Words of Lust (10 page)

Chapter Seven

Monday dawned dark, with torrential rain, whipping wind and flooded streets around her building. It made her grumpy, especially since she had to drag a double load of books and materials with her. Even though she decided after slogging a block to splurge on a cab, naturally there were none to be found. Finally she headed toward the downtown subway entrance on foot, keeping watch through the gloom and hugging the weight of her bag.

“I’m gonna fuck you up, bitch.”

The hissed whisper startled her and she spun around in the blinding downpour, trying to see who’d spoken. The voice came from a darkened doorway and in her fear she whirled, stumbling backward away from the threat. She slipped off the sidewalk and sprawled into the path of a car that braked, then began hydroplaning out of control straight for her. As she tried desperately to scramble out of the way, its brakes squealed and the rear wheels came to a stop only inches from her legs. The driver got out and helped her up and another woman gathered her bags, but neither had seen anyone else on the sidewalk.

Despite being completely rattled, she thanked them and then stood, huddled, looking back through the rain at the now vacant doorway. Finally, drenched and bedraggled, she trudged on, determined to rectify the wreck that had become her day.

* * *

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She looked a mess, but the students weren’t interested. Instead they were industriously complaining about the curriculum changes and additional readings she’d assigned. By the end of the session her head ached and she was contemplating an appendectomy of her own, whether she needed one or not, so she wouldn’t have to put up with them again.

During their Sunday afternoon, Nick had asked for her cell number but she’d gotten distracted by great sex and had forgotten to give it to him. Now, her spirits low during her first break, she texted him from her phone in order to provide it and, minutes later, as she was headed to her next class, her phone rang. His number appeared on the screen and she felt as though she’d gotten a sudden do-over for her morning.

“Hey, Professor.”

“Hey, Nick.”

There was a moment of silence. She could feel his concern pulsing over the airwaves.

“What’s up? You sound like you’re dragging. Sleepless night? Too many hot dreams of yours truly?” But there was it was—an underlying tone of worry beneath the joking.

“I’m just a bit tired. Listen, I’m heading into my class. Can I call you back later?”

“How about I pick you up and we hang at your place and relax? We can get some takeout and then make out. Christen your bed. Floor, shower, couch.” His teasing was enticing.

Her knees hurt where she’d fallen. Her eyes were grainy and she was bone tired. She’d slept for a while the night before, but awakened early, and tossed and turned for hours but due to anxiety, not hot dreams. Maybe it was the combination of factors that made her feel weak and needy, but with the day she was having, an evening cuddling with him sounded like heaven. And sex with Nick would certainly take her mind off her troubles.

“That sounds great. I’m done by six.”

“See you then. Same place as Friday. By the way, check your cell later. There might be a little something motivational waiting.”

Immediately she was less stressed, anticipating a night with Nick. Coupled with the fact that this was her last class of the day, it allowed her to smile at the doorway of her classroom. She could hear Gia inside, holding forth in a debate over the always controversial pedophile protagonist, Humbert Humbert. They’d discussed Nabokov’s most famous work early on in the semester, but
Lolita
was always divisive and perennially guaranteed lively discussion.

“But he’s telling this story—how can you believe anything the character says?”

“It is his actions that speak, not his version of events. No matter his story, he is a pedophile rapist and a murderer. The fact that he may portray things one way, making it sound erotic, doesn’t excuse his actions.”

She lost track of the argument, however, when she noticed Nick’s sister standing between her two lovers, Carlos and Forrest. The ménage relationship was the cause for much Wharton gossip, most of which was essentially harmless. The trio was striking certainly, all dark and light, tall and petite, slender, and muscular, boy, girl, boy. She was only a few years older than Gia, but she had never been as brazen, as daring. She smiled. Of course, her activities with Nick bore all the hallmarks of a woman unconstrained by prudery. He certainly was broadening her horizons, sexual and otherwise. Reminded of him, she pulled out her phone to check before getting class started. She had a text message from him.

