Aiden helps me out to his car, a beat-up Mercedes his parents gave him. The car has seen some better days, but it drives nicely and gets us around campus just fine. Aiden is a good friend, and I know you have to appreciate the few good ones you are lucky enough to have.
Chapter Five
Jack
Edith consumes my thoughts the next few weeks and it isn’t only her marginally passing grade that comes to mind. Last week, I thought the gods were playing a cruel joke on me because the podium I was using to hide my massive boner had disappeared. I promptly called maintenance and had it brought back before my next class. I keep replaying that kiss from so many years ago. My mind goes back to how soft, plump, and silky her lips felt. I think about her tongue and how good it had tasted. Words escape me to describe it, but my dick strains against my pants when I think about it. I make that useless TA of mine tutor Edith, hating that it can’t be me, and I am pissed the dean is unable to replace him mid-semester. She needs a passing grade to keep her scholarship and finish school. I can’t let her loose it because I can’t keep my hands and mind together.
It also doesn’t help that our weather hasn’t shifted to a proper fall, either. Edith has been wearing skimpy-looking t-shirts with jeans that look ready to fall off her hips. Black flip flops and toenails painted red tease me, leaving me thinking how much I want her legs wrapped around my waist. Fantasies of taking her across my desk, papers thrown to the floor, don’t help. When I zoned out on Amanda during dinner the last time she was here, she stormed out saying I’d been too distant with her. She was right, but what can I do about it? The one thing I want, I can’t have, and what I do have is a poor substitute. I’m a horrible man.
I hadn’t seen Edith in class on Tuesday. I have a few students who regularly cut class, but I told her I wasn’t going to tolerate her doing so. I am not above a little coercion to get her passing my class, but I’m not going to make it easy for her, either. It is now Thursday, and no sign of Edith. No phone call or email telling me why she missed class.
“Hey, Daniel. Have you seen Edith Willows?” I grab Daniel on his way out, making him stop short and bump into another classmate.
“No, sir. She missed our last two tutor sessions this week. She was a no show at the library.” Daniel shrugs and I wonder what is keeping her from class. Certainly I don’t think it’s me. I keep the appropriate distance, even if my mind can’t stop taking her clothes off every time I close my eyes. After Daniel leaves, I realize I don’t have a way to get in touch with her, so I call the Registrar to see if they can give me her number or address.
After some back and forth, and speaking to a supervisor who questioned my motives, I am finally given an address and a cell phone number. I try calling her, but her voicemail box isn’t set up and she doesn’t answer. I wonder if she gave plasma again, or if she is in some kind of trouble. I decide I will just head over to her place and see for myself.
I grab my bag and go out to my car, driving around the New Brunswick area until I get to a less-than-favorable neighborhood containing small row houses with fences that keep small yards separated. Her house is in the middle of the block, and what looks like bus stops are on either end of the row. I hate thinking this is how she is getting around. I remember her being a senior with a car of some sort, but there is none in front of her house. I drive down and find a parking spot. Knocking on the door gets me no answer but, peeking through a window, I see a light on in the living room.
“Edith. Edith. Edie, open up the door. It’s, uh…it’s Jack Hamilton.” I don’t hear anything, but being that my worry is escalating, I do what I have to and damn the consequences. “Edith, I’m coming in. Stand back from the door.” Giving the door a good shove, it barely budges, but by the time I ram myself into it two more times, it breaks the hinge enough for me to push my way inside.
I look around the space, noticing how sparse and neat everything is. I call for Edith. Nothing. Turning around again, I find her curled up on the couch right in front of me.
“Edith. Edie, why didn’t you answer me?” I sit down on the couch next her and touch her bare shoulder. Heat meets my fingertips. It is then that I realize how cool her apartment is and how hot she feels under my hand. “Edie, come on. Wake up for me! Please!” Edith isn’t mine. She isn’t my girl no matter what I want. She is my student, but damn if the lines don’t blur when she needs someone to look after her. I shake her gently, taking in how she is dressed. A simple tank top, pink underwear, no socks, and a messy braid. She gives me no response, increasing my worry. I check her pulse, which is slow.