This is the concluding third part of Squeezed, a dubcon/noncon/coercion/reluctance story about Sam, a young male student, being seduced and exploited by Mary, the Campus Counsellor. It is advisable to read Parts 1 and 2 first.
Bundled up in scarves and duffle coats, Sam and Ellie clasped hands in the middle of the deserted suburban street. There was a bite in the air, the recent rainfall shimmering on the tarmac. It had been a brisk, yet comforting, half-hour's walk from Ellie's flat.
With coursework steadily increasing, it had been painfully necessary to pass up several of Professor Owens' invitations to his semi-legendary dinner parties. Second and Third-year students would talk smugly of the experience, and the friendships that could be fostered with Faculty and the Tutors' numerous professional connections. Allegedly, they were a lot of fun, too.
Even with his workload a little lighter, Sam had still been reluctant to accept the invitation. His experience with the Faculty had been deeply fraught; Mary's predations had made it very difficult for him to know who to trust. Especially after the revelation that she had advertised his substantial endowment to other staff, and the subsequent pressuring into disturbing sex with the Dean, Cleo. He had no idea who knew, or who planned to take advantage of him next. In the months after his experience with the Dean, Sam waited for the other shoe to drop. Yet the Quid pro quo set out by Mary seemed to hold, and aside from a knowing smile from the Counsellor in the hallway, he received no sign that the situation was still ongoing, and had done his best to begin to forget, and relax, in earnest.
Ellie, whom Sam had managed to keep oblivious to his predicament, was rather more insistent on attending. Her coursework had suffered, and she was struggling to keep up. Some social time with their Professor might help to stabilise and solidify her prospects a little. Networking. Far from incompetent, the first year had overwhelmed her, and the struggle to advance the physical side of her relationship with Sam hadn't helped her focus or her stress level.
The latter, she was almost fully resigned over; this was now officially a long-term relationship, and Sam seemed unwilling or unable to move past kissing. Her fondness for him hadn't diminished, but she had had to stuff down her own frustration and curiosity, keeping her sexuality more hidden, private. She had developed a porn habit. A collection of toys Sam didn't know about. More than once, she had courted the attention of strangers online. Something she kept aside from her life, from her relationship, in the interests of letting Sam be Sam.
And Sam had relented on accompanying her, unable to stomach another argument. They had fallen into a peaceful companionship with very little conflict, neither pressuring the other, both wishing it to remain so.
"So... who's going to actually be there?"
"I told you." Ellie rarely modulated when annoyed -- it was the absence of inflection that tipped Sam off.
"You probably did, I just... I'm sure I wasn't listening, I'm sorry."
"I think Owens only invited Thom McAllister..."
Sam winced a little already; Thom wasn't an unpleasant person
exactly
, but Professor Owens' favourite PhD candidate had a tendency towards aggressive speech and ungenerous interpretations. He'd taught a few lectures for them, and Sam's aversion to conflict tended to cause him to back down from asking questions, given Thom's manner. Dinner with the guy wasn't something he would have gone out of his way to experience.
"...and that Counsellor woman, Mary."
Sam stopped dead in the road. "She's coming?"
"I definitely told you this, Sam." She
definitely
hadn't. Sam's appetite had fallen through the floor. His hands immediately produced a film of sweat. He knew she hadn't told him, because he would have felt like
this
at the mere mention of her name.
"Anyway, I know you did your counselling sessions with her, but it's been a while now, and I was thinking, it might help you to put it all behind you."
"...how?"
"Because... it would be like... you'd hang out in a normal setting? It might help to make the memory more... in the past... Sam, I don't know, it's not really that big a deal, is it?"
"I guess not." Back to his resigned mumble, Sam trudged on, ensconced in stress, knowing he'd be in proximity to Her once more. But this time, with too many people around for her to do anything.
