Author:Katjen
Email: katjen20@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: *sigh* Not mine...not mine at all...
Rated: PG 13
Category: M&M, AU
Sometimes when he’s at work I sit in his big leather chair in my underwear and imagine us making love right there on that big oak desk, papers pushed aside and floating to the floor, everything that was once so neat and meticulous knocked over, turned upside down, out of control like he says I am. He says I've made a sexy, irresistible mess of his life and I’m still not sure if he thinks that’s a good thing.
If you saw us together on the street (which you won’t for reasons I’m not going to get into yet) you wouldn’t think we were a couple. He’s got ten years on me and he’s professional looking – always in a suit and tie with a briefcase full of papers always graded on time and ready to be handed back within a week so "the natives won’t get too restless". He always looks slightly nervous, but I don’t think it’s natural of him. I think it’s because of me. He still thinks I can get him into trouble which is ridiculous. I’m not a student anymore and I’m nineteen.
I wanted him more than I wanted to leave NMU with a degree in music. I gave up a lot for him and it makes him uncomfortable, but he never tried to stop me, never tried to give me the "stay in school" speech. He never tried to break up with me.
His life hasn’t changed like mine has. He still goes to class, to meetings with his colleagues, conferences with students. He lives his life the way he’s always lived it and hides the part of it that involves me in his apartment, behind closed doors. I’m not allowed to answer the phone for obvious reasons and if I want to go out I use the freight elevator. I think he knows how cheap it makes me feel and he tries to make it up to me with blank sheet music (with my name printed at the top in fancy letters) and new guitar strings when mine break.
Sometimes he asks me to sing to him. He tells me he loves my voice and that he could listen to me forever. Sometimes we don’t even have sex. Sometimes he just holds me. Sometimes he traces sonnets on my back with his fingers and whispers that they had all been written for a woman just like me.
I haven’t written anything for over a year. When he leaves for work I lie in bed and I hold his pillow to me pretending he’s still there. I wander around his apartment, and I read his books because I want to know him, I want to know his mind. I want the things that inspire him to inspire me too. I read the comments he scribbles on his students’ papers and if I don’t agree I make myself because he’s smarter than I am. He thinks about things like losing his job while I would happily run across campus with a megaphone announcing to everybody that Professor Parker Klein is my lover.
He thinks ahead. He thinks, period. He’s brilliant, and I struggled to graduate from high school. I don’t know what I was doing in college. I spent two years there taking bull shit classes and looking for something, anything that would inspire me, make my life amazing. I found it in him. Victorian Lit 101 with Professor Parker Klein. I took it because it was the only class that looked somewhat interesting and didn’t meet on Fridays (very important). I came into class and I thought he was a TA or something. He didn’t look old enough to be called "Professor". He was gorgeous.
I spent a lot of that semester in his office. I admit I was the one who started it. We were looking over my midterm paper one afternoon, sitting side by side at his desk and his knee brushed mine. He murmured "sorry", glancing up at me, and I kissed him. I hadn’t planned it (just fantasized about it ten million times) and he hadn’t pulled away. He kissed me back and kept kissing me until his phone rang. I left his office and could hardly believe what had happened, but I felt… good. For the first time in years I felt really good.
The next day in class he handed back our papers from a week ago and I felt really dirty.
He had given me an A.
I went to his office and I hissed at him that that wasn’t what I was doing the other day, that that wasn’t what I had wanted. He blushed. Blushed and apologized. I slammed the paper down on his desk, waiting, and watched while he crossed out the A and wrote B+. I glared at him.
"That paper was crap and we both know it…" I growled and he laughed. He gave me a C- and I thanked him.
"Have dinner with me Maria…"
I was ecstatic. I pictured a fancy restaurant, sitting across from him in his dark blue suit, as he offered a toast to the future…
I realize now of course that that had been naïve of me.
We couldn’t be seen in public. We went to his apartment and I didn’t spend the night. I saw him again and I didn’t spend the night. It took me three weeks to convince him that I could handle it, that I really wanted it.
And it was fabulous.
