pretend like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough? She pressed her lips together as he reached forward and opened the front door, wind gusts and rain slightly spraying by. Afraid of something as embarrassing as tears spilling out of her eyes, she continued looking at the floor as he paused in the doorway.
“I’ll… I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see ya,” she replied, pushing the door closed as he shuffled backwards to get out of the way.
He paused and let the rain fall down on him as he slowly dragged his hand down his face. Why hadn’t he taken her up on her offer? Why hadn’t he invited her to dinner on Friday? Shaking his head, he slowly descended the steps to his car. He needed to focus on other things, more important things in his life. Some things just took precedence over sweet, smart, strawberry blonde little girls with hot tempers and even hotter asses.
Mary stared at the closed front door before shaking her head and peeling off her shoes and all of her wet clothes. She left wet footprints on the staircase as she stomped up to her bathroom and settled into a hot bath. He was so confusing and she hated that she responded to everything he did with such… fervor. He was probably laughing his ass off at that moment at how naïve she seemed. She really wasn’t naïve at all, just guarded, though she’d certainly let her guard down with him.
Well, that was about to change, damn
it.
Miss Tucker,
You scurried out of class this afternoon before I could ask you to stay behind. I shouldn’t be surprised by your stealthy knack for evading me, but as I’m sure you are aware you never cease to surprise me.
That said, I need to see you after class on Wednesday. You know about what.
Dr. M. Frasier, PhD
History Department
Eastland University
Yeah, she knew. He’d called on her during class and asked if she thought some Eastern European general’s harshness on prisoners of war could be attributed to the rumor of his impotence. She’d retorted snappishly that it was a damn shame that most of the world’s problems began and ended with a fucking penis and what did it matter if he was impotent if the prisoners were still tortured and executed? She’d gotten giggles from most of the students, but the look on his face was less than amused. He looked like he wanted to take down her pants and spank her in front of the whole class. She simply turned her head back down to her notes and tried to ignore him, hurrying out of the room before he could stop her when he dismissed everyone.
Dr. Frasier,
My apologies, but I am clueless as to why you would want to speak to me after class. Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of my fellow classmates.
MM Tucker
P.S. Mice scurry.
Miss Tucker,
Before you hurry out of class on Wednesday I need to speak to you about your behavior. Surely you are aware that the way you spoke to me on Monday was unacceptable and unladylike. I don’t enjoy scolding my students during class.
Dr. M. Frasier, PhD
History Department
Eastland University
Well,
Since you don’t seem to really like anything about me, I’ll continue to speak to you however I damn well please.
So suck it, Frasier.
Mary Madeline,
I have little to no patience for insolence and disrespect. When you are the professor you may speak however you like. When you are the student you will face the consequences of your actions. Please come to my office after class.
Dr. M. Frasier, PhD
History Department
Eastland University
Mary Madeline,
It is 7:00 in the evening on Wednesday and you have yet to reply to my e-mail, acknowledge me in class, or show up to my office. I will only wait another half hour before your consequences change severely.
Dr. M. Frasier, PhD
History Department
Eastland University
Mary Madeline,
I am perfectly serious when I say that I do not like your silence nor do I appreciate standing for 20 minutes outside of your front door while I listen to you run up the stairs to hide in your bedroom. I’m afraid Friday afternoon is going to be very unpleasant for you.
Dr. M. Frasier, PhD
History Department
Eastland University
Professor Frasier made his students very nervous as he paced in front of them, hands on his hips as his eyes kept darting towards the clock above the door. He finally paused and dimmed the lights with a remote he pulled from the back pocket of his black slacks. A screen suddenly descended from the ceiling in front of the dry erase board. He cued up the PowerPoint presentation as the door clicked quietly behind him.
He couldn’t help but grin. One, late. Two, not replying to his emails. Three, speaking to him disrespectfully. Four, saying that he didn’t like anything about her. That last one bothered him the most. How could she think that? He spent more time on her than any other student… than on all of his work. He could barely focus on the presentation. The students seemed bored, he seemed bored, and he knew everyone was just excited it was Friday. Except that little blonde head he could barely make out in the back of the class.
“Mary Madeline,” he loudly said, causing a few of the students to pause as they all tried to shuffle out of the classroom at once when 5 o’clock finally rolled around.
Her cheeks flushed as she stepped down from the auditorium style seats and slowly walked towards him. She was wearing a silky black tunic sweater, tight black leggings, and bright pink Wellingtons. Finally, appropriate footwear for New England weather.
