Professor Dawson removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with his palms, followed by running his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. He looked up at the decorated walls in his large office, realizing that day had turned to night. He had been reviewing and grading midterm exams since the early afternoon, and had completely lost track of time. He stood from his chair, and stretched his arms, gazing out the window. There was a small scattering of students walking between buildings on the campus, but most were either in their dorm rooms studying for their midterms, or elsewhere blowing off steam from taking their last one. He was as committed to his work these days as some students were in trying to forget theirs.
In the years following his divorce, he had chosen to channel his energy into his work. He had been with Lori his entire adult life, dating back to their own college years, and now she was out of his life almost entirely. He reflected as he picked up a photograph of his family, taken in happier times, of the four of them together.
He had grown lonely, although he was too proud to admit that out loud, and didn't share the company of a woman very often. It had been years since he was sexually active. He had thought about it, but hoped that wrapping himself in his work, it would help him forget. Very often, it did not, and tonight was one of those nights. He pulled out a copy of the local yellow pages, and thumbed his way through the various escort listings, trying to decide which one might best suit his needs. This wasn't the first time he had considered this option, but this was the first time he felt confident that he would pick up the phone and pursue it. He was nervous about many things, like being able to perform well, as well as being caught by someone at the university. It was common knowledge that a handful of female students had helped pay their way through college by working as an escort. What if he contacted an escort who also happened to be a student in his class?
At that moment, his peripheral vision thought he caught something moving outside his window, but when he turned to look, he saw nothing. Believing his mind was playing tricks on him due to fatigue, he began to walk around his office, to get his blood flowing again. He stopped to look shelf containing the many awards he'd received over the years, and began to stretch his forty-something, yet slender-and-fit body to the left then to the right. He still had a few exams to grade before he left for the weekend. As he began to sit down again, he stopped. Another shadow outside his window, and this time there was also unmistakable rustling. He was certain it wasn't a figment of his imagination.
He placed the open yellow pages on his desk, grabbed a letter opener from his desk to use as a weapon, and walked outside. The chilly autumn air blanketed the campus, and Professor Dawson clenched the letter opener in his fist as he began to investigate the area outside his first floor office. He sifted through the bushes outside, and found nothing. He wandered to the rear of the building, with caution, and found nothing. Convinced he was alone, he headed back to the front door.
He entered the building, and found something on the hallway floor that wasn't there when he left – a pink sock. He bent down and picked it up, holding it with his fingertips and walked toward his office to throw it away, and continue his work. As he entered his office, a smoky voice from the corner behind him said, "That's mine".
Startled, the professor turned around, dropping the sock and his letter opener in the process. Before him stood a young woman of average height with long, wavy, jet-black hair, wearing blood red lipstick and a form-fitting black velvet dress. Her figure was voluptuous, with amazing curvaceous features made even more apparent by her attire. Her aromatic scent permeated the air, and her fair skin complimented the rest of her look. At her feet rested a giant travel bag, stuffed to capacity. She leaned over to pick up the sock, revealing an ample amount of cleavage from her naturally large breasts.
"You don't have to carry it like that. It's clean."
"Who are you?"
"Who are
you
?"
"Professor Dawson. This is my office, and you're trespassing. It's after hours for student access. Now, answer me, or I'm calling security."
"And tell them what, exactly? That an unarmed Goth chick half your size carrying a huge bag with all of her earthly possessions, placing her at a severe disadvantage when it comes to fleeing, entered the building when you left, and wandered into your open office and cowered in the corner?"
Dawson sighed, and lowered his guard. "What's your name?"
"Lavannia."
"Something tells me you didn't come in here looking for a lost sock, Lavannia."
"Do you have anything to drink?"
Dawson made his way to the mini-fridge in the corner beneath his desk, and retrieved a bottle of water, handing it across the desk to the young beauty. "Thanks. You wouldn't happen to have any food, either, would you?"
"There's a snack machine down the hall..."
"Nah, thanks. So what are you doing?"
His anger, brought on from being startled, subsided. The professor picked up the pile of essays he had completed then dropped them back to the desk. "Grading essays," he responded as he sat. "Have you completed your midterms yet?"
"Oh, uh...I'm not, uh...a student here."
Professor Dawson grew even more puzzled. "Then what are you doing on campus?"
"Honestly?"
"No, Lavannia, lie to me," was Dawson's sarcastic response.
Slightly put off, but enjoying her new friend's demeanor, she responded. "I was looking for a place to stay tonight. I was trying to locate one of the dorms."
"Are you homeless?"
"As of a few hours ago," she took a swig from her bottle, and sat at the chair across from him, "...yep!"
"I don't understand."
"My parents kicked me out."
"Why? Drugs?"
Lavannia didn't appreciate that insinuation. "Look, dude, not all Goths are stoners. I know I look a certain way, but I'm not in some stoner cult."
"Uh huh."
"Hey, fuck you, man!" She stood up, and began to pick up her bag.
Professor Dawson suddenly felt a twinge of regret, and even compassion for the young woman. "Sit down, Lavannia."
"Why, so you can insult me some more?"
