Rawlins #2
When Ellsbeth walked up, bag slung over her shoulder, she wore a gray wool peacoat he’d never seen, cinched neatly at her waist. She looked fantastic.
As the semester unfolded, there had been a subtle shift in her wardrobe, her posture, even the way she wore her hair, as though she was coming into her own and finding her confidence.
“Nice coat,” he said as she stepped up next to the table, hoping to warm her with a compliment. “Is that new?”
Ellsbeth fingered the coat’s hem. “I figured it was time I began dressing like a proper academic. Or at least not an underemployed undergrad who mostly shops at thrift stores.”
He was momentarily tongue-tied, not sure if he should compliment her attractiveness or aim for more professional distance, and settled on a change of subject.
“I wanted to talk about your work,” he said, indicating the bench across from him; she sat, the wooden picnic table between them.
“I feel like our conversation last time might have been a little…compromised.”
“When you broke up with me?” she said dryly. “It’s fine. We were never…What did you want to tell me about the ritual?”
“Well, even if we’ll never be able to test it…let us suppose, hypothetically, that it did work,” he said cautiously. “I was thinking that would open up the possibility, in theory, of a deeper level of obscuration.”
“What do you mean by ‘a deeper level’?” she asked.
Rawlins frowned. Her question was not coming from genuine curiosity; he had seen her when she was curious, and it was gorgeously wide-eyed and sincere.
This was a ploy to make him say aloud what she was already thinking, and gave him no choice but to do so.
“I mean the very thing you talked about when you brought up obscuration to me. Making the subject not only suggestible, but…changing someone’s mind.
Altering their beliefs. So you could affect long-term future behavior, without them ever realizing they had been manipulated. ”
Ellsbeth nodded thoughtfully, as though the idea had not been hers in the first place. “That’s interesting. So you’re asking me to go further with this research, even though it’s purely theoretical, and I won’t be able to include any of it in my thesis?”
“I’m encouraging you. In the direction you wanted to go.”
“How thoughtful,” she said, crossing her legs. “I’ll consider it. Is that all?”
The wind picked up, rustling leaves in the garden, and they both huddled into their coats. Rawlins felt like he was running up against an impenetrable wall. “No, it’s not…Listen. I can understand that you might feel angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” she replied, her voice cold as marble.
He lowered his voice as a group of students passed nearby. “I actually…I wanted to tell you something, that I should’ve told you before, when I was…”
“Breaking up with me?” she filled in.
He sighed. “This isn’t easy for me. Because the thing is…I’ve been in your position before.”
She squinted, waiting for him to go on.
Rawlins exhaled. “When I was an undergrad, I had…a thing with a teacher. And it didn’t feel like there was a power differential when it was fun and exciting.
But there was. There absolutely was. And when it ended…
it affected me much more than it affected her.
” He studied her expression, which remained pinched as she watched him closely, and he continued, emotion catching in his throat.
“Ellsbeth, look at my life. Why do you think I’ve been alone this whole time? I don’t want that for you.”
Ellsbeth’s expression softened. “You were in love?”
“I was,” he said, conscious that this might hurt her to hear, but convinced that that pain would be best for both of them. “Very much so.”
“I’m sure that was hard,” Ellsbeth said, and he wished at that moment that she looked less beautiful.
“But the thing is…I’m not in love.” She said the words kindly, as though she were now trying to be careful with his feelings, but even so, Rawlins’s stomach dropped.
He stared at her as she continued, her tone matter-of-fact.
“I like you, obviously. But I know that there’s a clock winding down for us.
I want a career as a scholar, which will almost certainly take me away from here.
And no matter what else happens, I don’t want the rest of the world to think I only accomplished what I did because I happened to be in a relationship with the famous Thaddeus Rawlins.
There’s no future here. So…I was never about to let myself fall in love. ”
“Of course,” Rawlins said, blinking. “I didn’t mean to presume, I just…wanted to be open with you.”
“I appreciate it,” Ellsbeth said. “But I’m not going to get my heart broken here. I just thought we could have fun. Both of us.”
Rawlins’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Had he overestimated their connection when Ellsbeth was doing no such thing?
Had he pushed her away unnecessarily? Part of him wanted to tell her the entire story of his own past heartbreak, to try to explain himself, but he feared that he would just appear pathetic and manipulative.
Before he could settle on how to proceed, Ellsbeth leaned forward, elbows on the picnic table, and continued, “The thing is, I’m an adult.
I know what I want in bed. And I can’t get it from any of the boys I’ve dated around here.
Believe me, I’ve tried.” His stomach twisted with a surprising twinge of jealousy.
“I need someone smart. Someone I actually respect.” She looked up at him. “And I like older men.”
Her directness disarmed him. He had ended things between them, fearing romantic entanglement could get too messy—but now that seemed like it had been an embarrassing overreaction.
He floundered, swallowed hard, searching for firm ground.
“Still. There’s a…power dynamic here…” He wasn’t quite certain how he was planning on finishing the sentence.
“Yeah, so?” Ellsbeth snapped back, “I shouldn’t need to turn in my feminist card for saying that maybe I have a professor fantasy.
I don’t think that being interested in being dominated in bed means there’s something wrong with me.
I’m not Catholic. Actually, on second thought, the whole pain-and-punishment-submission thing is pretty Catholic.
You don’t happen to have one of those collars, do you?
” The corner of Rawlins’s mouth twitched.
Not quite a smile, but close. Ellsbeth matched it, and the ice between them thawed slightly.
Then she repeated, more forcefully this time, “I’m an adult…
And I’m not looking for some fairy-tale romance. ”
“And what are you…looking for?” he asked.
“Honestly, this doesn’t have to be emotional at all,” she said. “It was nice to spend time with you, getting dinner and whatever, because you’re smart and I like talking to you and we clearly work well together, but if that’s a problem, we don’t have to do that part. That’s not what I need.”
“I see,” Rawlins said, trying to maintain what he hoped was an impassive face while shifting as his cock hardened in his pants, hoping his movement was covered by the picnic table.
“What I need…is someone who can take control,” Ellsbeth said. “Who can tell me what to do. And fuck me the way I like. And I think you want that, too.”
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his neck felt hot despite the chill in the air, and he thought, uncomfortably, of the boy with the bike, numbly compliant, which made Rawlins feel once again the exhilaration of that power.
Then the image intertwined, strangely, with the sight of Ellsbeth on his office chair, thighs parted.
A twisted marriage of two memories, creating a Gordian knot of feelings—desire and guilt and curiosity and anger and excitement—all overlapping and inextricable.
Ellsbeth leaned in, waiting for his reaction, and when it became apparent he didn’t have a clue what to say, she broke the silence. “But hey, if you’re not interested…” She shrugged and stood up, pulling her coat tight against the wind. “I’ll find someone else who is.”