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NC-- No depth or understanding of the assignment. See me— L.C.
The veins in Jake Slayton’s forehead now resembled large worms wriggling just under the skin and his face was cast in a bright crimson mask of rage. Bitch, I’ll teach you about depth… It was true enough that Doctor Laura Caulder, Associate Professor of Creative Writing, would soon see him. The distance from the classroom to her office was less than fifteen yards, approximately the same distance Jake might have to walk backwards on a Saturday afternoon if he received a holding penalty.
Three hard raps on the door elicited a decidedly nasal female response. “It’s open…”
Laura Caulder looked up from the blue exam folder she was grading and briefly made eye contact with the huge All-Conference tackle looming over her. Quickly, she averted her glance and resumed making notes on the paper in front of her. After a few seconds, and without looking up, she asked, “May I be of some assistance?”
A graded paper dropped from his hand and plopped on top of the stack in front of her. “Yea, you can assist me… change this to a ‘C’.” The threatening tone of the statement left no doubt as to his intentions. He would merely intimidate her like he did everyone else.
Laura picked the paper up and scanned it briefly before tossing it on her desk. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Now she looked up at him. “Well, first and foremost, I don’t think you wrote this paper… I think you bought it off the internet or stole it from some intellectually-challenged, drunk co-ed with whom you no doubt share bodily fluids or Herpes Simplex. I’ve known illegal immigrants to turn a better phrase!”
“Prove it!”
“Oh, but I don’t have to prove it, sir. All I have to do is record it… then send a copy of the down slip to Coach Rhome. Considering his tenure in the position, I doubt he’ll be apt to ignore the possibility of NCAA sanctions, should he inadvisably opt to allow you to play. You, my friend- in the vernacular of the streets from whence you came- are screwed, blued and tattooed. Now kindly leave my office!”
Before she could move, Slayton grabbed her phone, yanked the cord from the wall and grabbed her, pressing his hand firmly over her mouth. “Okay… now we’ll do this my way. Be nice and don’t scream, and I won’t hurt you… but, so help me God, bitch, you make one peep and they’ll find you in the alley behind campus… do we understand each other?”
Laura nodded in the affirmative as he removed his hand. Putting his finger to his mouth, gesturing for her to be silent, he stood up. Three quick steps over to the door and his fingers snapped the dead bolt shut.
Silently, he walked behind her chair as he grabbed the handcuffs out of his back pocket. Menacingly, he guided her, his hand on the back of her neck, to the small sofa she kept in one corner of the small office. Proficient hands wasted little time before forcing the cuffs onto her wrists and securing them to the wood post inlay of the furniture. She was totally at his mercy.
Her flailing legs retarding his progress, Jake Slayton managed to remove her clothing…
***
The office was silent. Jake put his pants and sweatshirt on, glancing down at the handcuffed woman asleep on the sofa. Nimbly, his fingers unlocked the cuffs from the furniture, leaving them on her wrists, before setting the key on the coffee table. He didn’t want to wake her.
As he unlocked the deadbolt, he took one last look at her before departing. I gotta start studying a little bit… these make-up exams are killing me! Maybe next time, she’ll want to play ‘cheerleader’! Jake Slayton carefully closed the door behind him and headed for the dorm… he needed a nap before practice.
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