I left school a month later and moved in with him. I got a job at a coffeehouse around the block and have been trying ever since to get Stu, the guy who runs the place, to start an open mic night there, but he’s resistant to any idea that isn’t his first so I’m still trying. It’s a good job though – the pay’s not bad and the tips are good which is surprising because it’s mostly frequented by all the art majors.
Still I didn’t feel like I was making enough to not warrant me feeling like I was mooching off of Parker, so I answered an add put up on the bulletin board in the doorway of the coffeehouse.
Model needed for Sculpture IV.
I didn’t think I was being vain by taking the number down. I needed money and it was nearby, plus I knew a few kids in the class and they had told me before that they needed models and that I should consider it. I always laughed because most of the people who said that were guys and always made it really obvious that they just wanted an excuse to see me naked. However, Jamie, who I know for a fact is gay, told me I should do it too, so I thought what the hell...
I didn’t tell Parker about my new "job" because I had a feeling he’d somehow find a way to equate it with stripping and some form of prostitution because I would be getting paid. He’s a little possessive. Professor Kendall sounded nice enough though and it made me a little more comfortable about the whole thing that it was a woman teaching the course. She wanted to make sure I understood that nudity would be involved and I said I was fine with that. She probably thinks I’m an exhibitionist and just salivating for an opportunity to flash my shit off to a group of strangers three days a week for three hours.
I’m not shy that’s for sure, but I’m not overly confident either. I look at it like this – it’s a body – everyone has one, and besides it’s not like these people have never seen breasts before.
I’m not an exhibitionist I swear. I’m actually a little nervous about this. To think no one’s ever seen me naked except for my mother and Parker. Why am I so willing to rectify that…?
Because I want to do something wild, something adventurous other than sleeping with my ex-professor. Another thing that is so unlike me… sleeping with a man waaaay older than myself. My friend Alex thinks I have a "daddy complex" since I never knew my real one, but he’s a psych major which basically means he thinks everyone has a daddy complex.
Even so, who the hell is this person I’m becoming?
I’m not sure I like her yet, but at least she keeps me on my toes…
I'd never actually been in the Art building before, but I liked it. It was all windows and sunlight smelling of paint and turpentine, clay and dust. Everywhere I looked there were people with their clothes decorated by blotches of every imaginable color. Rainbow people wandering the halls with brushes sticking out of their pockets and battered portfolios swinging from their hands. It was wonderful.
Things were always so serious in the Music school. Stoic. And everyone was either an opera singer or a classical musician. It had been stifling. But it was different in the Art building – I could breathe there…that was until I actually found the room I was supposed to be in.
My heart started pounding so hard I could hear it thumping in my ears and I stepped back from the door, leaning against the wall to try and calm down so I wouldn’t go in there looking like a total dork. I watched the students file in as I pretended to drink from the water fountain, pretended to read the notices on the bulletin board, appraising each one and thinking that kid is gonna see me nekkid… and so is that one… and that one… and tha-
There was a guy coming down the hall who looked vaguely familiar. His head was down, but there was something about him… He felt me staring at him and looked up from the floor.
There are these apartment complexes across the street from Parker’s, and from his living room window you can see into the windows of the tenants across the courtyard between the two buildings. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I go into the living room and plop down on the couch and stare out the window looking at other people’s lives. Most of the time the shades are drawn, but his never are. I don’t think he has any.
His apartment is huge… actually I think it might be a loft. It’s about four windows long. Not too much furniture as far as I could ever see, just a lot of canvases and paint supplies, and an unmade futon/mattress in the upper left corner of the last window.
I started watching him because he was the only one who was up at the same random hours I was. I'd watch him paint and draw, sing along to some song on the radio. I'd watch him fling paint against the walls in frustration, watch him tear apart canvases, the wooden braces flying every which way. I'd watch him cook dinner and eat it alone. He rarely had friends over.
But he did have lots of girls.
They’d come in and I'd watch (feeling like a pervert) until the lights went off and then I'd slink back to bed and lie there with Parker snoring peacefully beside me and anticipate the next date, the next girl like they were episodes in a soap opera. An R rated soap opera called All My Conquests. All those girls were so different from each other. It made me wonder what he was looking for.
