Dear Reader: This is the beginning of a series of stories I plan to share. They are largely autobiographical, with adjustments for identity and continuity. The theme, which develops slowly (because that's how it happened) is primarily BDSM. If this isn't your preference, I would respectfully suggest that you might not want to read beyond the first two stories. If BDSM is your thing, I hope you enjoy these stories, which are most definitely not fantasies. Oh, and please remember to vote!
*
I hurried down the institutional green hallway, my heels clattering in time with my heartbeat, cursing my chatty psych professor, campus traffic, and anything else I could think of. I reached my tutor's door and grabbed for the knob before I'd even stopped, bursting into his office with a breathless apology on my lips.
He brought me up short with a snap of his fingers, pulling my eyes to his face. He grimaced, pointed to the phone at his ear, and gestured sharply for me to leave his office. With robot-like precision I turned on my heels, backed out, and closed the door behind me, then slid to the floor beside it with a sigh.
Rude, arrogant prick! I fumed at his treatment of me and recited the list of insults I'd endured since asking him for help two weeks ago, after I'd utterly bombed my first physics quiz. What was I thinking when I'd decided on physics for my freshman science course? Maybe it was the idiotic notion that chemistry and biology had been a breeze in high school. Showed how much I knew about college classes. And this lab teacher! The professor who taught the lecture wasn't so bad, but his minion. Rude, arrogant prick.
Of course, if I stopped being so embarrassed for a moment, I could maybe bring myself to admit that I wasn't exactly full of good manners myself. Being late and bursting into his office like that wasn't exactly good form. But sometimes it felt like Mark enjoyed belittling me, showing up how stupid I was (about physics anyway), as some kind of perverse hobby. I always seemed to get the weirdest questions. If I did have an answer, which was rare, he never called on me. His private tutoring was barely more tolerable, if only for the fact that nobody else got to witness my humiliation.
The rattle of Mark's doorknob interrupted me before I could reach full seethe. He looked out the door, taking a moment to find me at his feet. I could feel myself blushing as I scrambled to stand, nearly reaching out for a hand I just knew wouldn't be there, then feeling guilty as I saw him pull it back, unneeded. I followed him into his office and over to the battered sofa and table where we usually sat, dropping my books on the table before turning to face him. My apology died on my lips as I saw his face. He stood away from me, arms crossed, glaring.
"Did anyone ever teach you to knock?"
"Uh, ummmm, yes....Sir. I'm sorry."
"I have to wonder just how sorry. You're always late, you don't pay attention. How much do you really want to pass this class?"
I blushed at his accusations, knowing they were all true and not having any kind of reasonable explanation, but I tried.
"My psych class ran late today, and it took forever to get across campus. And I'm not at all sure about this class anymore."
Mark frowned at me, taking a step closer. "I think you can pass this class, Amy, if you work at it with me. But you have to be willing to try."
I looked away, blushing. "I didn't think I was unwilling, but I guess I could apply myself better." I laughed sadly. "That's been the story of my life."
He looked at me thoughtfully, and held his hand out to me. "Let's try a new story, then. I want to help you, if you're willing to keep trying....but get a watch, will you?"
I laughed as I accepted his hand, and we took the last few steps to the sofa, taking our usual places.
"So where were we?"
We settled in and attended to the mysteries of class 1 versus class 3 levers. Maybe it was my new-found resolve, maybe it was that I'd just been hammered with this stuff sufficiently, but I finally seemed to start to understand. As we worked through the assignment I began to relax. Without thinking I reached into my purse and found a small lollipop, which I unwrapped and slipped into my mouth, smiling at the burst of fruity sweetness.
Mark continued to enlighten me, and I listened carefully as a part of me sat back and watched him. He wasn't an awful guy, at least not his looks. Kind of ruggedly handsome with a sun-kissed complexion, thick, dark wavy hair and tawny brown eyes. I liked the crinkles around his eyes that told me he mostly smiled (when not tutoring stubborn girls like me), and the strong square line of his jaw. He was so very male looking that the softness of his lips was a startling contrast. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms as I thought about those lips. Down girl!
He rattled off a bunch of questions and I answered them quickly enough that he nodded in satisfaction. He paused for a few moments, flipping pages in my textbook, then launched into a new lecture. I listened, took notes, asked questions as needed, and smiled to myself as I realized I was really starting to get this stuff after all. I scribbled more notes then looked up at Mark, waiting for his next comments.
The silence drew out, until I realized he was staring at me, seemingly lost in thought.
"Is that all?"
Silence
I slipped the lollipop out of my mouth and waved it in front of his face.
"Mark, are you done?"
He startled and blinked at me.
"Oh, I.......I'm sorry, where were we?"
