A History of the Future in the 20th Century (closed)

[AntonTovaras]

At 6am, Adam Black is up and running. A brisk 5 miles, not bad for a guy with half a century and change under his belt. By seven thirty, he’s showered and dressed, old faded jeans and a white shirt, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, the top button open at the neck. Cuban heeled boots. He could pass for forty, thirty when he grins. His black hair is buzzed stubbly, his concession to male pattern baldness, and he wears a porkpie hat to keep the sun off his dome. Not because it makes him look like he spent the night playing the saxophone in some Harlem nightclub in the 1950s.

He looks at the picture of his family on the mirror and sighs. His wife, Anya, was taken by cancer ten years ago, and his two daughters were both in college already. Neither of them here. He knew he had dropped the ball when Anya died. They were at such a critical age then, and he had hit the bottle pretty hard. And a few weeks after the funeral, they’d found him having breakfast with one of his students who was still in her underwear. The girls still hadn’t forgiven him for it. He hadn’t forgiven himself for it, but he had been sober for ten years, which was something. And they cut him enough slack to visit now and then, which was something else. If they were completely estranged, he thinks he’d skip booze and go straight to opiates.

He walked to campus. It was a beautiful day, the girls were still showing as much skin as they could get away with. His office was in the humanities building, with a big window that looked over the campus pond, a prime sunbathing spot in the afternoon. He let himself look, but he didn’t let himself stare. They were legally adults, to be sure, but emotionally, they were still children. They were his girls’ age, and the thought of some 53 year old professor putting his filthy paws on one of his angels was enough to make his fists clench.

He shook his head. Not what he needed to be thinking about. Today was the first day of classes, and he was meeting with two sections of Composition, which was mostly a bore. First thing, though, he had his own class: A History of the Future in the 20th century. He’d be starting with HG Wells and moving through Aldous Huxley and George Orwell, moving through Gibson and even briefly mentioning his own novel, a widely acclaimed but rarely purchased science fiction opus called The Beautiful, and finally ending with The Matrix. It was a upper level course, and it was full. He had set the limit at twelve students, though he could have filled a lecture hall. He’d cut the class size down drastically by scheduling it at 8AM, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, which meant that anyone who wanted to party was going to skip it.

The strange thing was the Freshman. Eve White, which was a cute coincidence. She’d taken AP English and then Introduction to English Literature in summer school, so in theory she was eligible. And she had signed up for the course even when there was a wait-list. Then she had written him a letter over the summer that was so articulate and intelligent that he’d created a thirteenth spot for her. He was eager to meet this girl, who had pushed so hard to get into his course. He glanced at his watch. 7:55. He locked his office door behind him and went downstairs to the classroom.

There were four sleepy looking young men standing by the door, one of whom he recognized from a Composition course a few years ago. Adam unlocked the door, said hello to the familiar face, and stepped into the classroom. He smiled. This was what he lived for. As the rest of the class trickled in, he wrote his name and the name of the course on the whiteboard.

He made friendly small talk as he handed out syllabi to the students, and at 8 sharp, he did a headcount. 12. Missing one. Eve White, naturally the freshman was late. He looked out into the hall and there she was, and for a moment, he forgot everything.

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve White was hopelessly lost. She'd her dorm room 20 minutes ago, and it wasn't as though campus was particularly sprawling. She should have arrived at her classroom with 10 minutes to spare, but she'd gotten herself turned around trying to take a short-cut through the physics building and she'd only just made it to the Arts quad. To make matters worse, she was coming into the English building from an unfamiliar direction, so she wasn't entirely certain which hallway running off the main artery was the right one.

She paused at an intersection of halls, pushing long, black hair out of her face. She was dressed in a simple v-neck t-shirt and shorts, which she was thankful for since she'd ended up practically running through most of the Arts quad in a hopeless attempt to recover lost time. At barely 5 feet tall, Eve wasn't exactly the fastest girl in the world - though she was quite fit, fitness didn't make up for having legs several inches shorter than everyone else's.

Looking down the halls, wondering which of the cookie-cutter hallways was the right one, she tugged absently on the hem of her shorts, which were cut high enough up her thigh that she'd have been sent home from high school last year for wearing them to class. She'd never really understood why - she thought she was plain looking. It wasn't as though her legs were going to distract anyone, or so she thought. Of course, she would have been wrong. Her legs were creamy and smooth, an expanse of toned muscle and soft skin. When she walked, her hips rolled sensuously, with the grace only granted to an experienced dancer, of which Eve was one.

In fact, Eve had no real concept of just how tempting a figure she was at that particular moment. Her legs were tensed, ready to jog to the next hall, showing off just how shapely they were. Her chest was heaving slightly from the exertion of running across the quad, pushing a rather generous chest up and out, made only more apparent by the deep cut of her v-neck shirt. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes bright and curious, as she often looked when trying to solve a problem (even if it was just the problem of being a little lost). She was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, ready to move once she got her bearings, which made her hips swing back and forth in a tempting figure-8 motion.

