Teaching Willow: Session One Page 2

  I don’t know what I was hoping to accomplish by keeping up pretenses with Sage, other than (as despicable as it is) to satiate my craving for Willow since I can’t actually do it any other way without getting into trouble.

  Do I feel like shit about it? Of course! Does that stop me? Sadly, it hasn’t yet.

  In my defense, it’s not just Willow’s body that I want. It’s everything about her. I want to consume her. Possess her. Mind, body, and soul. And the more I’m around her, the worse it gets. Still, I keep my thoughts to myself. My hands, too. Engaging a student would be a huge mistake on my part, a mistake I can’t afford to make.

  But now my worst fear and my darkest desire have come to pass. I’ve discovered that Willow wants me in the same way that I want her. It doesn’t come as a complete surprise. I can tell by the way she looks at me that she’s attracted to me. But reading her words…reading the things she fantasizes about doing with me…holy shit! My cock twitches just thinking about it.

  But it can never happen. That’s why it’s my worst fear. Willow is my student.

  Now I’m faced with dealing with this newfound information in a professional way, no matter how much it pleases and tempts me. I can’t just ignore it. And it probably wouldn’t worry me so much if part of me didn’t really want to ignore it. That’s the part that scares me, that makes me think I’m treading on thin ice.

  Hell, even the professional part of me sort of relishes the idea of addressing this with her, talking to her about her work, delving more deeply into her words, her mind. But then comes the more intimate thoughts, like how I’d like to delve into her body, too. And that’s dangerous. But just the thought of doing with her some of the things she wrote about…of dominating her in a physical way…of knowing the kinds of things she wants me to do to her…wicked things…God!

  One of the reasons I told the class to write what they wanted without having to fear turning it in to be reviewed by me was that I knew some of them would write something erotic. It’s not only the trend at the moment, but also the state of mind of most humans at this age and stage of life. And while that’s all fine and good, it could pose problems for a male teacher of twenty-eight in the college system. There are boundaries that dare not be crossed, and the administration of the most every college in the country is on the lookout for young professors who might be making such missteps. It’s a career killer for sure.

  I’ve read Willow’s partial manuscript three times already and still I haven’t come to a decisive answer on how to proceed. All it seems to do is cloud my judgment more every time I read it. I can’t seem to think rationally, can’t seem to think past the want. Yet, I keep reading it. Over and over.

  Maybe I should just take this up with her on a personal level, explain why this cannot be an issue between us going forward. For both our sakes, we must ignore it, must go on as though neither of us is the wiser.

  Even though I am. Oh god, how I am.

  THREE- WILLOW

  My phone rings Friday afternoon. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer it anyway. I’m not popular enough to even know anyone I need to avoid. I have one semi-good friend and she’s a science major. Tiffany is more of a recluse and social train wreck than I am. Since the last guy I dated—Jason Stanton, the sophomore who I made the enormous mistake of sleeping with—I’ve found it easier and easier to just keep to myself.

  “Hello?”

  “Willow?”

  The velvety voice makes me shiver. Although he has never called me and I’ve never had reason to talk with him on the phone, I recognize Ebon’s voice instantly. I hear it in my head so often, at first I think my mind might be playing tricks on me. Why would he be calling me?

  But then I remember.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s, uh, it’s Ebon Daniels. Your Modernist Literature professor,” he explains.

  I suppress the urge to laugh. Like he needed to explain who he is. The man has featured in my every fantasy for months.

  My stomach twitters nervously. I don’t need to ask why he’s calling. There’s only one reason.

  “Boy, am I glad you called. I thought I’d have to wait until Monday after class to get to speak with you.” My nerves clang like cymbals, but I surprise myself with my ability to conjure outward calm. Maybe I’m a better actress than I gave myself credit for.

  There’s a pause that assures me that I’ve taken him off guard by playing the offensive position. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I wanted to talk to you about the story Sage gave you. She’s ruined the surprise, but—” A beep interrupts my words.

  “I think we definitely need to talk about it, Willow, but I’ve got another call that I need to take right now. I’m sorry. Besides, I think this is something we need to discuss…in person. Could we meet tomorrow? Maybe have coffee? I feel like this is…well, I think this needs to be addressed delicately. And not in a work environment. I wouldn’t want to be overheard or for this to be misconstrued in any way.”

  My face flames, but I hold it together, clinging to my act like a lifeline. My laugh is natural. “Of course. I hope you aren’t alarmed. Really, you’ll think this is funny when you hear the whole story.”

  “Well then, I look forward to it. Tomorrow, Java Java, say four o’clock?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I chirp casually. “I’ll see you then.”

  Thank goodness I had already come up with a suitable explanation for my manuscript. It certainly wouldn’t have gotten done after getting Ebon’s call. My brain ceases to function properly when he enters the picture.

