Walking from her car to her professor's house Caitlyn was seized by a feeling of foreboding. She considered going home at that moment and later replying to his original email that, although she was terribly sorry, there'd been an emergency and could they please reschedule? But, God, that email. Although it did not allude to what the meeting concerned its message was clear: We need to meet regarding a matter of grave importance and it must be tonight. Caitlyn's only reply--before she'd given it much, if any, consideration--was that she would be at his house at the specified time.
She had obsessed over this meeting throughout the day pondering its implications. Had any of her friends ever been summoned to a professor's home in this way?
"Any plans for tonight?" Julie had asked over lunch.
"I think I'm just gonna stay in and do some studying," Caitlyn said with an air of distraction.
Her friend could sense that something was off, but chalked it up to Caitlyn's obsessive attitude toward her studies. It was close to the end of the semester and, really, close to the end of Caitlyn's graduate work. Her distance seemed reasonable given the circumstances. Julie made the suggestion that the two study together, but the idea was quickly shot down and Caitlyn abruptly ended their lunch with an apology explaining that she really had to get home to study.
At her apartment she struggled over what she might wear changing in and out of various outfits as garments piled on a chair. In the end she decided on a short skirt with black nylons, high heels and a button-down shirt that was a bit small and unbuttoned an extra button thereby drawing attention to her rather large breasts. She'd caught the professor undressing her with his eyes on more than one occasion and decided it couldn't hurt to use whatever leverage she might have.
However, dressed that way at the doorstep of her professor she suddenly felt ridiculous. On the street she noticed an older couple on a walk. The woman seemed to motion in her direction and murmur something disapproving to the man. Really there was no going back. Professor Horn was known for his unforgiving reputation and the consequences of letting him down did not seem promising. After ringing the bell she waited for several minutes. Without too much hesitation she decided that he must not have been home She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she turned to leave and as the door swung open. Holding it stood the professor. He was still dressed in his usual work attire: grey slacks, a buttoned down shirt and loosened tie. He held a pipe she'd never seen prior and regarded her for a brief moment as he drew on the pipe making no attempt to hide his lecherous sizing up of her figure and revealing outfit. He let pass a quick smirk before replacing it with an expression of seriousness. "Please come in, Ms. Logan."
Her attempts at small talk went ignored as the professor led her to the living room. "Have a seat," he said blowing a plume of smoke in her face. She chose a sofa in the middle of the room. "Can I offer you a drink? I only just now returned from a lecture and could use one myself." The professor's tone seemed to turn friendly. Caitlyn found this encouraging and accepted the offer so as to come across as agreeable.
"I'll have whatever you're having," she said a little too cheery.
"Very well," the professor said as he started for the kitchen. "And please make yourself comfortable."
Caitlyn took in the orderly living room looking for anything that might reveal something of a personal life. A wife? A family? In fact there were no photographs at all. Just books and stacks of folders and papers. The decor was tasteful, but only seemed to reveal a life of ivory tower academia.
"Hope you enjoy bourbon."
Caitlyn's body jerked as the professor seemed to reappear from nowhere. "Oh, love it." She managed, although she couldn't be sure if she'd ever tasted the stuff. He handed her the glass and she took a small sip. The brown liquid burned her throat as it trailed its way down. She suppressed the urge to wince.
"That's an eighteen year old Elijah Craig."
Caitlyn nodded in appreciation.
There was a moment of silence as the professor took a long look at Caitlyn. Finally, sensing her discomfort he spoke. "Ms. Logan, do you have any idea why I've asked you here tonight?"
"No, sir"
The professor took a deep breath, stood and approached a shelf containing some books and binders. He selected a green book and handed it to Caitlyn. "Look familiar?"
Caitlyn examined the cover. A Theory of Justice, John Rawls. She'd never read it, but the author's name felt familiar. Perhaps someone she'd read in a philosophy class at one time. "I don't think I know it," she said as if eager for the professor to enlighten her.
He gave a look of surprise. "But Ms. Logan, John Rawls is the most preeminent scholar in the field of political philosophy! His writings have impacted the lives of untold numbers! In forty years his work has not been equaled!"
Caitlyn watched her professor admiringly as he lectured her on the subject and took another sip from her drink this time really needing it.
Another pregnant pause.
"Ms. Logan," his voice was slightly raised, "open to page twenty-six."
She did as she was instructed without hesitation.
"Now read aloud starting with the first full paragraph."
Caitlyn suddenly felt much younger than her twenty-five years as if she were back in the fifth grade being ordered to read for the class. Her voice cracked and quivered as she began. "The most striking feature of the uti-"
"Louder please," the professor interrupted.
She began again, this time louder as instructed. "The most striking feature of the utilitarian view of justice is that it does not matter, except indirectly, how this sum of satisfactions is distributed among individuals..." And it was at that moment that it dawned on Caitlyn where it was she'd seen those words as well as why it was that Professor Horn had asked her to meet with him that night.
"Ms. Logan,"--he was irritated now--"you stopped reading. I did not ask you to stop. Please, again, from the beginning."
Her heart pounding in her chest, Caitlyn once again started reading in a clear, audible voice. "The striking feature of the utilitarian view of justice is that it does not matter, except indirectly, how this sum of satisfactions is distributed among individuals any more than it matters, except indirectly, how one man distributes his satisfactions over time. The correct distribution in either case is that which yields the maximum fulfillment." With this final phrase Caitlyn looked up noticing the professor reciting the words along with her. He seemed lost in the words like a lover of classical music lost in a composition of Mozart or Beethoven.
"You may stop reading now, Ms. Logan."
Caitlyn's eyes were frozen on the professor, the knowledge that her academic career was all but finished slowly sinking in."Ms. Logan, I must've read that book you're holding cover-to-cover at least ten times. Rawls's critique of utilitarianism is so well known it's hard to imagine a professor of philosophy in the country who would fail to recognize your plagiarism."
