Ivory Tower (3 page)

  “Maxwell’s easy.  Our colleagues will dig up dirt on his arrogant ass.  You don’t have to lift a finger there.  So who’s next?”

  “Nice try.  You know I can’t give you the names until the callbacks are officially announced.”  I couldn’t figure out her angle.  Sure, the new dean would ultimately be her boss, but why was it so important for her to have all the gory details right now? 

  “So don’t,” Melissa said, “ just give us the vital stats.  Anyone out of the box?  Anyone not an academic?  There’s tons of retired CEOs and old pollies looking for a dean gig.  It’s easy to dig up dirt on those guys.  It’s all on the public record.”

  “What about that Professor Waters?”  Pete asked me, earning a black glare from Melissa.  Of course, I realized my mistake as soon as he spoke.  Pete wasn’t supposed to know anything about the dean search and Melissa wasn’t about to let me get away with it. 

“Oh, so you can’t tell your colleagues who’s on the list but you can tell the new boyfriend?”  She was barely bothering to conceal her animosity anymore and it was beginning to get to me.  After all, I was the one who constantly got stuck on these stupid committees while being passed over for even a permanent department head gig.  I was the one always sticking my neck out for the school and getting beat down for it.  And I had been alone all this time while she had been happily ensconced in her perfect marriage.

  “Oh, chill, Melissa.”  I hadn’t meant it to come out so huffy but I couldn’t help myself.  “It was an accident.  He saw her bio on my desk.” 

  “
Her
bio?  You mean there’s a viable woman candidate?”  Melissa appeared to have momentarily forgotten her annoyance.

  “You know I can’t say anything about it.”

  “Is she in the final five?” 

Feeling guilty for all the times I had dumped dean search angst on her and knowing that she was pissed with me, I caved.  “I think we’re keeping her on standby.” 

  Melissa’s face fell.  “Any other women in the mix?”

  I paused before answering, wondering how terrible a breach of confidence it would be to share this one little factoid.  After all, the names were about to be released publicly.  And I was none too happy with how it was all shaping up.  “I’m sorry, Mel.”

  And I was.  Sorry that the evening hadn’t gone better.  Sorry my best friend didn’t seem to approve of my boyfriend.  And sorry that if I had to choose between them, I’d choose him.

  ****

Engrossed in the news story on my computer screen, I didn’t notice Pete  creep up behind me,  until he slung his arm around my neck and pulled my head back for a ferocious kiss.  I was momentarily shocked, but lost myself soon enough as he heightened the assault, fingers plunging down the open neckline of my robe, searching for the sensitive areas he knew gave me the most pleasure.  In one fluid movement, he swiveled me in my chair to face him, pulling me forward and inserting himself beneath me in the chair, nestling me firmly on his lap.  I could feel his excitement and I reached down to grasp him in one hand through his boxer shorts while bracing myself against his shoulder with the other.

“I was going to apologize for waking you,” I murmured into the soft skin at the base of his neck as he banded his arms around me, “but now I’m not sure.”

“So you’re completely unrepentant.  Maybe I should punish you.”

A chill ran through me, again only for a moment.  That dangerous side of him scared me a little, but it turned me on more than it frightened me.  And he had never actually hurt me.  I knew what his particular brand of punishment entailed, having experienced it when we got home from the bowling date, and I wanted more.  He had been on fire after the verbal sparring match with Melissa and I’d been  buzzed ever since.  I was even more buzzed when I realized he was up for another round

“Ugh,” he said when he caught a glimpse of my computer screen.  “I was hoping you were surfing porn.  What’s this?”

I didn’t want to lose the mood, but Pete’s question brought me back to why I’d come out here in the first place, other than the obvious reason of course.  Pete had fallen asleep and I was still jazzed so I needed something to do until he was ready to go again.

“Actually, Melissa got me thinking …”

“Yes, your good friend Melissa.  I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much.” 

“She’s just not used to me being in a couple.” 

“So to remedy the situation, you’re thinking of going into politics?” he joked, indicating the news story about the questionable machinations of a Seattle congressman.

“Yeah, right.”  I wanted to explain but he  started kissing me again.  He smelled delicious—a combination of aftershave and beer that somehow worked for him. 

“So this Congressman Cody is one of your candidates?”  Pete asked.

