Chapter Thirty
Helene
“So as you can see, this handout reviews pretty much everything you need to know about your term paper. This paper should be a minimum of five-thousand words. To put this in perspective, you should expect it to be around twenty double spaced pages, give or take.”
And then there were groans.
I ignored it, looking back out to the class and continuing. “The topic is simple. I want you to relate a philosophical concept to real life, preferably your real life, but if you’re uncomfortable sharing personal details, you can use public events, issues, crimes, etcetera. This is an opinion paper, folks, that means I want your perspective. I don’t want a synopsis of what others have said. I do, however, want you to support your opinion with research. Ten sources minimum—” More groans. “—and five must be scholarly. If you need help using the databases for research, contact the library. They’ll gladly assist you.”
I looked around the room to a sea of downtrodden, depressed students—all that is but Kane who was sitting in the center of the front row with the cap of his pen to his mouth, studying me. It wasn’t depression on his face, though, it was … something else.
When I made eye contact with him, his eyebrows shot up. I looked away quickly in hopes of keeping the blush from touching my cheeks. It didn’t work, and I could feel the heat creeping up. When I glanced back at him, his lip was pulled up in a seductive smirk.
I’d not seen him since Sunday night—the middle of the night technically considered Monday morning, I suppose, but still. It had been days. I didn’t like going days without seeing him. Odd, considering I’d not seen him for years until a month and a half ago, and I’d thought I was doing just fine without him. Now, I couldn’t stand the idea of being away from him.
I cleared my throat. “Any questions before we move on?”
Eyes glared back at me, clearly still hating me for the term paper.
“Okay, then. Paper is due the week prior to our final class. If you want to chat about your topic or bounce some ideas off me, just send me an email, and we’ll set up a time to meet. I’ll also be setting aside some class time to discuss topics and let you work on your papers.”
I lectured for the next hour and a half, doing my level best to keep my eyes from stalling on Kane. It was difficult. He’d actually arrived a few minutes early, his hair damp from a shower but his work boots still covered in a thin layer of sawdust or drywall dust. When the flirt had walked in a minute later, he’d glanced toward the door and then ignored her. It did not, however, stop her from taking the seat right next to his.
Now, she was practically draped over the side of her desk toward him, her lanky leg crossed over her knee, and her heeled foot dangling flirtatiously in the narrow, too narrow, aisle that separated them. Kane continued to ignore it as I lectured. I talked through the philosophers of the medieval world before embarking on the renaissance all the way up to Descartes. When eyelids drooped, eyes wandered, and even Kane glanced to the clock, I gave up on it.
“So,” I said as I rounded the desk and leaned against the front edge. “seeing as not a single one of you appears interested in discussing what Descartes meant when he said, ‘I think, therefore I am,’ I’m going to assume you’re bored, therefore you’ve lost interest.”
There were a few snickers at my play on words, and Kane bit his lower lip, shaking his head subtly.
“I was planning this discussion, whatever it may prove to be, next week. But in the interest of keeping your attention for at least a little while longer, I’m going to adjust my lesson plan and bump up next week’s discussion to tonight. The discussion being … open forum. You find the topic, related to philosophy of course, and we’ll open the floor to discussion. So start googling on your phones or flipping through your books. One topic will be discussed, and then we’ll dismiss for the evening.”
Most eyes stared at me for a moment, either thinking I was kidding or simply too zoned out to react quickly. But eventually, a few laptops opened, phones were pulled out, and students started flipping through the book.
“Sexuality,” Kane said loudly enough for the room to hear without ever cracking his book open.
A few people laughed, one younger guy hollered, “I second that,” and the flirt beside him leaned even farther over, pushing her cleavage up as she pressed her chest to the side arm of her desk.
“A revisitation of Nietzsche’s untimely and nefarious demise, Mr. Thorson?”
Kane smirked. “No. I was thinking more along the lines of Kant’s fear of sex, or Siddhartha’s fascination with it—not to mention his proclivity for breastfeeding.”
The room erupted in laughter then; the snorts and chuckles overtook the shocked gasps of the few, and I choked, clearing my throat for a moment before I could respond.
