Blue with Black Dots (The Caprice Trilogy Book 2) (17 page)

The problem was that Russell was blocking part of the professor’s view.  The professor came up the steps in the middle, within close enough proximity of Georgia.  Russell was standing in front of her at six-feet tall, six inches taller than Georgia.  The professor was two steps down but looking forward.  Georgia didn’t want to let on.  She thought about saying hi but decided against it.  She didn’t want to pique the curiosity of the man standing right in front of her.  She didn’t know how Russell would respond.  If she showed any interest in the professor, it could make Russell try harder to get her attention.  She left it.  She decided to let Russell see that he already had her undivided attention.

“I’m about to go in and grab my chair,” said Georgia, throwing her cigarette butt to the ground.

              “You coming with?” said Georgia, stuffing her notebook inside her purse.

“Yeah,” said Russell.  Russell followed Georgia to the lecture hall.  He didn’t try to make small talk.  She was glad for it.  To make matters better, Russell didn’t try to sit near Georgia or switch seats with someone.  Georgia got to sit in her seat unaffected.

Georgia had to make up for a lost opportunity and a closing window.  She had a few weeks before the weather was too cold to instinctively wear a camisole.  And everything had to proceed like natural.  But Georgia had the upper hand, in terms of line of sight.  She was sitting three rows up, where the professor had a good look at her.  She left her peacoat on her chair and her breasts on the table in front of her.  She leaned slightly forward to make her breasts mound on the table.  Her skin browned easily on Virginia Beach but she got little sun afterwards.  Her skin began to revert back to normal color and contrasted against the color of her maroon camisole.  The difference was that of the inside of an apple compared to the outside.  The contrast made Georgia’s breasts that much more noticeable and the slender shadow of her cleavage line was more conspicuous.  She leaned forward two-hours long.  The professor had to continue his lecture seeing her breasts bulge every time he looked up from his lectern.  She just let him look.  No one else in the lecture hall had his line of sight.  No one else saw what he was looking at, as he leaned on his lectern to look relaxed, trying to look away.  It was cat-and-mouse played out in silence in a room with more than thirty people.  She toyed with him.  She raised her hand while he was engaged in dialogue with another student.  She did if for the attention.  After he finished his explanation, he turned to Georgia. 
You had a question, Miss Standing
. 
Professor, you already answered it
.  She spent the rest of the lecture in silence with one thought on her mind—
made you look
.

It was Monday.  She didn’t wait outside the Business Campus, smoking a
Pall Mall
waiting for the Professor to notice they smoked the same brand.  She didn’t have to.  She was already in his head.  She left the chance encounter for the next lecture, Thursday of that week.  Thursday’s lecture was just as insightful as Monday’s lecture but there was one thing missing, Georgia’s cleavage.  She wore a brown wool sweater that matched her hair and eyes.  She knew earth tones looked best on her so that’s what she wore.  She topped it off with hoop earrings.  She looked good.  It confused the professor in internal ways.  He looked at her in her seat before he began.  He had a bewildered look. 
No boobs?
  But he stared at her just a little bit longer than just to see if she was in her seat.  On Monday, her hair was up.  Now, her hair was down and she was covered up.  The contrast was immediate and immediately sank in.  But he looked around the room as if making sure enough students were in their seats to begin.  He kept eyeing Georgia out of personal confusion.  He began to feel a general attraction in her direction.  He noticed when he found himself looking at her more frequently, frequent enough for him to take notice.  It was tough on him.  He wasn’t just trying to give nuggets of information to his students, in digestible amounts.  He was trying to educate himself, to figure out what it was that had him continually looking in Georgia’s direction.  It was a simple mathematical problem he was trying to solve.  He knew it was simple.  He just couldn’t solve it.  He was trying to decide if the woman who sat in Georgia’s seat was less than, greater than or equal to the woman who sat in that seat on Monday.  He didn’t know which version he preferred.  She looked good with her hair down and her face slightly made up with a simple brown sweater.  But with her cleavage in full view, he couldn’t stop looking.  He didn’t know whether he wanted her to be good-looking in his class or with boobs out.  It wasn’t something he should have been thinking about.

