The following work of fiction contains some sexually explicit content (including male-female sexual action). All depicted characters are 18 or older.
SYNOPSIS: Jenny, after spending years without revealing her sexual fantasies to anyone, is forced by a strange woman with mysterious powers to act them out in the presence of her college classmates.
Originally posted: February 2009
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The clock's second hand swooshed past the six again. Two thirty-nine. Jenny wasn't bored, though... she liked math, but at the moment, she was more fascinated with the motion of the hand.
Before too long, she looked back up at Gene, the grad student who was teaching the class, in order to catch up on notes. Even then it was hard not to be distracted, but considering Gene's countenance, that was understandable. He was good-looking, and she respected both his concision and his general charm. His decision to regularly wear a tie was really nice. Jenny listened and wrote, and when she was confident she was safe, she looked back at the clock and allowed her mind to drift again. Every two minutes or so, the cycle restarted.
The second hand, with its hypnotic motion, was only one of two reasons to look in that direction. The second was that the clock was located above Nick. She only knew his first name by overhearing his conversation with a friend, but she liked to think that her knowledge of him exceeded that. She had watched him. His hair always fell perfectly over his forehead, and she really liked the way he smiled when he talked to... well, anyone. He seemed insightful.
She'd heard him say, "oh, hey, Brandon!" and "oh, hey, Franny!" depending on who ended up sitting beside whom. If only he'd say "oh, hey, Jenny!" with that boyish smile of his, and that laugh that made its way into the words he spoke. She had imagined him saying that to her. Indeed, she had imagined somewhat more than that.
As she looked at him, she imagined the feeling of a feather inside her right running shoe, firmly licking itself once up the sole of her foot, and endured the sharp sexual feeling it made in her.
That would be a moment for her diary entry tonight. Maybe she would expand on it. Thank goodness she had that diary, or she would have no outlet for this kind of thought. Thank goodness, even further, that it had a lock.
"I believe this is yours," said Gene.
Jenny jumped. How long had she been staring at Nick?
Gene was looking right at her, and somehow, he was holding her diary in his hand.
"It says 'Jennifer Deluca' on the back," he indicated.
Jenny's pulse quickened. Had the diary fallen out of her bag? Thank goodness again for that lock.
"Yes, that's mine; thank you," Jenny uttered.
"Come up here, please, Jennifer," Gene requested.
Jenny's eyes surveyed the situation. She was behind a long table with a half-dozen students on either side, and Gene was standing right in front of her. He could easily have handed it to her instead of bidding her walk all the way out to one side of the room and back.
Very well. She liked the sound of his voice and the way he called her "Jennifer," even if it was only because he didn't know her well. Now she'd be fortunate enough to approach him face-to-face. That would go in her diary too.
Should she walk around the table to the left, or the right? Left would take her toward the door with the clock above it, and she would brush by Nick as she went. She wouldn't embarrass herself like that, so she sidled to the right end of the room, and met Gene at the front.
"Have you been paying attention?" Gene asked her. The room seemed unusually silent. Everybody was watching her, she discovered, as she looked over the class.
"I -- yes. I'm sorry," she said to him. "May I have that back?"
"You're sure you haven't been distracted?" Gene said, holding the diary up, pressing the latch, and swinging the book open.
Jenny was shocked; surely she hadn't forgotten to lock it.
"Hey!!" she shouted sharply and grabbed the book from him, smacking it firmly shut. "Thank you very much," she said smartly, turning back to her seat.
"Jennifer, stop," she heard Gene utter behind her, and her feet gently planted themselves on the ground.
The feeling surprised her. She was deliberately headed for her seat, but it was as though Gene was able to command her feet instead of her, and there she stood.
"Jennifer, let us please be honest," he continued gently. "It's time to share your thoughts with the class."
Jenny managed to turn back to face him in defiance. She had never imagined herself capable of rude comebacks, but she had also never been the target of such condescension. One more comment and she would leave the classroom.
"Stop it," she said, quivering. It came out softly, but the silence in the room had grown even more palpable, and no one misheard.
Gene gestured to a chair by the board. "Come and sit here, Jennifer."
Suddenly, the surprising feeling took Jenny over again. It was terrifying to feel her own feet begin to carry her to the chair. She resisted, trying to tug her legs in the opposite direction as they walked, but found herself unable to do so. She yelped in objection, saying "hey!" again out loud. There was no result.
She felt her body rest itself lightly on the chair, her hands rested palms-down on her diary, and her eyes turn to Gene softly as though seeking his approval. How this was happening, she couldn't afford to think about. She just had to stop it.
"Consider, Jennifer," Gene said. Her eyes were still staring at his, locked there, as he continued.
"You believe you write your own feelings, your own thoughts in their totality, but you don't consider the full picture, Jennifer. And now, you have found yourself here, in front of everybody."
The book, resting under her palms, felt lighter.
"With that book of yours," he said. "That... diary. Locked. What does that lock represent, Jennifer? Is it really your desire to keep those muses secret?"
Jenny's eyes had moved -- of her own will this time -- to the diary, which was now beginning to press upward against her hands. Its cover began to flutter and shake. She impulsively pressed it against her lap, but it pressed back with equal force.
"You've betrayed yourself, Jennifer. You can't keep it up any longer. You want us to know, don't you?"
The diary was so active, now, that Jennifer was hardly able to grasp the diary's cover and spine without her fingers slipping. She clasped as hard as she could. She had never been so desperate.
"Please... make this stop, Gene," she whimpered, and looked up at his eyes sincerely. He didn't move, and returned her look with expectation.
The diary shot sideways in her grasp like a magnet against its twin, then attempted to jump into the air, causing her to stand quickly in order to retain it. It forcefully whipped itself back and forth, dancing her around. Her grasping hands jutted all the way above her head, and her navel -- which she never exposed -- flashed momentarily into full view of the class. Finally, she forced the diary to the ground and held it tightly to her chest.
"Now, Jennifer," announced Gene, "it's time to reconcile."
