by Diane Kepler

My obsession began on the first day of classes, from the moment she breezed in and settled into a chair beside us. By us, I mean the little clique of hot-shot philosophy seniors that I had only recently moved in with. The other guys had been hanging out since first year, but I'd gained admission to their circle a scant three weeks ago, so there were a lot of in-jokes I hadn't yet caught on to. A lot of these had to do with Jacyntha.

Her presence caused a ripple to run through the assembled male presence. What guy, after all, could avoid letting his eyes linger on her tiny waist, or artfully torn jeans. Not to mention those dusky curls, which she'd comb away from her face with a graceful hand.

I remember being distracted all period, wondering where she'd gotten her exotic looks. Dutch plantation owner marries stately African princess? Japanese artist consorts with Italian newscaster? My mind occupied itself with constructing these headlines. My big mind, that is. The smaller one was busy with the image of her slim ankles crossed behind the small of my back, not to mention what I'd be doing to her at the time.

After class, Brian gave Matthias a crisp, new ten dollar note. The winner made a elaborate show of folding the bill and slipping it into the breast pocket of his blazer. "I believe that makes five for five," he said, with a knowing wink.

"What's that all about?" I blurted.

"The lovely Jacyntha has made her scheduled appearance," Terry laughed, taking a swig from his ever-present can of Coke.

Brian explained: "She's been in every one of Connor's classes for the last two years."

There was an uncomfortable silence, during which the other three exchanged looks.

"We're sure they're sleeping together," Matthias logically concluded.

If they'd been talking about anyone else I would have let it go, but because I was half in love with her already, I bristled. "How do you figure that?"

"Well, she aces all her papers."

"Maybe she's a good writer."

"And the exams."

"Maybe she's smart."

"And never takes notes."

I knitted my brows. This was getting inane. "Does she get better marks than you guys?"

Terry grinned. "Consistently."

"Sounds pretty cut and dried to me." I stood up theatrically from our table at the campus pub." Excuse me gentlemen, I have a 5:30 pterodactyl to catch."

Brian shook his bespectacled head ."Just watch them. You'll see."

I snorted and left.

But next period, I did watch them. True, Jacyntha gave Dr. Connor her constant, unwavering attention and yes, she didnºt take notes. Also, she had these sexy little mannerisms. For example, she had this way of pursing her lips that made it look like she was waiting for a good night kiss. Also, rather than chewing her pen, she nibbled it in a completely distracting way. Yet it all seemed so unconscious, so unaffected. Was she flirting? It was hard to tell.

Yet whatever else Jacyntha possessed, she also had an alarming sense of rhetoric. While the rest of us jockeyed for position by voicing our most cogent arguments, she remained mute. But every so often she would come up with a point so salient, so inarguable, it would stop the discussion cold.

It would also get me hot.

The pressure was relieved only by marathon jerk-off sessions. Each afternoon I'd hurry home, past caring about the glorious fall sunlight or the volumes of reading I had to wade through. I lived for the moment when I could lock the bedroom door, get my aching cock out of my pants, and release all the tension that had built up during fifth period. Some days, flinging myself to the bed was too much of a bother. I'd lean against the door, pants around my ankles, pounding my little brain in perfect time with the synapses firing in the bigger one.

Jacyntha starred in a sepia-toned film that I directed. It began with her, naked, on a brass bed draped in white. Was it the sultry air, suggested by the open window, that made the moisture bead on her skin? Or was it the touch of her dancer's hands? I made it a silent movie -- the absence of sound lending power to every nuance.

Focus on: cotton panties in a knot on the floor.

Dissolve to: a pert, brown nipple.

Pan to: fingers working feverishly on her pussy. The first orgasm would take a long time and would leave her drained, a tendril of hair flung across that perfect face. I choreographed her moves so that she came exactly when I did.

If I'd been leaning against the door during the first round, I'd often strip and retire to the narrow camp cot that was serving until I could find some decent furniture. Then Iºd imagine the camera pulling back until it also included our charming young director, who'd been watching the show all along. With great decorum he would slip off his trademark tweed jacket and leave his glasses on the nightstand.

The director -- hell, I -- would concentrate on unusual places. Iºd want none of this wham-bam bullshit, this was quality porn! First, I'd trace the hollows of her knees and nibble the side of her neck. Her juices would soak the front of my khakis as I used my erection to tease her mound -- so sensitive now, after the first orgasm. I wouldn't take my pants off right away. Iºd wait, teasing her until she got desperate enough to strip me. Then it would all change. She'd become predatory. Tendrils of her tousled hair would drift across my stomach until she captured my glistening cockhead and pampered it with the dragonfly flutterings of her sweet, pink tongue.

I imagined a thousand variations and came with blinding intensity. Often, I reflected how lucky it was that my real-life bedroom had a stucco ceiling.

My obsession was such that when I wasn't studying or making movies, I spent a lot of time wandering around campus, hoping I'd run into Jacyntha. Trying to catch her after class was out of the question. My roommates would ridicule any attempts and revile any successes. I'd caught hints that told me they'd all been rejected at one point or another.