“Guess what I was thinking about when I read this. How hard and long I want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight. I want to make you drunk on me. HM TOC page 233.”

She puzzled over the message momentarily until she looked at the last part. Suddenly it dawned on her. Henry Miller. Page 233 of
Tropic of Cancer
. She recalled the passage and her body responded. It thrilled her that Nick was so ravenous for her. Like the prostitute in Miller’s passage, who was the most desirable woman in the room, whom all the men wanted to fuck, fuck her until they filled her with their semen, she hungered to be consumed by Nick, to be filled with him, filled with his come and know that the man could not get enough of her, that she was all he needed to be supremely satisfied. She wanted to be Nick’s one-woman harem. His only lover. The only woman he needed. Taking a deep, cleansing breath she entered the class, the flush of heat that had ignited and swept through her refusing to ebb.

The attention in the room shifted to her as she reached the lectern. As the students scurried to their seats, she crooked her finger at Gia. The girl oozed from the embrace of the two male students and approached.

“Gia, I think I ought to warn you that Nick is meeting me after class and—”

“You guys are having another date? Awesome.”

“Well, yes, it is awesome. He’s is a great guy—and your whole family is lovely. I had a very nice time yesterday.”

“My brothers are assholes ninety percent of the time, that’s to be expected. I can’t believe they gave you crap about this class.”

“Gia.” She raised her hand. “I wanted to let you know in case you three wanted to, you know, downplay things since he’ll be waiting for me outside.”

“Ménage is not a crime.”

“Of course it’s not.”

“Do you have a problem with us, Professor Luca?”

She smiled at Gia’s defensive tone. Such passion would take her far. “No, I do not. In fact—” she paused to glance at the two handsome sophomores, “—I consider you a very lucky girl to have not one, but two such smart, handsome beaux. But do you really want to introduce them, and your relationship, to your brother in the parking lot?”

Gia’s mutinous look didn’t comfort her. She raised her chin and scowled ferociously.

“No time like the present.” Then she marched back to her seat, defiantly kissing both boys on the mouth before dropping into the seat between them.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Throwing up her hands, she set aside concerns for Gia and turned to the class at hand.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Today we’re going to be starting our discussion of Kate Chopin’s bittersweet and provocative novel,
The Awakening
, and I hope you looked through the handouts and did the readings I assigned last week, because they are integral to today’s conversation. This novel was considered an outrage in its day because of its message that a woman might not find physical or emotional satisfaction in her marriage. We often find in literature the example of a woman seeking passion, only to be ostracized and punished, in this case by death, for daring to indulge her desires.”

Typical back-and-forth arguments ensued about the eroticism of the feminist novel.

“It’s crazy that she killed herself over it.”

“You have to understand the times, Claire. The era in which any book is written, erotic or otherwise, will be reflected in that book. What seems absurd to us today was a way of life in Kate Chopin’s day. She herself was reviled at the time for daring to write such a scandalous novel, though today we recognize the eroticism lies predominantly in the concept, rather than the language. You can’t judge a female protagonist’s actions or choices by your own social or moral yardstick. You must put yourself into the era of any story to fully understand the stakes and the cost.”

She was pleased when Gia added an important element to the discussion. “It would be the same in reverse. Can you imagine what Edna would think if she could see how we behave today? How casual sex is, how free women are to make their own choices?”

“In fact, for next week’s paper, part of your assignment is to compare and contrast the lonely adulteress, Edna Pontellier, and her French counterpart, Emma Bovary. Please focus on the women, the choices they make and the outcomes they suffer, as they reflected society’s censure, and compare it as well with how today’s extramarital or sexual scandals are viewed.” She was pleased by the students’ intensity and diverse thinking on the books and so engaged by the boisterous debate she only noticed Nick standing in the doorway at the rear exit of the classroom as the lecture drew to a close. He had a slight smile on his face, as though he enjoyed the discussion too. It felt good. She gave a small wave to let him know she’d seen him, and moved to wrap up the class.