  But I do have an explanation at the ready now. It formed late Thursday night, as I lie awake unable to sleep. I decided that since it didn’t look like death, plastic surgery or obtaining gainful employment at a surf shop were going to pan out, I would simply take the bull by the horns and make up some excuse and go to Ebon myself. I realized that if I hide like I’m guilty, it makes me look guilty. But, conversely, if I come out in the open with it like I have nothing to be ashamed of, it might foster the illusion that this was all just a misunderstanding. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m even more encouraged now after my calm, rational response to Ebon on the phone. I’m thinking I might actually be able to pull this off. So far, so good.

  I hung up before he could say anything else or before I could fall apart. That composed creature who spoke on the phone undoubtedly has a short shelf-life. Like ten minutes, max. And I knew I’d need her for at least few more crucial minutes on Saturday.

  ********

  Saturday. D-Day.

  I’m poised outside a coffee shop, getting ready to walk into the performance of my young life. It feels like everything is riding on this. Not only am I doing this to save face, but most importantly, I’m doing it so I can continue on in the only class I really care anything about so that I can listen to the man I love, even if it will only ever be from a distance.

  I push my glasses up on my nose and smooth my white blouse. For my outfit, I chose something that looks as innocent and unassuming as possible. Although most of my clothes are conservative, I knew this ensemble had to be the utmost in chaste. My face, though always free of makeup, is scrubbed to a rosy shine.

  I hone in on Ebon immediately. He was obviously watching for me. His expression only registers a slight recognition when our eyes meet. I give him a bright smile and weave my way through the tables to the booth in the back where he’s sitting.

  He nods when I slide in across from him. “How are you this afternoon? I hope this meeting hasn’t ruined your day.”

  I wave him off with a casual flick of my hand. “Are you kidding? I’ve barely given it a second thought.”

  “Look, Willow—”

  “Why don’t you let me explain first? I think I might be able to put your mind at ease.”

  Ebon’s jewel-green eyes search mine. For a moment, I get lost in them, lost in the glistening depths that lie just beyond a thick fringe of black lashes, like treasure hiding
in the shade.

  He leans in toward me and I think of the first kiss that I wrote about, a kiss that started in just such a way. That story—the story, the one that I’m here about today—is the culmination of practically every fantasy I’ve had about Ebon. In living color and very vivid detail.

  It’s his voice that jars me from my musings. “Okay. You first,” he says carefully.

  “You’re gonna laugh, I think.” He makes no comment, just watches me intently. I clear my throat and proceed. I’ve come too far to screw it up now. “That story was actually meant for you, believe it or not,” I begin. Ebon’s brows knit together and his eyes turn a dark, turbulent green.

  “Willow, that isn’t—”

  “Let me finish,” I interrupt, holding up my hand, my smile still in place. “I was actually writing it for my sister for her birthday. It’s based on some things we’ve talked about, the way she feels, how she perceives you. Some of it is just…artistic license. I mean, I don’t know all the intimate details of your relationship, nor do I want to. I added those for effect. It’s the…love you share that I was trying to adequately portray.”

  I swallow hard. I pray Ebon didn’t hear my difficulty with the word love. My sister doesn’t love him. My sister doesn’t love anyone but herself. But Ebon doesn’t need to know that. For my purposes, I’m just trying to sell to him that my story was a gift. Nothing personal to me. And if he goes for it and believes my sister is in love with him then the least Sage can do is take the bullet for these feelings since she’s the one who fired the gun. If it humiliates her, not my problem.

  I continue before I lose my nerve. “I thought she might like to give it to you at some point. You know, as a present. A look into her heart and mind. Because that’s who it’s about. Sage. Sage and the way she feels about you.”

  I can tell by Ebon’s confused look that I haven’t completely sold him on this excuse yet. Taking a deep breath, I go in for the kill.

  “It’s as accurate as I could make it. I mean, I listen to Sage gush about you all the time. I know how she feels about you. I think this was her way of telling you without actually telling you. And it backfired because she didn’t explain why it was written. Am I right?”

  “Well…yes, it did. I thought she was giving me your work without your permission. And that these words were…were…yours. About me.”

  “In a way, she did give it to you without my permission. I hadn’t given it to her yet. It’s not finished. But, if she felt like she wanted you to read it and…know at this point then it served its purpose regardless. I just hope you aren’t upset with her. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I nearly choke on the words.

  Ebon studies me. I have no idea what’s going on behind those eyes, but something is. I can practically see the wheels turning. He leans in again, his gaze dropping to my lips, giving me a warm feeling in my face and chest.

  “In that case, would you consider finishing it?”

  I school my features. This I was not expecting. “O-of course. Ummm, when would you like it done?”

  “No rush. I just think it’s great work and I’d love to read the rest. Provided, of course, that…Sage doesn’t have a problem with it. I mean, we did break up.”

  “I…I can’t imagine that she would.”

  “Good. And just so you know, this will count toward your final grade. Somehow. Obviously other students aren’t turning theirs in, but this should count for something, even if it was just a mistake.”

  His stare is sharp, penetrating. I smile again, as casually as I can manage. “That would be great. I’m just glad you like it. Sage will be thrilled.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by and talk to her. I suppose I owe her an apology.”

  I nod, a spear slicing into my chest. Yes, my damage control has worked. In fact, it might’ve worked too well. Knowing my luck, they’ll end up back together then go on to get married, have a million babies and live happily ever after, all because I painted her in a more flattering light to save my own humiliated skin.

