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The Commitment(57)

By:S. E. Lund


"Well, as much as I'd love to fuck you right now, I guess we better get going," he said finally, letting go of my hands. "Don't want to keep your father waiting."

I nodded and resumed dressing. Despite his happy news about the donor match, I could hear the fatigue in Drake's voice. He sounded crushed by the burden of stress of the past few days. I wished I could do more to comfort him, but wouldn't push anything, letting him use me for comfort in whatever way he wanted.



We arrived at the apartment on Park Avenue and found my father and Elaine sitting in the living room with drinks in their hands, some light jazz playing on the sound system.

"Come in you two," my father said in his gravelly voice. "What can I get for you?"

Drake held up his hand. "Let me bartend," he said and went immediately behind the bar. He took out Yelena Kuznetsova's shot glasses and poured us two shots of Anisovaya, then brought them over to the couches by the fireplace. He handed one to me and then held up his glass.

"To us," he said.

"To us," my father replied. We all held up our drinks and toasted each other and then Drake and I shot back the vodka.

"We've been so looking forward to dinner tonight," Elaine said. She turned to us when Drake sat beside me. "We thought you two would be gone in a few days. We're glad we'll have you here for a few more weeks."

"I'm happy to stay for as long as Drake wants," I replied. "Everything's packed and repacked and repacked again. We have our passports and Drake has his papers and offers of employment so as soon as Drake's ready, we can go."

Drake rested his arm on the back of the couch behind me, saying nothing as if he was content to listen to the conversation. He was still so subdued, I knew he wasn't yet over the shock of this news – his son, the leukemia, the donation. It was a lot to process.

"So Drake," my father said, turning his attention to Drake. "You're still going to be able to teach?"

"Luckily yes," Drake said, brightening. "The third semester starts in March. I'm going to teach two courses in the Masters of Medicine Neurosurgery program. One is intro to neurosurgery and the other is for 6th year students and was the final neurosurgery course in the program. It's called HMS 1001:Principles and Practices of Neurosurgery and focuses on the kind of surgery I do at Columbia. Stereotactic surgery for epilepsy and deep brain stimulation for Parkinson's and other movement disorders."

"Are they lectures or is there actual surgery involved?"

"Both," Drake replied. "Lectures, demonstrations, and surgical rotations with me. It's really hands-on at this point. The final course is taught in the last year of their neurosurgery program so they're almost finished."

"You must be pleased."

"Very. I've wanted to go and teach there for a while. Ever since I did some volunteer work a couple of years ago."

"Sad that you have to cancel the surgery you’ve got lined up."

Drake shrugged. "It'll be hard for them to find someone qualified to take over on such short notice, but it's my son."

"You must enjoy teaching," Elaine said, as if trying to change the subject.

"Love it," Drake said, squeezing my hand. "I love teaching almost as much as doing. I love to watch students develop their skills, discover new knowledge, improve. And Kenya has a severe shortage of neurosurgeons, so this is important work getting more students to graduate. I'll get privileges and will be on call in the ER and scheduled surgeries. I'll be really busy, but hopefully not too busy or Kate will get really bored." He turned to me. "But she's started painting again, so maybe we'll get her some studio space and she can work on a collection while we're there."

I smiled, warmth spreading through me that he would suggest it.

"Thank you," I said and kissed him on the cheek.

My father turned to me, a smile on his face. "Well, that's just great," he said. "I'd love to see some new work from you, sweetie. What are you working on?"

I felt a blush spread over my cheeks. I couldn't really tell them. A nude of Drake? I'd die if my father saw it.

"It's a secret," I said. "A gift."

"For Drake?"

I shook my head "No, for me."

"Be mysterious," my father said, shaking his head. "I can't wait to see it, whatever it is."

Elaine and my father looked so pleased, smiling us as we sat together on the couch, his arm around me, me snuggled in his embrace.

As I sat and listened to Drake talk about his position with the hospital in Nairobi and the College of Medicine, it struck me again how much older he was than me, how much more experience he had in everything. He was a professor and I was literally his student. He'd been teaching me about D/s since he found out I was the student who wanted to learn about BDSM for a paper. He really did love to teach, explaining everything about D/s, teaching me about myself in the process.