I’d never seen him anywhere else except for right now, coming down the hall towards me and blinking at me like he recognized me too. Suddenly it hit me that maybe he knew I watched him sometimes when I couldn’t sleep. After all if I could see him, maybe he could see me too... I quickly turned back to the bulletin board, squinting at some obnoxious hot pink flier, and cursed my insomnia.
He didn’t stop to talk to me. He went right past me through the doors to the art room – my art room – and that’s when I lost my nerve.
When I turned around to make a run for it, I found myself face to face with a pretty dark haired girl. Her hand was raised, like she had been about to tap me on the shoulder. She blushed and laughed and I smiled at her.
"Are you Maria?" she asked and I nodded.
"Professor…Kendall…?"
"Oh God no," she laughed again and I decided I liked her. "I’m the other model – Professor Kendall told me there was a new girl starting and I thought I'd come by a little earlier and say hi."
"You caught me about to duck out of the whole thing." I admitted and she smiled.
"I was the same way – it took me twenty minutes to get changed and another thirty to actually make it to the stage…"
"There’s a stage?"
"Well, more like a drop cloth and some couches and stuff to sit on – everyone sits around you while they work."
"So how did you get into this? Are you an art student?"
"Nope – Biology. I lost a bet, and the deal was I had to do this for a semester. I don’t mind it so much anymore, but it still makes my boyfriend a little uncomfortable."
"Oh, is he in the class?"
"No, but his brother is."
"That has to be… weird."
"It was at first, but Michael always makes sure to be in the other group – there’s two models, so two different groups." She smiled.
"So how about you? Why did you decide to become a Art IV model?"
"Needed the money basically and I live down the block – plus I needed something to do with my daylight hours – I work nights at Luna’s…"
"Oh, right. the coffeehouse – I thought you looked familiar… Oh, there’s the Professor – if you don’t want to do this anymore I can cover for you, tell her you never showed up." I smiled at her, starting to feel a little better – she seemed really nice, and Professor Kendall looked cool too as she sauntered down the hallway, her gauzy skirt floating around her as something on her jingled musically.
"No, I think I’m gonna stay actually… Give it a try."
"Great! I promise it’s not as traumatizing as you might think! I’m Liz by the way." I shook her hand and Professor Kendall came up to us smiling cheerfully and dropped a hand on Liz’s shoulder squeezing it gently.
"Lizzy darling, how are you dear?"
"Pretty good – I ate lunch before I came this time. My stomach made the most embarrassing noises last time," she explained blushing. "Everyone burst out laughing… I thought I was going to die!"
"And this, I presume, is Maria?" Professor Kendall turned to me with a friendly smile and offered her hand. I shook it and she thanked me for coming.
"Lizzy, we’re going to be starting in a few moments – can you take Maria to my office to get changed?"
"Sure thing, we’ll be in in a sec."
I followed Liz down the hall and into Professor Kendall’s office that was just as colorful as she was – there were art books everywhere, sketches and statuettes all over the place, flowers and scarves and art tools. Liz tossed me a robe and we started to undress.
"She probably won’t make you go completely naked on your first day – she kinda eases you into it which is nice. The class sketches the form first in various stages of undress and then they work with clay."
"And by that time we’re in the buff huh?"
Liz laughed and tied her robe shut swinging the cord mock seductively and sauntered out into the hallway. "Yup… That’s where group B is right now – they switch off – you’ll be group A’s model so you won’t have to today."
"Good…" I murmured following her back to the room. I can handle this – if Liz says it’s not a big deal than it’s not. It’ll be fun.
I just hope to God that guy isn’t in group A.
I sat alone in the living room like always. It was two am. Parker was sleeping in the other room and I was wide awake. I was going to tell him at dinner when he asked what I had done today, but I chickened out. I told him I had gone to the park and tried to do some writing. He didn’t ask to hear what I had come up with.
It hadn’t been so bad. It was a little weird having everyone stare at me, but it got easy to block them out. Except for that one guy. Of course he was in my group. Because God hates me. I tried not to look anybody in the eye – you’re supposed to stare straight ahead, but that got boring, so I started looking around, at all the heads bent over their drawing boards sketching me – just bare shoulders for now thank you – and I kept coming back to him. He sat on the windowsill right in front of me, his feet flat on the desk below him, lazily leaning against the glass and drawing me. I tried not to look at him when I felt him about to look up, but I wanted to see his face again. This was the closest I'd ever seen him. He was… attractive to say the least. In a messy, I-don’t-care-how-I-look kind of way. His hair stood straight up – something I'd noticed before – but it didn’t look stupid… It suited him.