“Remember to check your reading assignments too. I want your papers but you also need to be prepared to discuss the Victorian writings for next class. Read with an eye toward recognizing the differences between the more literary canon of erotic fiction we’ve studied, and the intent of these predominantly anonymous authors. Focus on
The Pearl
and
Fanny Hill.
Yes, more reading. I hear the groans. What did you expect when you signed up for a literature section? Besides, I guarantee you’ll have fun with the Victorians. Here’s a salacious bit from
Fanny
: ‘Its prodigious size made me shrink again; yet I could not, without pleasure, behold, and even ventur’d to feel, such a length, such a breadth of animated ivory!’ I leave it to you to surmise what might be the object of that exclamation, ladies and gentlemen.” She grinned as the students’ eyes widened and gave them a wave as she started packing up.

As she’d outlined the assignments for the next class, she’d glanced down at Gia and said a prayer Nick wouldn’t explode when his sister flaunted her two lovers in front of him. Probably a futile hope. She’d try to head him off before the fireworks got started. The potential for a fight breaking out made her hurry.

The students filed out, still moaning about the upcoming paper she’d assigned, exams, and the hefty reading that remained. She stuffed everything into her satchel and hurried up the aisle with a big smile on her face, preparing to usher him out the door. Unfortunately, she arrived just in time to see his mouth drop open in shock.

“Nick.” She put her hand out but he was already heading down the aisle, his face red.

“Gia!” Most of the students were gone, but when he yelled, those few remaining froze. Including Gia, who was indulging in a boyfriend sandwich, complete with groping.

She dashed after him, taking the opportunity to motion the other students from the room. Her glare convinced them to leave, despite the obvious opportunity to witness the debacle.

She was right behind him. Gia had stiffened in the face of her brother’s outrage and her expression lost the swagger and defiance, and she couldn’t help but pity the younger girl. Nick in a fury certainly was a daunting sight. She slipped between the pair and laid a hand on his chest. For a moment the five of them stood, silent, the atmosphere pulsing with anger and testosterone. Then Gia recovered her bluster. As the students liked to say, the girl had balls.

“Hi, Nick. Let me introduce my lovers, Carlos Rivera and Forrest Keane.”

She groaned. Gia had her arms around the two men’s waists, though she noticed both boys looked particularly uncomfortable beneath Nick’s icy stare.

“Excuse me?” His voice was low, and loaded with animosity.

“We’re in a ménage relationship. The three of us are lovers.”

In the single moment of disbelieving silence that ensued, she could practically hear his teeth grinding.

“I know what ménage means.”

Gia’s smile slipped for a second. He stepped toward the boys.

Serafina pushed them apart.

“Gia, boys, leave now. Nick, stand down.”

Despite her bravado, Gia took the opportunity and left in a hurry, pulling both boys behind her like a queen with an entourage. But though her head was held high and her back straight, the girl didn’t once look back. Then she was distracted by Nick trying to get around her. She grabbed his arm.

“Wait a goddamn minute, Gia!”

“Stop, Nick.” She hung on and blocked his access down the narrow aisle. He would have to push her out of the way and he almost did.

“Professor, let me—”

“No. This is neither the time nor the place.” She reached the exit ahead of him and hauled the door closed, leaning against it.

“Calm down! You’re her brother and I get that you’re trying to protect her. But she’s legal, she’s smart and she knows what she wants. Though she shouldn’t have thrown it in your face like that.”

“Do you know what she’s doing?” He was ranting, but she let him. “Do you know where they’re putting their dicks?”

“As a matter of fact, I figured that part out all by myself, yes.”

“Dammit, Serafina.” His frustration was palpable. His muscles were tightly bunched beneath her palms and his heart pounded.

“Hey.” She captured his face between her hands. In a desperate attempt at distraction, she kissed him. Nice and thorough, the way she’d wanted to since his call. Finally he wrapped his arms around her and settled his head on her shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was muffled.

“What am I going to tell my parents?”

“Nothing, of course. Look at me.” He raised his head and looked forlornly at her.