The Tutor, Volume II (ch. 12, 5/4)

[Somebody]

Nevermind. It's just depressing seeing a 2020s version of politics depicted. It's a shibboleth of sorts, a painful reminder that other people have a different reality from mine. It's not about their taking sides, it's what they think the sides are, what they're doing, which one is which, and where they got that narrative from. I don't watch those shows you're talking about, but I still know what's going on and that it's not what's being presented.

[jofeyes1]

The story is absolutely top-notch. Even better than Chapter 1. The complicity of a girlfriend, the presence of multiple victims – each with a distinct personality and background – certainly make it more compelling than the previous chapter. Once again, every detail is meticulously crafted, a sign of an author of considerable intellect. Added to all this is the fact that the narrative is truly believable and the story feels like it could actually happen.

[colomale2]

Looking forward for the next chapter

[Fred Key]

Apologies to all for the slow production rate, but I haven't abandoned this.

Ch. 10 - Learning the Rules

Unfortunately, my good mood from dinner with Annie didn’t last very long. My end of the day check on Violet’s work showed no posted notes and no updated assignments. There was no copy of the psychology assignment due yesterday either. It was POSSIBLE that Violet had just forgotten to upload a copy to our work folder, but even if that was the case, it was a failure to follow the instructions I had set up for her specifically to train her out of these bad habits. And I simply couldn’t believe she had attended two classes that day that had no notes whatsoever.

I sent an email to Violet telling her that she needed to meet with me tomorrow before practice, and that she should pick a time and location. I made it clear that I expected to hear from her by 8AM tomorrow morning, or there would be consequences.

Within ten minutes, I had an email in my inbox that was full of excuses about overwhelming circumstances and just getting caught up and behind and things are getting done right now, Fred, I swear, but fine, I have time for a REALLY quick meeting at 9AM at the caf while I grab breakfast. I ignored the excuses and sent back a simple “see you there.” It was time for Violet to find out how this program really worked.

I also sent an email to Annalee reminding her to meet me at 4 tomorrow for our first conference on her essay. That got no reply, unsurprisingly.

Among some other email, however, was a note from Jenny that D-Sig had approved the requests I had sent them, and that I just needed to let them know when I wanted them to happen. She said the older sisters had been amused by the creativity of the ideas, and were eager to see how it would play out. Now I had a couple more cards to play with Violet and Annalee, if necessary.

After a half an hour of trying to get my online banking site to work so I could pay some bills, I finally put my laptop away and tried to settle down to read for a while. It was frustrating - for some reason, I couldn’t concentrate. I read the same page four times without actually taking in any of it before I threw the book aside in irritation.

I picked up the phone and texted Annie - that almost always put me in a good mood. This time, though, I didn’t get an answer. I figured she was in the lab working or something, and we had just had dinner, so I wasn’t going to complain that she was too busy to text me, but it was one more frustration on top of the pile. I decided that I needed to do something to burn off some of the negative feelings, and I opted to head for the Athletic Center to use the gym there.

I’m not a gym rat. I go a few times a week to try to stay in decent shape, but I’m not going to win any powerlifting competitions or endurance runs. That night, though, I racked up weights and pushed myself to exhaustion. As I did, I let my mind wander. Sometimes this helps me figure out what’s really bothering me under the surface - like it’s there, but hidden behind all the white noise that everyday life makes, and I have to tune out to listen. Some people meditate or do yoga; I burn myself out on free weights. Lift, lower, lift, lower, repeat, repeat, repeat.

It didn’t take me too long before my mind drifted back to the library and spanking Annalee. It had been enormously satisfying, but apparently it had also bothered me on some level. Now, as I sucked down water between sets, the source of the irritation finally became clearer.

I got into tutoring to make money to help cover expenses, and because I had a talent for it. It was something I had always felt good about - instead of making money by grinding away for a corporation or selling products, I was earning a wage for HELPING people. It was a win-win for me, both economically and morally. I got the positive feeling of contributing to my community, and the benefits of the cash as well.

This new venture, however - the “emergency tutoring” approach that I was using on Annalee and Violet - was a lot less clearly positive to me. Annalee wasn’t motivated to do the assignment I had given her because she wanted to improve; she was motivated by getting smacked on the ass in public and the threat of more. Sure, she wanted to remain in D-Sig, and so I was helping her achieve her desired goal, but that seemed like a really weak justification to me, especially since the sorority was more or less forcing the two to participate.

Tutoring Annalee and Violet would have a net positive outcome - I was confident of that. Annalee was going to get back her next essay and see the grade improvement, and hopefully realize she could express her opinions effectively without compromising them. Violet would get her work done and learn to schedule. But the way I was going to get them there - was I really ok with it? Even with the women both having the option to quit at any time, I wasn’t sure that they were where, say, Annie had been when we tried the high-stakes method. Annie had been told ahead of time what was on the table, and had every right to tell me to fuck off. Jenny had as well. Annalee and Violet? It was far harder to say that they could just walk without a loss.

It was also pretty clear that spanking Annalee wasn’t likely to be a one-time thing. The chances were very high that I was going to end up paddling her, probably with her skirt up. That wasn’t totally comfortable for me, either. I wasn’t really into spanking the way that some people are - a slightly edgy fetish to play with in the bedroom. The first time I had done it was when I spanked Tara during a tutoring session with her and one of her teammates, and while it hadn’t been a turn OFF, that was more because it meant I was looking at Tara’s amazing bare ass over my lap. I had ZERO sexual interest in Annalee, and spanking her had felt like I was trying to get an unruly child back into line. Was I okay with that? I needed to think about it more. Maybe talk it through with Annie.

Exhausted, I made my way back to my dorm, grabbed a quick shower, and went to sleep. Maybe ethics would be clearer in the morning.

I was up bright and early the next day, and had plenty of time to have a leisurely breakfast before the meeting with Violet. I wanted my meal out of the way so I could focus my complete attention on her situation - this was a case where I didn’t feel any ethical twinge at all. Violet was self-destructing with her behavior, and she knew it. She had agreed to this because she wanted to stay on scholarship, and it had been her best option. That was an outside motivator, and it gave me room to breathe about how I used that motivator.

Violet arrived in a hurry, carrying an enormous water bottle, some peanut butter toast, and some fruit. “I only have a few minutes, Fred; I’m really sorry, but I’m SLAMMED today.”

“That’s ok, Violet. Thanks for meeting with me on short notice. Do you know why I asked you to meet me?” I asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t fill out everything on the schedule like I was supposed to. I meant to, but then I had to go run right after class, and I forgot until later, when I was out on the course, and then I was working on my homework for my afternoon class but I missed turning in the assignment for the morning class. I tried, but I just didn’t get everything done.” Violet took a big bite of the toast. “The time wasn’t there.”

“Did you stick to the schedule?”

“Mostly - I was tired after class, so I put off the notes, and I never circled back to them.”

“We talked about this, Violet. The key to you developing good habits is to IMPRINT them in you. Make them part of your routine. We can’t do that if miss assignments or notes.” I looked at her expression, trying to judge how well she was listening, but she was already looking at her watch impatiently.

Well, I thought, we’re about to get your attention.

“Because of your failure to keep up with the rules I assigned you, you’re being given a punishment consequence. This is intended to help you remember to make a better choice next time.” My no-nonsense tone got her attention quickly.

“Crap,” she said. “If you’re going to paddle me, can it at least be in PRIVATE? Like an extra warning?” She bit her lip, looking uncomfortable. “I get it. I screwed up. But please - not here.”

“No, I’m not going to paddle you, Violet.” I handed her a small plastic bag. “Your consequence is that today you will be doing your training in the clothes in this bag. There are more specific instructions inside. Make sure you follow them–it will be checked. I expect that by midnight tonight your psychology assignment will be turned in and that your notes will be updated. If something is missing, the consequence tomorrow will be much more severe. Understood?”

Violet took the plastic shopping bag. It was knotted shut. I didn’t want her looking in there until after I was gone. You can’t argue with someone if they aren’t there. “I get it. So I just have to wear these to train in? That’s the punishment? What, are they super-revealing or something?”

“Or something. Now you’d better hurry - you said you had to be out the door by 9:20, right?”

“Oh, shit!” Violet swore, and grabbed her backpack in one hand, then put the bag over her other wrist and grabbed the toast off her tray. “Would you mind returning that for me, Fred? Gotta run!”

“No problem. See you tomorrow for our meeting!” I watched her hurry off while I nibbled on a leftover piece of melon from her plate. Then I took the trays to the return and headed off to my own classes.

You’re probably wondering what was in that bag, and who would be checking on Violet. The answer to the second question was me. That afternoon, I was sitting on a bench that overlooked the athletic field where the cross-country course started. I didn’t have to wait very long, as it turned out. A large round of applause and whistles from down on the field signaled that Violet had made her entrance, and was following the instructions.

“Looking good, Vi!” one of her teammates called out. Violet responded by flipping him off, which seemed rude. She was looking good - for someone in third grade on her way to church.

The bag I had sent contained only five items and a sheet of instructions. The instructions were simple enough: “These clothes replace your training gear today, with the exception of your sports bra and your running shoes. You will wear them for the entirety of practice.” I had provided the largest child-sized flowery smock dress that I could find at the thrift store, a new pair of white ankle socks with lace trim at the top, and a pair of the most ridiculously childish underpants I could find in her size, which had been thoughtfully provided by Jenny. The dress, which would have been perfectly modest on a 9 year old, was barely big enough to reach her thighs. To cap the outfit off, the final instruction on the sheet had been to put up her hair in pigtails tied off with the two provided pink ribbons.

