The Lab Assistant (7 page)

"Dear Dr. Corbis... " it began.
This isn't good.
I looked up to the CC: field before reading any further and there was the name of our department head. "Fuck," I said aloud. This was not good. Quickly, I finished reading the e-mail and pushed back hard from the desk. I let out an uneasy breath and rubbed my suddenly exhausted eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The short version was that Julie Merryweather's grandparents had been in a tragic car accident out in Ohio, where Julie had been born and where all of her family still lived. Her grandmother had died and her grandfather was in the hospital. He would survive, the doctors predicted, but would need intensive care now and prolonged rehabilitation and physical therapy once he left the hospital. Julie's parents were there, in Ohio, but Julie felt that she was needed at home. The oldest grandchild, she had been especially close to her grandparents.

She was devastated, the e-mail read, but her family had to come before her own life. She couldn't think about school, or our research, right now. When things clarified--settled down--she would either come back to school, or transfer to a school out west. She was sorry. She was crushed. She couldn't believe this was happening. But she had to go. She had to go home.

I needed to replace her.

"Fuck," I said again. And repeated the expletive several more times under my breath. My heart ached, mostly for Julie and her grandparents, but for myself as well. Then I felt like a complete shit for having that thought.
But, goddamn it, this is not good.
This would have an enormous impact on my research, the project and all of the grants, the paper we were writing. I needed options, but couldn't think of any. The project was too far along to backburner at this point. The grant money was in place, but wouldn't wait forever. The University expected a publication. Stopping now wasn't an option.

I leaned forward to the computer again and clicked the New message button to launch an empty e-mail draft. I typed the name of the department head in the To: field and sat staring at the screen with its blinking cursor.

Maybe I can poach a colleague's assistant
, I thought,
or grab a post-doc fellow.
But the former was a shitty plan, and probably wouldn't work. Budgets were tight. We didn't have enough assistants as it was now. There were none to spare, and I knew that. The latter was doable, but what were the chances, given the timeframe?

And then the thought hit me. It was completely irrational. She was unqualified and unprepared. She wasn't even a grad student--not yet, anyway. But I needed an assistant, I needed to see her more, and she needed money. It was perfect. Unlikely, improbable, but perfect.

Sonia.

I would see her every day. We'd be together constantly, working alone, at night, during the day. My mind suddenly left my research issues far behind and concentrated on all manner of elaborate sexual scenarios.
Stop
, I told myself.
Settle down.
It might not even fly. She might not even agree to it.

I fished my cell phone out of my messenger bag. Quickly, I dialed Sonia's number. My hands shook.
Why are my hands shaking?
I felt a strange heaviness in my chest. Also butterflies.

"Jesus, calm down," I told myself. The phone clicked over and connected the circuit. I heard a ring. And then voicemail.

Fuck. Why is her phone off?
My mind raced. My heart pounded in my chest. I was excited, anxious, impatient, and now suddenly a bit pissed off that she hadn't answered. But I told myself to calm down. I was being ridiculous. First thing first. I needed to get approval. I'd just inform Sonia after the fact.
Why wouldn't she want the job?
It would be perfect. But, damn, it would've been nice to talk to her.

Why was I feeling so strange about this? Was I being possessive? Jealous? Of what? Why was I so affected by her failing to answer the phone? I felt ridiculous.

I typed out a quick e-mail to Dr. Shey Duncan, the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. I described Julie's conundrum and her decision to withdraw from our research and from school. I impressed on him the importance of our research, and I set up Sonia as the perfect replacement, at least for the short term. I hit the send button and leaned back in the chair to think. This was all incredibly bad, but incredibly good, too. And it was all happening so fast.

Am I doing the right thing?

I had to see Sonia.

But first, I had to get this signed off by my department head. I got up from my seat and walked down the hall to her office. I barely noticed the students I'd been so enthralled by earlier. I was on a mission.

