Conned
by Christine Bell

Copyright © 2013 by Christine Bell. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
 

“Oh my God. Oh, God. Yeah. Yeah, right there. Yes. Yes!”

For the first half a minute, Professor Tucker Lamb had tried to muscle through, but the sounds coming from the adjacent classroom had escalated and were now too distracting to ignore. His inseam was feeling decidedly shorter than it had a minute ago, and his students couldn’t mask their reactions any longer.

Most of the girls wrinkled their noses and laughed softly to one another, leaning across the aisles between the rows of silver desks. Some of the guys tried to follow suit, but their halfhearted attempts came off as wooden. They couldn’t hide their fascination or their extreme interest in finding out who was behind the very vocal “O” coming through the wall.

Tuck knew exactly who was responsible. Fortunately, his students were freshmen, so most probably hadn’t met the Human Sexuality professor, Dr. Eleanor Malloy. And it was a good thing because if they had, there would have been a stampede to get out of his classroom and into hers.

She didn’t look like any “Eleanor” he’d ever seen and went by Cricket instead. When they’d got to talking at the staff Christmas party last year, she’d explained that her dad had given her the nickname when she was a child because she never liked to sleep. She made noise all night long. He had to bite his tongue to keep from asking her if that was still the case and if she’d give him a shot to be the guy behind all the noise.

“Okay, guys. It sounds like Dr. Malloy’s lesson is winding down now, so let’s try to focus,” he said with a smile he hoped didn’t look as pained as it felt.

He wondered how many times she’d been slapped on the wrist for her outrageous classroom antics. Still, she was well known for making the material relatable and easy to understand, so the students loved her. Moreover, he respected her because she practiced what she preached. She defended her subject of expertise like a wolverine and was very vocal about her view of human sexuality as an integral part of life. There was nothing dirty or tawdry about it, thank you very much. Her attitude came through in her teaching, and no subject was taboo. She was fearless, and he admired that.

But that fearlessness came with a price. In Cricket’s case, it made her a target for the school’s administrators. Tuck suspected that her appearance did little to help her case. Five foot nothing, a hundred and thirty-five pounds comprised almost entirely of tits and ass, she was like something from a tractor-trailer’s mud flap. A sailor’s bawdy tattoo. Or a science professor’s wet dream.

She was hell on wheels and exactly the kind of woman he would have gone for before…

“I think I want to change majors,” one of the kids in the back row said, dragging him back to reality.

The other students chuckled, some nodding their agreement.

“Hey, hey. Science can be just as fun as human sexuality,” Tuck protested.

“Yeah, right. Even you don’t believe that, Prof.”

True that.

“Seriously. The two subjects actually go hand in hand in a lot of ways. For instance, attraction, or what people refer to as ‘chemistry’? Those are measurable physical manifestations of hormones in your bodies. That’s all science.”

His class seemed riveted now, and he continued, their enthusiasm fueling his. “You wouldn’t even feel that attraction if it weren’t for those natural chemicals running through your bloodstream. Then neurotransmitters take the wheel and start firing all over the place. Adrenaline pounds through your veins from the rush. Dopamine and serotonin flood in from all the pleasure. Oxytocin is released as you complete the”—he cleared his throat—“act.”

Again, his students laughed.

“Then finally vasopressin sneaks in, making you want to snuggle and maybe stick around for the long haul.”

“I don’t think I have any of the last kind,” one of the boys in the front row deadpanned to another round of chuckles.

“Maybe you just suppress yours, Baxter. Okay,” Tuck continued, enamored with the topic as the kernel of an idea formed. “I’m liking the track we’re on, and it’s clear you guys are more interested in this discussion than any we’ve had so far, so let’s explore those connections in a deeper way. As you all know, the syllabus calls for a research paper next month.”

He put up a hand to silence the chorus of groans.

“I know, I know, so here’s what we’ll do. Let’s make it a research project instead. A project that will help us explore the relationship between science and human sexuality.” And more importantly, help him explore a relationship between him and Dr. Cricket Malloy. It was asking for trouble, but now that the thought had wormed its way in, there was no stopping it.  “If you still want to do a paper, go for it. If not, use your imagination. You can do a PowerPoint presentation, charts and graphs, create a survey or a video.”

Snickers swept the room, and he rolled his eyes.

“Not that kind of video. I mean a video chronicling your research. I’ll allow you to work in groups if you’d like, no more than three members per group so we still get a wide variety of topics and mediums. You’ll have three weeks to work on your projects and then we’ll spend the fourth week on presenting them to the class so we can all benefit from one another’s efforts.” He smiled at them and spread his arms wide. “This time next month, we’ll all be enlightened.”

The students chattered excitedly about their new assignment. While over the past six months he’d managed to build a reputation as a “nice” professor, he wasn’t on the short list of “cool” ones, so they were clearly all amped about this turn of events.

“Each group should come to our next class with three possible ideas for my approval, and we’ll go from there.”

As the students talked, Tuck’s thoughts flipped again to the doctor in the next room. Now that he was out of that life and on the up and up, she was exactly the kind of woman he needed to steer clear of. The kind of woman who stuck in deep and wouldn’t let go, like a barbed hook in a trout’s gullet. And after ten long years of struggling, he’d finally become a man he could be proud of, and he needed some time to settle into it. To make sure it stuck. Not to mention, they were coworkers. Nothing like stirring up some uncomfortable workplace drama if and when things didn’t work out when he was just finally feeling at home here.

But, damn.

She was driving him bananas. Absolutely fucking crazy. Aside from a couple impromptu lunches when they ran into each other in the professors’ lounge, he rarely saw her for more than a passing hello, but every time he did, he had to avert his eyes. It was that or walk around campus sporting a massive boner. Not okay. But he’d managed to avoid making a play at her because most of the time she was out of sight, if not totally out of mind. Now, though, with her right in his face day in, day out? It was nearly impossible to stop thinking about her.

Totally wrong for you. Stop this before you even start.

In spite of every instinct warning him off, the prospect of getting close to Cricket Malloy sent a familiar surge of power thrumming in his blood. The riot of heady sensations assailed him, pulling at him, urging him to get closer to the forbidden prize…sensations he hadn’t felt since the last time he was on the grift.

A plan came into sharp focus. And damn, it felt good.