***The themes and events in this short story are not only unrealistic, but distinctly misogynistic. It's important that these themes are framed from a point of view of catharsis and not endorsement. Whether you have similar thoughts or are a victim of them, this story is meant as a safe way to explore this prevalent attitude. This method of coping is not for everybody, so indulge accordingly. Enjoy.***
Chapter 1: A Gift
"Come in," I said.
I don't know how I knew who it was going to be, but I just knew: Trevor Lenore stepped into my office. I had had difficult students before and I had had students who weren't very bright before and I had had clingy students before, but I had never had all three rolled up into one infuriating package in my twelve years as a university professor. Trevor blew all the other problem students out of the water.
"Trevor, I told you, I can't make any more exceptions for you. I've already gone far beyond what I norm-"
"-Woah woah, this isn't about that Mrs. L," he said.
I grit my teeth. I wasn't nor had I ever been married and I certainly did not ever ask to be called "Mrs. L". In fact, I had asked Trevor on multiple occasions to not call me that.
"Then what is this about, Mr. Lenore?"
"You've just seemed really stressed out lately, that's all. So I thought maybe you could benefit from, like, a stress ball or something," he said. Then he reached into his pocket and crudely tossed a bright pink squishy ball onto my desk. Luckily nothing got broken or pushed out of place.
"That's very kind," I said in a tone that I thought was very clearly sarcastic, but he just grinned widely.
"Thanks! I thought maybe you'd be a bitch about it," he said.
I inhaled deeply to calm myself. I had suffered through enough conversations with him to know that it wasn't worth calling him out for his language.
"Is that all, Mr. Lenore?"
"Huh? Oh sure. Take it easy," he said with an easy grin and strolled back out of my office.
I had no idea why Trevor was in university at all, much less enrolled in my class but if nothing else I had to admit to respecting his persistence. I had explicitly told him on many occasions that he was extremely unlikely to get a passing grade, yet he continued to show up to every lecture.
I normally wasn't even in my office at this time, but Trevor seemed to have a sixth sense about me. He knew just when and where to find me and what to say to push my buttons and get under my skin. He was even starting to erode my reputation as the unflappable professor. I prided myself on my ability to keep my even demeanor no matter what was being said to me or how it was being said and over time it had created a mythos around me that curated the sort of students who took my classes. I liked a serious silent room for my lectures and I liked that the expectation of most of the students in my class was that the lecture was a time for me to speak and any questions they had could be asked during my open office hours or over e-mail.
I, of course, had the occasional student who would ask lots of questions or make a scene as a call for attention, but it never lasted more than a few weeks and I always knew how to handle it. Trevor Lenore was an entirely different breed. His combination of earnestness and stupidity and persistence was something I had never run into.
His intrusion on my work had completely derailed my train of thought and I closed up what I was doing. I didn't even want to be at work that late anyway. As I packed up I took a look at the stress ball. Despite my perpetually black attire and dim brown office, I actually like the colour pink - in the right place at least. I'm not sure why I didn't throw it out there and then. Like Trevor's behaviour in general I just couldn't figure it out. Was it meant as a gift in earnest? And if it was, what did it say about me? But if it was a prank gift, it would be a pretty weak one and would seem to me more trouble than it was worth.
I still couldn't get it off my mind as I drove home. I hadn't even tested it to see how the quality was. I had never found those stress balls very good at providing actually stress relief, but they were fun to play with when I was in a good mood. I'd have to at least try it out before I tossed it.
I wasn't used to getting back to my apartment so late and it felt a little depressing to walk into the lobby when it was dark outside. Normally I waited until I was actually inside my apartment to turn on my personal cell phone, but I turned it on while I was still walking up the stairs.
If I had a therapist I'm sure she'd have a field day analyzing why I kept my personal phone turned off for the majority of the day. Maybe I loved the rush of notifications so that I felt needed. Maybe I liked forgetting that I had no family or partner in my life. It didn't matter to me what the reason was. I just knew I preferred it like this.
Like usual I had plenty of notifications from all of my dating apps and like usual very few of them were worth a second look. I couldn't believe how many grown men felt like an acceptable opening line was "hey".
Of the more interesting opening lines, many of them were swiftly revealed to be curated over time and the men were never as quick or interesting as their opener implied. Or it turned out that they were so arrogant that they had no interest in what I had to say.
Still, despite all the data, I still looked through every message and looked at the profiles of every man who sent me even a "hey".
It was difficult being very busy, very horny, and yet with very high standards.
I walked into my unit with my face in my phone and dropped my stuff on my sofa. I barely even noticed my hand slip under my work pants. I had come home and masturbated after work every day since I could remember except during those rare months when I had a boyfriend.
"Fuck yeah," I grunted as I felt my clit over my underwear. Some days it felt better than others and today was one of those days. I dropped my phone by my side and undid the button on my pants to allow my working hand more space to breathe.
