Messalina: Devourer of Men (32 page)

* * * *

Tuesday has yet to start and already I get a glimpse of the foolishness yet to come by way of a memo in my office mailbox. Two more students have come forward to confess their relationships with Terrence Hyde.

The tabloids are having a field day. More than once I see TV unit trucks prowling around. They haven’t been on campus yet because we are a private institution. Nevertheless, the strain on everyone is getting worse.

For weeks, memos have been coming out practically every other day and one-on-one conferences between faculty and the bigwigs in administration have become common, creating an atmosphere of hypersensitive, politically-correct paranoia. For many of my colleagues, The Cunning Linguists and myself included, the steps taken by our bosses have become a bit ridiculous.

But when I hear one joke too many about “Horny Hyde,” it doesn’t help my attitude. Over lunch, Glynnis and I talk about the latest proclamation from on high.

“They are trying to prevent a witch hunt while setting the stage for one,” I bitch. “It’s been nearly a year. They need to hurry up and put an end to this. I mean really. What’s this crap about keeping our office doors open if we have a student in there?”

“Well, you know what happens behind closed doors, Eva.”

“Quiet? Privacy?”

“Yes, but it’s also easier for people to do what they shouldn’t.”

I laugh, but she frowns.

“I should think you’d be more appreciative of the new guidelines.”

“Why me?”

She looks over the top of her glasses at me. “You mean apart from your participation in The Great Sex Debate, being Terrence Hyde’s protégé, and that you’ve had a bit of notoriety in the press lately?” She takes a bite of her sandwich. “Also . . . you have a puppy.”

Puppy
is the term we use for students who follow us from class to class wanting our undivided attention. It’s reserved for students brown-nosing (or tonguing) and those who have crushes on their professor. I chuckle.

“I wouldn’t call Neil my puppy, but so what if he is? I’ve never had one before.”

But Glynnis doesn’t see the humor; instead she just nods.

“That’s what I thought the first few times it happened to me. Evadne,” she says, taking her sandwich out of its wrapper, “they always have ulterior motives. How long have you been teaching at college level?”

I shrug. “About five years.”

“You’re still young.”

“Damn! I hate when people say that. Does that mean I’m stupid too?”

“No. It’s just that, in our profession, it’s easy to get caught up in the unbridled hormones around us.”

“Hyde has taught for over twenty years. Sounds like he’s been a lech for all of them.”

“Yes, but he’s a man.”

“I had no idea you were so sexist, Glyn. Wasn’t it you who once said I should ‘get fucked?’ Those were your exact words.”

“I’m not sexist, just practical.” She gives me the eye. “My suggestion served you well.”

I look away. The last thing I need is anyone speculating about my sex life at work.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

“No.”

“Hmm, well I’m just saying, don’t go looking for love in all the wrong places.”

I start laughing, not minding the looks we get from others in the cafeteria. “Can we please stop playing
Name That Tune
? I’d like to finish my lunch.”

* * * *

The Life of Lucrezia Spence is turning me into a slacker and with Jared so busy, it’s the one thing I have to take my mind off matters. I’ve even got Ana and Tony reading it and loaned them my previous issues until they get their own subscriptions.

If I’m not rereading the latest issue, I’m hanging out in
The Life of Lucrezia
chat rooms and listservs under the name “BlackCat” in honor of my last tattoo. I’ve made some interesting friends online, like RazorBrn and TriXXX, and I bet I’m the senior citizen in a group of cyber-kids. Either they are very reckless or full of shit—I suspect a bit of both.

The official
The Life of Lucrezia
website, authorized by the writer and creator, Ali, and with a webmaster named RudeBoy, is my favorite
LoL
website. It doesn’t matter when I sign on, RazorBrn and TriXXX always seem to be in the chatroom—and they’re not even moderators.

One of the most popular threads is about Lucy being under surveillance. One of the school’s second graders, Carrie Dover, is the child of single parent and police detective Jack Dover. Jack is a young, sexy hotshot rising through the ranks. He knew instantly what was implied when the papers ran the photos of Lucy receiving the Employee of the Year Award from Superintendent Patrick Klein and the one taken outside his house. Apart from a few voices of discontent from local bible-thumpers, the incident blew over. But Jack refuses to let go and when he finds evidence implicating the district attorney and a justice of appeals, Jack is ordered to back off by Police Chief Adam Lawson.

blkcat:        things are getting spicy

RzrBrn:       yes finally

triXXX:      o come on razor give the man a break

RzrBrn:       who said ali’s a man?

triXXX:      of course he’s a man. this is a man’s fantasy

RzrBrn:       i dunno could be a bull dyke

lickitty:       thx razor 4 b n so sensitive

RzrBrn:       i don’t mean you lickitty. i’d cut off my dick to be with a hot babe like you :-*  nice to see you could join our threesome

                    :-)

blkcat:        hate to admit. would love for LoL to come out weekly

triXXX:      embarrassed?

blkcat:        no. addicted:-)

lickitty:       ain’t no shame blackie. if i had tits like lucy i’d want to see more of em 2

RzrBrn:       hmmm, blackcat and lickitty. r u a couple?

lickitty:       a couple of what?

blkcat:        does that turn you on razor? ;-)

triXXX:      he’s jerking off at the thought

lickitty:       well, maybe if he’s a good boy,  blackcat and I will get a pvt room. what u say blackie?

blkcat:        ;-D

I glance at my desk clock.

blkcat:      must go 2 class now

RzrBrn:     aw that SUX!!!

lickitty:     why don’t u ditch?

triXXX:    yeah. tell the prof to go fuck him/herself

blkcat:      sorry can’t. besides, this prof is really pretty cool :-)

I laugh as I log off and put the computer to sleep. A sigh escapes me when I realize I’ve wasted another break getting my Lucy fix instead of creating my midterm exam.