Violet looked like she was a college student trying to dress like she was in elementary school - exactly the effect I’d been looking for. She was flushing bright red from the ribbing she was getting from her teammates, and things didn’t get any better when she started to stretch with the others. Without running shorts, her cartoony panties were on display during even the simplest of leg stretches. When the group finally began a warm-up jog around the field, I saw that the dress was bouncing up with every stride as well.

If things had started bad for Violet, they got worse fairly quickly when the team hit the course. Maxwell has a fair amount of green space, but the cross-country course ran through various portions of the campus and even up against part of the school’s boundary with the city. As they left the field and started up the hill and around the soccer field, more cheers and applause broke out from the intramural teams playing at the moment. I was pretty certain that by the end of the run, Violet would have made several appearances in social media and gotten well and truly embarrassed. She would also get to explain WHY she was doing it to any of her friends who saw the pictures or caught her in person, which would only heighten her embarrassment.

If there’s one thing I can say about teams with confidence, it’s that they are like a tight family. Once you’re in, it’s great, but for that period when you’re the new one nobody knows, your greatest wish is to avoid making a fool of yourself in front of all the established members. That’s the sort of thing that can follow you for a very long time - and it’s where nicknames often are born.

Along with the assignment and copies of notes I received that night from Violet, I also got an email making it clear that Violet was NOT happy with me. “Not only did I spend the entire afternoon running in fucking panties, which RODE UP, but I now also have been officially nicknamed “Care Bear” thanks to the stupid cartoons on them! I don’t know if I can even show my face at the practice tomorrow. Hope you’re happy, asshole.”

I sent a reply:

Violet,

Thank you for getting today’s work in on time. You may return to normal practice attire tomorrow. My personal happiness has nothing to do with this. However, the fact that you DID get your work done for tonight because you were so badly embarrassed is clear evidence that the punishment was successful. If you don’t want to be embarrassed, keep on top of your workload. If we have to repeat this reinforcement, the costume and/or actions required for the punishment will cause you even more embarrassment than this time.

Don’t forget to put any upcoming assignments on your calendar.

Fred


I tried to make the email as dispassionate as possible, but it was an act. I was not happy with the way Violet had reacted. Yes, I expected her to be angry, but I guess I hadn’t expected that *I* would be as bothered by her anger as I was. I had spent the last few years working by the principle that the tutor-student relationship should be supportive, not adversarial. Now I felt like I was blowing that idea up completely. It wasn’t like playing a game face to face with Tara, where I could adjust tone and approach on the fly. I hadn’t counted on this distance between Violet and myself insulating me from her immediate response - and that she would store up that anger for later. I should have predicted it - what else would she do? If it had been something she could have laughed off, I wouldn’t have chosen it as the consequence.

When Annie and I had gone over Violet’s profile, it seemed that for her, like for Annalee, personal reputation and sense of control were big things. Violet didn’t mind the idea of a little hazing, because that was expected from teammates, or even from her sorority sisters. She could accept it, look strong, and still be a team player. She owned her response and her image.

Annie and I had decided to take that right out from under her. Sure, she could run, endure, and do whatever the team needed - but I wasn’t the team. I was an outside force, her tutor, and the team didn’t know (unless she told them) just how much control I had over her in the name of fixing her grades. I had deliberately chosen the most little-girl clothing - complete with little kid underwear - that I could fit Violet into and turned her from a young woman with confident control to a little kid who had almost none. The laughter of her teammates would cut even harder when she felt this was being done to her, not her own choice. And I was right about that - it clearly made an impression.

I couldn’t do much about it tonight, but I thought it would be wise to check on Violet again tomorrow and see if she had cooled off. Hopefully, it would be “lesson learned” and back to ordinary work.
I texted Annie to ask about lunch, but she said she was busy today. So much for that potential bright spot. There was nothiing but classes and homework between me and my four o’clock appointment with Annalee. I tried hard to kick the mood I was sinking into, knowing it would have a bad impact on my meeting with Annalee, but I just couldn’t. My classes were dull, and my homework tedious. I was in Collins most of the afternoon, so I wasn’t looking out a window, but if I had been, I’m sure it would have been a gloomy gray afternoon, the type you get in early spring in the Northeast. Maybe even pouring rain in time for me to walk back to my dorm.

Needless to say, I was less than enthusiastic about the tutoring session, given that Annalee had already shown herself capable of being incredibly bullheaded. I was prepared for an argument from the start, and she didn’t disappoint, arriving and slamming her backpack down on the library table like it had personally insulted her dog.

“Well, if your goal was to make writing my essay completely impossible, Fred, you did a FANTASTIC job,” she said irritably. “I spent two full hours last night trying to put together an outline that met your ridiculous requirements.”

“And did you succeed?” I asked, as calmly as I could manage.

“Not well,” she replied, clearly frustrated. “You took away some of my best arguments!”

“Annalee, do you know what a stop sign is for?” I asked, trying a different approach.

She looked at me like I was an idiot, asking a trick question, or both. “Uh–to make people STOP, of course.”

“Right. Stop signs exist to control traffic and prevent accidents. You always stop at a stop sign, right?”

Again, that look of “Are you an idiot?” crossed her face. “Of course! It’s the law. Only bad drivers ignore stop signs.” She crossed her arms, daring me to tell her otherwise.

“Right. Do you love your mother?”

Now Annalee was truly confused. “What? What does…YES, I love my mother! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So imagine that your mother badly injures herself in an accident at two AM. You have to drive her to the hospital while she is bleeding dangerously. You live in a residential neighborhood with lots of stop signs. Do you stop at every one of them on the way to take your mom to the Emergency Room?”

“Well..I would at least be EXTRA CAREFUL going through the intersections,” Annalee said, reluctant to admit she would break a rule. “But I don’t see what that…
“Look, Annalee, what I’m saying is that when we learn to drive, we learn the rules of the road so we can be as safe as possible for ourselves and others. But there are circumstances that sometimes come up where we have to break a rule because of the situation, right? Part of becoming a good driver is learning exactly when it IS and is NOT all right to break a rule. The same thing is true with an argumentative essay. There are rules that we follow. That isn’t to say that we can’t break those rules now and then - but we need to be good enough at what we are doing to know exactly HOW and WHY we are breaking the rules. Only then is it safe - in the right circumstances - to do it. Does that make sense?”

Annalee paused for a moment, thinking it through. “I suppose that it does, sort of. But I KNOW how to argue!”

I shook my head. “You know what you want to say, but that’s not the same thing as making the argument a STRONG one.” I held out my hand, and she handed me her outline. “If I had let you, what’s one argument that you would have included on this page that you weren’t permitted to make?”

She answered immediately - “I would have talked about the Bible’s injunction from Leviticus that one who takes a life shall be put to death.”

“Okay. And belief that the Bible is divine word isn’t a problem if that’s your faith. However, in your experience, do most people you interact with here have the same faith and values?”

“Not even close,” she scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean that the Bible isn’t the truth!”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “But it means that what YOU know is true isn’t necessarily the same as what OTHERS know is true. Now, are you certain of your position?”

“Yes,” she said. “Absolutely.”

“Then you aren’t trying to convince yourself when you write this essay, correct? You’re trying to persuade OTHER PEOPLE to agree with you. So it stands to reason that if you are going to persuade them, you have to give them evidence that THEY are willing to accept - things that can’t be argued as interpretation or belief, but rather logic and supported claims. Your faith that the Bible is divine word is bedrock for you, but for anyone who isn’t a Christian, it isn’t proof. That’s why I told you not to use that argument. If you try to persuade me that capital punishment should be enforced because the Bible says so, I would ask you if ALL of the laws laid out in the Bible should be equally enforced without question, and I would ask you why I should accept the Bible as binding on me if I don’t share your faith.” I scanned her outline. “Here, look at this - your argument about the costs of housing inmates for life in prison and the burden it places on society. This is a reasonable argument, Annalee - you have data from a reliable source, specific numbers, and a logical point - the cost in both money and family suffering that arises from life imprisonment is significant, and worth considering. THAT’s a good claim - it is a statement that is justifiable, supported, and explained.”

“So that one is fine?” she asked uncertainly. “You agree with it?”

“I wouldn’t say I necessarily agree, but this is the dirty secret of argument essays, Annalee-you don’t HAVE to agree to make the argument. You just have to make the case. If anything, thinking about the argument that an opponent would make is a good way to be a step ahead in an argument - you can shoot down the strongest positions before they can be raised.”

We spent the rest of the hour working on the outline, trying to refine the arguments that Annalee would be using in the essay. Surprisingly, it went quite well - once she accepted that I wasn’t saying she was WRONG, Annalee was much more cooperative about making her position more effective. I think it helped, too, that I mentioned that one way to really show her professor up would be to create an argument that was too solid for him to poke holes in, even if he did, in fact, have a bias against her. The idea of getting one over on the guy she was certain was attacking her for her beliefs made her extremely happy.

“Maybe this does make some sense,” she admitted at the end of the session as she packed up her notes. “I mean, if someone wanted to convince me that I was wrong to be a Christian, just saying “But the Koran says so” would just make me laugh at them.”

“And we got through the entire session without any need for ‘corrective measures’, too,” I said. “See? We CAN work together if you just remember that I’m here to help, not to change your world view.”

Annalee turned red-faced again and looked away. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten last week - or forgiven you for publicly humiliating me that way.”

Oh, well. Can’t win them all, right?

“Understood. Now, do you think you can get the first draft of this essay done in the next two days? That should give us time to–”

She cut me off. “I can finish the essay from here. Your help won’t be necessary.”

I shook my head. “Not how this works. I want to see a draft and go over it with you to make sure that we have all of your ideas flowing logically and that you’ve followed formatting rules. We aren’t looking for a C - we’re looking for an A, right?”