---
"Hey, Sam and Ellie, come in." All 6'3" of Professor Owens' affable presence towered in the concrete porch. The man was somewhere in his 50s, with a weathered-looking face that never quite lost its smile. An unironed off-white shirt tucked into beltless moleskin jeans that accentuated the impressive length of his legs. He was one of few people on campus taller than Sam.
"Hi, Professor." Ellie gave a sweet smile. "David is fine." he purred back, and embraced her with a kiss on the cheek. A past Sam that hadn't experienced Campus impropriety would have been shocked at the display, but as it stood, he merely felt a familiar, uncomfortable dread.
"Professor's more fun to say." said Ellie, giving him a peck on the cheek in return and stepping around him, into the house. David extended his hand. "Hi, Sam. Nice to have you over." Sam gripped it in a silent shake, gave the warmest smile he could, and followed his tutor inside the house, wondering if she was already waiting.
They'd remarked on the size of the place as they rounded the corner. Victorian, three storeys, and, they correctly guessed, a great many more rooms than the average house. Not completely surprising, as it was an affluent neighbourhood, but what did surprise both Sam and Ellie as they walked past a bathroom, then a living room, towards the
dining
room, was the homeliness of the place. Clean, but possibly not always vacuumed; almost certainly not usually tidy. Books and work left out, furniture well-worn, even the occasional glass or mug uncollected and growing stale on mantles and side tables.
And before the penultimate doorway of the dim hall, the sound of laughter. Of Thom's anglicised but unmistakably Scottish patter, and Mary's torturous giggle.
"Heyyy!" the two said in unison, as the Professor led Sam and Ellie into the room. "Good to see you guys! You find it okay?" Thom was stood as if holding court, his wiry black beard pulled wide in a smile, long hair shaking as he chatted. He'd adopted Owens' sartorial style -- that is, a shirt tucked into jeans -- as part of his academic affect.
On the floor, there was Mary. Cross-legged and wearing a sleeveless mauve jumpsuit with a matching ribbon around the waist. She didn't get up. "Nice to see you, Sam." He gave only a lingering nod.
Before any further pleasantries, David offered to take their coats, a moment Sam realised he should have been dreading. He had opted for a similar outfit choice to the other two men, except that he'd left his shirt untucked. Ellie, though, had made an effort for the evening. Short and slender, she had the perfect figure for the dress she'd chosen, and although Sam didn't know what a Flapper was, he could read very well the evocations of the sleeveless black dress that loosely hugged his girlfriend. Flowing velveteen lines, sequins, ending mid-thigh with long fringing dangling to her knees. Subtle eyeshadow, matte lips, and her impossibly soft pale blonde hair lent a modernity to the vision as she shrugged off her coat ad handed it to her Professor.
"Ooooh!" Everyone but Sam joined in the chorus. "Bloody hell, Ellie." Thom looked genuinely astounded. There were further murmurings of approval from David and Mary, all three making an unabashed show of staring down every inch of her. Sam pressed his toes into the soles of his shoes and tried not to let his tension show on the surface.
"Thanks, guys." Ellie gave an embarrassed grin. She wasn't used to this kind of attention -- least of all, from Sam, who seemed to like to keep things muted. She glanced in his direction, and noticed he had that same stare -- a few inches in front of his face, trying to dispel any energy or enthusiasm in the room. It was moments like this, with everyone cooing over her dress, that she remembered how glum and antisocial he could really be. She reflected, more and more these days, on the fact that Sam had seemed very sweet in the beginning, and how he had revealed himself to be merely shy, and quiet. Not generous, or affectionate. Just quiet.
She sat down on the floor next to Mary, whom she'd seen around, of course, but never really spoken to. "I love this." The older woman trailed her fingers in the fringes of the dress, and the two shared a smile. "Thanks!" Sam had wandered off with David, hopefully to procure them some drinks. "Sam isn't really that interested in fashion, it's nice to be among people who get it."
"Ah! Sam." Mary said it knowingly. It
dripped
