Eric was sweating as his stood upright. He looked around him, only half aware of the moment he was in. Clara, who had started out bent over the bed, was on her knees with her face buried in her floral comforter, crying quietly. Her dress was up around her waist, one strap was torn and there were marks on every exposed inch of skin. In some places bruises had appeared instantly. Eric stared at her, with her arms pulled in and her hands around her face, as if she were trying to hide herself completely. He panicked.
***
"But I like older men!" Clara laughed at her friend Kim, who was scrunching her nose.
"Ok, but 42? That's not older, that's ancient."
"Wow, I'm going to remind you of that when you hit 42." Clara kept laughing.
"I'm just saying, he's probably only dating you because you're this young hot thing, he won't take you seriously." Kim was still making a face, which was starting to make Clara feel defensive.
"I don't care if he takes me seriously. He's
coming over tonight, and if he makes a move I'm going to fuck him." Clara did her best to say 'fuck him' with the same blasé attitude she thought about the men her own age she had been dating and sleeping with. She already knew Eric made her feel young, younger than she really was, and silly at times, like she wasn't a real adult.
"Oh he'll make a move, there's no way he'll pass up young pussy."
***
The first time Eric had seen her, Clara was walking up to each office number in the hallway, clearly lost. He wanted to jump up and offer to help, but he knew he needed to stay away from her, if possible. Some women immediately brought up images in his mind of them kneeling, tied up, skin red and bruised. He avoided those women at all cost, which was hard to do working at the university. So many young women, searching for guidance. He knew what he would do with these women if he had them alone, and it wasn't what they needed. Eric had no interest in perverting one of the students, even if they liked it, begged for it. It wouldn't get to that point as long as he remained professional.
"I'm looking for office 318?" She spoke so clearly, he snapped out of congratulating himself for not acting on what he considered his base desires and looked up to see a tall blonde girl, dressed casually and carrying her backpack, standing in his doorway. She stared at him, her full lips parted, waiting for an answer.
"Office 318, is it around here?" Now she sounded impatient, and was already looking down the hall way, ignoring this professor whose slightly bewildered demeanor was offering no help.
"What did you say?"
"Office 318, I was supposed to be there five minutes ago, where is it?" She was sounding snappish at this point and sighing heavily. Just the kind of attitude he liked, plenty of excuses for punishment.
"It's not here, it's in the Humanities building, this is the Mathematics department and we only go up to 250. It's right next to us though, across the courtyard." He had collected himself enough to sit upright.
"Damn it, I can't find anything around this school!" She pushed the hair from her face quickly and turned her body towards him. "Are you busy? I really need some help, can you walk me to the Humanities building?"
"Um, I don't think..." Eric looked down and shuffled papers, aware that this girl was getting the upper hand quickly. She had the kind of pushy, confident approach Eric would have loved to scold her for, but he was a professional, and didn't even like talking to students outside of class.
"Fine, if I get lost, I'm coming back here." She grinned as she walked away. Eric sat in his chair for a few second before jumping out of it and running to catch up to her in the hall way.
"Of course I can help, sorry, where do you need to go?"
***
Eric walked up to the apartment number Clara had given him. He'd taken her out for a few weeks, the whole time telling himself to keep it friendly. She wasn't his student, so they could socialize, but there was no way he could keep his job if people found out he got off on mistreating sweet, innocent co-eds. When she had invited him to her apartment for dinner, he knew he should have said no. He knew at some point they'd be on her couch, she'd lean in and he'd smell that perfume she always wore, and he'd lose it. He knocked and as soon as she opened the door he wanted to run.
"Hi! Come in, I just finished!" She smiled so wide, it made her whole face come alive. She was so eager to please him, make him see her as an equal. Eric smiled slightly but stayed silent as she turned her back to him and walked into the kitchen. He followed as she kept talking, telling him where to put his jacket, where to sit, stirring a pot. He started to realize she wasn't going to have to do anything, just being alone with her was enough. She led him to the table, which was set for two. He walked up right behind her, until he was gently pressing his body into hers.
"Hey, it's just dinner." She giggled uneasily and tried to turn around.
"Stay where you are and put your hands on the table. Did you turn the stove and oven off already?" He spoke in a low, clear voice, right into her ear.
"Yes, dinner's ready." She sounded nervous; it was beautiful.
"I'm not hungry Clara. Keep your hands on the table, do you understand?" Clara nodded her head. "I asked if you understand."