Annalee glowered at me. “I am perfectly capable of writing an A essay, Fred. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder on it. While I….appreciate…the guidance on the content, I’ll handle the rest. I was a perfectly good writer in high school.”

I tried again. “I don’t doubt it. But even the best writers have editors to look at their drafts and make suggestions.”

“That’s for things like publishing and newspapers. This is a basic essay. Literally a 100 level class.” Annalee folded her arms. “I thanked you - I don’t know why you’re pushing on this.”

Because I have a feeling that some lessons can’t be learned in an hour, I thought to myself.

“Okay,” I replied. “If you’re so confident that you’ve got this, you won’t mind an agreement regarding the essay, right? I’ll let you write it and submit it on your own, just the way you want. If you get an A on it, I’ll let this class drop and we’ll only focus on your other courses from here out. If you get a B, we’ll do the outlining process for your next essay together again, but I’ll let you do the writing. If you get a C or below, though, not only will you prepare drafts for me on your next essay, but you’ll also apologize for ignoring my advice AND ask for appropriate correction for doing so.”

“Ask for appropriate correction?” Annalee said, a hard tone to her voice. “You mean come in here and ASK you to paddle me? You can’t be serious. No way. I might be forced to accept that crap from the sorority, but I am NOT accepting from you.”

This was much more familiar territory for me. Angry and defensive is a terrible combination for good decision-making, and I knew that it wouldn’t take much at all for Annalee’s pride to kick in here. “Then what you’re saying is that you AREN’T really sure that you’re going to do well on this essay, then? And if that’s the case, what’s the justification for not showing me a draft before you turn it in? Either you’re certain enough to make the deal, or you aren’t, and we need the extra draft. Which is it?”

After a moment’s silence, Annalee huffed. “Fine. It’s a deal. I’ll get that A, though, and then I’ll be done with you soon enough.” She grabbed her backpack and once again stomped off down the stairs. So much for the ground we gained today, I thought, but I was confident that Annalee wasn’t going to pull an A on this essay, and that I’d have her writing drafts from here out.

Laura arrived soon after Annalee’s exit. This was my first meeting with her since the sorority house, and I still felt like she was going to be the most difficult of the three to apply our method to, as she really didn’t seem particularly upset by any of the most obvious things I suggested in the survey. Her only area that she seemed particularly uncomfortable with was public humiliation or shaming. Laura didn’t like to be the center of attention.

“Hi, Laura,” I said, indicating a chair as an offer to sit down. “I know we did a little mini-meet at the sorority house, but I’d like for you to tell me about what’s going on with your grades and where you think some of the issues might be. That’ll help us set up a plan to deal with them.”

“Honestly?” Laura laughed quietly. “My biggest issue is probably that I’m having too much fun at the parties and being away from my parents. They were really restrictive when I was a teen, and I didn’t get to do much of anything, so when I got here, I sort of threw myself into the whole social thing just to see what I had missed. Turns out I like getting slightly drunk on crappy beer and dancing too much at keggers. It’s hard for me to get excited about stupid reading assignments and math problems. Those feel like I’m back in high school again, and I just don’t feel motivated about getting them done. So I guess what I need is a plan to get me back on track. Probably by figuring out how to make myself get the academic stuff done first.”

“Okay–that’s not too hard, and it isn't uncommon for students to have to figure out the right balance of homework and social activities when they hit college. Have you tried using a planner or a schedule program to set your time up?” I asked.

“Yeah–but I don’t stick with them. I just don’t feel motivated at all,” Laura said. “I don’t really know what I want to do, so I’m just taking random classes, and none of it really gets me excited. So I end up putting everything off, or just not doing it.”

“Okay. Well, that’s going to be our focus, then. Making sure you’re doing the work and doing it correctly, not halfway.” I looked over my calendar. “A daily check-in seems extreme, but we can go there if we need to. For now, let’s say every other day. You’ll log in to the classroom system, show me your assignment lists, and show me that they are completed when due. You’ll also provide me with the results of any tests or quizzes.”

Laura nodded. “That’s not hard. But how is that going to make me get things done?”

“That part won’t. Knowing that something unpleasant will happen if you don’t get your work finished is the part that’s going to actually have an impact.”

“Something unpleasant?” Laura said, smiling. “You mean you’ll paddle me like you did to Annalee? Man, was she pissed at you.”

“I didn’t PADDLE Annalee. I spanked her butt twice. And she was being Annalee, which I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you,” I replied, irritated. “But no, I won’t paddle you. At least not right away.”

“Then what horrible consequence are you throwing at me, oh scary tutor?” Laura laughed.

“You know the mixer D-Sig is hosting next Friday night? You’ll be working that mixer serving drinks - walking through the crowds, making sure no one is thirsty. Right now, the sorority plans on you wearing your D-Sig sweatshirt and jeans. But for every assignment you miss between now and next Friday, you’ll be allowed one fewer piece of clothing while you serve.”

Laura’s smile faded quickly. “What?”

“You’ll be serving drinks partially or completely naked if you don’t do your work, Laura,” I said. “In front of an entire party of frat boys.”

“No fucking way - the other D-Sigs would never allow that. It could get the sorority suspended!”

“Not when you’re doing it on your own, as part of a tutoring contract. That can’t be laid on D-Sig; my company is totally independent and is fully responsible for any issues. This has already been cleared with your chapter president, Laura.”

“Fuck,” Laura muttered. “So much for my week.”

“Just to be clear,” I continued, “ If you get a poor grade on a test or quiz, or if you turn in a half-assed assignment and get a poor score, the same rules apply. You wanted motivation? Here you go.”

“Great. THAT’S your tutoring? Do your fucking work, bye?”

“Of course not, Laura. I’m more than happy to help you with any assignment you find difficult or confusing, or to help you understand a lesson if you didn’t get it the first time around. You may find this hard to believe, but I want you to succeed. Unfortunately, we’re on too short a timeline to leave that to chance and a slow approach.” I sat back in my chair. “Honestly, if I really wanted you to fail, don’t you think I could engineer rules that you have no chance of following?”

Laura looked at me for a moment, then her shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I know. I’m just frustrated, you know? I was a good student in high school, Fred! Something just…changed. When I got here, it was like I lost all my motivation and direction, and I haven’t been able to do anything to get it back again. I thought I might even need to go to the clinic about being depressed, but I’m not unhappy - I just don’t want to do the work.”

“I’m not judging, Laura. You sound like you had a big change coming here, and people handle change differently.” I shrugged. “The question that I have, though, is pretty simple - would you rather do the work that you aren’t interested in or serve drinks naked at a frat party? That seems like a pretty straightforward choice, right?”

“Yeah - I’m not going to let that happen.”

I smiled. “That’s the idea. Now is there anything specific you want to work on today?”

Laura and I worked on her math for a while. She was significantly behind, and she wasn’t a good math student to begin with, so it was slow going. I could see it would take a few sessions to get her to where she needed to be, so we set up meetings twice more for this week. She left with the promise that her work was going to be done on time. I think she meant it, but I doubted it would be that easy. It never is.

Tutoring finished for the day, I called Annie, but got her voicemail. I tried texting her, but there was no reply. I tried again half an hour later, and this time, I got a response.

*Hey - want to meet for dinner? Miss you.*
*I told you I was crazy busy today. Please stop texting me.*

*Whoa - stop texting you? I’ve only sent you a couple messages today asking about meeting for a meal. Not exactly burying you.*

A minute later, Annie’s response arrived:

*What part of STOP did you not understand? I don’t think this is going to work if you can’t respect my boundaries.*

I was stunned. What the hell was going on?

“Annie, I’m sorry if I upset you. I was just asking you if you wanted to get dinner. That’s all.*

*And you have an answer, and you’re STILL texting me even though I asked you to stop twice. Don’t text me again. Period.*

I almost dropped the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why are you so upset with me? Can we talk later tonight?*

The last message came back with a notification:
“This phone number has blocked you.”

What the actual fuck? I sat there in Collins, staring at my phone, trying to make sense of what just happened. My girlfriend - the one things were going so well with - had suddenly just blocked my calls and told me to leave her alone. What happened? I tried to come up with something I had said or done that would justify this weird behavior, but I couldn’t think of a thing. Was I being too clingy? Too pushy? I didn’t think texting about meeting for a meal was over a line, but maybe I was wrong?

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t hungry now anyway. I sat there for another hour, staring at nothing, confused and hurt. Then I went back to my dorm. A perfect ending to a shitty day.

[colomale2]

Thanks for another high quality chapter!
Take your time. It's been an awesome ride. I enjoyed every chapter of this.

[Somebody]

Very nice. I noticed you emphasize the pronoun 'I' by putting asterisks around it, that works okay. I have not thought of a better way yet. I just wanted to share frustration that it's hard to emphasize that word. It's too narrow.
And yet, because we try not to put ourselves first all the time, when we do want to emphasize that it's we who are the focus, we really want that to stand out. We could use something new in language to help with that, I tell you what.

I think it's hilarious that I knew exactly how that texting conversation was going to go, because I've been that guy, and yet I still have no idea what the cause of her ire is going to be, any more than I did at the time. You can learn the safer behavior without actually learning the reason why.

[Fred Key]

Chapter 11 - Mistakes Were Made

The next few days were some of the most frustrating I could remember.  Annie still hadn’t unblocked my phone number, and she hadn’t made any attempt to contact me.  No email, no texts, no notes.  Nothing at all.  I suppose I could have gone to her dorm room and tried knocking on the door, but that seemed like a really bad idea.  For whatever reason, she had made it very clear that she didn’t want to talk to me right now, and refusing to respect that boundary, I thought, would cause even more friction and pushback.  As frustrating as it was to be shut out without any explanation, I decided that if I wanted ANY chance of fixing the situation, I needed to give Annie all the space she needed.  So I did, even though it sucked big time.