It took Professor Spice the entirety of the class to make up his mind.  He found the answer just before time.  He wanted both.  Georgia did him a big favor.  She didn’t say anything during class.  She didn’t need to.  She let the contrast between what she wore on Monday and what she was wearing on Thursday take turns in his head.  When the lecture was over he felt an emotional reaction when she left.  When all students were gone he took two deep breaths.  It was starting like it started before.  It wasn’t the easiest thing for him to come to terms with.  He had gotten an unfavorable reaction from University Administration the last time.  Her name was Nita Harris and she was bright.  And she was cute.  She had provoked the same curiosity in him as he was feeling in the lecture hall by himself.  That was the fear.  He knew there was something outside his control.  When he was alone focusing on a woman, he was out of control.  It was one of the many reasons he divorced his wife.  As an MP, he began a professional friendship with a
Daily Telegraph
reporter.  He handled the situation as best he could.  His wife didn’t like the spotlight and he was often away.  He didn’t know if he could control himself always, especially around Ruby Hall, the reporter.  Divorce was better in his mind than betraying his wife.  She respected him for it.  That was a weak spot for him.  That initial curiosity.  He wouldn’t call it attraction.  Interest was a better word.  Naturally, interests changed over time.  Conflict arose when his interests didn’t naturally change.  He got the same feeling about Georgia.  He was taking an interest in her and he felt, with all seriousness, it wasn’t likely to change.  It bothered him.  He stood for some time in the room, by himself—bothered.

Chapter Seven    Bothered

Georgia had a trap set for the professor the following Monday.  She followed the same dress code, forest green sweater—hair down.  The weather was getting cooler and Georgia decided against wearing another camisole.  She could, but it wouldn’t come across as casual on her part.  The students and the professor would be lead to think she was vying for attention.  She was.  Officially, she wasn’t.  Georgia let her study habits show.  It wasn’t just her intelligence, which showed itself but the fact that she actually had to have done the assigned readings to know as much as she did.  It didn’t matter, male or female.  Work ethic and intelligence were attractive from both ends.  Georgia kept both on display.  She wasn’t overtly ambitious.  She mostly answered up when others missed the mark.  It was more productive than always engaging in debate.  She didn’t want to become annoying for the group or professor.  She just caught dropped questions.  It was efficient because it showed her deeper understanding of the subjects at hand.  She seemed intelligent by understanding the gaps of logic and not falling into them.

She knew the professor to come out the Business School doors after class.  She was there after class, smoking
Pall Mall
.  He didn’t show up on Monday or Thursday.  But she did all she could.  She waited after every class, smoking. 

Thursday, October 7
th
was the first time the Professor came out of Business School with Georgia waiting outside with a lit cigarette between her fingers.  It was a casual meeting.  It went casually.

“Miss Standing,” said Owen, “I thought that was you.”

“Professor Spice,” said Georgia, “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” said Owen, “I love this time of year.”

“Autumn?” said Georgia.

“Yes,” said Owen, “It’s gonna start raining soon.”

“You’re a fan of the rain?” said Georgia.

“It’s fantastic,” said Owen, “It’s what makes Britain, British.  Brits look so good in the rain.”

“How do you mean?” asked Georgia.

“You go down to Italy during the summer months and you can spot a Brit a mile away,” said Owen, “We’re pasty and pale and have swim shorts up to our navels.  A young Brit is walking around like someone’s grandfather.  We’re out of our element.  But in this weather, we’ve got our frocks and plaid scarf’s—Wellies to keep the water out.  I like this weather because we do this weather, we Brits.”

“You still have some politician in you,” said Georgia, fishing in her purse.

              “I guess that was sort of a nationalist plug,” said Owen.

              “It most certainly was,” said Georgia, holding out her half-spent pack of
Pall Mall
cigarettes.

              “Oh God,” said Owen, “I try not to smoke on campus.”  Georgia rattled the pack in front of him.

“I am,” said Georgia.

              “I see that,” said Owen, “Actually, now that you mention it.  I smoke that brand.”

              “Really?” said Georgia.

              “Well, I don’t keep a pack on my person when I’m on campus,” said Owen, “Too tempting.”

“Then take one and cross the street,” said Georgia.

              “I see logic is your strong suit,” said Owen.

              “Not logic,” said Georgia, “Courtesy.”

              “How do you figure?” asked Owen.