She was about to move on to the next hallway when a man stepped out of one of the classrooms. She recognized him - Doctor Adam Black. She'd seen his photo on the school website when she was looking up his email address, anxious to ask him personally for a chance to join his class. His photo really didn't do him justice; he was a fit man, well-toned muscles visible in a few places under his shirt, with a handsome face and kind, intelligent eyes. She'd never really found older men to be her preference, but there was something about him that made her blush. Something about the way he held himself and the way he smiled.

She approached him, smiling sheepishly and ducking her head, not quite able to mask her embarrassment. "I'm, um, I'm Eve. I'm really sorry for my lateness. I got lost in the science quad."

 

[AntonTovaras]

Everything seemed to come to a stop as he looked at her. Her breasts were pushing against her t shirt, cleavage displayed amply. Her bare thighs moved, her hips swaying in her skimpy little shorts. It wasn't just her body, though, or even her face, which was strikingly beautiful, with sweet, soft lips that made him feel like a dirty old man just for the things he wanted to do to them, and blue eyes that promised everything. The way she walked, he was ready to kiss her and take her on the floor....

And then he shook his head. Not again. He'd had his fling with a student ten years ago, after Anya died, and it had nearly cost him his daughters. He forced himself to look at his watch. It was two minutes after. She was still coming down the hall, so he couldn't have been staring at her for that long.

"It's the first day," he said, smiling at her. He stepped aside to let her into the classroom, and took a moment to collect himself. He couldn't remember ever meeting a woman that affected him like that. He'd been hit by the lust bug plenty of times, but he'd never seen a woman for the first time and been so completely undone. If he hadn't written the name of the course on the board, he wouldn't even know what he was doing.

"So," he said, waiting for her to take a seat. "Um. I'm Adam Black. This is, uh, A History of the, um, Future. In the, er, 20th Century. As you know." He looked at the wide table at the front of the room. Of course, he'd been planning this class for so long, he hadn't thought to bring any notes, and now he was drawing a complete blank.

"Yeah," he said. He picked up the last syllabus and handed it to Eve. "So, we're going to be talking about the way people imagined the future. We're going to talk about how their particular place in history informed their visions of the future. We're also going to talk about how it shaped the direction of discoveries, advances in technology, and so on." He held his phone up as if he were making a call. "Beam me up, Scottie."

"We're going to be reading a lot of science fiction," he said. "So I'm hoping the course will be fun, but it's not going to be a fun course that you can cruise through. It's an upper level literature course. There will be real work, and there's only thirteen of you, so it's going to be hard to hide when you don't know what's going on."

He went on for a little longer, then he had each of the students introduce themselves and talk about themselves. He was so distracted by Eve White that he hardly listened to the other twelve students, but he managed to ask some questions and generally seem engaged. At nine o clock, he walked to the door and opened it.

"You're free, til Wednesday," he said. "Start reading War of the Worlds. You should finish it by Monday. We're going to be talking about Mars a lot, so have things to say. My office hours are three to five every day, and all my info is on your syllabus if you need to get in touch at any other time. Please do not call me after midnight unless it's a matter life or death. Thanks everyone."

He stepped back into the room, to let them all file out. He had never felt so tedious in his life.

 

[slut_in_white]

Still blushing slightly, despite Dr. Black's assurances that it was fine, Eve followed him into the classroom and took her seat. She listened eagerly as he explained how the class would work, totally oblivious to his distraction. He seemed like a decent professor teaching an awesome course, and that was enough for her - she had no idea that, normally, his passion for the topic made him an exceptional teacher, that today was an off day for him. Or that she was the reason he was so off-balance this morning.

By the time the first week had ended, she'd declared A History of the Future in the 20th Century her favourite class by far. The content was exceptional - Eve had always had a bit of a nerdy side. She loved science fiction, which was what had drawn her to the class to begin with, but she'd always stuck to pop sci-fi: Star Trek, Star Wars, Mass Effect, and the like. Which wasn't to say those were bad examples of sci-fi by any means, but they rarely held a candle to the likes of HG Wells, Issac Asimov or Arthur C Clarke. She'd never even attempted any of these authors previously, but the class was opening up a whole new world for her.

She'd finished War of the Worlds within 24 hours of receiving the assignment. It had been an accident - she was so engrossed in the story that she hadn't realized it was 3am until she shocked herself by reaching the end of the book and then looked at the clock for the first time in 4 hours. Then, between classes the next morning, she'd gone to scour the library for more books by HG Wells. By the time she arrived back in class on Wednesday morning, she was halfway through The Island of Doctor Moreau.

Even better, on Wednesday she found that Dr Black displayed much more of his signature passion for the topic than he had on Monday. Perhaps it was because he was better prepared, with a few more notes, or perhaps he had simply better mentally prepared himself for seeing her again. Either way, she couldn't look away from him for the entire class. Most of the other students paid careful attention, but none seemed quite as enraptured as Eve.

As class ended, the other students filed out of the classroom but Eve, instead, approached the front of the class. "Dr Black?" Her heart was skipping in her chest, and she couldn't help the slight blush that coloured her cheeks at the ridiculousness of her reaction. She was speaking to her teacher, why should that elicit such an excited reaction from her? She refused to consider the idea that she might have been developing a crush on him. Certainly he was an attractive man - he was tall, broad-shouldered, at ease with himself. His eyes seemed to dance with wit when he was speaking, and his intelligence alone would have been enough to see her utterly infatuated with anyone else, but he was her teacher. Off limits. And so she pretended she didn't notice any of those things, though her heart-beat and the butterflies in her stomach said otherwise. She chewed her lip, waiting for him to look up, clutching her copy of The Island of Doctor Moreau to her chest.