I tried to turn my attention to my own work instead, but I was badly distracted. First, I wanted to see Annie.  An equal difficulty, however, was coming from Laura and Violet, who were requiring far more supervision of their day-to-day work than I had expected.  Both of the young women had to be checked every day to ensure they had their work up to date, and that often meant doing some back-checking to verify that they actually had all of their assignments in their calendar.

Violet was improving, but her habit of letting work slide for a day or two and then playing catch-up was a hard one for her to break.  The “Care Bear” run had secured her attention for a couple of days, but her schedule looked remarkably open when I checked it for the weekend, with no notable assignments scheduled or listed as due on Monday.  That seemed pretty unlikely to me, but I didn’t rush to conclusions.  Sometimes you just get a weekend free.  However, a visit to her class homepages showed a couple of reading assignments that were due on Monday, and those required notes be taken and posted under our contract.

As it happened, however, it was Laura who was the first of the trio to fall victim to my sudden unhappy circumstances.

We were scheduled for a regular meeting at the usual Collins location on Wednesday, but I had already decided that this meeting was not going to be a regular one. We were now three days into the week, and Laura, despite my previous warnings, had already missed turning in two assignments. I knew she would have an excuse, but unfortunately for her, I wasn’t in the mood for excuses. Not at all.

When Laura arrived, she plopped down at the table with a stack of papers. “Fred, I was really hoping we could spend today on limits. They’re kicking my ass in Precal right now, and I don’t think I understand how they work. I brought my homework and notes, so maybe we can—”

I cut Laura off. “Is this the homework that wasn’t turned in for math on Tuesday? Or is this a totally different homework set?”

Laura’s expression was guilty. “It’s the one I didn’t turn in. But it wasn’t because I didn’t WANT to do it — I didn’t understand HOW to do it. My notes were confusing and I just didn’t get it!”

“So instead of emailing or calling the guy that your sorority pays to help you, you decided you’d just wait an extra couple of days and THEN ask for help? That doesn’t fly with me, Laura. You’re too far behind as it is, and you can’t afford to fall further back. And what about the missing assignment in your Adolescent Psych class?” I shook my head. “No, I think you’ve forgotten my warning from earlier in the week already.”

“I haven’t, Fred! I promise,” Laura pleaded. “I just need help with this problem set and then I can turn it in, and I’ll have the Psych work done tonight. Then I’ll be totally caught up and on time!”

“But I still have to report that you missed the two assignments. And you know what that means - you’ll be wearing two fewer pieces of clothing at that mixer on Saturday night. The way I figure it, you’re now barefoot. Any more missed assignments are going to mean that you’re losing full articles of clothing - ones that cover things you’d like to keep covered.”

The young woman’s face turned pale. “Seriously? You’re going to report those two assignments? Come on, Fred - I’m only a day late on the first one, and the psych was due this morning! I’ll be more careful - can’t you just let this one slide?”

“No, Laura, I can’t. Letting things slide is how you ended up here in the first place, remember? I think that this would be an excellent time for us to review your math, and to review how this agreement works as well. Stand up.”

Laura got to her feet, looking nervously at her backpack. I knew her paddle was in there - Jenny had been told to make sure all three of my clients were carrying it - but I wasn’t planning on using it. No, I had a more direct lesson in mind. “Since you seem to be lacking sufficient concern about your state of dress for this upcoming mixer, let me help you realize just how significant it actually is. Take off your top and your jeans. You’re going to be doing the rest of this review session in your underwear.”

Her eyes widening, Laura looked at me with alarm. “What?”

“I said, take off your top and your jeans.”

“No! In the middle of the library? Are you insane?”

“Not at all. You’re well on your way to being naked in front of the entire party on Saturday, Laura, so you might as well get used to being undressed in public.” I held out my hand. “Top.”

“We’ll get thrown out of the library!” Laura hissed. “Come on, Fred, this isn’t necessary!”

“Top, Laura. Now. Or do I have to add a paddling on top of your having to undress?”

Laura chewed her lip in obvious distress. She looked around; there wasn’t anyone on the floor with us at the moment, at least in our line of sight, but we were also right by the stairway entrance. Someone could burst through the door at any moment.

“I’ll count to three. Then I’m going to have you take out your paddle. One.”

With a distressed whine, Laura’s hands went to the hem of her tan shirt. She pulled it off quickly, as if she could make the whole moment disappear if she was fast enough. Reluctantly, she handed the shirt to me. “There. Isn’t that enough? I’m standing in the middle of Collins Library in my goddamn bra. You have my attention, okay? Just give me the shirt back and I promise I won’t miss any more assignments.’

“That’s not how this is working, Laura. You lost this top for an hour. And you need to give me your jeans, too. You can put your shoes back on after you take the pants off if you like, but the jeans are non-negotiable. Let’s go.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Laura muttered as she slipped off her shoes. She looked around again, and then with a pained sigh undid the button at the top of her jeans. “PLEASE, Fred?”

“Jeans. Hand them over.”

I wasn’t feeling generous or sympathetic. Laura knew exactly what the rules were. She opted not to follow them, and now she was complaining about the results. I had done everything right with Annie, and somehow I was being punished with total cutoff for some reason I didn’t even know! Laura could damn well sit there in her little pink panties and deal with her embarrassment if I could deal with my frustration. I took the proffered jeans and put them and the top on a chair next to me. Then I handed Laura a pencil. “Go sharpen this and then come right back and we’ll get started.”

“Sharpen it? Where?” Laura looked around, baffled.

“There’s a pencil sharpener by the study carrels along the east wall.” I pointed to a wall set with doors, some 50 feet away. “It’s about halfway down the wall.”

“But I’m not DRESSED!” Laura whispered, as if I had missed that trivial detail.

“Then you’d better move quickly, don’t you think? Go on!” I pointed to the wall again.

Laura took off at a dead run down the aisle, not looking left or right to see if anyone was around. I watched her bottom flex as she ran; it was a nicely rounded one, and I imagined it would be a pleasant enough one to hold on to. Not as nice as Annie’s, though. Goddamn it. This really sucked.

A minute or so later, Laura was back at the table, breathing hard. That made her chest move intriguingly; she was a smaller girl, but she was well-proportioned, and there was definitely cleavage to look at. “Ok. Here’s the pencil. Fred, you made your point - can I please get dressed again?”

I thought for a moment about being nice, but decided that I was committed, and to back down would look weak. “I’m sorry, Laura, but consequences are important to our tutoring model. If you focus on your math today during our tutoring, you might forget that you’re half-dressed.”

“I seriously doubt that,” scowled Laura. “If I had known I was going to be on display, I would have worn better underwear at least.”

Her underwear seemed fine to me, but I wasn’t going to step into that minefield. “Okay. So you’re having problem with the idea of a limit? Imagine that you’re walking towards that wall next to the stairs. Let’s say that every time you move, you travel half the distance to the wall.”

“Okay. Can I imagine doing it FULLY CLOTHED?”

I ignored the sarcasm. “Let’s say the distance to the wall is 20 feet. How far are you from the wall after your first move?”

“Twenty feet,” Laura answered.

“Good. And if you move again?”

“Ten feet. Then five, then two and a half feet. I get the idea.” Laura pushed her hair back over her ear.

“Right. But let’s say you get to the point where you’re only one inch away from the wall. How far are you after your next three moves?”

Laura’s brow wrinkled. “Um..half an inch, a quarter inch, and then an eighth of an inch?”

“Excellent, Laura. Now think about it for a minute. If you keep moving half the distance every time, will you ever actually touch the wall?”

This took a moment of consideration. “No, but that doesn’t make any sense, because I’ll obviously touch the wall at some point, right?”

“In real life? Yes. In math, where you are a single point, no. Even in real life, if it was possible to move as small an amount as would eventually be required - one millionth of an inch, for example - you wouldn’t hit the wall. It’s a problem called Xeno’s Paradox. That isn’t really all that important, except that it is a really good example of what a limit means. When a function has a limit, it means that it can get infinitely CLOSE to a number, but cannot ever reach that number - just like you can get infinitely close to the wall in our example, but you can’t ever make that distance zero. In that case, we would say that the limit of our movement equation is zero.”

“Okay. That kind of makes sense. We talked about something like that in philosophy class, actually,” Laura said. “It was the idea of knowledge - theoretically, someone omniscient could know everything, but since we aren’t omniscient, we gain knowledge slowly. We can move towards omniscience, but we can’t ever get there. That’s like a limit, right?”

I was impressed. “That’s absolutely like a limit. And very cool that you can apply the concept to an area outside math. That’s what learning is supposed to be about, Laura - learning how to connect all these classes you’re taking and think about the world through different lenses to see the underlying ideas that cross.”

Laura smiled. “I would enjoy classes more if I had more moments like that and fewer long lectures about boring stuff.”

I couldn’t disagree there. Sometimes it was a long slog through the boring stuff for those “aha!” moments.

Laura and I worked on limits and problems involving them for the session. There was only one truly awkward moment - when Laura had to go to the bathroom. She excused herself, but then came back a few minutes later with her face crimson. “Shit! Shit! Shit,” she moaned as she sat down, putting her face in her arms on the table.

“What happened?”

“There was another woman using the bathroom when I walked in. She was fixing her makeup at the mirror, and took one look at me without my clothes on and burst out laughing!”

I snorted. “Must have been a surprise for her.”

“It was MORTIFYING. She looked at me and asked, ‘sorority pledge or really stupid drunk bet?’ When I said I was a pledge, she did that tsk tsk thing, and told me that I needed to make sure I wore GOOD underwear during pledge period so I didn’t humiliate myself wearing ‘Target Panties!’” Laura looked up at me, and she actually seemed upset. “They aren’t from Target! I just like simple cotton!”