There was a girl sitting a little ways away from him who looked vaguely familiar and I had a sudden flash of her fingers tangling in that wild hair and her face buried in his neck…
I stared straight ahead.
When the class ended I said goodbye to Liz and went straight to Luna’s to start my shift. Some of the students from the class wandered in and I almost begged Tabby to take their table but she was too busy trying to open the register that makes a point of sticking at least twice a night. Jamie was at one of the tables so I figured I could handle it.
"Hi, doll." He grinned at me and pulled me onto his lap. I met Jamie in my theater class when I had been flirting with the idea of being a musical theater major before deciding to just concentrate on guitar and voice. We became instant friends. I think it started off because he had a crush on Alex who was on his floor freshman year. That fell through, Alex not having same sex tendencies, but we stayed good friends. He tells me all the time that if he liked girls he would be all over me, and I’m always his girlfriend whenever his parents come to visit. They still don’t know which just amazes me, but I try not to push Jamie too much into telling them. It’s his decision. He doesn’t get into my family business and I don’t get into his – it’s an unspoken rule since we both have less than healthy relationships with our moms.
"What can I get you guys?"
"A Fuzzy Navel for me…" Jamie grinned, tapping my notebook with his finger. "By the way you were fabulous today darling!"
"Oh yeah," The guy across from him said (I think his name’s Evan), "I thought you looked familiar."
"We didn’t recognize you with your clothes on," added the girl I had noticed in class earlier. I ignored her.
I took the rest of their orders, and when I brought them back I heard the girl talking about some guy named Michael, how he was such a jerk and won’t return her calls, ignored her in class today blah blah blah. I only noticed because Liz had mentioned him before – her boyfriend’s brother.
"I warned you." Jamie grinned taking his drink. "Man I’m glad he’s straight or I would be in biiiiiiiiig trouble."
"Why?" I laughed as he pulled me down onto his lap again.
"Woman-eater, that Michael is, chews ‘em up and spits ‘em out…"
"Which one was he?" I asked, knowing perfectly well that it was probably that guy.
"The really hot one with the hair." Steffy (Short for Stephanie Jamie whispered in my ear) growled. "He’s brilliant but he’s such a jerk."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." She said narrowing her eyes and giving me a vaguely hostile once over. "What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Yup, I do." I mumbled and kicked Jamie under the table, warning him not to say anything when he opened his mouth. Jamie and Alex are the only two people in the world who knew about my little hook up with Prof Klein last year, and the only people who know that I’m still with him. Jamie had thought it was kinda cool. He once told me that it took balls to go after what I wanted like that while Alex had just shrugged looking worried as always when my love life is in question and murmured that as long as I was happy that was all that mattered.
Steffy looked relieved to hear that I was attached. She had no doubt been imagining me swooping in and "stealing" Michael from her even though he was obviously already gone.
At the end of my shift I had gone home, had that late dinner with Parker and lied to him about my day. He had left me alone to go and grade his papers in his office and when he had finally finished around midnight he stopped by the couch long enough to drop a kiss on the top of my head before wandering into the bedroom. He didn’t ask me if I would be joining him soon.
Sometimes I really think he’s getting bored with me. If I hadn’t felt so guilty about not telling him about my little foray into the fine arts I would have done what I always do when I start to feel unappreciated. I would have gone in there and torn his clothes of, reminding him exactly why he had asked me to stay in the first place.
But instead I sat here on the couch watching his window.
His. Michael's.
He was alone. It looked like he was trying to make popcorn on his stove… jiffy pop or something. He picked up the phone and while his back was turned it started to smoke, and then it was on fire. I giggled out loud as he picked it up by the handle with a towel and waved it back and forth trying to blow out the flames while still continuing to talk calmly on the phone before slam dunking it in the sink. He shoved his hands through his hair after hanging up the phone, distraught, and stared down at the sink with his back to me, shaking his head and lifting it up by the mangled foil.
