HisIndecentBoxSetpub (2 page)

THE PEN IS
MIGHTIER

The rest of my
classes produced less than impressive results in the boy department.
Don't get me wrong, there were a few really hot guys. College
couldn't possibly be a desolate wasteland of duds. But a Lamborghini
will stay in your mind longer than a Porsche, and Damien Reed was
definitely the crème de la crème.

It almost baffled my
mind that I found a teacher more attractive and alluring than any of
my classmates. I wasn't typically one to go for guys much older than
I was, but there was something about Damien Reed that I couldn't draw
my mind away from. Maybe it was the tall, dark, and handsome appeal.
He definitely had all of that going for him. All I knew was that I
was hot for teacher.

The thought made a
smile play across my lips as I walked toward the coffee shop to meet
up with my best friend. Tanya had taken Art Appreciation too, but I
had registered for classes too late to get the same schedule as her.
I was interested to find out what she thought of Mister Damien Reed.

“
Ugh.
That was grueling,” she grumbled as we took our coffees out
onto the patio. “I can't believe I got homework on the first
day. Shouldn't there be a law against that?”

“
Well,
we are in college now,” I replied, my dirty thoughts
temporarily erased with depression at how much studying and homework
I had to do. Maybe I should have taken a year off from school like I
had originally planned. The thought of jumping back into things so
quickly was a bit overwhelming, but it was too late to back out now.

“
I
think there were only two classes I didn't get homework from.”

“
Same
here. Art Appreciation and Business Orientation.”

The corners of
Tanya's mouth curled into a grin, and I knew exactly what she was
thinking. Unlike me, her taste in men was primarily for the older
variety. Sometimes she even liked creepily older men, men who could
be her grandfather. As it was, she already had a sugar daddy she had
picked up during our senior year of high school. That didn't stop her
from making the rounds though.

“
Damien
Reed,” I said, trying to suppress me own urge to smile like the
Cheshire cat.

“
Oh.
My. God. He is sooo dreamy,” she squealed.

“
I
knew you'd think so.”

“
Don't
you?”

“
Well,
yeah.” My cheeks grew warm at the memory of my vehicular
playtime.

“
And
he's not married. Did he mention that in your class too?”

“
Mhm.”
I sipped my coffee.

“
That
had to be purposeful, like a message to all the single ladies. No one
just says that.”

“
I
thought so too.” My smile sulked. For some reason, the thought
of other women touching him instantly made me jealous. It wasn't like
we were close, or I had even spoken to him personally. Sometimes I
hated my stupid feminine brain.

“
There
were a lot of other hotties on campus today. You were right, college
is like a smorgasbord of hot man packages.” Tanya wiggled in
her seat as she stirred her coffee. The excitement in her eyes was
almost overzealous.

I grunted in reply,
and then listened as she went on about this guy and that guy, and how
she had been checking fingers for wedding rings. All the while, my
mind was stuck on Damien Reed and what he had said about not being
married. If it had been an open invitation, then maybe I had a
chance.
Stupid, stupid girl,
I chastised myself. If it had
been an invitation, then it certainly hadn't been a personal one. He
was a free for all, and that meant he was dangerous. Did I really
want to get involved with someone like that?

After we finished
having coffee, I went home and got right to work on my homework. Boys
weren't important, school was. Damien Reed was completely out of my
league, and I'd be best off forgetting about him. He would be nice to
look at from afar, and perhaps it wouldn't hurt to fantasize about
him now and again, but that was as far as things would go.

The next day, I went
to school with a clear mind. The excitement of boy scouting had worn
down overnight, though I still kept my eyes open for any new meat
wandering the hallways. With the image of Damien Reed dulled in my
mind, the other boys closer to my age were looking a lot more
appealing. Yet when I stepped into Art Appreciation class, it was
like my brain went on reset. Any previous attractions I had were
washed away with the sight of those dark eyes and that thin fit
frame. My body's pleasure sensors went off as I passed close to his
desk, taking a seat at the front of the classroom for a better view.

Damien Reed seemed
entranced in his paperwork, barely looking up as the classroom began
to fill. My heart pounded as I blatantly stared at him, though my
gaze immediately shifted when he stood to do roll call and begin his
lecture.

Our homework for the
afternoon was to create an art project that told about our personal
taste. Thankfully, we had until the end of the week to get it done. I
was already feeling overwhelmed by the endless piles of homework my
other professors had given me.

That night, I
finished all of my other homework first before I began working on my
Art Appreciation project. The only art I really enjoyed was drawing
manga, and I wasn't sure how much Damien would appreciate that. Then
again, this project was supposed to be about self-expression, so I
highly doubted he would fail me if I didn't show up to class on
Friday with a Georgia O’Keeffe vagina flower painting.

I decided to draw a
cat girl throwing up the peace sign. It seemed a bit immature, but I
couldn't come up with anything better in the short time frame I had
to work on it between studying and doing other homework. It certainly
wouldn't be getting a background.