“Seriously, Laura - I can’t speak for every guy out there, but if you’re standing in front of me in your underwear, I’m sure as hell not judging the quality of the bra and panties. I’m checking out everything else that’s on display. And on you, that’s plenty to be looking at.”

“Great. My tutor is not only stripping me, he’s staring at my boobs,” Laura laughed.

“Only incidentally. I’m taken,” I said - then I realized that I wasn’t sure of that anymore.

Apparently, my sudden change of expression was pretty obvious, though, because Laura got a concerned look on her face. “Wow. That clearly is a sore spot. Did something happen?”

“I don’t know, honestly. Things were really, really good, and then she suddenly cut all contact without warning. She even blocked my phone.”

Laura’s eyebrows raised. “Seriously? And you have NO idea why?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I must have done SOMETHING, but as hard as I try, I can’t figure out what. And I don’t want to make it worse, so I’m trying to stay away, but I don’t want her to think I don’t care that she’s cut me off, either, so…” I sighed. “I have no clue what to do. I don’t even know what to apologize for.”

“Do you guys have any mutual friends? Someone who you might be able to get something out of?”

I thought about Jack. “Maybe. That’s a good idea.”

“Want a piece of advice?” Laura asked.

“I’ll take anything you can give me,” I said. “I’m frustrated as hell.”

“I bet. I don’t know this girl, but whatever it is that caused this huge break? If you don’t have a clue what it is, I’d bet that it isn’t you. Most of the time, if a girl flips out on a guy, they did something REALLY obvious - said something, got too grabby, missed an important date, or she thinks you cheated on her. You’d know what it was, or at least SOMETHING about it.”

Huh. Something on Annie’s end is not something I had considered. “That’s worth a thought.”

“You seem like a pretty decent guy, honestly. Even if you did make me do math in my underwear in the middle of the library. I can’t imagine that you did anything that would make her cut everything off all at once like that. And if she did, then maybe she’s not the girl you hoped she was.” Laura looked at me, assessing. “There are a lot of women here who would be happy to find a guy like you - smart, capable, and loyal. Party guys are fun and all, but you don’t expect one to suddenly quit drinking until they pass out and wake up in the fountain by the Dean’s office. Once we’ve had a fling with one or two of them, most of us figure out quickly what we REALLY want.”

“Those are profound words coming from a woman sitting in her underwear in the middle of the school library,” I said. “Good thing our time is up for today. You can get dressed again. But Laura - remember what I said about this weekend. Now you know I’m not kidding, and you only have limited clothing left. I’d hate to see how you get treated if you’re a topless waitress at that party.”

Laura hurriedly pulled on her jeans, then her shirt. “Message received. I’m not taking any chances this time. I’ll start early on the homework I have left for the week. And thanks - I think I actually get the limit thing now.”

“Glad to help. Call if you need another session before our check-in on Friday.”

Laura and I left Collins heading in opposite directions—she headed towards the DSig house, while I decided to hit Buzzy Bean. Maybe a cup of coffee would cheer me up. And maybe I was half-hoping that Annie would be there.

Of course, she wasn’t. The place was fairly quiet, with a few students scattered around the space reading and sipping their drinks. I ordered a black coffee and found myself a table in the corner, where I could work quietly and get at an outlet for my laptop. The caffeine jolt kicked in quickly, and I started working on a problem set for my math course. It was challenging, and I quickly lost myself in equations and complex proofs.

When I looked up again, the place was nearly empty. The counter staff were cleaning up, clearly thinking about closing one the clueless math nerd in the corner came out of his brain fog and noticed there was no one left in the shop. “Sorry - got distracted!” I said, dropping a $5 bill into the tip jar as an apology gesture. The woman behind the counter smiled. “No biggie. Thanks for the tip!”

I exited the Bean and started back towards my dorm. It was cold, and I thought about how much better this walk had been with Annie just a week or two ago. Stop it, I thought to myself. You can’t mope about this forever. And you’d only been dating for a couple of weeks. Get past it.

Good advice, I suppose, but I couldn’t get myself to take it. I didn’t WANT to move on. I thought about Laura’s suggestion - maybe Jack would be willing to poke around a little and find out what was happening. It wouldn’t need to be much - just a hint that would give me an idea of what I needed to do to fix the problem. Hopefully, he would be in the room, and I could ask him to check on things tomorrow.

Jack WAS in the room, and he was waiting for me. “Fred - what the hell happened? I saw Annie this afternoon and she burst into tears and ran off when I tried to talk to her! I swear, man, you’re my friend, but if you hurt her, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Jack, I don’t know what’s going on. I was actually going to ask you to try and find out for me what Annie is so upset about. One moment we were happy and everything was great; the next minute she’s telling me to stay away. She even blocked my phone number!” I shook my head. “I know you said she was a little crazy, but not like this!”

“No, that doesn’t sound like normal Annie crazy,” Jack said thoughtfully. “You better start at the beginning and run me through this so we can try to figure out what happened here.”

I did my best to fill Jack in on the way we had gotten together, on our decision to work on a joint project (I didn’t explain), and how things were moving at a slow, steady pace. “No sex?” he asked.

“No sex. Some kissing, a little more than kissing, but we were going at her pace. If anything, she felt badly that she was keeping the brakes on the physical stuff.” I looked at Jake. “And she didn’t say ANYTHING to you?”

“Not a thing. I’m sorry, Fred. I can see why you’re so upset. I’d want to know what was happening there too. Let me try to get her to meet me tomorrow for lunch or something, and I’ll see if I can pry what’s wrong out of her.”

“Thanks, man. For what it’s worth? I really like her. A lot.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. I’ll find a way to make sure she knows that, too.”

We made some halfhearted conversation for a couple more minutes, and then I begged off to go to my room to do homework. I didn’t really have any, but I wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

Some people think that falling for someone is instant. Some people say that you can be infatuated with someone quickly, but that love—enduring relationship feelings—can take years to develop. They come from a feeling that the person you are with is the person you want to wake up next to every morning, not just after a night of intense sex. The sexual side of things is important, and it makes people WANT to connect, but the glue that holds marriages together for decades is the feeling that your partner is your best friend, and that you want to make their life better any way you can.

While we hadn’t had sex yet, Annie and I were clearly physicaly compatable. She certainly knew how to get my attention, and I was pretty good at making her happy as well. More importantly, our bodies fit together well. She was the perfect height to fit snuggled in next to me on a couch, or to nestle into me in a bed. She was tall enough to kiss without having to bend to reach her. We both liked physical contact - Tara had been happy to have the occasional steamy moment with me, but she wasn’t a “touch” person. She would never lean on me in a movie or casually sit close so our arms would brush. It wasn’t that it bothered her, but just that it wasn’t something she naturally sought out. Annie was very much a touch person, and her hand would always find mine when we were walking. I loved to stroke her hair when she put her head on my chest, and she would make contented noises like a cat who was getting scratched in its favorite spot behind the ears.

What I decided I missed most, however, was her smile. I pulled up a selfie we had taken together on my phone, and looked at that wide, beaming grin that made me feel like everything around me was unimportant as long as that smile was there. Now, looking at the picture, I felt an unmistakable emptiness inside - a feeling that something vital was gone from my life, and that I was so much less without it there.

Are you kidding me? Come on—you’ve barely dated her, and now you’re talking like you lost Tara all over again, I scolded myself. For a moment, I felt like I was trivializing what I had with my ex-girlfriend. But I wasn’t - not if I was being honest. Annie had exploded into my life, and the way I was feeling right now, I found myself suddenly inclined to believe that love can happen almost instantly. Whatever it was - love, like, need, want - the sense of loss was painful.

I tried messaging Annie again, but my number was still blocked, which hurt even more. “Damn it, Annie, why won’t you TALK to me?” I said angrily, tossing my phone aside.

Hoping to distract myself, I pulled up the assignment lists for my three clients to check their end of the day reports and make sure things were good. I was pleased to note that Laura’s work was all in, with notes that a couple of assignments due later in the week were already started. Violet was also on track at the moment, and appeared to be caught up in all of her classes. Good.

I pulled Annalee’s list of assignments up, and she was on time with everything as well. I was about to close the portal, but I popped open her scored assignments page to see if her grades were improving. Her composition grade was up, which was good news, but when I saw her revision grade for her essay, I was much less pleased. Annalee had only managed a 77 on that revision, which was below what she was capable of if she had followed instructions. More importantly, though, she hadn’t mentioned the grade at all in her report. Maybe she thought I wouldn’t remember what I had told her at our last meeting, or maybe she didn’t care. Either way, her next meeting was not going to make her happy.

I thought about letting things be until our next scheduled meeting, but then I realized that if I did, Annalee might very well make the same mistakes as she did on this rewrite. She needed to have someone check her work over and make sure she was on track, as much as it galled her to do so. Since her next essay would be due Monday, I decided it was best to deal with the issue immediately. I sent her an email asking for a time to meet with her tomorrow to outline the next essay.

Her first reply was quick - “I don’t need help with it, thanks. I know what I’m doing now.” I wasn’t going to let her dismiss me so easily, however. “I’m sure you do,” I sent back, “but I’m being paid to make sure. Time?”

She agreed grudgingly to meet me at Delta Sigma tomorrow at noon for a review session. I told her that Collins would be too busy during the day, but that wasn’t the real reason I wanted this to happen at the sorority. I fully intended to have Jenny come and observe the meeting on behalf of the DSigs so they knew they were getting what they were paying for.

