David Lewis, professor of Shakespearian Literature, opened the package waiting for him at home. He read the cover letter.
Doctor Lewis,
I was one of your students three years ago. I was the girl who sat in the back of the room dreaming of romance. Whatever the hell that meant.
One weekend, I saw the movie, Shakespeare In Love. Old William with writer’s block? Well the movie cured me of something worse. It cured me of “Heart Block”
Then I came to class. You stood there next to my chair. Oh happy coincidence.
I closed my eyes and saw Paltrow in bed with Fiennes. His voice became yours and I became Glyneth. That is why I reacted the way I did. It became the standard by which I measure all my next encounters.
I wanted to withdraw from your class. You said that you would handle any problems I would face. I stayed. There were no problems.
I went to a grad school in another state. This spring, I will receive my doctorate in English Lit.
I am sending you a copy of my thesis since you made it possible.
Thank you
Linda Brownstone.
“Love letter?”
It was Claire Lewis, doctor of Quantum Physics, his wife. She kissed his cheek and he handed her the letter.
“Is this the one who had the orgasm in class?”
“That’s her. She got her doctorate and sent me a copy of her dissertation.”
Claire playfully thumped him on the head.
“You bastard. You give your students orgasms. I give mine naps.”
Later that evening, after dinner and class work, the romanticist and the physicist had a co-mingling of academic disciplines.
David was approaching conclusion when Claire stopped cold.
“You ever bed a student?”
The question was like ice water on David.
“What?”
“Have you ever fucked a student?”
”No. The have been plenty of opportunities, but I have all the woman I want or need.”
“Okay.”
They finished but David was put off by the question.