I forced a smile to my mouth. “Kant wasn’t fearful of sex, he simply thought sex led to the objectification of another being and was thus something to be avoided. Siddhartha… Well, Siddhartha certainly had his interests in sex … among many other things.”
Kane shrugged, smiling as he did. “See all this discussion we could be having on the subject?”
I stared back at him for a moment, and he smiled sweetly.
“Very well. The philosophy of sexuality it is.”
More whoops and hollers followed that announcement.
“Let’s turn forward a chapter, since Mr. Thorson has clearly been reading ahead, to page one hundred eighty-seven to Immanuel Kant. We’ve already reviewed Siddhartha early on in the semester, and St. Augustine in the near past, but Kant is a new one for us.”
I glanced to Kane as pages started to turn. He winked at me, and then his eyes moved down along my body. I’d dressed up on this day, wearing a fitted charcoal gray wool pencil skirt that fell to just below my knees. I’d paired it with a satiny baby pink and white pinstripe button up dress shirt and black heels that buckled around my ankle. By the time Kane’s eyes finished moving and studying my body from top to bottom, the pages had stopped flipping.
“Okay, so in the corner of the sex haters, we have Kant—he’s a big one. We also have St. Augustine. The general consensus among these men is that sex turns people into objects. More than that, it turns parts of one’s body into nothing more than an object to provide sexual gratification. Essentially, a woman stops being a person and becomes a vagina. And a man becomes nothing more than a penis. Degradation at its finest,” I summarized.
“Is that what men are to you, Professor Hess? Nothing more than a penis?” Kane smirked at me.
I smirked back. “I suppose it depends on the worth of the man it happens to be attached to.” Pretty much every woman in the room laughed at that one, and I pushed off the desk, crossing my arms on my chest as I casually walked back and forth. “Further, sex is seen as almost always violent and violating because it is driven nearly completely by impulse. Loss of sexual control, which is seen as inherent in the act, puts one partner always at risk. Essentially, rape is an unavoidable thing, because sexual desire can compel people, largely men as they understood it, to violate women against their will and outside of the man’s control.”
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Kane muttered.
My eyes snapped to him. “It’s your topic choice, Mr. Thorson. Care to disagree with Mr. Kant?”
He scoffed. “What you’re saying is rape is tantamount to nothing more than basal instinct—uncontrollable, and thus unavoidable. That’s bullshit.”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort,” I corrected him. “But you bring up a good point. Anyone else care to weigh in on the subject?”
The young man who failed to bring his book to class on the first night but still managed to always wink at me as he was leaving chimed in next. “I get what Kant is saying. I mean … sexual drive can be intense.” He looked around with an almost seductive smile on his face.
This idiot was either trying to play devil’s advocate or really was an idiot.
“Sometimes hormones just take over, you know?” he continued.
He was definitely an idiot. But I nodded. I wasn’t agreeing. “So we have a supporter of Kant? You’re willing to be celibate for the rest of your life to remove such temptations and possible uncontrollable urges to violate another? At the very least would you be willing to engage in sexual intercourse for the sole purpose of procreation and not outside of that purpose?”
More students laughed, and the kid took it in stride. If nothing else, he was laid-back and didn’t mind the attention. Actually, I was starting to think he liked it very much. Kane craned his neck around to see the kid.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” The kid smiled at me as he shoved his tongue in his cheek playfully. “I like sex a bit too much.” He winked at me.
“Then how about you do us all a favor and get yourself castrated since you clearly can’t be trusted with your cock.” Kane’s tone was cool, but there was a bitterness there too. Kane had been staring at the kid as he’d tried to flirt with me after all.
The kid scoffed. “I didn’t say I couldn’t control myself—only that I understood the point Kant was making.”
“So,” I said loudly, pulling the attention of the class back to me before things got heated and Kane used the word cock again. “Is it fair to say you understand the premise of Kant’s argument—sexual drive can reduce a person’s capacity to think and behave rationally—but you wouldn’t go so far as to say that it removes a person’s responsibility to act appropriately?”