I watched him scoop what was edible into a bowl, watched him cross the room, window, wall, window, wall, window. He sat down on his couch in front of the TV and stared at it running his fingers through the burnt popcorn, picking out the pieces that didn’t look too bad and popping them into his mouth.
And then he looked up.
I squeaked, diving down to the floor, and laid there for what seemed like hours with my face pressed against the carpet.
The light flickered on and I rolled over to find Parker staring down at me looking adorably rumpled.
"Maria…? What’re you doin’?"
"I… fell asleep. And then I… fell off the couch…"
He grinned. Wickedly. All my worries from before about him getting bored were burned away as he knelt down on the floor and crawled his way over to me, on top of me.
But when he kissed me, I almost made him stop. Michael couldn’t see us where we were, but it was weird knowing he might be standing at his window right now looking into this apartment.
"Mmmmaria…"
"Parker…"
"Mmmm…"
"I’m a model. For a sculpture class. For three days a week, three hours a day I'll be wearing a sheet and then eventually not even that."
He lifted his head from my neck and stared at me. Then he smiled.
"That’s kind of hot…" he murmured and kissed me again.
"Alex am I sick?"
"Noooo but maybe Parker’s not the dude for you anymore."
"Parker and I are totally happy together."
"Then why are you spying on hair boy?"
"…"
"Jamie says he’s cute. What do you say?"
"I say he’s a pig – a womanizer – he brings a new girl home every week."
"You’ve just described half of the male population on campus."
"So that’s why I don’t date college boys."
"Nope, just their dads."
"Alex he is not that old!"
"Uh huh. So how’s this class anyway aside from the fact that your guy happens to be taking it? And aside from the fact that you don’t wear clothes."
"I get a sheet."
"Hmmm."
"What?"
"Are there any spaces left? I need another class."
"NO."
"What makes you think I’m going for you?" he harrumphed. "I wanna check out this guy…"
"Don’t tell Jamie – it’ll only give him false hope." he laughed and then sighed.
"I gotta jet to class - I'll see ya at Luna’s tonight?"
"Yuppers – later babe."
"Have fun in class."
I got to class early and wandered around the room waiting for people to show up, and came across the sketches from the last session piled on the counter. I couldn’t help myself. I flipped through them quickly looking for Michael’s name. When I found it I realized that Steffy was right. He was brilliant. He drew me as he saw me from his view by the window, but also from the back and the side paying special attention to the folds in the sheet, my hair, my hands, my eyes.
He made me so… elegant. Beautiful.
"You spying on me?"
I whirled around shoving the picture back under the pile. It was Michael and he was glaring at me.
He leaned against the counter, his eyes sliding across it to the papers I had disrupted than looked back at me. His eyes were brown, rich and deep. And angry.
"Spying…?"
"Yeah – you live across from me don’t you?"
"I don’t know what-"
"If you can see me I can see you, y’know."
I didn’t get a chance to answer or defend myself as a group of students filtered in from the hallway and he turned his back on me. He went to claim his spot by the window and sat there glaring at me with his pad poised on his knee.
Liz came in and smiled at me and I forced one out for her before taking my place from last class in the middle of group A, the sheet wrapped tightly around my body.
After class I went to the hardware store and bought Parker a set of window shades.
He didn’t talk to me again, just sat there and sketched me, his hand scraping across the page furiously for four weeks of classes.
I met Liz’s Max. He was nice – nothing like his brother. He has a sister too – Isabel. Apparently she was the one that set the bet that Liz had lost. Isabel was still in awe that Liz had gone through with it in the first place, and was probably regretting it because at every opportunity, Liz was trying to get her to sign up too. She should- Isabel is the most stunning girl I've ever seen. Seriously the three of them are really beautiful in different ways – Isabel is just a goddess and Max has this quiet intensity and these amazing eyes… like Michael’s amazing eyes… Good genes - that’s all there is to say.
The four of them come by to visit me at Luna’s a lot (sometimes they drag Michael too and he sits at the table silently making it very clear he doesn’t want to be there), and they’ve even started mingling with my posse (my very small posse) of Alex and Jamie. Alex is verrry interested in Isabel and Jamie is a happy camper all around. I love that my friends like each other. If only Parker could…
But he won’t and I understand why. It still just sucks.
