“But you can’t actually defend him,” a girl whose name I couldn’t remember argued. “He’s a complete pervert and he corrupts the girl!”
“Actually, I think it’s the other way around,” Ms. Wilde said, without looking up from her notes.
“What?” the girl asked. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Ms. Wilde answered. “I’m fairly certain that Lolita is the one who corrupts Humbert. She seduces him and he loves it. What guy wouldn’t?”
“But she’s just a kid!” the other girl insisted.
“She is, but she’s well aware of what she’s doing when she seduces him. She’s had sex before, and afterward he is basically eating out of the palm of her hand. I’m not saying that what he did wasn’t wrong, but you have to remember that he sees her as a young woman, and he himself only possesses the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old.”
The girl had no retort and looked down.
“That’s a good point,” I admitted.
Although Ms. Wilde’s speaking out of turn bothered me, she always made excellent contributions to the class discussions. Usually, I would have enjoyed having such an active student in my class to liven up the debates. There was just something about her, something that I couldn’t put my finger on. She rubbed me the wrong way, for some reason.
“So, why do you think that the author chose to write about such a controversial topic?” I asked the class.
A few people started to raise their hands but gave up the second Ms. Wilde started speaking without being called on. Again. I gritted my teeth. The girl was undoubtedly intelligent, but why couldn’t she just play by the rules like everyone else?
God, she is so infuriating.
“Ms. Wilde!”
She stopped talking and looked at me. Sadly, she didn’t look intimidated at all and merely gave me a curious glance.
“Yes, Stephen?” she asked sweetly.
“Professor Worthington,” I corrected.
Thank God the semester is over soon.
She just smiled at me.
“You will wait your turn to speak or you can leave my classroom,” I said, silently daring her to continue her rant.
She motioned for me to continue and leaned back in her seat with an amused expression on her face. I asked the other students for their opinions and received a few uninspired responses about taboos. One of the other girls even started to argue that the author was the real pervert. I sighed and reluctantly called on the bothersome Ms. Wilde, who grinned and leaned forward.
“I think that Nabokov is using the main characters as symbols.”
I had a pretty good idea of where she was going with this, and she was absolutely spot on, as always. It would have been so much easier if I could have just dismissed her as both silly-looking and silly, but she wasn’t. She was smart, and I had no choice but to keep calling on her.
“How so?” I asked, giving her a nod.
“Humbert is older and sophisticated, but emotionally stunted. He likes serious literature and classical music. He represents Europe. Lolita is young, fun-loving, and naïve. She likes Coca-Cola, rock music, and glossy magazines. She’s obviously supposed to be the author’s interpretation of the US, which isn’t particularly flattering.” She hesitated and smiled to herself. “But I could be wrong. Maybe Nabokov’s motives were much simpler. Maybe it just came to him in a dream one night.” She looked up at me with her lopsided grin and added, “After all, don’t all older men dream of sleeping with a younger woman?”
She winked again. I may have been inexperienced when it came to the opposite sex, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ms. Wilde was teasing me. The tip of her tongue peeked out between her lips.
“Class dismissed,” I said, clenching my jaw.
I sat down at my desk and started to gather my books.
“See you Friday, Stephen,” I heard Ms. Wilde say as she passed by on her way out with the rest of the students.
I looked up and watched as she sauntered away in her ridiculous outfit. My gaze briefly caught something peeking out of the top of her shirt just below her neck: a tattoo. My gaze dropped to her backside and her slender legs, which were covered up by the hideous pantyhose. She glanced over her shoulder and gave me a smile before she was out the door.
Of course she would have a tattoo. She obviously doesn’t care about her appearance or having anyone take her seriously. I really wish she would wear some nicer clothes. She would be quite pretty if she gave it a little effort.
I threw my things into my bag and hurried out to my car. Class had left me frustrated and wound up, so I decided to hit the gym before going home. When I got to my car, I saw that I had a missed call from Matt. I dialed his number and he picked up after several rings.