Appointment set, I found myself sitting and staring at the wall once again. It was only 9:15 PM, and I wasn’t ready to sleep yet, but I wasn’t interested in being out of my room, either. Even some time with the latest novel I had picked up from the library didn’t make me feel better. Finally, I gave up and took some melatonin, shut out the lights, and lay there in bed until I finally fell asleep.

[colomale2]

Thank you for another great chapter! I am thinking the reason Annie is frustrated has something to do with the 3 girls from DSigma

[WingDing]

Good chapter.
I'm speculating that Annie is falling in love and it scared the hell out of her.

[Fred Key]

Ch. 12 - The Direct Approach

I’ve always believed that one of the worst mistakes you could make when working with someone - a colleague, a client, or someone in a relationship - is to go into a meeting angry. You’re already predisposed to making the other party either toe the line that you have set or venting your displeasure and causing even more fracture between the two of you. Sure, there are times when you just need to sit down and clear the air with someone, but in a situation where there’s a power dynamic involved, thinking clouded by anger is generally going to be poor thinking.

With that in mind, I tried to prepare for my meeting at the Delta Sigma house with Annalee. I tried to calmly and rationally lay out the reasons that I was insisting that she follow certain rules, and why that path was the one we were going to take. I knew Annalee would argue, that she would insist that this was ridiculous, and that she would try to bluster her way into control of the situation.

Sometimes, when I look at the world, I see a chessboard. Every interaction I have with another person is a game I’m playing, and everything that happens between us is a move. We play back and forth, move and countermove, with each of us attempting to checkmate the other into our desired outcome. It’s a mindset that was part of my thinking from a very early age, probably earlier than I was consciously aware of it.

Most of the time, during those years, I used it to figure out what I needed to do to win the game in a classroom and get the A that I was looking for. I would visualize my essay as a castle, with my arguments as the weapons I would use to defeat the besieging forces. No, I didn’t use the word besieging in middle school, but now I know how to describe what I was doing more clearly. The counterarguments were my castle walls, built to defend against the attacks from my foes. The goal was to build a castle so well fortified that it couldn’t be knocked down, and if I did that, I was sure to get my A on the essay. It was fairly straightforward, I thought - prepare both your own attacks and responses to the most likely moves the opponent will make.

Academically, the ability to think ahead and outflank my opponent was a powerful tool. I was glad to have it. The problem was that I sometimes found myself seeing that chessboard outside the classroom in other relationships. I had a knack for seeing the motivations and emotions that drove others, and, to be honest, a knack for manipulating those motivations and emotions if I wanted to. The ease with which I could do it was the source of a lot of moral conflict in my head. I was a fairly religious kid until late in high school, and while I wasn’t really tied to a particular church anymore, or even a particular faith, I still believed that a capital-G god was out there and that s/he and I had an understanding about what was right and what was wrong and why. Openly manipulating people purely for my own pleasure or benefit was not a good thing; I had skirted dangerously close to that line when I first tutored Tara back in high school, and I had been very careful to avoid anything of the sort when we were dating.

As a tutor, however, I was more willing to use my chessboard to achieve the desired outcomes for my clients. If someone comes to you and asks you (pays you!) to get them to behave differently - to learn how to process certain information, or to change study habits - there’s a lot more latitude to pull strings to get them where they want to be. I did it all the time back in high school when I would tutor my classmates for the SAT - most of them had anxiety about the test and about how it reflected on them, and getting them to stop thinking of it as a threat and to see it as just another stupid piece of paper you have to fill out was basically manipulating how they saw the world and pushing them into the right mindset.

In Annalee’s case, I could see what she wanted to do. Either she wanted to take control of the dynamic so she was dictating the terms of the tutoring arrangement, or she wanted to make me so frustrated or annoyed with her that I would do something stupid, giving her a reason to get me booted from the job and off her back, or that I would quit working with her in frustration. That wasn’t going to happen, but I needed to make sure Annalee not only realized that it wasn’t going to happen, but also saw that her best path forward was to get with the game plan I had laid out. I had a plan that I thought would get her there, but to pull it off, I needed the support of Jenny and Melissa - which is why I had called ahead and made sure they would both be there at the noon meeting.

In a typical power move, Annalee showed up ten minutes late to our meeting. Her first surprise was when she realized that she hadn’t just kept ME waiting - she had kept her pledge supervisor and her sorority president waiting as well. She had casually walked into the study lounge in the DSig house and dropped her backpack on the table, not even apologizing for her tardiness. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, digging through the backpack without looking up. “I have real work to do, and I don’t need you wasting my time. You showed me what I needed to see, I got it, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason to continue.”

“You’re late, Annalee,” I said. I was sitting at the table, my laptop open, and I leaned back a little as she stared at me with a “what are you going to do about it?” look on her face. “That’s pretty impolite. My time is valuable, too, you know.”

“You’re getting paid for this. Your time is already bought,” she countered, folding her arms smugly.

“True,” I nodded. “But their time isn’t.” I pointed to Melissa and Jenny, who were sitting on chairs against the wall where Annalee had come in. In her haste to intimidate me and make sure I knew she had nothing but contempt for what we were doing, she hadn’t noticed the sisters sitting behind her. “Melissa and Jenny are both busy too, and they don’t get compensated for it.”

“And Fred here is being paid for by the sorority, not by you, Annalee,” Melissa said. “I don’t like wasting sorority funds on ungrateful pledges.”

Annalee tried to backtrack quickly. “I didn’t mean to be late. I was coming from class and it ran long.”

“Then you should have texted Fred that you were on your way but late, not left him sitting here with no idea if you were going to show up,” Jenny replied. “As far as we’re concerned, Fred is doing this sorority a service, and he deserves to be treated with respect. Something I understand is sorely lacking in your dealings with our official tutor.”

“That’s not…I met with him just like you insisted, and we worked on the outline for my revised paper. I ended up going up to a C on the final version - that’s over the target grade! I did what I was supposed to do,” Annalee said, a tone of frustration creeping into her voice.

“You got a 77, if I remember correctly,” I replied. “You did get to a C - even a high C. You deserve credit for that. But aren’t you forgetting our last meeting? I told you that you needed to come back and show me your revisions after you had done the work. You said that you understood what you had done wrong, and that you didn’t need any more tutoring.”

“So?” The pink tinge on her cheeks was starting to show, even under that red hair.

“So you must remember what I told you when you said that. That if your revision got an A, we would stop working together on your essay class and focus on your other courses. Did you get an A, Annalee?”

Annalee glowered at me, but remained silent.

“Then we said that if you get a B, we’d outline your next essay together and let you handle the writing on your own, without my review. Did you get a B on this essay, Annalee?”

No answer, but I saw her fists clench. She knew exactly where this was going and was hell-bent on avoiding it. “Fine. I should have brought you the draft essay like you said. Okay? I’ll bring you the draft after we outline the next one.” She looked at me as if to ask, “What more do you want?”

“What was our agreement regarding your grade on this essay? The one you were so sure you had under control?” I asked, unrelenting.

Annalee sighed dramatically. “I agreed that if I got a C I would apologize to you for ignoring your advice. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you, Fred, and I should have taken your advice. I’ll bring you the draft this time.”

I shook my head. “That wasn’t the agreement, Annalee. That was half the agreement. What was the other half?”

If she had thought I was going to let her off the hook here, she was mistaken. Not today. Not after the week I had been having and the attitude she had given me. No chance. I knew I was letting my personal life bleed into my work, letting my anger and frustration out, but I didn’t care. Annalee had been warned. She had been given a demonstration that I was serious. Now it was time for the direct approach.

“What was the other half, Annalee?” Melissa asked, in a tone that said that she knew EXACTLY what the other half was.

Annalee looked for a moment like she was considering storming out the door. She quivered with anger, and for a moment, I wondered why this sorority was so important to her. She clearly would have liked nothing more than to tell everyone in that room to go to hell and leave. Maybe even slap Jenny for good measure. Or knee me in the balls. But after a moment, she closed her eyes, stiffened with an effort of self-control, and said, with as little emotion as possible, “I agreed that I would ask you for appropriate correction for my mistake.”

I waited for a moment, but she said nothing else. “So?” I said. “Ask.” I knew it was a petty thing to do, but making her ask for what was coming added some extra humiliation that I felt was well-deserved. “Ask me for what you think would be appropriate correction.”

The redhead looked at me with a glare that should have melted my face off, but I didn’t budge. After a moment, Jenny spoke up. “You heard your tutor, Annalee. Ask him, or Melissa and I will decide some additional punishment on top of whatever else he hands out. And believe me when I say that you will be very, very unhappy if we do.” She turned to Melissa. “We still need a few serving girls for this weekend’s mixer, don’t we? To serve the drinks in bikinis? Skimpy ones?”

Annalee turned a new shade of red I hadn’t seen before. In what must have been the worst fake sweet voice ever, she said, “Fred, I’m so sorry that I didn’t listen to you. Would you please provide me with some appropriate physical correction so I don’t make the same mistake again?” She stepped to the table and leaned over, elbows resting on the tabletop, presenting her tempting backside for a spanking.

“I will be happy to provide some correction for you. However, given that you were already given a warning about this, I think we need to make a couple of adjustments. Jenny, did you bring me what I requested?”

Jenny reached down into her purse and pulled something out, then handed it over to me. It was a wooden hairbrush with a flat back, an old-fashioned one. When Annalee saw it, her eyes grew a size larger. “I understand that you’re familiar with the paddle, Annalee, but have you experienced the hairbrush before?”

Annalee looked at the brush with undisguised hatred. “My mother used one,” she said tersely. “When I was a little kid.”

“Good. Then you understand how serious I am about this. Now - take off your pants. Completely.”