Kane stared at me, but he was expressionless as I waited for the kid to respond.
“Yeah,” the kid finally agreed.
Kane rolled his eyes.
“Would you care to elaborate on your position, Mr. Thorson?”
I turned my focus to Kane.
He studied me for a moment. “It’s complicated.”
I laughed as did a few others who clearly remembered his refusal to delve into justice a few weeks before. “It’s also your topic.”
He rolled his eyes again, but it was playful this time. “Fine. I think people are well and truly able to think of their partner as much as themselves during sex. The fear of violating another as though we’re all nothing more than animals is absurd. If that were the case, then every woman in the world would be a victim by now.”
“Many have been,” I said quietly, forcing myself to look at him.
“I know.” His voice was just as quiet. “I’m not trying to diminish that. But we’re not animals. This notion that sex reduces us to something inhuman is ridiculous to me. I feel very human when I… I’m not focusing on a piece of you—I mean … not you you… I’m not focusing on a piece of a woman when I… Just in general, I’m saying.” He rolled his eyes as he shook his head.
My cheeks burned, but nearly all eyes were on Kane, and the flirt next to him was practically drooling.
He was silent for a moment. “I get it,” he said as his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. “Some relationships are based on the physicality of the act and nothing more. I … get that.” He glanced at me, but then he looked back down. “But some are rooted in something more, and there is no chance of objectifying your partner in that situation. Not for me.” He looked back up at me, and he didn’t look away.
I couldn’t hear the collective female sigh, but the rise and fall of shoulders, predominantly female, though a few males as well, was like a nonverbal reaction that implied the sighs were simply being stifled. I was stifling mine too.
“I know,” I whispered before I could stop myself. I cleared my throat as my cheeks burned. “I mean … yes … err… I understand. I understand your point.” Shit.
Kane bit his lip even as he smirked. “And Kant’s a fucking idiot if he didn’t figure that out,” he added.
And the dreamy eyes all bulged, and then students snickered.
I cleared my throat again. “That reminds me of an interesting paper I read once on this very subject. Essentially, you have all these different sexual behaviors—deviant and otherwise—and they’re all a part of the study of sexual ethics. So, you have everything from procreation to prostitution to pedophilia all lumped into one category of study. This particular article broke down very simply what is morally acceptable versus morally not acceptable. The rationale was that in order for the behavior to pass the litmus test of morality there had to exist within it a reciprocation. And the reciprocation had to be mutually beneficial. If so, then no further question existed as to the moral acceptableness of the behavior. Thoughts on that?”
I leaned against the desk again, clasping the edge of the desktop.
“How about we hear from some of the women,” I suggested.
A middle aged woman sitting in the front row at the very end, raised her hand.
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, I’m certainly no expert on the matter, but I have been married for twenty-five years…” She smiled sweetly.
“I’d say that makes you as much of an expert as anyone.” I smiled back at her.
“But if we agree that equality is a core value within ethics and philosophy, then does it not stand to reason sexuality should reside on the same premise.” She shrugged.
I nodded. Sure as shit made sense to me.
“Don’t get me wrong, men can be men and women can be women. I much prefer my husband do the heavy lifting while I do the … heavy spending.” She chuckled. “But there can be equality even in differences.”
I nodded some more. “Very good,” I responded. “This understanding of equality through reciprocation tends to be very common among the non-sex-hating philosophical minds.” I smirked. “But to be sure, it is a broad topic that studies everything from ethics, morality, persuasion, and crimes again women and children. And like everything else in this field, the answers aren’t simple.” I looked around the room. “I think that’s it for tonight, guys.”
I stayed against the desk nodding and smiling to students as they left. The flirt had stopped Kane as he’d stood, and he was saying something to her. I tried not to watch, and I forced myself to continue smiling at students as they filed out. But I clearly caught the look of anger on the girl’s face when Kane said something to her, and then she stalked straight out of the room. Kane shook his head as he picked his book up from his desk, but then he looked at me and caught me watching him.
His eyebrows shot up as he walked out of the room. “Good night, Professor Hess,” he said.