“Shall we head to my office? I don’t think you want our discussion to take place here and now.”
The only thing she gave away was pressing her lips firmly together at the word discussion. Otherwise, her body language pretty much read annoyance.
“Dr. Frasier,” she curtly said, staring at the hardwood floor. “I can’t. I have plans tonight.”
“Yes, and they include coming to my office for your discipline,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I never agreed to that. I really do have to go,” she quietly said, turning for the door. She abruptly stopped when he grabbed her arm, but when other students began wandering into the room he released her. She took the opportunity to quickly maneuver her way outside.
Dr. Frasier grit his teeth and reined in his temper as he took long strides through the wood paneled hallway and out to the sidewalk. He reached her in no time at all.
“My office, Mary Madeline.”
She shrugged off his hand as it held her shoulder and glanced right and left before peering up at him. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I am busy tonight!” she snapped in a loud whisper.
“It’s not. I just think our appointment should take precedence over drinks with the girls,” he replied, hands on his hips.
“Oh, you are so arrogant! If you must know, I have a… previous engagement, okay?” she said, swallowing and looking down at her pink boots. She breathed in and out until his hand took her chin, lifting her head up to meet his eyes. Surprisingly, they didn’t look angry.
“With William McAndrews?” he softly asked. Why wouldn’t she have a date? He was surprised guys weren’t following her all around campus just to get her to look at them. He just wanted to be the one she made plans with, not that 23-year-old Yale grad.
“Like that’s any of your business,” she muttered, turning her head, as the sky grew darker and the lights around the campus flickered on.
“Anything you do is my business,” he frowned, watching her stare at the ground as she shifted her weight. “And since we’re on the subject, why did you say that you think I don’t like anything about you?”
Was he really asking her that question? She narrowed her eyes as she glared up at him. “Because you’re an asshole and every time you come near me you suddenly realize that I’m not good enough for you and your east coast standards and you can’t run away from me fast enough!” she huffed, turning on her heel and briskly walking across the soggy field towards Roosevelt Street. She exhaled in relief as she realized he wasn’t trying to follow her and swiped her hand across her eyes. Assholes had never appealed to her before… why was she letting this one get to her? Her phone vibrated in her bag. Damn it, she was going to be late if she didn’t hurry.
“Mother,” the professor greeted, reaching his hand down into the opened limo door. His mom held it delicately and stepped out of the black stretched Lincoln, smiling at her son as she smoothed out her long black dress and silver bobbed hair. Her husband, his dad, quickly followed in a tux matching his son’s.
“Dad,” he whispered in the soft lighting of the entrance to the new presidents’ museum. “What are you doing?”
His dad finished lighting the cigar he’d pulled out of his breast pocket and puffed out a cloud of smoke.
“You can’t smoke that indoors.”
“Since when?” his dad asked, frowning as he held onto it tightly.
“Since two decades ago,” Dr. Frasier sighed, smiling over at his mom and holding his arm out to escort her towards the entrance decorated with sprays of white flowers. “Shall we?”
His mom held his arm and his dad grumbled behind him as he led them inside the brand new, beautifully decorated museum. They walked int
o a large ballroom with white cloth covered tables, silver balloons, white flowers, and a twenty-piece band in white dinner jackets. Another Friday, another function. He settled his parents at their table and gazed lazily around the large room. Where was his sister?
“She’s coming with Liam Atwood,” his mother said as if in response to his unvoiced question.
“The US Attorney?” he asked, taking the scotch his dad had retrieved for him.
“The very same,” she smiled, sipping her champagne as her eyes danced with visions of a prestigious wedding next spring. “Go find the keynote speaker and ask her to dance, darling. I think the two of you will get along famously.”
“Mother…”
“That wasn’t a request,” she snapped, giving him the stern eye of a mother not to be tested.
Twisting his head and rolling his eyes, he turned and made for the podium by the small stage. He passed the table of all of the honorees of the evening, people being celebrated for some small accomplishment or another, then found Jacquelyn White, PhD, keynote speaker, tall, lithe, brunette in a smart crimson suit.
She was intelligent, easy to talk to, interested in things he had to say, and model beautiful. He smiled and offered his opinions on her area of expertise, acting very attentive and courteous. But that’s all it was. A month ago his attention would have gone way beyond courtesy to this type of woman… but now only one person occupied his thoughts. God, did he really have it that bad?
“Oh, Dr. Frasier, please, I’d like to continue this later but I really must attend to the donors at Table One,” she said, giving him a worried look. She didn’t want to walk away from the conversation.