The sciences library was an unlikely place to find an angel, but it was there that I eventually caught up to her. She was seated at a table meant for four, books spread out on every side.

I walked over and pulled out a chair. To my surprise and delight, she not only flashed a friendly smile, but rearranged her things to make room for me. My stomach fluttered as I sat down and pretended to study. Weºd never been that close before.

After a believable amount of time had gone by, I huffed at my notes in a disgusted way.

Jacyntha raised her eyes from her notes. "Something wrong?"

"I just donºt understand how Karl Popper could ever think that falsificationism had a future."

Jacyntha nibbled her pen in that endearing way before rising to the bait and replying at length. I was sure the answer made perfect sense, however, I donºt remember a word of it.

"I've never seen you here before," I probed.

"Oh, I come all the time."

That did it. The blood rushed to both groin and face, leaving my stomach to flop around like a helpless fish.

"Hope I'm not disturbing you," I ventured, when I'd regained control.

"No, no. Once in awhile, it's nice to look up from reading and bounce ideas off someone. Would that be too distracting?"

Just being in the same room with her was too distracting, but I didn't reveal that.

The sciences library suddenly became my favorite place to study. I would pick a different floor every day, trying not to meet her too often. I didn't want to spook her. But soon it seemed like my presence was a welcome thing. We even agreed to begin meet for study sessions when the air turned chilly and the threat of exams loomed large.

I was so happy the day she finally suggested coffee, that I followed her to the Bean Bar without a fuss. Ordinarily, I avoided the place. The posers in black with their Lennon glasses and maudlin poetry were more irritating than the coffee names. Mocha-almond-latte-supreme? What drug-addled brain had spawned that obscenity?

But with a secluded booth and Jacyntha to talk to, the place was heaven. We spent many a wintry afternoon arguing philosophy and playing chess on scarred tabletops. I poured everything into the game, trying to impress her with brilliant strategy -- hoping to conquer her there, at least. But it was difficult to concentrate. She'd do these unconscious, devastating things like hold one of the cafe's mismatched pawns to her lips. Then my cock would stir, eager to switch places with the lucky man.

Yet despite all my desires, we never got beyond these Kant-and-caffeine sessions. Jacyntha was friendly and kind, but it was easy to see that she didn't direct any movies that starred me. It seemed as if her heart was elsewhere.

Was it Connor?

The first time I thought that, I almost smacked myself in the forehead. Jesus -- I was as bad as the other guys!

Or did they know something I didn't? Did Jacyntha in fact want what was under that cashmere, tweed, and corduroy? Even worse, was she getting it? At first, I found it easy to dismiss those questions, but as time went on they began to hound me. Soon, a silver-haired villain would appear in my movies. I'd kill him in elaborate duels, but he'd always show up for the sequels.

It got so bad that one day, I gave vent to my nagging thoughts in the library.

"You know," I blurted. "Some people who shall remain nameless have been spreading rumors about you and Connor. Can you give me some snappy comeback to shut them up?"

Instead of the hoped-for anger, she blushed deeply focused on her pencil case.

"Is it that obvious?" she said after a long moment.

I was beyond stunned. It was a good thing she hadnºt been looking at my face.

"Enough to fuel some. . .speculation," I hedged.

Her laugh was short and cynical -- an abrupt change." Yeah, I suppose it would be. But there's nothing to the rumors. He doesn't know I exist."

We sat in silence for a moment. I couldn't speak. It felt as if a hole had opened in my chest and something vital was leaking away.

"How long have you felt like this?" I managed at last.

"Two years." She sighed heavily. "This is the brightest in a long series of torches I've carried for teachers. It's been going on since grade school."

Briefly, desperately, I calculated how long it would take me to get tenure.

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know!" she wailed, as if I'd suddenly become her closest girlfriend." He's charming, he's completely sexy, his work is amazing. But we've barely seen each other outside of class."

"So get to know him," I challenged.

"It'd never work. He's too ethical to get involved with a student."

"Then drop the course," I snapped. Vicious anger flooded me. Let her run aground on the shore of rejection and see what it felt like!

She paused and regarded me, her eyes large and vulnerable. It was right then that I realized she had absolutely no clue about how I felt.

"But what if I do and it still doesn't work?"

"Then you'll have tried." I said with finality. I grabbed my stuff and got out of there just ahead of the despair, which caught up to me at home.

All weekend long, I struggled to locate the pain. It seemed worst in my chest, but my throat, stomach, and temples also vied for the title. But worse than that, Jacyntha didn't show up to class on Monday, or any other day that week. I targeted Connor with a gaze split by crosshairs, raging when I wasn't depressed.

This went on, until one afternoon, when he strode in late. The differences were minor. His shoes were polished, his notes were disorganized, his usual tie was absent. And he was happy. Not smug, or satiated, but genuinely happy. I didn't bother reaching down to pick up my heart. The floor was too dirty anyway.

The end-of-term crush started a week later. There was so much work that I could ignore the whole mess for hours at a time. It was only during study breaks that my thoughts were free to drift. I'd generally spend them downstairs in the kitchen, trying to find solace in a mug of Earl Gray and a doughnut.