The meeting with my department head had gone exactly as I'd hoped. She was understanding, compassionate, and conveniently inclined to bend the rules more than just a bit to clear the hiring of an undergraduate--Sonia--as my assistant. We'd spent several hours discussing options and strategies, placing a call to Dr. Duncan, and getting the contractual paperwork drafted and approved by University counsel. Everything was set. I vibrated with anticipation.

It was a quarter to nine, and the sun was just disappearing under the horizon as I piloted the Beemer through campus. It had been a long day, and I was finally heading home. The more I drove, though--the more students I saw milling around, walking back from class, back to their dorms, over to one of the many clubs around and just off campus--the more I thought of Sonia. And the more I thought of Sonia, the more desperately lonely I felt. This vicious cycle caused my mood to drop quickly.

I needed to see her. I needed to smell her hair, her skin, her body. I needed to look into her eyes again, to stroke my fingers through her hair. I needed to feel her heartbeat against mine. My cock twitched in my pants as I thought about this. I needed to feel the way the walls of her vagina contracted and massaged against the shaft of my cock as her orgasm washed over her.

As I eased the BMW to a stop at the traffic light marking the southern edge of campus, and waited to turn onto the main drag back to my house, I picked up my cell phone and dialed. It connected and rang, and rang. And rang. I sighed. Sonia's voicemail picked up and I could almost see her sweet, metal tongue stud tapping the roof of her mouth as she spoke. Her sweet voice soothed me, but it was just a recording, not really her, and that made me feel worse. I didn't want to seem desperate, which was fairly ironic given the raw desperation I was feeling inside, so I elected not to leave a message. When the light turned green I sped off, dropping the cell phone into the passenger seat.

I couldn't go home. I knew I'd drive myself crazy, and probably make a fool of myself in Sonia's eyes by calling her over and over throughout the night. No, I had to get a grip--had to think about tomorrow. Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four short hours and we'd be together, my tongue firmly pressed into the beautiful sweet musk of her asshole, our bodies and souls collective, united.

"I can do that," I said to myself.
I can do that.

I eased the car down Fowler Avenue, heading toward my house, but decided that I would stop for dinner someplace on the way. I was hungry--a little anyway--but more than that, dinner would absorb some time I greatly needed to rid myself of. And it would provide a welcome distraction. Maybe I could even get some work done while I was there.

There was a small mom and pop diner only about a mile up the road, across from the shopping mall. I'd been there many times, alone and with students and colleagues, and suddenly I found myself with a taste for it.
This is good
, I decided.
Twenty-four hours to go, no problem.
And a patty melt and some grading would ease me through a couple of those hours.

It would fit the bill perfectly.

But it didn't. Not really. If anything, it made me feel worse.

As I sat, absently stabbing French fries into ketchup, I tried to keep Sonia out of my mind. But the more I looked around and tried to clear my thoughts, the more the affection around me underscored my own sense of loneliness. In every booth, it seemed, couples were sharing quiet moments together. Young people, old people--it was as if I were stuck in some sort of bad skit. Everyone was paired off but me. Everyone appeared to be having gratuitous amounts of physical contact but me. I felt ridiculous and needy, but the more I tried to discount this, the more some long-dormant inner voice urged me on to just stop the bullshit once and for all and find Sonia. I needed her, my voice argued. And she needed me.

It was no use trying to talk myself out of it. I had to see her. I waved for my check, paid the odd giraffe of a woman at the counter, and soon found myself driving through the darkened campus streets. It was almost ten o'clock. The library was still open, but very few students were around. There were some motor scooters and bicycles chained up outside, and a few cars parked illicitly in the faculty lot across the street. Two or three students wandered away, talking loudly about a party.

I didn't think Sonia would be there. I didn't know, but something told me she wasn't, so I decided to swing around to the northern tip of campus and dorm row. She was probably in her dorm room, I decided. I knew that if she were there she'd be alone, given that her roommate was in the Keys vacationing with family for a few days.

I parked my car in the resident student lot behind Sonia's dorm hall and made my way up a small, ambling walkway toward the building. It was dark, although the path was very well lit. Large elm and oak trees loomed over me to form a surreal, wooded tunnel. It was beautiful, and I made a mental note to get Sonia out here one night for a little playing under the trees and stars. I'd seen this part of campus before, but not at night, and certainly never with these intentions.

