During my final year of high school my English teacher, Miss Jacobs, became pregnant. This alone is not so remarkable. The problem, however, was that Miss Jacobs was a miss and not a missus. Once the members of the school board found out about Miss Jacobs' pregnancy she was given the option of pregnancy leave (firing her was only an implied threat), after which she was shunted off to another school. Those who banished her probably thought it magnanimous of them to not sew a red A to her blouse before sending her off.
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The freight elevator seemed to be taking forever. Not that Alex was really in that much of a hurry. After all, he wasn't going anywhere for Thanksgiving. Home was too far away and he just couldn't to go home for Christmas and Thanksgiving. No, after work, all Alex had to look forward to was an empty dorm. His roommates and most of his friends that lived in the dorm had already left for their respective homes earlier in the day. But he didn't mind. Alex was actually looking forward to having the room all to himself. He liked his roommate quite a bit, but having a roommate meant having to be considerate of the other person.
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It had been a long day and I was happy to see the line growing short. I love book signings, but I'm usually pretty happy when they wind down to the last few stalwarts and I know I can finally stop being "on". I surveyed the line and only saw five more people and knew the end was in sight. The third to last person handed me the book and said, "Hi Mister M. Will you sign my book?"
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Michael Halversun has a hard time recounting his memories, even now that he is safe in the small book laden office of his therapist. The twenty year old is filled with guilt, his voice wavering as he speaks into the tape recorder and his therapist sits across from him, listening to his tale. His upbringing told him that adultery was a great sin, and his masculinity told him that it was his fault. Whether either of those things were true really didn't matter any more to him. Michael had been raped.
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It wasn't until that very moment that the full gravity of the nation's economic downturn hit Lisa Ross. The newly hired Vice-President of marketing at an upstart South Florida publishing company, the previous handful of jobs Lisa had, air travel (usually first class) had been the mode of choice. Now she found herself seated and staring out the window of an Amtrak train as she prepared to embark from Miami to Washington, D.C. for a weekend conference.
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It's a late summer night, not too hot. The fan and the crickets compete for sound dominance. I'm tired, but I can't sleep and I want to come. Dan is lying perfectly still next to me, hands folded neatly across his belly. I know he's not asleep. He never falls asleep before me. I glance at the clock--six hours and we have to be up. If we fuck, we'll be lucky to get five.
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"Okay, that's all for today, make sure you read the assignment for Monday, and bring your paper revisions." John said, standing up at his desk. The class of college freshman quickly filed out. John was just out of grad school, and he had aspirations of being a novelist but the need to pay bills forced him into teaching, at least for now.
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1
Alexis Haley had blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes and fascinating lips that always seemed to be frowning. She was a graduate student at Priapis State University where I was finishing my bachelor's in psychology. I had met her two years ago when I first switched my major from English to Psych. She had ignored me, which wasn't surprising. I'd had a tendency to blend in and she was a hot, snooty senior who was about to graduate with honors.
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750... 751... 752.
I stood in front of the door, puffing from the exertion of climbing the stairs. This was it. There wasn't much decoration. No comic clippings, or assignment drop envelopes, or notes. Just a business card in a slot.
"Lisa M. Rohdes, Ph.D., Manfred Jamison IV Professor of Finance."
For a few seconds I just looked around like an idiot, afraid to knock. I know what it seems like: the male student goes to see the hot teacher and gets all distracted.
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Prologue
Today
I can't believe I'm smitten by her. Me, a thirtyish professor of psychology at a prestigious liberal arts college—smitten—of all things, by a young counter girl just out of high school.
"May I help you, Miss?" she asked in an inviting tone. I stood silent and frozen, staring like a cougar. In her early twenties, the young counter girl looked like an angel. Almost old enough to be her mother, I felt stupid.
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