Unfortunately, by
the time I got to it, it felt like my creative candle was about burnt
out. I messed with the outline a bit, but nothing seemed to come out
right. By the time exhaustion took over and sent me to bed, I had
barely accomplished anything.

The next morning,
during my first class, I received an urgent message from one of my
aunts saying that my mother was in the hospital with pneumonia.
Naturally, as soon as class was over, I gathered my belongings and
went straight to the hospital to check on her, skipping the rest of
my classes for the day.

She chastised me
once I arrived, saying I should have finished out the day, but I was
too worried. Even though I had just recently moved in with my dad to
be near school, I was still a lot closer to my mother emotionally,
and it angered me that she hadn't bothered to tell me she was sick.
When I had left the week before to get settled in at my dad's house,
I could tell she was getting a cold. No matter how many times I told
her she needed to go to the doctor though, she wouldn't listen. Not
having insurance will make you put off going to the doctor until the
very last minute, and this was the consequence.

My aunt said that
she had gone over to check on my mother and found her bedridden.
That's when she knew it was time to call the hospital.

“
Why
didn't you tell me it was getting so bad?” I asked, clasping
her hand tightly between mine. She looked absolutely horrible, her
red hair a mess and her glasses resting crooked against her nose.
People always said that I was a mini-replica of my mother, and I was
completely fine with that because I thought she was gorgeous. Very
little of my looks came from my father. Only my nose and my brown
eyes. Everything else was all hers.

“
I
didn't want to worry you, sweetie,” she told me, falling into a
coughing fit directly afterward. “I know you were stressed out
enough about starting college and having to move in with your dad.
The last thing you needed was to worry about me.”

“
You're
my mother. It's my job to worry about you,” I replied,
scowling.

“
She's
as stubborn as a goat,” Aunt Wendy said from the guest chair at
the foot of my mother's hospital bed.

“
I
know. I told her she should go to the doctor, and she didn't listen.
She was so worried about saving money and look where that landed
her.”

“
Oh,
stop it, you two. I feel bad enough as it is.” Mom frowned,
pulling her hand away from me.

“
Well,”
I sighed, “I hope you get better soon.”

“
The
doctor says I shouldn't be in here too much longer. A few days, at
the most.”

“
I'll
try to come visit you every day after school,” I told her.

“
Don't
do that. It's such a long drive.”

“
I
don't mind. I want to make sure you're okay and behaving yourself.”

Mom smirked. “Trust
me, they don't let me misbehave too much in here.”

“
I
won't let her misbehave either,” Aunt Wendy said sternly.

“
Enough
talk about the hospital.” Mom made a dismissive gesture. “Tell
me about school. Have you met any cute boys?” Her eyes lit up
at the prospect.

“
Nope.
Not really.” It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.
There were quite a few attractive boys at my school, but none I had
actually spoken with.

“
That's
a shame. Well, it's still early. You've only been going for what,
three days?”

“
Mhm.”
I nodded.

“
It
might help if you didn't dress so conservative.” She gave my
outfit a nagging appraisal. Apparently, my dress slacks and button up
blouse weren't much to her liking.

“
You
know I hate looking like a skank,” I commented dryly.

“
You
don't have to dress like a skank to get boys, though I think they
prefer that. Just show a bit more skin. For God's sake, you button up
your blouse to the very top. It won't kill you to show some
cleavage.”

“
Mom!”

“
Well,
it won't.” She settled down into her hospital bed, trying to
look innocent.

I couldn't help but
grin.

Since I had taken
the day off anyway, I decided to spend it at the hospital,
entertaining my mother as best I could, though there was little to
talk about. Most of the time was spent listening to her complain
about the cost of healthcare, how her job was too cheap to offer her
insurance, how she wouldn't be able to afford to pay her bills
because of taking off so many days from work due to her illness, and
how hospital food hadn't gotten any better in nearly twenty years.

Naturally, the not
being able to pay her bills speech transitioned into why it was so
important for me to stay in college. Not having a higher education
had gotten my mother to where she was today, working at a pizza place
and living from paycheck to paycheck. Thankfully, I had managed to
get a grant to go to college, otherwise my fate might have been the
same, though I doubted it. If my grant would have fallen through, my
father most likely would have picked up the bill. He worked as a
truck driver, hoarding back most of his money while he lived on the
road. I rarely saw him, but he was quick to provide for my needs
without any questioning or hesitation.

Finally, visiting
hours were over, and I was forced to go home. While I was glad that I
had taken the day off of school, I dreaded the backlog of homework
that awaited me the following day. There was no way I was going to be
able to get everything done plus that stupid art project.

I decided it was in
my best interest to ask for an extension. Surely, Damien would
understand that my mother came first. Then again, I didn't know how
sensitive college professors were to their students' personal
problems.

Figuring it would be
better to talk to him about it alone, I decided to wait until after
school. When I returned to his classroom at the end of the day
though, I was disappointed to find it empty. The door was unlocked,
so I stepped inside, scowling at the front of the room. I was screwed
now. There was no choice but to finish my art project, or explain the
following day why I hadn't.