I don't write fiction. But I just decided to try. I meant for this to have a more absurd and funny element to it, but for now it is just stripped down to its basic elements. This comes from my basic belief that people who do sexy things with their mind ought to do them with their bodies as well. This is a fantasy but it is about a real person. . .
Theory Erotica Part I
I hurried into Jack's office, running a few minutes late for our meeting.
"Hey, I'm here, how are you?"
"Good. So, what's up?"
"Well, you know that idea I had worked on for my thesis? I'm getting it into that journal you told me about."
He looks up from his computer with excitement. "That's great! I didn't even know you had sent it off."
"Well, I guess it is sort of a surprise."
There is a pause wherein he looks quite pleased with me. Then his face registers confusion or worry. He sombers up a bit to ask, "Ellie, are you sure about this library thing?"
"No, not really. . ." I trail off. There is no need for explanation. We both are starting to think I am capable of more.
"I mean, seriously, with a publication under your belt, you can get into any PhD program you want."
"Do you really think so? I don't know right now."
"Absolutely! This is sexy, cutting edge stuff you are doing."
I doubt this persistently. I've been so incredibly worried about my capabilities, it is hard to believe that I can succeed. Isn't that what advisors are supposed to tell you? Isn't he paid to make me think this way, in the name of perpetuating the profession? "Jack. . . I don't know." And I release a labored sigh. He cocks his head sympathetically at the worry in my eyes. "I mean, what do I do after the PhD? Will I get a job? I just don't seem cut out for it." Then, as a flippant and nervous joke I tack on, "Fat people can't do theory."
This last comment changes his expression from calm sympathy to confusion. Then a smile spreads over his face. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it just seems like doing the hot, sexy thing requires you to be. . .well, hot and sexy. No one wants to hear a chubby girl on an MLA panel about 'Baudrillard and BDSM.' It's just. . . it's just not the way things are." I look down at my feet as I realize I've said too much. Really, this isn't the crux of the problem - the source of my insecurity. All I've done is inappropriately given my advisor too much information on my body image problems. My eyes dart up to him to catch him eyeing me in a peculiar way. "I'm sorry. . . I mean, its not the point. I just. . .well you know how I worry about these things. I'll look into PhD programs, you're right about this."
"Ellie? What makes you think you aren't sexy enough to do theory?" Soon after these words leave his mouth, I notice something different. Jack, the god among men, is looking me up and down. His words catch me off guard. He has said them in such a way that any woman would know what is on his mind. I've run over this fantasy a million times and now I try to convince myself that there is no way it is coming true.
"I don't know, I mean, men never come on to me, for starters. I don't think I'm pretty. All of that." I answer back, attempting to disguise my hope and excitement.
"Well, when you were an undergrad, it was everything I could do not to try to fuck you." He makes this statement blankly. With little emotion, as if mentioning some departmental meeting or call for papers he heard about. But there was a little twinge when he got to the word "fuck" - he held it on his tongue for a moment. Almost with longing or nostalgia. I'm flummoxed, I see how this is going to go now and decide to play along.
"Then why didn't you?"
"You never showed any interest."
"Oh." I say. Then smirking, in what I think is my sexiest way, I add, "I guess I did a good job of hiding the fact that I was having dirty dreams about you 4 nights a week." I rush this statement out so that it can hit him all at once. I want to shock him the way he has shocked me.
In a world where he isn't wearing a polo shirt and this is all a cliché, he loosens his collar. But, right here and now, in this room, he leans back in his chair and expels a bit of air quickly from his lungs; he looks around the room uncomfortably. This lasts for a moment and his eyes rest back on me. Shocking him has empowered me a bit, I like the sense of control it gives me. So, although my heart is pounding out of my chest, I do my best to maintain composure and smile what I hope is a coy smile.
"Well, Jack, you must have had something in mind when you said that to me."
This has been his invitation. He softens again and the hungry look in his eyes intensifies. "You're right, I did. I think we ought to fuck."