At this, Annalee’s mouth opened in shock. It took a moment for her to say anything. “You want me to take off my pants? I’m not going to stand here in my underwear for you to stare at! Forget it! It isn’t like a pair of linen pants are going to do anything to help protect my bottom anyway! This is ridiculous!” She turned to Melissa. “If I have to take a paddling, fine, but that’s in front of sisters, not some random guy!”

Melissa looked at Annalee coldly. “You know that you are barely holding on to a spot in this sorority, don’t you? You’ve already made enough enemies here that anyone who didn’t come with your mother’s legacy would have been kicked out several times over. We’ve held off on booting you because of her until now, but this is your last chance. And I want you to listen carefully before you make your decision.” She pulled out her phone and pressed a few buttons. A woman’s voice began to speak.

“Annalee Sara Allgood! I am deeply disappointed in you. I sent you to Maxwell University to grow into a worthy and responsible member of your family, and I told you that Delta Sigma and the network it provided me would be of great importance to your future. Now I hear that you have been defiant, demanding, and petulant with your sisters and your sorority president, and that you are on the verge of being kicked out completely. Let me make this abundantly clear, young lady. If you humiliate me by being ejected from Delta Sigma, you will be coming home from Maxwell immediately. I’m not spending a fortune on your college education if you are going to throw away opportunities irresponsibly. You can get yourself a scholarship to a state school here at home where I can keep a close eye on you, since you clearly can’t be trusted to make good decisions for yourself. Melissa, dear, please make sure that Annalee hears this message and understands that I am absolutely in support of you and of Delta Sigma in any decisions you make regarding her if she wishes to remain in the sorority - including any disciplinary decisions. I’m sure by now you’ve discovered that the paddle is a particularly strong motivator for her - and she can expect I will be motivating her personally when she comes home!”

Annalee’s face was ashen. “You called my mother?”

“Yes, we did. We wanted to warn her that you were on the edge of expulsion. She insisted that we record that message for you,” Melissa replied calmly. “She wanted me to specifically say ‘hot seat’ to you, but she wouldn’t explain. She said you knew exactly what she was talking about.”

I don’t know what ‘hot seat’ was supposed to mean, but Annalee clearly did, and she looked like she was about to cry. “If…if I apologize to him, and take my punishment, then you won’t kick me out?”

“You’ll be apologizing to all the sisters at the next house meeting, too. But if you do that, and if you accept your correction now, yes. We’ll give you one final chance. But that’s all we’re giving you, Annalee. One more incident, and you’re gone. Gone from Delta Sigma, and gone from Maxwell. Understand?”

Annalee nodded, crestfallen. The young woman standing in front of me now was not the same young woman who had brashly charged into the room. Now she looked more like a contrite child. Without another word, she reached for her waist and unbuttoned her pants.

She stepped out of the linen one leg at a time, pausing to fold the pants carefully and place them on the table. Then she bent back into position, presenting her bottom to me once again. “Please spank me with the hairbrush, Fred, so I don’t make the same mistake again. Make sure I learn my lesson,” she said quietly.

Annalee’s underwear was a small surprise. I had expected satin and lace, but it was a simple pair of pink cotton panties that stretched over the redhead’s tight bottom. They were modest, covering the bulk of her cheeks, but they would do nothing to protect her from that wooden brush - especially right at the juncture of ass and thigh, the dreaded “sit spots”.

I took the hairbrush from Jenny, and tapped it on my palm, getting a feel for the weight. “I’m going to do exactly that, Annalee. That’s my job - to make sure you learn your lessons. Correct?”

“Yes, sir,” came the defeated reply.

With a satisfied nod, I stepped up next to the bent girl’s side and lined up the brush. Then I delivered the first swat to her ass, propelled by several days of pent-up frustration. The meaty thwack! of wood against yielding flesh was followed by a sharp squeal of pain as Annalee’s backside suddenly jumped significantly in temperature.

I was methodical in my approach, laying down three swats overlapping each other down her left butt cheek before using another three to work up her right side. There was no pause between the swats, no counting, no scolding - just the sound of the brush painting her hindquarters a brilliant red several notes deeper than the color of her hair. For her part, Annalee tried to control her cries, but I’d guess we had only been at it for a minute or so when the first tears began falling and her squeaks turned to sobs. She began to kick and wiggle, and I placed four well-aimed spanks right on the meat of her thighs. “Hold still,” I warned her, “or I’ll have Jenny and Melissa hold you. If they have to do that, I’ll be having them hold your legs apart while I spank your inner thighs. Do you want that?”

“No, Sir!” came the distressed wail in response. “Please, no! I’m trying to hold still!”

I believed her. It wasn’t easy to hold still when someone was taking a hairbrush to your ass, and to be honest, I was surprised at how well she was maintaining position, but I didn’t let her know that. “Then try harder, Annalee,” I said curtly, and I resumed spanking.

Whap! Whap! Thwack! The swats kept up a steady rain of fire, and soon Annalee’s bottom was past red and well into crimson. I knew that there would be some purple there as well in a very short time. The young woman was sobbing uncontrollably, and I could see mascara running down her cheeks. “Annalee, what have we learned from this spanking?” I asked, pausing for a moment.

She gasped and tried to get enough control of her choking sobs to answer. “To..to listen to your instructions, Fred. And to stop arguing with you.”

“Good.” Then I slammed the brush down hard on each of her cheeks, right where the curve of the bottom meets leg. Annalee bucked and howled in pain. “But not the full answer. What else have we learned?”

“Please! No more!” she begged, trying to reach back to cover her blistered ass. I caught the arm and pulled it out of the way, pinning it to her back. “I’ll be good! I’ll stop acting like such a brat to the other sisters! I’ll be a good girl, I promise!”

I added two more sit-spot specials to her flaming derriere. “A good girl?”

“Yes! I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear it!”

“And what will happen if you decide to argue with me about your tutoring again?” I asked, brush poised.

“I’ll…I’ll get thrown out of the sorority! I’ll be sent home! But I won’t argue - I promise I won’t!” Annalee’s desperation was audible; she sounded like a six year old who was promising anything and everything to make her punishment end so she could just go and cry until her bottom stopped throbbing in agony.

“That’s right,” I said, and pulled her upright off the table. Her hands shot to her backside instantly, desperately kneading as she danced from foot to foot, trying to ease the sting. She stopped absolutely stock-still, however, when I reached out and hooked my finger into the front of her pink panties. “You’ll get thrown out. But before you are, I’ll give you another spanking with this brush. And you won’t have these panties on when I do. I will personally bare your ass and bend you over the front railing of the porch of this sorority house, in front of every last sister in the sorority, and I will spank you so hard that you won’t be able to take a plane home - you’ll have to take a train so you can buy a sleeping berth and lie on your stomach the whole trip. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, choking down a sob. “I understand. Please—I promise!”

I turned to Melissa and Jenny, and handed Jenny the brush. “Was that an appropriate level of punishment? In line with your expectations?”

“You were generous,” Melissa said. “I would have stripped her completely naked if I was in your place. Her knowing that you’d seen her naked when she’s so proud of her modesty and morals? She would have felt that shame hotter than any spanking you could give.”

“Probably. But the goal here isn’t to humiliate her. It’s to get get her to do what she needs to do to be successful.” I turned to the teary-eyed redhead. “I don’t hate you, Annalee. I know that’s hard for you to believe, but I really don’t. You’re smart and capable. But there are things that you know, and things that you don’t know yet, and you need to understand that I can help you if you let me. If you fail, I fail, okay? We’re on the same team.”

At that moment, I felt a sudden wave of shame. There was no doubt in my mind that if anyone deserved to have the living shit spanked out of them, it was Annalee Allgood. But hearing her mother say those things to her, like she valued her Delta Sigma past more than her daughter? Seeing how completely it had crushed Annalee? That was painful. So was the realization that I hadn’t even let it slow me down. I was so bent on punishing her that I didn’t see how broken she already was. Instead, I added physical pain to the emotional pain she was feeling. It might have been deserved, but that wasn’t the person I wanted to be.

My feelings must have shown on my face, because Melissa stood and walked over to me, trailed by Jenny. “Fred, I had my doubts about your methods and their application. Jenny vouched for you, though. She said that you were capable of being an authority figure without crossing over a line. She was right. You had the ability to impose as humiliating and painful a punishment as you wanted on Annalee, and you opted to let her keep the thing she values most - her modesty. You held her accountable for her behavior, but never touched her in a way that suggested you were doing anything more than that.”

“I did cross a line,” I said, shaking my head. “I punished Annalee far harder than she deserved given the situation. I didn’t consider the outside forces that were making her behave the way she did.”

“But that isn’t your job. Your job is to make sure that she stays on track academically, not to worry about her personal life,” Melissa insisted. “Look, that’s like Sorority President 101 stuff. She’s one of my pledges - I’m the one who is supposed to be handling her emotional support. That’s a huge part of what a sorority is for - to help each other deal with issues when we’re all here on our own. It builds the bonds that matter later in life. If you crossed a line while I was standing here, it would be on me, not on you.”

To my surprise, Annalee spoke up. She even looked me in the eye when she did, although the usual expression of fiery hostility had been replaced with something that looked more like determination. “Fred, I’ve gotten far worse spankings than that back at home. My mother used a wooden paddle when I got out of line. And she was still using it last year before I came to Maxwell. I hate that piece of wood more than anything, but I’ve got plenty of experience with sore bottoms. You spank plenty hard, but nowhere near what I would have gotten back home. Or what I’ll probably get when I go home next time. And I did earn it by shooting off my mouth for the sake of my pride instead of taking help I obviously could have used. So if I need to accept that you don’t hate me, but are trying to help me, then you need to accept that I don’t hate you either. I need you to draw hard lines and hold me to them, especially if I’m being stubborn and resentful of someone trying to help me succeed.”

