Chapter 12
Magnus
My phone lets me know that my video has posted, and since I haven’t uploaded a video, I assume Trent did.
Too bad I’m in a faculty meeting right now.
It’s one of three I have to attend every month because I can’t commit to one discipline.
It feels like I’m being punished for pursuing my interests even though I’m an invaluable addition to every department I teach in.
“Dr. Lancaster.”
I take a deep breath and refrain from rolling my eyes as I look up from my phone.
The assistant to the head of the department, Chen Zhang, rolls his eyes for me as I turn my attention to the head of our department, Dr. Abraham Filmore.
He was given the position of Director of Chinese Studies by someone before I came to the college instead of Chen, who would serve the department better if only we could get rid of the guy with tenure and a trust fund big enough to cover his indiscretions.
Dr. Filmore and I have butted heads multiple times over the last few years, and I know the only reason I’m still teaching Chinese music theory and a Chinese language course is because I secured funding for the exchange program for the next decade when I came into the department.
If Dr. Filmore could get rid of me, he would without a second thought.
“Yes?”
“Is your phone that much more interesting than the fundraiser we’re hosting?
” Dr. Filmore questions with an eyebrow twitch.
He pretends to have a British accent because he studied at Oxford for his graduate degree, but the man is from Philadelphia and I’ve heard him speaking on the phone to his parents; he was not raised with the accent he affects now.
Annoyed, I measure my response and hopefully only come off slightly sarcastic.
I don’t pull off sarcastic well, but I’ve found that stating facts in certain ways can be antagonistic while remaining, at least on the surface, innocent.
“I won’t be attending the fundraiser, as I have previously mentioned.
If you remember, I’ve been asked to give a keynote address at the East Asian Studies Conference in New York, and I’ll be gone to attend that the same week you’ve scheduled the fundraiser.
I’ve already accomplished all the tasks I was assigned in preparation for this department’s event, so anything else you and the others need to address doesn’t particularly interest me.
So, to answer your question, yes. The notification that I briefly glanced at while you were talking is more interesting to me than who you’ve decided to use for catering since you decided against the on campus catering that you’re contractually obligated to use. ”
Dr. Filmore’s eyebrow twitches again. He doesn’t like being reminded that a younger professor, especially one who’s barely old enough to buy alcohol, was invited to keynote the biggest conference of the year.
He’s never been given even a small panel at the conference despite having volunteered on multiple occasions, and he hates that I was invited without asking.
“Since the rest of the meeting is meant to be fundraiser planning, maybe it would be best if you leave. I’m sure you have all manner of licentious debaucheries you could get up to instead. ”
What a pretentious prick.
“You must be referring to my sociology experiment in the adult entertainment industry. Of course, I have plenty of data that I need to process, but I should wait until the first wave of new subscribers and views comes in for the video my assistant just posted, plus directly after this meeting, a few people in the department and I are heading out for dinner to discuss our strategy for the East Asian Studies conference. As you know, most of our department will be attending the conference, so there’s little reason for me to leave only to return in ten minutes. ”
Although, ten minutes is more than enough time to watch the video Trent posted.
“You’re disrupting our meeting,” he grinds out, pointing to the door.
“Of course I am.” Somehow I manage those words without letting my annoyance at this idiocy out. “I’ll just wait for my colleagues in my office.”
I grab my notebook, pen, and phone and leave, walking down the hall two doors to my office, which I share with two adjunct professors.
Putting me in a shared office was Dr. Filmore’s way of disrespecting me when I came into the department, but I enjoy sharing space with other people, so I haven’t complained about it to anyone who could do anything about it.
Instead, I’ve been quietly putting together a portfolio of donors and a proposal for a new building for our department.
We’re in one of the oldest buildings on campus, and it needs a remodel, but we can’t do that until we have a place to go.
Once I have the whole proposal finished and funded, I’ll present it to the board of directors.
I’ve already shown the chancellor my plan and have gotten his approval.
Honestly, I started it as a means of pissing Dr. Filmore off—he’s going to have to give me my own office in the new building, and that’s going to irk him to no end.
I’ve made sure the department head’s office looks luxurious but is completely irritating.
He won’t even know why it irritates him because the man has no sense of feng shui.
I giggle at that as I pull up the video Trent posted and put in my ear buds.
It’s only about ten minutes long, and it’s hot.
He’s clearly in the chapel, but I only know that because I spent several semesters when I was a teen hiding there when I didn’t want to be found.
I know the cadence of the water features in those rooms. I giggle when he mentions the amount of cum he shot all over himself, because he knows me so well.
It is a lot, and like any other boy, I’m fascinated by how much a man can produce in one orgasm.