"I... I just wanted to thank you again for letting me into your full class. I know it's early in the semester, but I'm already really enjoying it." She paused, an embarrassed little smile gracing her features. "I kind of already finished War of the Worlds. It was incredible."

 

[AntonTovaras]

Wednesday, he was prepared. He was still not at the top of his game, still distracted by the girl, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He talked about the fear of the alien in American culture, and the fear created by the technological revolution underway at the beginning of the 20th century. He waxed philosophical about fear as a barrier to living, and gave his familiar exhortations to his students to chase their dreams and not let their fears hold them back. He did not discuss theories on what Eve might look like naked, though it was certainly on his mind during the class.

Since Monday morning he'd been distracted by thoughts of the girl, and Tuesday night he'd come dangerously close to falling off the wagon at a friendly get-together after a faculty meeting. He wasn't so much worried that having a beer at a bar with some friends would send him into some sort of downward spiral, more that the impulse to drown his feelings in liquor suggested that he was already in a bad way. The thing was that it didn't feel bad. It felt good. It was a dizzy, vertiginous feeling, like a free fall that never ended. He remembered the last time he had felt that way, when he was in graduate school and he first met Anya.

He'd grappled with it the whole night, and finally decided he couldn't fight it. He would embrace the feelings, and enjoy them for what they were. He knew he couldn't act on them. The girl was younger than his own daughters, and he simply could not allow himself to take advantage of her. So he was able to teach class, and he knew he was doing better this time. The class were engaged, excited even, which was no small thing at 8am. When class ended, he was packing his notes, getting ready to teach his first Composition class, when Eve stopped to speak to him.

She was so pretty, he had to force himself to pay attention to what she was saying.

"No thanks necessary," he said. "You earned it. You're a beaut ... er ... very bright young woman and it's a privilege to have you. In my class, that is." He tried to laugh it off, but it game out sounding like the nervous laugh it was. The girl had him flustered like he hadn't been since ... since Anya.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said, and then glanced down at the book she was clutching to her chest. "Ah, Moreau. Another classic." He could hardly believe how awkward he felt, trying to make conversation with her, and the realization that they were completely alone made him completely tongue-tied. He realized he was leaning towards her, and turned away before it got too awkward.

"I would love to talk," he said, shaking off the spell that she cast on him. "But I do have another class now. Feel free to stop by my office hours, or.... Well, you have my number."

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve gasped, blushing when he mentioned he had another class. "Oh, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to distract you!" She smiled sheepishly. "I'd love to talk more during office hours..." She ducked her head, embarrassed by her bad timing and fled the room.

It took less than a week to her to start nursing a powerful crush on Professor Black. Each class saw his passion for the topic showing through more powerfully than each time. Not to mention the smiles and glances she liked to imagine he was shooting her way instead of just at the class in general.

With that kind of crush, she kept convincing herself that she didn't want to go see him alone - she was afraid of embarrassing herself. She's had a few opportunities, but kept chickening out. By the time she managed to actually show up, it was a week later and she kept nearly abandoning the idea, so it was late - his hours finished at 7pm that evening, and she didn't gather the courage to actually show until 6:45. By that point, she'd finished Moreau and was well into Time Machine.

She paused, a bright blush lighting her cheeks, and knocked, tugging self-consciously on the hem of her skirt and waited for him to answer.

 

[AntonTovaras]

The rest of the week had been better. He wasn't sleeping well, but having Eve around seemed to energize him. He fantasized about her, but he was able to keep a lid on it and do his job. He did wonder about their conversation. It had been so short, and he did have another class directly after. He's have said it was poor planning, but in truth, it was just the opposite. He'd scheduled his classes that way because he didn't want to get involved in lengthy discussions after classes. That was what his office hours were for, and over teh years, he'd found that the really interesting stuff came up after the students had a few hours to think. Right after class tended to be babbling and brown-nosing.

Not that his reasoning carried any weight when he thought about Eve. It had taken every ounce of will to excuse himself from the conversation, and now he was wondering if he had missed his chance to connect with her.

A week went by, and they moved on from War of the Worlds to A Brave New World. The conversations about Huxley's dystopia were engaging and fun, and Adam felt things were back on track. One of his students, a dyed in teh wool nerd, had come in during his office hours to ask about other works from the early 20th century that he felt were overlooked. The conversation had been going on for half an hour, and had moved from A Princess of Mars to terrible movie adaptations, to a few obscure utopian and dystopian novels that preceded Brave New World. Adam argued that, for an undergraduate course, it was better to hit the truly important works than to exhaustively chronicle every step that led to them. He found the conversation fascinating, and encouraged the boy to make a term paper, or even a doctoral thesis, out of the course he wished Adam was teaching.

There was a knock on the door, and the fugue state they had entered into broke. They both laughed a little, and Adam asked the boy to open the door.

It was Eve. She looked incredible, her short skirt showing off her perfect thighs, and a flush on her cheeks making her look absolutely irresistible.

