Shelly knocked timidly on the office door and stepped back to wait. She was obviously nervous, and she fidgeted with the assortment of things she had placed in her oversized winter coat pockets. The coat was really too large—she was lost in the folds; it made her slight frame look twice its size. Shelly's huge backpack did little to help the coat do her body justice, and it bunched the coat at her shoulders, giving the impression of shoulder pads.
After a few seconds Shelly pulled at the zipper and opened the stuffy jacket at the neck. A few tense seconds later the door flew open and a short, slim woman in grey, nondescript linen pants filled the opening. "Hi, Shelly, c'mon in."
Once inside the sparsely furnished office, the older woman sat down comfortably in her large black chair and pointed at a harsh little wooden chair. "Sit down! Take your coat off. Oh, and shut the door behind you, dear." Professor Taylor had a loud voice, but it was pleasant and jovial.
"Um—Dr. Taylor, what was wrong with my paper?" Shelly's voice was small, and nearly cracked when she said "wrong."
Dr. Taylor smiled in spite of herself, and dropped her gaze momentarily to her lap, "There's nothing wrong with your paper, Shelly." Her gaze returned to Shelly's eyes and held them intently.
"But your email said..."
"My dear," interrupted Dr. Taylor, "did you know we have the same name?"
Shelly faltered, the words had been swept from her mouth. "I...I..."
"Yes, you know, my name is Michelle, and so is yours, isn't it?" Dr. Taylor smiled invitingly, and after Shelly nodded ascent, she continued. "You can call me that if you like, 'Michelle.' I like it so much better than 'Dr. Taylor.' It's much less formal." She smiled again, and this time Shelly couldn't help smiling with her.
Michelle held a smirk and leaned back in her chair, incredibly secure in herself and her surroundings. Suddenly, as if remembering herself, "How did you like
Portrait?
Your paper was very good, but you write with a certain lack of judgment that I find intriguing."
"Oh, I enjoyed it, I suppose," Shelly brightened at the praise for her paper. "But it was extremely...lengthy and longwinded. I found myself disliking both Isabel and Pansy a lot more than James wanted, I think."
"Yes," grinned Michelle, "they say reading James is like being fucked—you hope he'll be gentle and generous, but he usually ends up chaffing your wrists and ankles, and leaves you unsatisfied."
Shelly blushed bright pink at the word "fucked," and dropped her eyes self-consciously. Michelle noticed this, and changed the subject quickly.
"I think your paper was marvelous. You really had a handle on how Isabel's sexuality, or repression of it, played into her ultimate marriage to Osmand, even if she didn't like him. Did you think about how innocent Pansy's sexuality played into her imprisonment in the convent?" Michelle arched her right eyebrow in amusement as she watched a myriad of emotions cross Shelly's pretty, unkempt visage. She was pleased with the praise of her paper, uncomfortable with the subject of it, and simultaneously horrified and thoughtful of the last suggestion her professor had offered up. The struggle to find an answer to please Dr. Taylor was evident in her eyes as she searched her mind for clues.
"You mean her father locked her up because she—she had carnal knowledge?" Shelly's voice eeked out in a barely audible whisper. Her heart was in her throat, blocking her air supply, and it was drumming out a horrendous beat. She was sure Dr. Taylor would be able to see her veins throbbing blue under her pale skin.
"That's precisely what I mean," Michelle licked her thin lips, "what do you think on the matter?"
Shelly looked at Dr. Taylor resolutely, "I think it's exactly what he should have done! At that time it was not proper for a girl to go gallivanting—to have carnal knowledge! He needed to protect her virtue!" She was getting heated on the subject, and wished to appear stubborn. Her cheeks were flushed now, and her palms began to sweat.
"So you agree with Osmand's actions," said Michelle quietly as she stood and walked to the corner of the office to look at a poster of a painting of a nude woman draped in white sheets, which didn't cover anything. "You agree with Osmand's actions, even though the nuns of the convent don't? Even though Isabel doesn't? Even though James doesn't?" She turned to face Shelly.
"'Reading James is like being fucked...'" Shelly trailed off, unsure of herself in the metaphor.