Since he mentioned it, I comment on his video.
StraightRoomies: I did laugh. Why are you posting instead of studying?
Almost immediately, he responds with the same username, since we’re sharing it.
Trent: No one can study while they’re horny. Why aren’t you in your meeting?
Me: I got kicked out!
Trent: By that pedantic dickhead?
Me: Guessed it in one! He thinks my time is better spent making porn.
Trent: I’m pretty sure our subscribers would agree with that, but that’s only because they don’t know how much smarter you are than Dr. Dickhead—he’s going to find himself on the wrong side of the university one of these days.
Me: That’s as inevitable as the death of the sun.
The door to the office opens and Trent walks in with a smirk on his face. Surprised, I put my phone away and pull my earbuds out, smiling widely at him. “This isn’t studying for that test tomorrow.”
“I decided to come see if you were ok. Dealing with idiots can be frustrating,” he replies, sliding into the chair across from me.
“I’m fine,” I shrug. “I was annoyed, but then I remembered that I’m gloating over the fact that I’m in more demand than he’ll ever be, and I’m miraculously no longer annoyed.
He’s frustrating because he decided to schedule the fundraiser in direct competition with the East Asian Studies conference, but fortunately I’ve managed to find plenty of donors willing to come to the gala who had no plans to attend the conference.
He hates me because I’m young and have the status he wishes he had, but he has no problem assigning me the duty of making sure the right people get to his fundraiser.
If it wasn’t for the scholarship fund, I wouldn’t have bothered doing as much work as I did.
” I pause for a moment and roll my eyes.
“I’m venting, so clearly I’m less fine than I thought. ”
“But do you feel better now?” he asks levelly.
He leans forward, anticipating my answer, and I nod. “Thank you for listening.”
“Any time,” he promises as we hear the meeting down the hall adjourn.
Huffing, I lift my chin toward the noise. “My colleagues and I are going out to dinner tonight. What are your plans?”
Trent rises from the seat as a couple of professors walk into my office, chatting amongst themselves. “Studying. Like always. What time will you be back?”
“About eight, I think.”
Connie Ying joins us, leaning against my desk.
“You missed nothing but him going off about the decline in respectability in this university and a rant about representing the university with dignity. He carefully didn’t mention you by name, but we all know he was talking about you.
” She offers Trent her hand, and he shakes it as she introduces herself.
“Trent Bressler,” he tells her in response.
She chuffs. “I know who you are. Pretty much everyone in our department subscribed when the email went out.” She turns an affectionate smile on me.
“We like supporting our own. Magnus has helped every person here one way or another. Last year he found all the money I needed to take my grad class on a tour of Beijing. Everyone who wanted to go was able to, and it was such a wonderful experience for us all.”
For some reason knowing she’s subscribed to our content makes me blush, even though I expected many of my colleagues to give in to curiosity about my content. They could have seen partials of our content on several different websites for free.
“Thank you for supporting us,” Trent replies with an easy smile. It seems like our roles are reversed today—he’s fine with talking to someone who’s definitely seen his dick, and I’m flustered about it because I know them.
Connie puts her arm around my shoulders and gives me a firm squeeze. “You’re welcome. Are you joining us for dinner? I thought we were planning the panels at the conference we’re participating in and what presentations we’re attending.”
“We are,” I confirm as Trent shakes his head.
“I’m studying tonight, but I won’t be upset if you bring me back dinner so I don’t have to leave the dorm for anything.”
Connie smacks my arm and releases me from her hug. “I’ll make sure he remembers. What do you like?”
“I know his preferences,” I interrupt, confident that I can order him a dinner he would choose on his own.
Trent shoots me a smile. “He knows what I like.”
Connie glances between us with a look that says she thinks we’re more than friends, and since that’s sort of the point, I grin back and wave us to the door.
“Come on, let’s go before I get hangry,” I urge.
“Better than melonchungry,” Trent teases, reaching into his pocket and handing me a bite size Snickers. “For your mood.”
I snort as I unwrap the candy. “I don’t think I’ve ever been sad-hungry.”
“Thursday night you teared up when the cafeteria ran out of fried okra before you got there,” he points out like the asshole he apparently is.
“Fried okra is worth crying over!” In my defense, I was really looking forward to it, because the cafeteria rarely ever serves it.
Trent pulls me into a side hug. “Of course, eat your snack.”
I roll my eyes but pop the candy bar in my mouth. “Go study,” I urge him, pushing him toward the door.
Laughing, he says goodbye and heads out, leaving me with Connie and our other colleagues—most of the department—and the sweetness of his real love for me melting on my tongue.
He brought me my favorite candy bar.