"Oh," the boy said, and began packing up his things. "I'll see you in class Professor Black."

"Call me Adam," he said. He vaguely wondered why the boy was suddenly in such a rush, not imagining how sudden and strong the tension in the air had gotten as soon as he laid eyes on Eve. "Thanks for stopping in."

"Yeah, sure," the boy said, and bustled out the door.

"Come on in," Adam said to Eve, standing up. He stopped himself before he walked around his desk to her. Instead he stood there, staring at her. "I'm, uh, really glad you stopped by. I didn't want you to think I was, you know, blowing you off last week. So, what's on your mind?"

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve was initially surprised when the door opened and the person on the other side wasn't her professor. It only took her a moment to spot him further into the room, and to recognize the man in front of her as a fellow student. She offered him a quick smile as he hurried out, secretly grateful for an opportunity to talk to Professor Black alone. It hadn't occurred to her, before now, that someone else might already have been talking to him at his office hours.

Adam stood when she stepped into the room, and for a moment, she thought he was going to come around his desk to greet her. That little thought alone sent a thrill through her, which she chastised herself for immediately - of course he wasn't going to come over just to greet her. And even if he did, she doubted it would ever mean anything!

She took a seat across his desk from him and cleared her throat. "Actually, um, I just finished reading the Time Machine, and I thought it had some really interesting contrast to Brave New World. Curiosity versus contentment, chaos vs order, courage vs fear." She began, and gained confidence with each word.

Soon, they were deep in discussion about the differences in Well's outlook toward the future compared to Huxley's. Eve was leaned eagerly forward over his desk, absolutely enraptured by the conversation. She had her copy of A Brave New World in front of her, looking up passages of particular interest to the conversation. She'd find the particular passage while he waxed poetic about whatever philosophical ideal it exemplified. Finally, there was one particular passage she couldn't find, and she ended up joining him on his side of the desk, to allow him to help her in finding it. It was then that she abruptly realized what position they were in; she was seated next to him, with her chair pulled close enough that the thigh was almost pressed up against his. They were shoulder to shoulder. She could smell the musk of his cologne, his hand was actually atop hers, guiding her fingers over the page. She paused, surprised, and then he suddenly seemed aware of how close they were, too.

 

[AntonTovaras]

The utopian vision of the future versus the dystopian was one of the major themes of the class, naturally. The fact that Eve had gone their without any prompting from him thrilled Adam. It was like she could follow his trains of thought without him needing to explain himself, which was good. As excited as he was about HG Wells, he had been over it a dozen times over the years, and he was far more interested in her. The way she was sitting, he wasn't sure if he should be trying to look down her top or up her skirt, but he was completely distracted.

She stood up, and came around behind the desk, and for a moment, he thought his erotic fantasies were all about to come true. He glanced at the door, which was still ajar, though the building was quiet by now. It was almost 7:30, and everyone had gone home. Instead of climbing onto him, though, she sat beside him, looking for a particular passage.

"Chapter Six," he said, his tone betraying his relief. As much as he wanted her, he was determined to resist his impulse to take her. "She uses it to describe herself in Chapter Six. The men describe her that way in chapter three. It's really a wonderful way to characterize the world's values. Here's this woman that everyone seems to want, and that's the best thing they can say about her."

He chuckled, pointing to the page. "There."

He wondered what Eve thought of it. She was voluptuously beautiful. Of course, that was only part of the meaning.

"Just imagine living in a world like that. What would you do if your boyfriend said you were pneumatic?"

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve blushed hot at the question, and laughed. "Pneumatic? Well, that assumes I have a boyfriend," she answered, surprised at how easily the admission slipped out. Adam made her feel so at ease, she felt like she was talking as much to a friend as she was to her teacher. The relative intimacy of the conversation made her blush - the tone of the conversation, the closeness of her sitting behind the desk with him instead of across, both of them leaning together a little, looking at the book.

She forced her mind to return to the question. "But, umm, I suppose it seems a bit.. I don't know. Cold, I guess. It's a physics term, isn't it? Mechanical. It's not the same as most compliments. They sound like they're describing a machine. A sex toy." She stopped abruptly, her face going bright red. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. But now that she had said it, it seemed true, and she needed to say something else, something to distract from her slip. "And... And then she, umm, she describes herself that way and... And I suppose it's sad. There's nothing wrong with appreciating how beautiful she is. Or of her awareness that she's beautiful. But to see her speak about herself in the language of machines... It's sad."

There was another pause, and she cleared her throat. "But, to answer your actual question... If my hypothetical boyfriend called me pneumatic, I would... Well, it's hard to say. I mean, it could mean a lot of things. I mean, Lenina is obviously lovely, so it's intended as a compliment to her, even if it's a weird one with cold implications. She's got..." She paused, blushing, unable to find an appropriate word for what she was trying to say. "Er, I mean, she's well-endowed. But it could be underhanded, I suppose. It could be a suggestion of being overweight, or something like that. I suppose it depends on him, how it's said, the context..." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. She hadn't meant to lay out her misplaced lack of confidence in herself like that.

 

[AntonTovaras]

This was a terrible thing for him to be discussing with this girl, and he forced himself not to look at her as he elaborated.