“
Ex
-Congressman.  And yes, he seems to be the  front runner.”

Pete scanned the screen.  “Looks like a  douche bag.”

“Uh-huh.”  I hit the power button and the screen went blank.  I wanted his full attention, and I got it in spades.  He slid one arm beneath my knees and the other beneath my shoulders and carried me back to the bedroom where he lowered me down on top of the covers, scrambling up beside me. 

Easing my robe aside, he slid down between my legs and gently pried my thighs apart.  I gasped in anticipation of what—or rather
who
—I knew was coming.  I had never let a guy do anything like this to me before Pete.  When it came down to it, I had always been a pretty old-fashioned girl in the bedroom.  Having adopted the missionary position in my teens, I stuck with what worked.  Not that I had that much experience before Pete, other than a few college boyfriends who tended to take more than they gave, which was probably why I  ended up so focused on my studies and then my career— for all the good it had done me.

I inhaled sharply when Pete ringed me with his lips.  He licked me once, deep and slow, then blew gently until I started to spasm.  Then it was on.  He began a punishing pace of licking and sucking while I clutched at the blankets, the pillow and finally his hair, until I came loudly.  He surged over me, placing his forearms on either side of my face and crushing his slick wet lips over mine.

Sex with Pete felt so unbelievable in all kinds of unsavory ways.  It had never been like this for me before.  I wondered if Pete was a punishment for my sins or a reward for my forbearance.  I kissed him back for a while—a long while—and then settled back, spent and relaxed, against my pillows.

Pete dropped down beside me, tracing small circles against my bare shoulder with his fingertips.  “You know, I have a conference in Seattle next week.  Maybe I could do some digging for you on that Congressman?”

My heart sank.  “You’re going away?”

“Didn’t I tell you?  Sorry, I thought I mentioned it.”

Not wanting to be one of those needy girlfriends who keep track of their man at every waking moment, I tried to save the situation.  “It doesn’t matter.  You probably did tell me and I forgot.”  His fingers kept tracing those slow sensuous circles and it  began to drive me wild.  “So what kind of
digging
did you have in mind?” 

He pressed against me, running one hand down to the apex of my thighs, and winding the other through my hair.  Taking one nipple between his teeth, he murmured something I couldn’t make out.  I wanted to know what he had said, but my body was seething with need for him and I couldn’t focus.  All of a sudden, he stopped his assault on my senses and lifted his head to meet my eyes.

“You deserve to be happier,” he said quietly.

“You make me happy.”

“Oh, I intend to.”  He slipped back down between my thighs and that was the end of - conversation for the night.

*****

“I’m glad you could make it tonight.”  I smiled awkwardly at Melissa from my uncomfortably high barstool.  I  shouted to make myself heard over the din of half price shot night at the campus bar.  Again, I had been thinking neutral territory for this confrontation, but it probably wasn’t one of my best ideas.

“My pleasure.  I don’t get to see that much of you now that you’re with  Pretty Boy.” 

Brilliant.
  It was going to be one of those nights.  I  began to regret even attempting to clear the air.  I sipped my soda in silence until she tapped my free hand on the tabletop. 

“You want to get out of here?” she asked.

“What about your Shanghai Sunset?”  I indicated the neon-colored cocktail in front of her.  She raised the glass to her lips and downed the remainder in one gulp, before pushing to her feet and motioning toward the exit.  I almost  regretted agreeing to leave when the full force of the winter wind hit us.  Wrapping my jacket tightly around myself, I hunkered down into its thick folds.  “Where to now?”

“My place?” she offered.  “Rob’s working on some virtual geek-fest.  He’ll be locked in the den all night.” 

My teeth chattered as I nodded my agreement.  We had each taken our own cars to the bar in subtle acknowledgment that we weren’t necessarily expecting things to work out.  I followed her the short distance to her modest row house, pulling  into the compact driveway behind her shining red SUV.  Inside the house, the only sign of Rob was a series of flickering lights under the closed door of his man cave.  We headed for the kitchen where Melissa put on a pot of coffee and then ushered me to the living room sofa where she plunked down beside me.

“Why did you invite me to a bar if you didn’t want to drink?” she asked.

“I wanted to talk, and I thought alcohol would be a good incentive.”