Thinking of her again, I wondered suddenly how in the hell I'd get inside the dorm. There really wasn't a way to do that, unless I lucked out and caught someone coming out or going in. I had a faculty ID, but I didn't have a residence card, and that's what the electronic locks were keyed for.

I made my way down through the path, past a small utility building, a large swimming pool devoid of students, and a beach volleyball court equally deserted. Finally, I stood in front of one of the building's doors. I checked it, just in case, but it wouldn't budge.
Fuck
. I wasn't surprised, but disappointed. Stepping back away from the building I looked up at the windows, for no other reason than to maybe gain some new perspective. The windows didn't open. It wasn't as if I could yell to someone to let me in. And, of course, even if I could, no one would've let in an older, deranged hack--professor or not--standing outside shrieking to be let in.

Desperation began to set in once again, as I wandered around the building so as to see if I could find any other way in. I couldn't. There were four main doors and a utility room door, but all were locked. I considered picking the lock on the utility room door--the only door without an electronic lock--but I had to admit that I had no idea how to pick a lock. I didn't even know where to start.

By the time I made it back to the first door, I was tired and completely defeated--overwhelmed. Dropping to sit on a bench outside, I and sank my head into my hands. It was hopeless. There was no way I could get inside.

"Dr. Corbis?"

The voice was familiar and sweet. I couldn't recognize it, but I turned quickly. "Yes?"

"Hi, Dr. Corbis, it's Katie. Are you okay?" The speaker was Katie Sutherland from my Cell Biology course last semester. She was a delicate little brunette with a soft, upturned nose and bright, cheerful blue eyes. Even in the dark, she looked amazing. And, even better, she lived in this dorm. I had my way inside.

"Yes and no, Katie. Hi. And thanks. I'm okay, mostly."

"Well, what's wrong?" she asked. "Can I help?"

"I was upstairs earlier, tutoring a student. Sonia Simmons?"

"Oh, I know Sonia. Yeah."

"Well, I left my bag inside, up in her room. All my papers are in it, and I actually really need them. I'd call her, but," I pointed my finger skyward and shrugged my shoulders, "my phone's in the bag."

Laughing, Katie pulled me up from the bench. "Oh please, don't worry. I live here, too. C'mon, I'll let you in."

I couldn't help but eye her beautiful little ass as she led me to the door. For a moment, I imagined myself in a dizzying three-way with Sonia and this beautiful girl. God, I was so horny. I imagined them naked, one lying atop the other, their young pussies borne open before me. I'd lick one, really deeply, sucking their salty juice far into my mouth, and then I'd lick the other. Back and forth, licking one, then licking the other. Then I'd settle into licking and sucking one while I violently fingered the other.

They'd come, together, and I'd stand up from between their legs. I'd need only one or two short strokes before I came myself, sending long trails of milky jism raining down across their bellies, pubic mounds, inner thighs. Then, because the very sight of my come on their young skin would drive me to sexual distraction again, I would lean back down and clean my come. I'd lick and suck until every drop was gone, at which point I would attack their clits and labia again. After a while I would flip them over so their asses were up, and I'd suckle at their golden assholes.

"Dr. Corbis?" Katie asked, holding the door.

Snapping out of my reverie, I looked at her, embarrassed and smiling. "Thank you so much, Katie. You're a lifesaver. I'm kind of preoccupied. I'm sorry. It's been a hell of a long day."

She smiled sweetly, and I could've sworn that her eyes stopped a beat longer than necessary on my crotch, tented now by my throbbing, aching cock. "Well, don't forget to get some rest, okay? You're so dedicated. You're an amazing professor--and I'm not just saying that to get a grade." She smiled ever more widely. "I mean it, you're amazing. But don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

"Oh, I won't," I said, feeling almost as if Katie could see right through me--as if she could feel or sense or somehow know why I was here, and what I was about to do.