"Well, it's commonly used to describe machines that work on air pressure, but literally it means full of air, or even inflatable," he says. He chuckled nervously. "So, voluptuous, but also ... an airhead? Which I'm sure your ... uh ... hypothetical boyfriend would know better than to suggest you are." He gave her a glance. She was beautiful. If she were in A Brave New World, she would definitely have men calling her pneumatic. The strange thing was she seemed to have almost no idea how stunning she was. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"You're quite right about the mechanical implications," he says. "Women are simply sex toys for men to use." He took a breath, and in that moment, that statement seemed to grow gigantic and ugly, and he was more flustered than ever. Quickly, he explained, "I mean, in the novel, obviously. It's part of the larger theme of dehumanization and.... Of course I don't mean that women are objects or anything like that."

He gave a smile that he hoped would put the awkward moment behind them. At the same time, looking at her, he realized what a terrible lie it was. Try as he might to engage with Eve on an intellectual level, he could not stop fantasizing about her sexually, to the point that he could hardly focus on the conversation they were having. He knew that, had she been a male student, he'd have been far more engaged, and far less restrained.

"Well," he said, looking at his watch. "It's nearly eight o'clock and I'm starving. I would love to continue this conversation, if you wouldn't mind joining me for dinner?"

 

[slut_in_white]

Women are simply sex toys for men to use.

Eve's mind ran off in a somewhat unexpected direction. She found her mind suddenly full of images of Adam using her that way; her body bent over the desk with Adam behind her, or him still seated in his chair with her straddling his lap, riding him.

Her whole face heated into a bright blush, and shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. she barely heard him trying to recover from the implication. It seemed obvious to her that he was talking in the context of the book. Of course he didn't see women as objects... though it was becoming clearer all the time that she wouldn't mind him objectifying her a little.

She was still struggling to force the residual sexual thoughts out of her head when he invited her to dinner with him. Her gaze snapped to his and her mouth popped open a little in surprise. She blinked, giving her head another quick shake, and smiled at him, looking sheepish. "That sounds really, um, nice. Sure." She pushed herself to her feet, gathering up her book. "Where would you like to go?"

 

[AntonTovaras]

He hadn't meant to ask her on a date. He really hadn't. He had been trying to gracefully escape her, because it was getting harder to resist the temptation that she represented. She was such a beautiful girl, but he had no business taking his students out on dates. He had to tell her he had made a mistake.

"Well," he said. "The thing is...."

The thing was that it wasn't really a date. They were just going to talk, and have dinner. There was nothing romantic about it.

"The thing is, I walked to campus this morning," he said. There were restaurants of a sort on the other side of campus that they could walk to. Greasy, cheap places where students on a budget who wanted a slice of pizza or a cheeseburger to sop up beer, but he had no interest in that sort of food. He also knew it was nearly impossible that they wouldn't be seen. Not that it mattered if anyone saw them, because they weren't fucking. No matter how much he wanted to, they weren't. And they couldn't. "So, if you don't mind a walk, we can go back to my place and I'll grill some steaks."

He had meant to say they could go back to his place and get his car, but somehow, it had come out differently. He thought of her in his house, lounging by the pool in the backyard. Leading him upstairs to the bedroom, stripping her clothes off slowly. He crossed his legs, so she wouldn't see the tent in his jeans.

"Or we can go get pizza down on College Street," he said. "If you'd feel more comfortable."

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve couldn't help the smile that broke on her face at the invitation. She knew she probably shouldn't be nursing her crush, but what harm was there in it, honestly? She knew an older, experienced man like him couldn't possibly be interested in her, even if he wasn't married; she had, naturally, "noticed" that he wasn't wearing a ring. She was excited by the thought of going with him, of having a private conversation and of spending time alone with him. While she knew it wasn't going to go anywhere, she didn't see the harm in having her little fantasies. It never even occurred to her that there was a danger of him returning her desire.

She couldn't have known the fantasies running through her head were almost amusingly similar to the ones he was imagining at that same moment.

She shook her head when he added the option for pizza. "No, I'd love to go home with you." After a beat, she realized what that sounded like, and her far heated up with a bright, sensitive blush. "I, I mean, it's just, the pizza place on College is so loud, I just think it wouldn't really be conducive to conversation..." she explained lamely, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't notice how flustered she was.

 

[AntonTovaras]

She'd love to go home with him. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. It was like she had punched him in the gut, and he managed not to open and close his mouth like a fish. Fortunately, she seemed as flustered by it as he was, and by the time she had corrected herself, he had managed to pull himself together.

But she had said it.

"Of course, you obviously weren't suggesting ... anything." He hoped he managed not to sound like a dirty old man, though he felt the part. "My house it is, then. To, uh, converse. It's interesting to see the role of sexuality plays in some lot of these speculative novels. I'm sure there are scholarly papers on the subject, but I haven't really dug too deeply on the subject. It would make a fascinating term paper."

He grinned as he gathered his things, trying not to leer as their discussion slowly regathered the momentum it had lost when he invited her to dinner. They left his office together, walking across campus in the gathering darkness, and then walking down the side streets that led to his house. It was a small Victorian that he had managed to buy as a fixer-upper twenty years back.