Such was the case last Sunday, when the doorbell rang. A moment later, Terry stuck his head around the corner, his eyebrows wiggling madly." Hey Lothario, there's someone here for you."

I dismissed his silliness with a wave and crammed half the doughnut into my mouth as I padded down the hall in stockinged feet. Jacyntha stood framed by the screen door, a light spring breeze stirring the folds of her dress. I cursed my stupidity a thousand times. If only I'd had the sense to ask Terry who it was before imitating a chipmunk!

The intervening weeks had dulled my memory. Had she been that beautiful in class? I wondered how she saw me in my grubby sweat suit and mismatched socks. I wondered if it mattered.

"I just wanted to come and say hi. Sorry, are you busy?"

"No, no, just taking a break, actually. Wanna come in?"

I was so eager to talk to her, I didn't think about the consequences of inviting her in. But they came clear in the living room. Brian and Terry paused their Nintendo game but didn't greet her. Matthias was worse. He looked up from his book and gave her a frankly appraising stare, pursing his lips in a way that struck me as revolting. There was no question of having a normal conversation in here.

The silence continued on up the stairs to my room. As soon as I shut the door, they let out a collective whoop. "Savages, " I muttered.

My room looked like a bookbinder's had exploded, but she didn't seem to mind. I let her have the desk chair, as much out of politeness as fear. The vision of Jacyntha on my cot would have been too much to handle.

"So, what's up?" I said with as much jocularity as I could muster.

She seemed uncertain about what to say, but at last it overcame her." He said yes!"

I smiled gently to hide the tearing pain." Yeah, he's been in a good mood lately. We all aced our term papers."

The sound of her laughter was a momentary balm." We're very happy," she admitted. Then, more seriously:" I want to thank you."

" T'weren't nuthin'," I replied, hoping the drawl would mask the catch in my voice.

A moment of silence. Outside, chickadees scolded in the bright spring air. Downstairs, the trolls in the living room began grunting and moaning in a rude parody of orgasmic bliss. I didn't know whether to run out and tell them to shut the hell up or laugh at the irony.

"I'm sorry. Those guys are ..."

"Don't worry about it. I expect it, really. They probably didn't tell you, but I turned them all down when they came onto me. None of them was prepared to be my friend."

Friend. One word, both blessing and curse.

She scanned the room idly and I could tell she was preparing to leave. Suddenly I wanted to do anything to keep her there, even if it was for just a few more minutes. With a jerk of my head, I indicated the chessboard on top of the milk crates I was using as a dresser." Hey. Want to play?"

"Sure," she said, brightening.

I sighed and tried to get philosophical. My perfect match was madly in love with an older sophisticate and was probably fucking him silly, but she still respected me. I supposed it could have turned out worse.

We stretched out on the floor, on our stomachs. All was peaceful, until the three Fates started in again. It sounded like they were right outside the door.

I moved to get up and tell them what I thought, but she stayed me with a perfumed hand. "Don't," she whispered." There are better ways."

"How?"

She had a mischievous glint in her eye." Just wait."

We played for another ten minutes. Then, right in the middle of moving her bishop, she emitted the most erotic sound I'd ever heard. Just that one phoneme was enough to get me instantly excited. If I hadn't been lying prone, my track pants would have given everything away.

During my next move, she did it again, but this time added a few oh's for emphasis. My eyebrows shot skyward, but she merely smiled and waved at me to continue the game.

"Oh, yessss. . . ." A languid, extended groan this time, and much louder. She cocked her head at me expectantly.

I caught on. "Oh. . . oh . . ." I cried, but it sounded so lame that I had to tack on a few more purposeful sounds.

Jacyntha nodded with satisfaction and purred, following it up with a cry that spanned two octaves.

Another two moves. Her position on the board seemed to be strengthening. Small wonder, when it took every ounce of self-control to keep from grinding my engorged Bacon into the floor. It was sheer agony, but wonderful.

Suddenly, I became inspired." Oh yes! Oh there, oh there. Just like ... ohh ... don't stop. Don't ever stop."

"Mmmmm," she moaned, eyebrows knitting in concern as I captured her knight. I spared a moment to wonder if she was wet under that long skirt.

"Yesyesyesyes!" I shouted. The hallway was more silent than the library had ever been. "God, you're incredible."

She laughed charmingly, eyes sparkling. Then frowned when I took another pawn.

Her eventual orgasm brought many a porn-starlet to shame. For a brief instant, I could close my eyes and believe it was real and that I was giving it to her.

Later, I escorted her down the stairs, through the empty living room and past the crowded kitchen, where the triumvirate waited to pass judgment. They'd probably find some way to make my life miserable, but just then, I didn't care.

"Thank you," she said at the door. And then, slightly louder than necessary: "Thanks for everything."

Last week, we saw Connor walking across the quad, his carriage just noble enough to complement the willowy grace of the woman on his arm. My housemates darted nervous glances at me, perhaps expecting me to fly at the couple in a jealous rage.

Instead, I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked on ahead, whistling merrily.