“You know me too well.”  She grinned.  I hated to admit it, but I’d missed that grin.  We’d been skating on thin ice since that night at the bowling alley.  She hadn’t been cold exactly, but she  kept her distance. 

I took a deep breath.  “Melissa, what’s going on?”

“Ah.  So you want to get right to it.”  She picked at a loose thread on the afghan slung over the back of the sofa.  “Okay, I’ll say it.  I’m worried about you, Evie.  I mean, I want you to be happy and all, but this new guy …”

“Pete.  His name is Pete.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I did some checking, and, well, it’s very difficult to get a handle on this guy.  He shows up at the last minute after a mysterious death in the bio-chem department.  The position is barely advertised before they’ve made the appointment.  Google him and virtually nothing shows up.”

“
What
?”

“Evie, please don’t be angry, but there’s something about him.  He gives me a bad vibe.”

“God forbid I should date someone who gives you a bad vibe.”  I realized the conversation was going downhill fast and I didn’t do anything to stop it.  “I don’t believe this.  I finally find a guy I like and—”

“Don’t be like that.  I’m just worried about you.  He seems too … perfect.  I mean, haven’t you ever heard of a sociopath?”

“Oh please don’t start with all that pop psychology again.”  Much as I hated it when Melissa flaunted her psychology background, I had to admit to the tiniest bit of unease. Pete really did seem too good to be true.   And he had that dangerous edge that I didn’t want to talk about—or even think about .

Melissa regarded me carefully, apparently unsure of her next move. 

“Okay, Mel, I admit I don’t know all that much about him, but it’s not like we’re getting married or anything.  It’s just a bit of fun.”

“That’s all?  Scout’s honor?”  Melissa looked relieved, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Melissa, I’m surprised at you.”  I raised my hand to my heart in mock horror.  “I thought you were supposed to be a feminist!”

“Girl Guide’s Honor then?”  Her eyes twinkled briefly and I figured this was as good as it was going to get.  “Just be careful, okay?  I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Melissa headed back to the kitchen for the coffee, but I was already lost in thought.  I pulled my sleeves back from my wrists, and examined the hint of bruising where Pete had held me down when he took me, before his Seattle trip.  It  seemed harmless enough at the time.  Not harmless, exactly.  It had been … exciting.  But had it been dangerous?  I  needed to be able to think straight, to weigh Melissa’s words more carefully, but my traitorous body was becoming wet just thinking about that night.  I wanted more.  Desperately.  There was no denying it.   Had I already followed Pete too far down the rabbit hole?  What would happen to me if I had?

*****

Magary graced me with his familiar death glare as I entered the conference room a few minutes behind my colleagues.  Clearly, he was not amused at having to call an emergency session of the committee at what should have been the tail end of our winter break.  There were surprisingly few people in attendance —only four of my colleagues were seated at the table.  I wondered what was going on until Magary  spoke into the speakerphone.  “Everyone here now?” 

He was answered by a crackling round of “yeahs,” “hellos,” and “go aheads”.  Apparently not everyone tore themselves away from their holiday plans for the meeting. 

Magary cleared his throat before speaking again.  “Apologies for the short notice, but there have been some developments on the dean search front.  As some of you may have heard, our leading candidate, Congressman Cody passed away recently.”  The voices on the other end of the phone rose unintelligibly and died down after a few moments.  “So we’re in a tough spot.  The search consultants advised us that usually the committee would either proceed with the remaining candidates or look for a new fifth to round out the pool.  We were planning to do that, but we’ve run into some problems.”

“What kind of problems?” A disembodied voice from the speaker asked.

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, we can’t afford to have a failed dean search and we have some reservations about the remaining candidates.  I think we all agreed that Professors Sharpe and Glenn are probably not quite up to our standards and we only included them as backups.”  Magary’s words were met with general murmurs of assent.

“So that leaves Professor Adams?” another voice asked.

“And Professor Maxwell,” I added gloomily.

“And therein lies the problem,” Magary said. “It looks  as though Professor Adams is no longer a realistic option.  His wife has taken ill and requires medical care in New York.  So if we forwarded his name to the Provost and he was offered the position, we would likely have wasted valuable time and may lose Professor Maxwell in the process.”

“Why?”  I didn’t like where he was going. 

“We don’t know what other deanships Professor Maxwell might be considering, so we might lose him if we wait on Professor Adams,” Magary said.