After giving her a brief tour of the downstairs, he led her to the backyard, where there was a pool and a brick patio. He got the charcoal started and then smiled at her. He badly wanted to kiss her.

"So what can I get you to drink?" he said. "I've got sweet tea and milk and I think I have a bottle of wine if you'd like." There was a bottle of wine left over from a dinner party he'd hosted at the end of last semester.

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve was pleased when the conversation returned to the book, instead of the awkwardness of discussing their dinner plans. She soon lost herself in the depth of the conversation, but she couldn't quite shake the awareness that she was going home with her professor. The one she had a powerful crush on. The one she was both physically and intellectually infatuated with. The doubting part of her mind suggested that this was a bad idea, but the rest of her was excited enough at the prospect of spending private time with her that she quashed her doubts enthusiastically.

Of course, she recognized that it was a little odd for a professor to invite a student to his home, even for academic conversation, but she also recognized that she didn't care how unusual it was. She loved having this opportunity for private conversation, so she refused to question it.

The only time in their walk where she managed to disengage from their main conversation for a moment was on the approach to his house. It was gorgeous, and she made sure to tell him so. They went on a quick tour of the house before he showed her into the lovely backyard with the pool, while he got started on the food.

He offered her a drink. She considered the wine for a moment, much desiring something to settle the butterflies in her stomach. She took a seat on the pool chair nearest him, chewing her lip. "Actually, a glass of wine sounds really great," she admitted, hoping he wouldn't think much of it.

He went inside for a moment, and returned with a glass for each of them. It was getting easier all the time to slide back into the relative comfort of their conversation, though at this point, they'd moved from the topic of Lenina specifically to the treatment of women in general in various science fiction novels. She wanted to ask him about his personal life. She wanted to get to know him, but she was afraid the change in conversation would be too inappropriate, or that it would reveal her interest in him. Worse, she couldn't stop checking him out. One minute, she'd be engaged in conversation with him, looking him in the eye, and then he'd look away to do something with the steaks, and her gaze would wander. She'd usually end up ogling his ass, but every time he looked back at her, her gaze would flicker away, and she'd blush, losing her train of thought. It made conversation... difficult, to say the least.

 

[AntonTovaras]

She had wine. He had cranberry juice in a wine glass. It was easier than explaining why he was on the wagon. Easier than thinking about his girls, and the mistakes he had made in the past. Easier than telling this girl that he wanted her so badly he couldn't focus on anything, even though she was young enough to be his granddaughter.

So he gave her a glass of wine, and let her think he was drinking with her. It wasn't like he was trying to get her drunk. He was just trying to stop himself from being stupid. He brought out candles to the table on the patio, and as the evening thickened to night, he served them a simple dinner controlled steak and fresh salad.

"It's not much," he said. "But enjoy."

The backyard was fenced in, and as they are, the silence was heavy. They could have been the last people on Earth. He wouldn't have minded.

"So," he said, mostly to stop the endless daydreams of her body that were filling his thoughts. "I've been meaning to ask you, how did a beautiful girl like you get so into all this science fiction?"

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve couldn't help the little giggle that escaped at his question, a delicious blush lighting her cheeks at the realization that he'd just called her beautiful. She was sure he hadn't meant it like that - it was more for the turn of phrase than it was an indication that he actually thought she was beautiful... right? She tried to suppress the glowing pleasure she felt at the idea that maybe he meant it. No use getting her hopes up when she was sure sleeping with her had to be the last thing on his mind.

"I've always been kind of a tomboy," she admitted. "I actually used to wear boy's clothes when I was in my freshman and sophomore years of high school. Had short hair, too. I spent all my time with boys, so I ended up with a lot of traditionally male interests; sci-fi, video games, sports... I think my parents were afraid I was going to come out as a lesbian, or maybe trans. I don't know. My mom was obsessed with turning me into a girly-girl. By the time I was a senior, I think she was so happy I had started wearing dresses that she happily encouraged whatever else I was into, just to keep me willing to go clothes shopping with her!" She laughed again. "It started with Star Wars, and then I really got into some sci-fi games, like Halo and Mass Effect, and that just kind of led naturally into seeking out sci-fi literature."

She realized she'd just spilled more than she'd meant to about herself, and smiled sheepishly. But the more personal nature of his question meant that she felt like she could turn the personal direction of the conversation back on him. She could ask him something personal about himself, something she'd been interested in all evening. "So how did you end up teaching a class like this?"

 

[AntonTovaras]

He looked at her and tried to see a tomboy, but all he could see were unquestionably feminine curves and a heartbreakingly sexy smile. He could easily let himself believe that she was undressing him with her eyes, and while he knew he was in excellent shape for a man his age, and was charming and handsome and intellectually well-endowed, he couldn't help thinking he was probably older than her father. Being at home meant that every time he went inside, to get a condiment, more wine, put on a pot of coffee or a new CD, he would see pictures of his girls, staring at him with imaginary accusation in their eyes. He tried to explain to them, silently, in his own internal dialogue, that he wasn't doing anything inappropriate. Eve was only there to discuss the course over dinner, but she certainly wouldn't be staying for breakfast. The picture of his daughters was not convinced.

