Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (5 page)

An insistent ringing in her ears unsettled her further.

She blinked again.  The sound, like the buzzing of a mosquito heard through the groggy layers of sleep took her a moment to identify.  The telephone.  Still staring out the window, she reached behind herself, fumbling to retrieve it.  Her arms felt leaden and her fingers thick and clumsy, as though she really was asleep and unable to wake herself. 

Her lips moved sluggishly.  "Hello."    

"
Dr. Williams
?"

"Yes."

"
I've got a student here with a problem.  You're the Convenor of First Year at the moment, aren't you
?"

"Yes."

"
Are you busy right now
?"

"No."

"
Thank you
."

The caller hung up, and Dee slowly replaced the receiver, feeling herself slide through the last of the barriers, back into the present.  She was in her own chair at her own desk.  She had been gone, but now she was back.  Gradually the sensation of losing herself passed.  The area below her window was deserted, but she continued to stare down at the paved paths.  Thinking.  Feeling.

The dream
had certainly driven her to achieve her career goals.  She'd become a respected Astronomer. And more importantly, the mistakes of the past had not been repeated.  But was that the best she could expect from life?  Should she count her blessings and be satisfied with a marriage in name only?  Or was there more?

One thing she did know - the nightmarish memory hadn’t brought her the inner strength she’d hoped it would.  Conversely it had, if only briefly, rekindled all those feelings of insecurity, hopelessness and the desperate need to be loved.  Like a dream that was so realistic it took hours to shake off, Dee knew she'd be feeling vulnerable until she could rebuild the emotional barriers that protected her from her past. 

She needed to be alone, at least for the rest of the day, and the sooner she got off campus and away from everyone the better.  Despite her attachment to her hobby, she would take the night off, and possibly the next day as well.  She could work on her project from home if she wanted to, and there were no lectures scheduled for her tomorrow.  She'd just pack her notes and...  

There was a soft knock on the door. 

"Dr Williams?"

Dee frowned, suddenly remembering the phone call.  What had she said she'd do?  She swivelled her chair to face the door.

"The secretary said she called you."

Dee blinked at her visitor in shock.

Chapter Three

"But if you're too busy..."

Dee simply stared, her lips parting as she  absorbed the warmth of his tanned skin, the soft texture of his flannelette shirt and his eyes - the same milky grey as the fierce thunderclouds that had heralded the electrical storms of her youth.  She remembered them distinctly, building up along the Western plains.  They'd been terrifying in their intensity, but the young Wendee had felt only exhilaration, running wildly through the paddocks as lightning arrowed down around her, knowing that for a brief period of time she was truly alive.

Exactly as she felt now. 

"Dr Williams?"

Even his voice was dangerous.  Deep.  Needy.   She struggled to contain her childhood recklessness, damping it down with her adults fears.  She was Dr Williams now, not Wendee.

She straightened her shoulders.  "Yes?" 

"I didn't want to bother you.  It's just, I have this problem..." he glanced around her office, either out of curiously or nervousness, she wasn't sure.  "The secretary said to come to you."  

Dee nodded, seeing the pieces fall into place. 
The Convener of First Year
.  She remembered the conversation now.  As convener it was her responsibility was to listen to any first year student's problems, either with their work or personal dilemmas, then refer them on to whomever could help.  It was a small responsibility she'd been unable to evade, but for which there'd been little call in any case.

Yet now, the one person she wanted to avoid, Billy McKenzie, was calling on that responsibility.  Could it possibly be a coincidence?  Or had he known she was the convener?

And why now, today? 

He'd never spoken to her personally before, merely been one of many in her lectures or tutorials.  What force had brought him to her right at this moment in time when her resistance was so low?  Two weeks ago she'd imagined herself to have aroused him with her carnal thoughts.  Had she drawn him to her now with her guilty longings?  She stared at him, feeling the chaotic churn of desire raging just below her surface calm.

He was dressed in faded Levis and an unbuttoned shirt over a navy singlet of the same blue as the briefs she'd seen him in that night - briefs that had strained to confine his erection.  Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to his crotch as that scene replayed itself in her mind.  She remembered his tight abdominal muscles, the large tentative hand...

"Dr Williams?"

Her attention shot back up to his face, her heart hammering inside her chest.  "Come in." The words came out as a croak.  She coughed and tried again.  "Come in.  Sit."  She gestured to a chair in front of her desk. 

She needed to focus.  He had come with a problem.  She would listen and deal with it, then after he'd gone she could fall apart if she had to.  But not before. There was no need to feel panicked.  Nothing could happen in an office in broad daylight.

But she hadn't expected him to close the door behind himself.  He was big, at least six foot two, and as he stepped across to the desk she felt cornered, swamped by the awesome sexual pull of his body.  Intellectually, she knew he couldn't be this attractive to all women, and a month ago she'd have said he was a nice looking boy.  Yet now, inexplicably, he'd become a fatally attractive man.  It was psychological, she was sure, but she could think of no way to negate it.

He sat across from her, looking vaguely nervous and Dee knew she should say something, but all she could manage was a tight swallow.  His yellow blond hair, combed back from his forehead, was damp, and the clean smell of him enveloped her.  To make matters worse, his billowing shirt had given her a good view of his magnificent chest beneath the thin cotton singlet.  Up close he was devastating, and she had a flicker of imagining herself leaning across the table to get at him.  Then she cleared her throat.  The best thing to do was to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"You've got a problem, Billy?" she asked, in as professional a voice as she could muster.

He looked surprised, then smiled shyly.  "You know my name."

Idiot
, she castigated herself as she scrabbled for an excuse.  "I'm training my memory.  I've memorised all my students names," she lied, then was furious at how devastated she felt when the glow faded from his eyes.  "The problem?"  She only just stopped herself adding
Billy
.  Damn, she wanted to say his name over and over.  She wanted to hear him say her name.  What was wrong with her? 

"Yeah."  He looked down at his large hands clasped together on the desk.  Dee looked at them too, wondering if they were soft and sensitive, or callused from years of farm labour.  "I can't seem to concentrate on the work," he said softly and Dee felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle.  Dear heaven, what was he going to say?

"It's too hard?"  She couldn't stop staring at his hands, wanting to touch them.  Wanting it so badly her own hands trembled until she clenched them into fists.

"Actually..."  He glanced up at her from beneath his lashes.  "It's... the math."

That wasn't what he'd intended to say. 

"But you're brilliant at math, Billy," she said without thinking.  "Your assignments are perfect."

"How could you know that?"  He was looking at her as though she'd just given him the most precious gift and Dee found herself slipping.  He was so young, so keen... and she was so
stupid
.  Now he'd think she was interested in him, which of course she was or she wouldn't have looked up his old reports.  She have to bluff her way out of it. 

"It's my job to keep track of my students’ progress," she said, then added gently, "It's not the math, Billy."

"No."  He glanced out the window behind her, biting his lip in a way that made her stomach twist.  "I guess not," he said softly. 

"Then why are you here?"  She held her breath, wishing she hadn’t said that and yet crazily desperate to see if he’d admit he desired her.

"Because..."  His grey eyes slid into contact with hers, and she felt a sexual pulse, like a pre-orgasmic flutter.  But it was more than sex.  Much more complicated, and infinitely more volatile.  "...it's personal," he admitted, looking back down at his hands.