Oh well. If I can’t see Jared, it’ll give me something to do this weekend.

I grab my purse and briefcase and exit the office. Making my way through the throng, I catch glimpse of a brightly colored flyer on top of a stack of notebooks before realizing it’s not a flyer, but the cover of the latest issue of
The Life of Lucrezia.
I’m surprised that, through all the bustle in the hall, I’m able to single it out. Perhaps I’ve become sensitized. I smile to myself. At least there’s one other person in our cloistered community who’s not adverse to a little creative smut.

I’m just being mean. The students on our campus are no different than elsewhere, but the “Hyde Affair” has stirred up dormant issues about sex and academia, and the lines of demarcation are rising up and creating factions on campus. I laugh out loud at the thought of
The Life of Lucrezia
becoming a sort of banner for sexual freedom.

Let the revolution begin.

* * * *

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I last chatted in the
LoL
chatroom and I’ve found a feature article in a popular e-zine called
Redd Ink,
which focuses on things on the verge of making a splash, for better or worse.

Reporter Creighton Day has written a piece about the growing appeal of what he calls “dark animation,” or animation dwelling on sinister and adult issues. Day lists several popular action, goth, and manga titles, but his article is really about “a pulp fiction throwback in modern graphic novel style mixing exquisite and technically detailed drawing with sexually charged writing.”

I devour the rest of Day’s article:

Under the title of
The Life of Lucrezia
, “Ali,” as the mastermind of the serial goes by, has created an anachronistic world full of explicit sex and mob-style violence that would make Dick Tracy spew. But not intrepid police detective Jack Dover, one of the newest faces to enter the town of Sugarville, “where the sweetness can rot you to the core” as the cynical Dover puts it. He’s been transferred to the town from the capital, under protest, for reasons unknown to us and already he’s stumbled on a potential scandal to shake all the sugar out of Sugarville.

It took some doing, but I was able to catch up with Ali while he was on vacation and staying at the swank Hotel Monaco in Denver. I offered to meet him there or at The Brown Palace. Not that I was staying there, mind you, but mostly to show I wasn’t some hack. He declined to interview in person and, considering how I had to get past his staff, I asked if it had anything to do with the subject matter. Did he have to keep his identity secret?

“Lucrezia is the star, not me,” he said.

So, we chatted over the phone for nearly an hour.

The interview shows “Ali” to be a funny but modest man (so much for RazorBrn’s theory to the contrary), and that he has a girlfriend.

“She didn’t care for the story at first, but I think she’s coming around,” Ali said. I asked if any of the heart-stopping sex scenes were literally drawn from personal experience and what his girlfriend thought. But he just laughed and said, “Let’s just say we are both happy mixing art with life.” Of course Ali wouldn’t divulge the name of his muse, only that she is “the ink in my well and my inspiration.”

I ask if she’s the model for Lucrezia.

“No,” Ali confesses. “She is a character in her own right.”

I smile. How sweet. Lucky bitch. Must be nice to be a muse.

It makes me feel better that I’m not the only female who was slow to warm up to the story, and for similar reasons. When I first started lurking in the various
LoL
chatrooms, there was a collection of people—mostly women, or at least people claiming to be women—who were disappointed that the storyline seemed a bit simplistic and contrived. Sure, the sex was top quality, but Lucy and the whole Sugarville gang deserved more.

Apparently Ali took these comments to heart and the story has become more complex and intriguing. In the January issue, it was announced that
Lucy
will change to a biweekly.

I logoff the Internet and bring up my notes for the upcoming debate next week. I think I have more than enough ammo to prove my point, but right now, I’m struggling with my own convictions.

How can I argue for sexual freedom and openness when I cringe at the thought of my own family seeing me as a sexually active woman? Freedom, openness,
and
a right to privacy. Is it really possible?

“Knock, knock. How you doin’, teach?”

I look up and see Neil’s head peeking around my door.

“I just thought you might be nervous about tonight, that’s all.”
            “Me? Nervous?” I pick up a pen and pretend to write a list. “Neil, I talk in front of people every day. Many of them are hostile or have a grudge against me.”

He scoops his work into his strong right hand and places the wire basket back on the counter. “Yes, but you’re not talking about their private love life.”

“Neil, tonight’s debate isn’t about anyone’s love life. It’s about using your freedom of choice.”

His laugh makes me raise my head.

“You don’t have to convince me, teach. I’m on your side.” He steps closer to my desk. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to cheer you on.”

“I didn’t doubt it for a second.” I smile. “Now get to work. We got one hundred freshmen who need their exam copied.”

He snaps straight to attention, salutes, and exits the office.

 * * * *

Jared and I wait at the stoplight to cross the street and we see about thirty people heading to the student union.

“It’s gonna be packed.” He sings, trying to get a rise out of me and smiles.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He puts on a face of mock innocence. “How many men get the chance to see the woman they love debate a person’s right to have sex to a crowd of strangers? Are you kidding? I am
loving
this.” He tugs me into his arms for a kiss and gives me a squeeze about my waist.

“Hello, teach!”

My eyes pop open and I step away so fast Jared loses his balance. I look past him and see Neil approaching. He’s dressed like a baby yuppie in Dockers, shirt, and dark blazer. He fills out his clothes well and his honey-colored hair is brushed to a shine. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a date with him.