"Well, I think it's wonderful that you found your way," he said. "Science fiction is such a sausage fest so much of the time, we really need bright attractive young women who can hold their own against the knuckledraggers and cellar trolls." He smiled, and then a terrible thought smacked him in the back of the head. "I mean, it's not just because you have girl parts that I'm glad you're here. You truly do have a first rate mind."

It was a big, fat, lie. Not that she had a first rate mind, because she did, but if he was completely honest with himself, he'd had many students over a long career with first rate minds, and Eve was the first one he'd invited home for a dinner for two. He usually had students over once or twice a semester, to watch a movie that wasn't quite relevant enough to spend class time on, or to celebrate the end of exams. He had never invited a single student to his house, alone. At least, not since the one time.

"Anyway," he said, realizing that a discussion of her girl parts was probably not entirely suitable. "I was a science fiction junkie from childhood. Heinlein was still writing, and Moorcock. We had the Godzillas and the Planet of the Apes and I was in high school when the first Star Wars movie came out, and Alien, and Mad Max, not to mention a ton of other films. So once I was safely tenured, I started mixing a bit of Tolkien in with the Joyce and the Woolf. Students liked it, and they asked for more, and eventually that led us here."

 

[slut_in_white]

I mean, it's not just because you have girl parts that I'm glad you're here. You truly do have a first rate mind.

He seemed disturbed by the idea that she might think he only appreciated her for her body. It was a ridiculous enough concept that she actually laughed aloud at it. Because of her tom-boy past, Eve had never really considered herself a great beauty. She'd grown into a stunning young woman, without a doubt, but she still saw the flat-chested, curveless boy she'd been in her sophomore year when she looked into the mirror, playing at being a girl. Her friends had always been more interested in her mind than her body. It never occurred to her Adam felt differently, at least not until he started tripping over his words trying to convince her that he didn't.

She listened eagerly to his story about how he ended up teaching the class, and couldn't help the smile that graced her features once he finished. "Oh wow, I didn't realize professors had such personal control over the content they could teach. It's a good idea, I think. You get the teach the things you're passionate about, and students get to take on that passion."

With the initial barrier against personal conversation broken down, they ended up having a long discussion about themselves. Eve spoke about her life as the youngest of several brothers (which was how she'd ended up so boyish in the first place). She talked about having a secret love of hockey, and how she'd gotten a rather impressive scar on her hip as a child from an ice skate while playing with friends. It was easy to slip into an intimate camaraderie with him, almost dangerously so. As they finished dinner, they moved from the table to seats next to the pool, until finally they were side-by-side sitting on the edge of the pool, with Eve's long, bare legs dangling into the cool water while they talked.

It was late, and she was getting aware that she needed to start considering going home, especially if she wanted to avoid questions of where she'd been so late from her roommates. She could make something up about having stayed late at the library, but if she stayed with Adam much longer, that excuse wasn't going to hold much water. And yet, despite that, she found she wanted to stay, regardless.

 

[AntonTovaras]

"Control is a relative thing," Adam laughed. "But when you take the inch they give you and get good results, they loosen their grip on the reins a little, and after a while, you get to teach courses like this. And you're right. People respond to passion, so I try to find something that excites me about everything I teach."

Somehow the conversation took a personal turn, and she told him about her childhood. She was a hockey fan, which he laughed about. His girls had been girls all along, and gone even further in that direction after their mother died. He told Eve a bit about them, hoping by comparing their life to hers, he would reinforce that he was much too old for her. He hoped that by reminding himself of them, he would remember that Eve was too young.

"Not that I wouldn't mind trading scars," he said. "I have a whopper on my knee from the day I learned a career as a motocross racer wasn't for me. Fortunately, I was able to get my grades up enough to squeeze into college." He had rolled his jeans up to just below his knees to join her in dangling his feet in the water, and he found himself thinking this was the moment. The dinner plates were still sitting on the patio table, but the fire had long since gone out. He had no idea how long they'd been talking, but it had to have been a good long while.

He turned to her and tried to offer her a ride home. He was sure that was the right thing to do. They had strayed far from classwork and literature, into their past. He had spoken of his wife, and found room to mention that he hadn't been involved with anyone in the ten years since she died. He hadn't meant to have that kind of conversation with her, but it had just gone that way.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, instead of offering to drive her back to her dorm. He winced a bit. All he could think about was how badly he wanted her.

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve hadn't expected to hear about his wife. She wasn't sure why it surprised her so much - a man like him surely hadn't been single his entire life. Still, it struck a chord with her when he mentioned that she'd died, and she'd reached out to him, touching his arm gently when she told him how sorry she was to hear that. And it was true - he still sounded sad when he spoke of her, and she felt he didn't deserve that kind of pain.

The conversation turned elsewhere after that. He mentioned his daughters, mentioned that they were older than Eve. She supposed that should have felt strange, given how badly she wanted to touch him (and how badly she wanted his hands on her, too). It was strange, having the academic awareness that she should feel uncomfortable, but without the actual feeling of discomfort. She couldn't have said why she didn't feel it - it was simply true.

They talked longer, about this and that, simply enjoying each other's company. It was well past the time she could have claimed to have been at the library anymore, but she hadn't left yet. That was when Adam said, out of the blue...

