The Professor
Recap: Molly has approached her former professor on whom she has a deep crush. They exchange stories to explore their fantasies and philosophies as he attempts to rein in her emotions.
Saturday, Day 2
In the morning he called her. "Molly, I need to meet with you. Are you free for lunch? . . . Good. Shall I come by about noon?"
When he arrived, he stepped in the hall of the boarding house. He could hear Molly's agitated voice upstairs. She was arguing with someone. He followed the voices up the stairs.
". . . School just ended yesterday."
"I sent you the notice you last month."
"It's probably here buried in all my school papers. I didn't have time to read it. Do you know what the end of the semester is like - just before graduation, too? "
"That was plenty of notice."
"To find another place to live?"
"Just for a week. Everyone goes on a graduation trip to Europe. Or they go home and visit their parents."
"I don't have parents. I can't afford to go to Europe. I can barely afford your stupid rent!"
"That's not my problem. The workmen are coming tomorrow. You have to be out."
Stephen interjected himself. "Molly, what's the problem?"
"He's kicking me out of my apartment."
"Just for a week. I'm having the place renovated so it will be nicer for her to live in."
"So, he can charge me more."
"And they all complain their rooms need fresh paint and better heat!"
Stephen put his arm around Molly's shoulders and led her inside. "Let's calm down and talk this through." Once he had closed the door she burst into tears.
"Don't worry about me. I've gotten this far by myself, I can make it, or not. I don't care."
"Molly, come stay with me. I have a guest room and live alone, as you have figured out."
"Really? And . . .?"
"Let's solve this problem for the moment. We can worry about other questions later."
"Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek.".
"Pack what you will need for a week. Will he let you store everything else here?"
She shook her head. "I will have to box it up."
"Let's go have lunch and we will come back and do it together."
They came back with some empty boxes from a bookstore. She began by taking out her two suitcases and opening the closet. Stephen was surprised by how few clothes there were - four dresses, a couple of skirts, and maybe a half dozen shirts. "This is all you have?"
"It's enough. I stay within my budget."
He pulled out a short black pleated skirt. "I liked it when you wore this to class."
"You noticed?" She blushed, but smiled.
"I noticed a lot about you."
She emptied her dresser into a single suitcase and packed most of the closet and some shoes in the other. She noticed him briefly examining a pair of black dress sandals with super high spiked heels. She had bought them in a frivolous moment because they had looked sexy. It had been an unbelievably irresponsible purchase on her limited budget. She had never actually worn them because they were intimidating, but now she made mental notes.
Professor thinks they look sexy, so I will enjoy wearing them for him. And a short loose skirt.
She watched him pick up another slim shoe box and peak inside. He lifted out a ballet shoe with its ribbon trailing.
"Are you a dancer?"
"Briefly in high school. Another dream that bit the dust."
The rest of the time was spent putting books and papers into boxes.
Moving into his guestroom was simple. She had brought only her suitcases, a garment bag, and a couple of small boxes. The room was small with a single bed with ornate brass scrolls at the head and foot; a half-empty dresser storing table linens; a nightstand and a chair. She volunteered to take over the kitchen this week in exchange for his hospitality. Stephen was delighted.
After dinner and when the kitchen was clean, Stephen said, "You said you have written other stories. Did you bring them?"
"Sure. Just a minute." She went to her room and returned with several paper-clipped pages. She held them out to him, but he asked her to read aloud.
"The title of this is Trainer." I wrote it a few months ago when things were looking better. I had just gotten my life under more control. I think your attention last year was the only thing that kept me sane. So, this story is about a girl who was messed up and got help from a strong caring person."
"Much more promising."
She gave him a smile and began reading.
Trainer
Donna pulled off the interstate. At the bottom of the ramp her car coasted to a stop as she steered onto the shoulder. "Shit!"
Out of gas. Out of money. I'm hungry and it's two in the morning. Where the fuck am I? Nowheresville Virginia or maybe North Carolina.
She could see the lights of a gas station half a mile ahead.