“Good night, Mr. Thorson.”
* * * *
When I pulled up in my driveway twenty minutes later, Kane was sitting on my steps waiting for me. As I walked up the sidewalk toward him, he smiled up at me with his elbows planted on his knees.
“Siddhartha, huh?” I cocked my head to the side.
“I have to say, you’re quite impressive at the front of a classroom. Very confident, very professional. And this fucking skirt…” He reached for me, pulling my hips toward him. “…was torture.” He undid the two buttons of my dress shirt just above the waist of my skirt, and then he pulled the fabric apart, creating an opening to my skin. He leaned to it, kissing my stomach. His mouth was warm, and it sent a shudder through my body.
I ran my fingers through his hair, and he looked up at me even as his mouth still sucked on my stomach. When he finally pulled back, he smiled.
“If that shithead winks at you one more time I’m going to punch him. I wink at you, not him.”
I laughed loudly at that. “I’ll have to kick you out of my class if you hurt one of my students.”
“You could kick him out for being a douche bag,” he suggested as he stood from the steps.
“You know, when you’re not verbally bitch-slapping the guys in the class or swooning the women, you’re actually a very good student. You’re incredibly smart?”
“Not as smart as you,” he said sweetly as he leaned to my lips.
I pulled back before he could kiss me. “You were the one chosen to be in the Talented and Gifted Program in fifth grade, not me.”
“You’re still bitter about that aren’t you?” He smiled. “As it turns out, it didn’t really matter. My father didn’t find value in such things.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” I reached for him, stepping close to his body and looking up at him. “Did it ever occur to you maybe that laid-back, cool kid, troublemaker persona you had was just your way of deflecting the disappointment of all the things you couldn’t have but deserved?”
“No, baby,” he said sarcastically. “That never occurred to my genius fucking self.” He smirked.
He reached down, grabbing a small black gift bag with pink tissue paper from the steps that I’d not even noticed before. I eyed it curiously for a moment.
“Take me to bed,” he said as he leaned down and finally kissed my lips. “And we’ll talk all about what’s in the bag.”
I cocked my head to the side, but then I passed him and walked up the steps to the front door. “Did you get the cupboards installed?”
“I did. I barely survived so many hours with Shawn, but … it’s done.”
“What’s left to do?”
“Aside from a shitload of painting, the bathroom still needs a lot of work, I still have to extend the hardwoods into the hallway and bedrooms, trim work throughout, new doors, new light fixtures, which I still have to pick out, and then … nothing.”
I pushed the door open. “Sounds like you’re getting close, though.”
He closed the door behind us. “The bathroom will take a bit of time. New vanity, new floor, new wall tile around the clawfoot tub, but hopefully within a few weeks, it’ll be ready to go on the market.”
He took my hand and led me down the hall to my bedroom, and when we entered, he walked straight to the bed and patted the mattress. I sat down, and he sank to his knees at my feet.
“I’ll push you,” he said quietly. “As long as you trust I could never objectify you.”
I nodded.
“I’ve objectified plenty of women in my life, but I’m not capable of doing that to you.”
“I know that.” And I did.
He studied my eyes for a moment before he lifted one foot with his hand to the back of my heel. He undid the buckle on the ankle strap. “These were killing me tonight, too.” He slipped my high heel from my foot, tossing it aside, and then he took off the other one.
When he stood he reached his hand down to me, and he pulled me up to my feet.
“Turn around.” He winked at me.
I turned, and when I felt his fingers lowering the zipper that ran over my bottom, I sucked in a quick breath of air. He pulled my skirt down my hips, catching my underwear as he did, and once they were both pooled at my feet, he wrapped his arms around me and started undoing the buttons of my shirt.
I reached back and fumbled with the zipper and button of his jeans, and he took a break from my shirt just long enough to strip his T-shirt over his head and toss it aside. When I had his pants undone, I pushed them down his hips along with his underwear, and then I ran my hand along his erection.
He groaned and cursed. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered against my ear. “Not so fast.”