Four days ago was Group A’s first day of sculpting and my first day of being partially nude - (Topless baby! Woohoo! Just kidding. This is very serious stuff. Serious nudity. Like art film nudity. Louvre Museum nudity. Classy nudity. I still had a shot of before I went in though – unprofessional, but whatever. If I was a professional I wouldn’t need the damn vodka.)
My first thought was that it was cold in the art room. I missed my sheet the moment I peeled it away from my body and let it pool around my waist. I concentrated on the gentle patting noises of hands on damp clay so I wouldn’t think about being looked at. Michael wasn’t there that first day and I can not accurately express how ecstatic I was. But he wasn’t there the second day, or the third day either.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask Max or Isabel about him.
It's not like I was worried or anything.
Then why was I so relieved to see him tonight at Luna’s at the end of my shift sitting there at the counter, staring into a cup of coffee I knew he wasn’t drinking?
I ignored him – it seemed the polite thing to do given our history, but I was sort of desperately hoping he would follow me and apologize for being a jerk so I could apologize for being a voyeur without feeling like I was giving in too much. Beside I wanted us to be friends. I really liked his, and I wanted us to be able to be around each other without all the tension.
I don’t have a lot of friends, or opportunities to hang out with kids my own age (or anyone other than Parker really, and not because he doesn’t want me to, I just… can’t explain it. I feel guilty) so now that I do have friends I want us to all be shiny happy people you know? I think I deserve it, and this jackass is messing it all up by continuing to hate me.
He followed me and I was tempted to ask him who was spying on who now, but that would have just given him ammo since I was the one who was in the wrong.
"Maria." I turned around slowly and waited. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole Maria, I’m sorry I look like I wanna tear through the paper when I sketch you. "I need a favor."
"A favor?"
A favor?
"Are you on crack?" I asked "Cuz there’s no way in hell you would ask me to do you a favor if you weren’t high."
"You owe me a favor." I threw back my head and laughed. I couldn’t help it.
"And how do you figure that one?"
"I didn’t call the police on you. Stalker."
"I am not a stalker!"
"You spy on me every night for a week straight, you show up in my art class, and then you’re suddenly friends with my friends. What would you call it? Huh, stalker?"
"First of all don’t flatter yourself, second, I’m an insomniac and you should really get some blinds, third I needed the money and my friend Jamie is in that class, fourth your friends are cool. A lot cooler than you actually."
He ran a hand impatiently through his hair and glared at me.
"You gonna do me the favor or not?"
I can’t believe this guy…
"What’s the favor?" I can’t believe I’m even asking.
"I need you to model for me."
"What like outside of class?"
"Yeah like outside of class – it’s our final project and I need to catch up."
"Well you shouldn't have ditched."
"I had to go home to Roswell, my dad died." I stared at him and he stared back.
"Wait, then why didn’t Max and Isabel go home too?" Hah! Caught him! I can’t believe he’d lie about something like tha-
"We don’t have the same parents. We’re related because we want to be, because I practically grew up in their house to get away from Hank…" His voice trailed off and he blinked at me. He had said too much. I could see it in his eyes even in the dark, I could see him shutting down, growing colder. "Look if you won’t help me just say so, but that means I have to ask Liz and it’ll take longer since I have to redo all the sketches, not to mention the fact that Max will kick my ass…"
"I’ll do it." I murmured and he blinked at me again.
"What?"
"I said I'd do it."
"I don’t want your pity…"
"Then what were you appealing to with that "oh it’ll take forever and Max will beat me up" crap? My good graces? Believe me pally I don’t have any when it comes to you."
I didn’t mention his dad because that had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to say anything about him and I didn’t want him to think that that was the only reason why I was helping him. It was and I think he knew it, but that shows you how desperate he was. He was swallowing his pride.
He made a point of walking turbo speed back to his apartment so I'd have to jog to keep up with him. When I actually started to pass him he started to jog too. Then I started to run. Then he started to run.
He refused to let me win and I refused to let him win (win what I have no idea) so we ended up sprinting the five blocks, our feet pounding on the pavement our breaths puffing out in little clouds in the cold night air...
He beat me by two seconds.