But you can't steal gas if you can't even drive up to the pump
. She thought about the gun in the glove compartment.
You can't rob a store and then buy gas from it, either
.
She put her purse in her backpack and looked to see that there was nothing in the car to identify her. Probably the police would find it before she could get back to it. Then she got the gun and opened the door. The night air was refreshing and woke her up. She walked away from the lights looking for a secluded house. About twenty minutes down the road she found a mailbox and a driveway that led into darkness.
As good as any.
She walked as quietly as she could beside the gravel until she found a small house surrounded by trees. There was not a light to be seen. She put her pack at the foot of a tree and tried the front door. It was unlocked.
Maybe I'll just be lucky tonight.
She stepped inside, partially closed the door and paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Then a bright light appeared in her face. She raised the gun instinctively.
"Contain. Put it down."
Out of the corner of her eye she noted a shadow moving to her left, but the light blinded her to the source of the voice.
"You're not going to shoot anyone. Put the gun down."
The light moved to her right. She followed it with the gun, but she couldn't turn her back on whatever was on the other side.
"Don't move. Put it down."
She froze, but kept the gun pointed even as the flashlight came toward her. A hand reached into the light and took away the gun.
"Guard." The man lowered the light. She could see him hefting the gun then examining it. "It's not even loaded. And the safety is on. You probably never even shot a gun before, did you? Your just lucky I'm not the kind to shoot first and ask questions later. Now stay there with Willy while I get rid of this thing."
Willy?
Now she dared a look to the left. "Willy" was a large German shepherd. He was emitting a soft deep growl.
The man came back a moment later and turned on the light. He was approaching 50, fully six feet tall, muscular, with a military haircut.
Man, did I pick the wrong house.
He turned her to face the dog and pulled first one, then the other wrist behind her and handcuffed them together. He took her upper arm and propelled her into the kitchen. He turned on the light. The counters and table were covered with dirty dishes and junk mail. Against the far wall was a large cage for Willy. The man pulled a blanket from the bottom of it, shook it, and spread it out on the kitchen floor. He pulled a pillow from under his arm and tossed it to the back of the cage.
"Get in."
"I'm not getting in a fuckin' dog cage."
"You'll do what I tell you to do."
With very little effort he forced her to her knees and she crawled forward into the cage. It was about five feet long and three feet in width and height. She used her shoulder to push the pillow into position and lay on her side. The man closed the door and secured it with a padlock.
"Now let me get some sleep." He paused to rub the dog's head. "Good dog, Willy."
Willy lay on his blanket, face toward Donna.
"Sorry I took your kennel. It wasn't my idea."
The dog's answering growl discouraged any further conversation.
The cage shook. "Time to get up." When she didn't respond he kicked it again.
"What fuckin' time is it?"
"Six-thirty. And you'll not use that language with me."
"I've never seen that hour before."
"The sun's up and you are too." He unlocked the door and opened it. Willy had not moved.
He probably didn't even close his fuckin' eyes
. She groaned and backed into the kitchen. He pulled her to her feet and removed the handcuffs, noting the marks they left. "The bathroom is down the hall. Then we'll talk."
Donna sat on the toilet, then threw some water on her face. She looked around the bathroom for something she could use as a weapon. Finding nothing, she opened the door quietly. The man and Willy were still in the kitchen. She took just a few steps to get into the living room and a few more to the door. It was locked. When she turned around, the man was behind her.
"The kitchen's this way."
"Fuck you." She picked up a figurine from a table and threw it. It missed him and struck the wall. She dodged around his grasp, but found herself facing Willy.
"Guard." Donna and Willy both froze in place.
"Were you going to find the sheriff? I can call him for you."
"God, no."
He took her to the kitchen again and sat her in a chair at the table. He used the handcuffs to secure her ankle to the leg of the chair and turned back to the stove. She sulked while he cooked breakfast.
"How do you like your eggs?"
"Whatever."
He placed a fork and a cup of coffee in front of her. A few moments later he added a plate with two fried eggs and toast. She picked up the fork and was about to attack the food when he stopped her.