Michelle crossed quickly over to Shelly and bent over, so she was eye level with her pupil. Her soft brown eyes were bright with curiosity, and Shelly felt like Dr. Taylor was looking into her past, and future, into the thoughts she couldn't control. "Shelly, are you a virgin?" Michelle stood straight and looked down on Shelly. She cut an impressive figure, her small breasts and tiny waist just visible under her large satin button-up dress shirt when she moved in a certain way. Shelly couldn't tell if Dr. Taylor moved that way consciously, but she was sure she had seen Dr. Taylor's eyes roll in pleasure as the slick material brushed across her erect nipples.
Shelly took too long to answer, and soon forgot the question altogether. "Wh...what?" she stammered, and tried to regain her small semblance of composure.
"I asked, are you a virgin?"
"N...meh...ye...yes." She finally admitted, unsure if she wanted to stay any longer.
"You interest me." Michelle stated with a throaty laugh, not at all nervous, but the laugh brought sensations to Shelly's clit that she'd only felt when she rubbed against her pillow.
She felt her face redden and stood abruptly, "Dr. Taylor, I need to go."
Michelle moved toward Shelly and before she could grab her coat, had her pinned against the door, an arm on either side of her face, breathing deeply. Shelly was relieved that Dr. Taylor wasn't touching her at all; she wasn't sure if she could stay standing if the older woman did.
"Here," said Michelle, taking a card from her back pocket, and holding it in front of Shelly's face. Shelly took it. It had Dr. Taylor's name and an address hand written on it.
Wh...what's this?" Shelly was embarrassed at the tremor in her voice that wasn't caused by fear.
"It's my home address," Michelle whispered. She shifted slightly so that the tip of her left nipple brushed Shelly's bare arm through the slick softness of her shirt. "Feel free to stop by if you have any more—problems with your writing. I'm up late." At a silent nod from Shelly, Michelle dropped her hands and went back to her desk. She began reading another student's paper, and her red pen flashed across the page.
Shelly couldn't move. She stood pressed against the door, staring at Dr. Taylor, wondering if she had been dreaming. Quickly, she gathered her coat and cumbersome backpack and left the office, turning to look at the open door as long as she was in the hall. She bumped into another professor and mumbled an apology before turning and fleeing away, a swirl of thoughts whirlpooling through her brain.
Back at her dorm, her roommate Jamie had left a note on their dry-erase board, "Gone to Geof's. Won't be back tonight. Your mom called at 3, and wants you to call back. See you tomorrow, Jaime."
Shelly threw her bag under her desk and flopped down on her bed. She dialed her mom, but no answer, so she left a message, and then lay quietly reliving every instant of the meeting with Dr. Taylor...Michelle...no, Dr. Taylor. She felt exceedingly embarrassed at stuttering and her unintelligent answers that seemed to escape from her mouth without her notice.
When she pictured herself trapped against the door with Michelle's...Dr. Taylor's warm breath on her neck, coming fast, but not too fast, and the way Michelle's nipple had brushed against her arm, she couldn't help but to pull her pillow from behind her head and squeeze it between her legs. She moaned as she imagined Michelle's nipple brushing across her skin again and again, all over her body, grazing the small of her back, and over the ticklish parts of her stomach. In her mind it glided, as if dipped in oil, between her own large breasts and down her body, past her hips. She made a small cry and massaged her own breasts as she felt her body convulse in mixed pleasure and desire, and the ecstasy of release that spread from her center to every single one of her tense muscles. She lay silently for a few minutes, and decided in the wake of her tiny orgasm to go to Michelle's house later that night.
Shelly decided she might as well do some work, so she began some reading, but couldn't focus. Her mind kept wandering to Michelle's face. So she decided to play Snood, but she couldn't get past the second level. All the Snoods had a single nipple in the middles of their faces, and she couldn't see the Snood for the nipple. Finally she found herself staring out the window, so she resolved herself to go. She placed the card, and found that Dr. Taylor...Michelle lived only a few blocks from campus. "Well, at least I won't lose my parking spot." Shelly said to herself as she donned her over-large winter jacket and headed out into the night.
Just as the village belfry tolled 9pm it began to snow. Shelly looked at her watch. "that bell is always twenty minutes slow!" she exclaimed quietly and shook her head. In less than ten minutes she was standing in front of the littler grey house with white trim and cheery lights that bore the address on the card. She took a deep breath and sighed, the warm air from her lungs curling and dancing around her before disappearing. Slowly she placed one foot in front of the other and stepped forward. It was much easier than she thought, and so she took another step, and another until she stood at the door, and before she could stop herself, her hand rose and rang the bell.