I pulled my hands away, and he finished with the buttons of my shirt, pulling it off my shoulders and letting it drop to the floor between us. He unclasped my bra as I pulled my hair over my shoulder, and it slipped from my arms.
“Get on the bed.” His hand touched my back, urging my gently forward.
I climbed on, turning toward him and laying on my side so I could face him. I propped myself up on my elbow and watched as he pushed his pants and underwear the rest of the way to the ground, stepped out of them, and grabbed the gift bag from the floor. He lay down facing me in the exact same position I was in, and he placed the bag between us.
“Choose one.”
I smirked. “Only one?”
He laughed. “Only one tonight.”
“So there’s clearly more than one thing in here?”
He nodded.
“Is this grab bag style, or can I see and choose?”
“Lord, woman, you make even this difficult.” He smiled. “You may see all three things and choose one.”
I turned the bag over, dumping out the contents along with the tissue paper, and he snatched the tissue paper back, tossing it over his shoulder to drop to the floor and leaving only the three items.
I reached for the first thing that caught my eye, but he caught my hand before I could touch it. “I thought a lot about what you said. And I get it. I want you to feel like you understand me and are close to me. And keeping you out of my head in some attempt to … protect you, isn’t the way to do it. But I also need you to understand I didn’t get these things for me.” He studied me for a moment. “I got them for you. I want you to feel safe enough to try things with me—if for no other reason than to just put your curiosity away and learn that, regardless of all this, it’s still … just … us. I know you feel inept with me because I’ve experienced things you haven’t. And I don’t want you wondering or fearing how it’s been with me and other women. I want you focused on us and only us, because nothing else in the world that I’ve experienced has ever touched the importance of us to me. You have to understand the importance of that. None of this is necessary for me to be satisfied with you. None of it,” he said adamantly.
I nodded.
“But…” He bit his lower lip. “…I will absolutely enjoy playing with you. Just promise you’ll tell me if something makes you uncomfortable. I need to know you’ll be open about what you’re feeling.”
“I promise.”
He released my hand, and I finally picked up the shiny silver chain that had caught my eye. It wasn’t thick, and it wasn’t at all heavy, but it was more substantial than a necklace. There were very slim and small tong or tweezer shaped metal appendages dangling from the two ends of the chain, and when I looked more closely at the ends of the tweezers, they were covered in a clear silicone tip.
I took a deep breath as I set the chain aside and picked up the next item. It was phallic, and it was clear pink glass. It was nubbed and ridged along the shaft and it flared out at the head just like a penis. It was smaller than Kane, but the nubs and ridges were intimidating all the same. I had no idea how something that inflexible and hard, nubbed and ridged would feel inside of me, but that’s clearly exactly where it was meant to go.
And then I picked up the last item. It was heavier, and it was shaped kind of like a bullet, but it was far too large to be a bullet. The metal shined, and the tip was rounded but narrow, flaring out at the center before tapering to a flat end about the size of a fifty-cent piece. I studied it, turning it over in my hand and feeling the weight of it in my palm.
I set it down, reaching again for the metal chain. “What is this?”
“Tweezer clamps. They go on your nipples. They’ll be a little uncomfortable at first, but they’re adjustable too, so the tension can be lowered. I can tug on the chain to increase the pressure.”
He picked up the pink phallus. “This I can fuck you with, or you can fuck yourself with it while I watch.” He set it aside, finally picking up the metal bullet shaped thing. “This is an anal plug. It’s a fairly slim one. I want you to let me put it in your bottom and then I want to fuck your pussy while it’s in.” His voice was so exceptionally calm as he explained it all to me, and his eyes focused on me carefully.
I shuddered, and the quietest whimper escaped me.
He dropped the plug, reaching instantly for my cheek and angling my face to look at him. “It’s still just us, and you can say no to anything here. I won’t be upset or disappointed in you.”
I nodded. “I know.” I reached for the chain, picking it up again. “This.” I said. “It’s the least terrifying.”
He chuckled. “Do you want to reject the other two outright?”
I shook my head. “No. Just not tonight.”
“When you’re ready.”
I nodded. “When I’m ready.”