I looked at her with surprise. Annalee’s makeup, usually flawless, was a mess, with dark tear-streaks of mascara all over her face. She was no longer the panicked child I had seen, but she was still rubbing her bottom furiously. “You’re okay with what just happened?”

“Ok with it? No. I fucking hate getting spanked - and yes, I’ll use that word here because I hate it that much. But I do understand why it happened, and why it needed to happen. So as far as I’m concerned, I brought it on myself. You were just setting boundaries, and that’s what you’re being paid to do. I chose to cross those boundaries, and I paid for it.” Annalee shook her head. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen next time. And I need your help to get my grades up, so if I have to have this as a consequence in order to get that help and to make myself accept it, then that’s how it has to be.”

“It doesn’t have to be the consequence,” I offered. “We can find something else that would have an impact on you. This was the most obvious one from your survey, but there were other possibilities.”

“No,” she said firmly. “This is the one. First of all, I hate it more than anything else. And it isn’t just the pain. It’s the total surrender of it. Having to let myself be treated like a little kid and reduced to a crying mess - and knowing that people are seeing me, and that I’ll have to live with them <I>remembering<\I> me like this? It’s awful. I promise you that I’ll work my tail off to avoid it.”

“Second, it’s the right one because you’ve proven that you’re responsible and trustworthy with that power. You could have forced me to take that spanking bare,” she continued, looking away in embarrassment. “Or ordered me to strip naked for it. I would have done it, because Delta Sigma and staying at Maxwell are not negotiable for me. And you could have paddled me until my entire butt was nothing but bruises.” Annalee turned back to look at me with — was that gratitude on her face? I had never seen anything but a scowl from her, so it caught me completely off guard. “But you didn’t. You did enough to make sure I got the message, but no more, and you left me my modesty when you knew it was important to me. I appreciate that more than you know. And I respect you for having that opportunity and doing the right thing instead of taking advantage. You have morals - decent ones.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that. “Thank you. From you, that’s a pretty big compliment.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. I smiled. That was the Annalee I was used to.

“So if everyone is satisfied, I’m going to leave,” I said. “I’m sure Annalee would like to go do something about her rear end, and since she’s not likely to be putting pants on again in the immediate future, she’s not the one who can take off right now.”

Annalee had been largely focused on other things, like rubbing, but she looked down and realized she was still standing there in nothing but a pair of pink cotton panties in front of her tutor, and she quickly moved behind the table to minimize her exposure, much to Jenny’s apparent amusement.

“We still need to meet to outline your paper,” I said to the redhead. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to sit down with me tomorrow, so we should plan on Saturday morning. It’s a little tight for a Monday assignment, but if we work efficiently, you should be able to do a draft on Saturday night and we can talk through it Sunday and revise.”

“I’ll be there,” Annalee said. “On time and ready to listen.”

Melissa nodded approvingly. “It’s a start. Jenny said that you were worth the investment, Fred, and I have to say that I think she’s right. There are some older sisters here who might contact you for help soon. Not necessarily your “emergency” service, but straight tutoring now that I can vouch for your discretion and your professionalism. You can imagine that kind of crap they get from some of the guys who offer to “help” them with classwork.”

I absolutely could. “You’re paying for the service. If they need it, I’m available. I can even come here to tutor them if they would feel more comfortable.”

“I’ll let them know,” Melissa promised. “Thank you, Fred.”

Jenny walked me out of the house. “You really got Annalee’s attention,” she said. “I’m actually feeling a lot better about only having to flash you as my consequence. She’s not going to sit comfortably for days.”

“You might suggest she put some arnica on there to help with any bruises,” I offered.

Jenny looked at me mischievously. “Have a lot of experience with spanking women, do you?”

It was my turn to blush. “No - but I know bruises. I played youth soccer, and you get plenty of them when you put a bunch of overexcited boys on a field. I should have bought shares in the company that produces the stuff.”

“Too bad. I can be a naughty girl sometimes,” she said with a half-smile. “And naughty girls need someone to…correct them when necessary.”

Well, okay then. That wasn’t forward at all.

“I’m flattered, Jenny, but…”

“I know. You’re seeing Annie.”

“How did you know that?” I asked, surprised.

Jenny laughed. “We’re in that writing class together, remember? We sit together now. She told me that you two were going out. Seems really happy about it, too. You must be a decent catch.”

“I guess…listen, has she said anything about me in the last week or so?” If Jenny was in class with Annie, maybe she had heard something that would help me understand what was happening.

My hopes fell almost as fast as they rose. “No - actually, she was absent from class on Tuesday.”

Shit. If she had writing on Tuesdays, she had a Tuesday-Thursday class, and that meant Jenny wouldn’t see her until later today. I thought about asking her to casually drop my name while they were chatting, but decided against it. I already had Jack trying to get something out of Annie, and I didn’t want her to feel like I was coming after her from all sides. That was a sure way to make things worse. As hard as it was, I needed to let things play out.

“Is everything okay with you two?” Jenny asked curiously. No doubt she was reading the look on my face and putting two and two together.

“Things are fine,” I lied. “Just wondering. You know how it is - you always want to know where you are on the scorecard with the person you’re dating.”

Jenny laughed. “Yeah, been there. So you’ll keep me updated on Annalee? And I want to know if there are issues with Violet or Laura, too.”

“You’ll be the first to hear,” I promised.

“Thanks! Bye, Fred!” She turned and headed back into the sorority house, and I started walking back to the dorm. I wasn’t really in the mood to sit alone in my room, though, and so I decided I’d go work at Buzzy Bean instead. At least I would be around other human beings, and not alone with my thoughts.

The Bean was always busy during the school day, but I found a little two-top open along one of the inside walls and sat down with a black coffee and my math textbook. The problem set was a challenging one this time, and soon I was deep into the maze of calculations required to get an answer to a question that would never actually have real-world implications. I know that some people hate stuff like that - what’s the point of learning something that you can’t use, right? To me, though, it wasn’t important if I could actually apply the math - it was the mindset it taught me that made it interesting. The need to sit there with the puzzle and push and pull until you found a little bit that would move, the little part of the knot you could unravel that would lead to the next part, and so on. That was a real-world process I could apply almost anywhere.

A shadow fell across my notebook. Someone was blocking the light.

“Annie?” I looked up hopefully.

“Sorry,” Laura said. “Just me. I saw you over here and wondered if I could join you.” She was wearing a sweater and jeans, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag in the other.

“Sure,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “My table is your table.”

She sat down opposite me, tucking her back under the chair. “So is Annie the girlfriend? The one you were having a problem with?”

“Not sure about the girlfriend part anymore,” I said glumly. “But yeah, that’s her.”

“Still not talking to you?” Laura asked sympathetically. “That really sucks, Fred. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it really does,” I agreed. “But thanks. I have someone trying to get some answers for me, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

She grabbed my hand. “Hey. Listen to me. I know you and I don’t know each other all that well, but you remember what you said to me back in the library? That any guy who looked at me half-naked would find plenty to like? Well, any girl who really takes the time to look at you, Fred, will find plenty to like, too. You’re clearly into this Annie, and that’s cool, but you need to remember that if it doesn’t work, you’re not going to end up in a monastery somewhere. You’re a good-looking, smart guy.” She squeezed my hand for emphasis. “I’m not just buttering you up so you go easy on me next time, either.”

“Thanks,” I said, and I felt almost absurdly grateful for Laura’s reassurance. “I know that there’s plenty of women out there, and that I’ll find the right one sooner or later. It just blindsided me - I don’t even know how to process the situation, because I have no idea what happened. It’s like one of those stories where some guy gets scooped up off the street and ends up in a cell somewhere with no idea what’s going on, you know?”

“Only with less threat of death or dismemberment by a psychotic killer,” she laughed, and I laughed too. It felt good. Then I realized I was still holding her hand, and that she hadn’t pulled it away. I let it go, and picked up my coffee instead. “So what class are you coming from?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Art history. We’re studying the Mannerists now. Not my thing. Weirdly proportioned bodies that I can’t figure out how anyone would think they look right. There was one painting that looked like someone had used a human skull as a flower planter, with different flowers absolutely covering the thing. It was really creepy. If I walked into a house with that painting on the wall, I’d walk right back out again and call the police.”

We talked about classes for a little while longer, and Laura assured me that all her assignments were up to date. She even offered to pull out her laptop to show me her assignment log on the school portal. I guess the threat of being a topless waitress at the party on Saturday was doing the trick. It was a nice conversation, but it made me realize how much I had come to depend on Annie in so short a time for those conversations.

“I better get going,” Laura finally said. “I’ve got plenty of work for tonight, and I can’t fall behind.”

“No, that wouldn’t be good,” I agreed. “Thanks for the chat, though. I enjoyed it.”

“Maybe we’ll bump into each other here again sometime,” she replied, picking up her bag. “I come by most Tuesdays and Thursdays after Art History.”

“Maybe so. See you, Laura.” I decided that I should get going myself, and shut my math book. I watched Laura head out as I packed up my own backpack. Maybe she was right - maybe Annie wasn’t the right woman for me. I had to admit that I was getting really frustrated with the situation and my inability to get answers.

As I headed back to my dorm room, I turned the question over in my head. Was I being too obsessive over a brief relationship, however good it might have felt? Annie was certainly a little bit manic at times; was there a bigger problem there that I didn’t know about? Did I really want to be with someone who would just cut me off like this with no explanation?

The problem was that as irrational as it was, I still did want it. If there was still a chance that I could fix things, I wanted to try. If that meant more frustration, I would deal with it - at least for as long as I could handle it.

I wouldn’t just sit here, though. If Jack didn’t come through with some answers, I would have to figure out a way to get Annie to talk to me. One way or another, this had to get resolved, and soon.