I'm glad you're here.

She smiled, a delicate blush colouring her cheeks at the sentiment. "Me, too," she answered softly. Her heart was beating up into her throat, and the moment felt electric. There had been a few silences between them this evening, but none had carried the intense weight this one did. Why this moment felt so different, she wasn't certain. Maybe it was because she was sitting so much closer to him - side by side on the edge of the pool, thighs nearly touching. Maybe it was because it was late, and the late summer heat was growing sultry in the darkness.

They had both stopped speaking and were simply gazing into each others' eyes. Eve was trying to make her brain work, trying to come up with something to end the intensity of the moment, but the words just refused to come to her. Her legs, swishing slowly through the water, brushed up against his, and she gasped, feeling a spark between them at the touch. Her gaze dropped to where they had touched.

When she looked back up at him, something overtook her. She felt overcome by the intensity of whatever was hanging between them, almost suffocating in its strength. She knew that, in the next few moments, she was either going to flee or kiss him, but either way, she needed to break this spell before she forgot how to breathe entirely.

She licked her lips and leaned slightly toward him. He didn't pull away, at least, and he didn't seem any more capable of looking away from her than she was from him. Bolstered and taken with an insane, momentary courage, she closed the distance between them and pressed a firm, gentle kiss to his lips.

 

[AntonTovaras]

Time was being funny. He was sure that they had just been in his office a moment ago, and he knew that the hors in between had gone slow, as he wrestled with himself over his temptation. And then it stopped. He had told her he was glad she was here, and she had said "Me, too."

For a second that seemed to stretch to infinity, they looked at each other. He fell into her eyes and lost himself completely. All that mattered was her. Everything else was just an echo of a thought. Professional ethics, his family, her own situation, all stopped being impediments and fell into the background. They were all still there, but they mattered as much in that moment as distant galaxies.

When she looked down, he should have been released, but her leg was touching his, and then she was looking at him again. She was leaning towards him, her lips parting. He leaned in, meeting her, kissing her. His eyes closed and his arms found their way around her waist. He kissed her hard, overwhelmed by it. His lips were hungry for his, and he pulled her close, nearly toppling them into the pool. He felt a moment's hesitation. All the things that should have stopped him came back into focus, and he drew back, pulling his lips away from hers.

He took a breath, smelling her, and then he knew it was too late. He kissed her again. His choice had been made, and he couldn't have turned back if he wanted to.

 

[slut_in_white]

Eve honestly hadn't expected him to kiss her back. She felt an aimless panic when her lips met his, and it kicked her mind back into motion, and she realized abruptly just how bad an idea this was. He was going to reject her. He was going to send her home, and then she would never be able to show her face in any of his classes again out of a sense of utter humiliation.

It was the feeling of his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him, that made her realize she'd been wrong. He was returning her kiss, with fire and passion. She sighed, letting him draw her closer, but the motion threw them both very slightly off-balance. Eve was just beginning to return the passion of his kiss, to go from her chaste, hesitant peck to something deeper when their balance shifted and, for a moment, she thought they were going to end up in the pool. She paused, her whole body tensing for a moment in the instinctive attempt to avoid a fall. She felt him reflect her hesitation, felt him pull away.

She cursed herself and her circumstances, silently. She wasn't afraid of rejection, not anymore. Not after the fiery desire she'd felt in just that momentary kiss. She was afraid of the rules that kept them apart, afraid that he'd think he was taking advantage of her somehow, when she was the one who kissed him. She was afraid he'd put aside the deep, primal desire she felt in his hands and his lips and remember that society had rules against this kind of liaison. She was afraid he would care about the judgement of others. And she couldn't blame him for any of those things, but that didn't mean she wanted him to give in to those fears.

Her eyes fluttered open, big and sad, waiting for him to inform her of whichever fear was going to keep them apart. Instead, she barely caught a glimpse of his gaze, still smoldering and dark with lust, before he dove back in and pulled her into yet another, deeper kiss. Surprised, it took her a moment to respond. Once she did, however, she brought her hands up to his shoulders, grasping them and pulling her body tight against his. She moaned softly into his mouth, a roaring wave of lust rushing through her body at the realization that he wasn't going to stop.

 

[AntonTovaras]

There was a moment, when he began to kiss her again, when she hesitated. He felt a wave of panic coming over him. Had he read her wrong? Was she regretting the kiss? Should he stop? He was just about to, when she threw her arms around him and then they were matched, passion for passion, and he knew that she wanted this as badly as he did.

For a long time they sat and kissed, hungry and intense, and he forgot everything but the taste of her, and the feel of her body against his. His need was overpowering, and kissing her was making him high, dizzy. He pulled back to take a deep breath and looked into her eyes, grinning. She was perfect. He touched her cheek, and then let his fingers caress the side of her neck, around her collar, down her chest until the neckline of her shirt caught his fingers.

"Eve," he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

"Dad???" He froze. It was not his daughter, just the memory of the time they had walked into the kitchen and found him with that woman. The moment that had changed everything.

He looked at Eve with something like panic in his eyes. The girls were far away, at colleges in different states, but he had told them that would never happen again. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth. His finger was still touching her cleavage, his desire was still a flood that was threatening to sweep everything away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.