Everything Is Done by Doc Nolan

“Everything is done, Miss.”

“The bed is made, the dishes are washed, and the vacuuming is done?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Then start on research for my Botany class.  You do know what I want, right?”

“Yes, Miss.”

Maggie turned and started for the door.  He interrupted her.  “Miss, may I have a look?”
 
She grinned and pulled up her skirt, showing him what she had on under it:  nothing.   “That’s all you get for now.  Maybe another look if I like the sources that you find for me -- for my paper.   Professor Jensen has made it perfectly clear that a good paper is based on good research.”  She turned again and this time walked out the door, closing it behind her.  He heard the engine of her Ford Focus rumble to life from the driveway.  He listened as it pulled away.

She had a date.  She wouldn’t tell him with whom.  “It’s none of your business!”, she said. “Our relationship is:  you work while I play – understood?”  He had nodded.  He felt helpless.  He was obsessed by her.

He got to work on the computer, pushing his thoughts of her out of his mind.  As he plugged away on the botany project he kept thinking of the flowers that were part-and-parcel of his labors: sex organs of plants gaily decorated to attract the attentions of passing insects.  He then thought of her sexual parts.  The images threatened to distract him from his work, so he did his best to block the slide show in his mind.  It worked.  Kinda.

Two hours later he heard the sound of the car and then the sound of the garage door opener, grinding away.  Staring at the screen and the pile of printed paper, he was satisfied with his work.
 
She entered.

“How’s it coming?”, she asked coyly.  “Almost done, Miss,” he replied ignoring the flirtatious tone of her voice.  “Wanna see my pussy again?” she asked.  He nodded.  She grinned.  “Nope.  First you make some coffee.  Then you can get me a bowl of cherry vanilla ice cream.  After that  – maybe – I’ll give you a treat, too.”  She paused, smiled at him.  “Then you cook us dinner!”

“Yes, Miss.”  He went to the kitchen, again blocking out thoughts of her.  “Lucky sofa”, he thought.  He imagined her imprint on the fabric.
 
When he brought her coffee and ice cream to her, he asked, “How was your – uh, uh -- meeting, Miss?”  He couldn’t bring himself to use the word ‘date’.

“Not bad.  I think I’ll get an A in Psychology.”

He nodded.  “What about me, Miss,” he asked hesitantly.

She looked at him quizzically.  “You?  Oh, you’re on Pass/Fail.”

“Am I passing, Miss?”

“So far, yes.  But let’s leave it like this.  I want all A’s or you fail.  Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, Miss.  It means I have to go back to merely teaching Biology and I’ll be replaced by another professor, right?”

“Yep,” she replied.  “It depends on whether I get an A in Botany – oh, and if I get an A in Psych.”  Again she paused, “And if I get A’s in both, I’ll let cooking ability decide.  So get to work, my devoted whore!”

He muttered under his breath so she couldn’t hear him, “Fucking Jensen…. God I hate that jerk!”

THE END