  Dammit!

  “Can you tell her I’ll come by tonight? We can talk and maybe try to…I don’t know.”

  My smile wavers. “Of course.”

  Ebon reaches for his Styrofoam coffee cup. “Well, I guess I don’t need to take up any more of your time. Can I at least buy you a coffee before I go?” he offers kindly.

  “No, thanks. I’ve already had too much today. I’m surprised I’m not trembling.”

  But actually, I am. And it’s not because of caffeine. It’s Ebon. Being around him. Sitting across from him. Getting trapped inside those beautiful eyes of his. No, it’s not caffeine. It’s one hundred percent Ebon.

  Before he slides out of the booth, Ebon looks across the table at me. “It’s uncanny how much you two look alike.”

  I smile. I smile even as my heart dies just a little bit more.

  FOUR- EBON

  I chastise myself all the way back to my apartment. If I was half as intelligent as I’ve always thought I was, I would’ve cut all ties with Willow and her sister, other than the most basic of common courtesies in class. But watching her today…listening to her…reading her words again…I knew that I needed one more night. One more night with her sister, just to get them both out of my system.

  You mean Willow. Get Willow out of your system.

  I correct myself with brutal honesty. Yes, to get Willow out of my system. Sage has never been the problem.

  Maybe if I go to Sage’s tonight and have her read some of Willow’s words, I could get it, get her out of my blood. It’s a shitty thing to do to Sage, but it would only be once. And it’s not like she won’t be willing. While we’ve never had a particularly thrilling sex life, she’s always been willing. She won’t ever know that when I touch her, I’ll be thinking about her sister.

  I just hope it works. It’s as close as I’ll be able to get to actually having Willow. But it can only be once. Self-preservation demands that I let this go. As soon as possible, before I lose my job and all that I’ve worked so hard for.

  I’ll do the right thing.

  After tonight.

  FIVE- WILLOW

  All the way home, I feel sick. Even though I accomplished what I’d set out to do—throw the scent off my trail and explain it in such a way that it goes back to my sister—I feel possibly more wretched than I did before. My heart is still a twisted mess when I open the door to the apartment and see something that takes me by surprise.

  Two suitcases are standing up on their end by the door and Sage is dragging another one out of her bedroom into the hall.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask. It’s the first words I’ve spoken to her since I found out that she gave my story to Ebon.

  “I’m leaving,” she proclaims flatly.

  “Leaving? Why? Where are you going?”

  Sage deposits the third big piece of baggage next to the first two and stops, blowing bangs out of her eyes and huffing. “I need to get away. And I think you need me to get away. I don’t want to be the reason you have a…a…”

  I sigh. I know what she’s getting at. “Sage, it’s been years since I’ve had any problems. I’m fine. Really. You can’t just leave.”

  “Actually, I can. Now that I don’t have a boyfriend tying me down, I can take that consulting job with the start-up project of Greg’s.”

  Greg is Sage’s boss at Hybrid, the critical staffing service where she works as Human Resource Manager. She only has an associate’s degree, so I can only guess that her looks helped her land that job. “Wasn’t that overseas? And only for a couple of months as a trial?”

  “Yep,” she replies abruptly. She acts mad, which baffles me. What possible reason she could have for being mad at me is beyond my comprehension.

  “But what about your job now? You can’t just leave for two months and expect them to hold it for you.”

  “I can when I’ll be working for Greg for those two months and when I still have th
e emails that he sent me when his wife went to Paris last year and he was feeling lonely in that big old house of his.”

  I gasp. “You’re blackmailing him? Sage! You can’t do things like that.”

  “And why not? He’s the one who sent me those selfies. No one forced him. Besides, I’m not blackmailing him. Yet. As long as this goes off without a hitch and I have a job to return to, there will be no reason for me to ever share those pictures.”

  I’m stunned. Truly stunned. This was the last thing I would’ve expected from my sister.

  “All this because you did something shitty, Sage? This isn’t like you.”

  She whirls around to face me. “Well, maybe this is the new me. Maybe we’ve been holding each other back and it’s time to cut the apron strings. Maybe I’m tired of walking on egg shells so that I don’t upset my fragile sister.” Her voice turns waspish at the end.

  “I’ve never—”

  “No, you haven’t. You never asked to be this way or for everyone to treat you like we do. It’s just always been this way, Willow. And I need a break. This week has just been…it’s been too much for me. I need to get away. So I’m going. And don’t bother trying to call or telling Mom and Dad to call. My phone won’t work over there.”

  With that, Sage shoves past me, flings open the door and carries first one, then the other two suitcases down to a waiting airport shuttle that I somehow missed seeing on my way in.

  I stare through the window in shocked disbelief as she climbs inside the white van while the driver loads her bags. She’s watching me watch her as the shuttle pulls away from the curb to carry my only local family to parts unknown.

  ********

  It’s a full two more hours before I snap out of my stupor and remember that I was supposed to give Sage a message from Ebon. He’s coming by tonight.