“I’m offering you a smoke and you won’t smoke on campus,” said Georgia, “So take the cigarette and march across the street.  Then you’re in violation of nothing, neither my courtesy nor your policy.”  The professor took a single stick from the pack. 

“It is a bit non-courteous to take a smoke and run,” said Owen, “You’re supposed to smoke with your hostess.”

“I have to walk across the street in anycase,” said Georgia.  Georgia handed her lighter to Owen.  He lit his cigarette and handed it back to Georgia.  She lit a cigarette and lead Owen across the street.

              Owen walked inside and let Georgia walk on the street side.  He was trying to shield himself from being seen smoking.  He used his fingers to extinguish the end of his cigarette.  His sensibility overcame him.

“I’ll smoke it later,” said Owen.

              “It’s fine,” said Georgia, “Suit yourself.  It’s not the longest of walks to my flat.”

              “Where are you living?” asked Owen.

              “It’s that building there,” Georgia pointed.

              “It’s quite near the campus,” said Owen.

              “Yeah,” said Georgia, “As I’m new to Glasgow and Scotland in general.  I wanted to be sure the one place I could find was the campus.”

“Makes sense,” said Owen, “I get the feeling the lights always on with you.”

              “I dim it sometimes,” said Georgia.

              “But it never goes off I imagine,” said Owen.

              “No time for that,” said Georgia, “Life’s much too short.”

“You begin to realize how short when you reach my age,” said Owen.

              “You don’t look that old,” said Georgia, “I’d say between thirty-eight and forty, no more.”

              “That’s generous,” said Owen.

              “Am I off?” asked Georgia.

“By about six years,” said Owen.

              “You’re thirty-two then,” said Georgia.

              “That’s making my day,” said Owen.

              “Did I go in the wrong direction?” said Georgia.

              “Wrong direction, right direction,” said Owen, “I guess it depends on your interpretation of flattery.”

              “Mine’s quite expansive,” said Georgia.

              “Then you went in the right direction,” said Owen.

              “All I needed to know,” said Georgia, increasing her walking speed by a slight pace.  As they approached her building, the unseen cord that attached them in conversation became tought—tense.

“Thank you for your time professor,” said Georgia.

              “Thank you for the cigarette,” said Owen,

              “You’re welcome,” said Georgia, “Now, I have to go tidy up my tiny apartment.”

“It’s the same everywhere,” said Owen, “All student apartments are small.”

              “Well,” said Georgia, “With any luck it won’t last too much longer.”

              “You’re moving out?” said Owen.

“Well,” said Georgia, “Moving on is more like it.”

              “How do you mean?” asked Owen.

              “I’ve applied for a position in London,” said Georgia, “I’ve made it to the third round so fingers crossed.”

              “Really?” said Owen, “Which company?  Perhaps I can help.”

              “I’d rather not say,” said Georgia, “I don’t want to jinx it.  I get really supersticious about these things, especially when I’m so close.”

              “So you don’t plan to finish your post-graduate studies?” said Owen. 

              “I can finish them at some later junction,” said Georgia, “But I wanted to get some experience and earn some money.  I’m in the sort of position where I want to bolster my savings, build a cushion.”

              “You know what’s funny?” said Owen.

              “What’s that?” said Georgia.

              “I don’t think most of my students think like you,” said Owen.

              “In what sense?” said Georgia.

              “You seem to be planning long-term,” said Owen, “Strategically thinking about the future.”

              “The others aren’t?” said Georgia.

              “I think most everybody in my class wants good marks to graduate with so they can get a senior position at some bank or finance house in City of London,” said Owen.

“That’s admirable,” said Georgia.

              “It’s not bad,” said Owen, “But most of them are prepping themselves as if it’s a guarantee.”

              “Strathclyde is a good school,” said Georgia.

              “True,” said Owen, “But so are so many others.  There are no guarantees.  It makes sense to do it like you’re doing it and start early.  Smart.”

              “Thank you, professor,” said Georgia.

“Well,” said Owen, “I wish you good luck, even though I’m always sad to see my good students go.”

              “I’m still around for a bit longer,” said Georgia.

              “True you are,” said Owen, “Good day.”

              “Good day, Professor,” said Georgia.  Owen turned back and headed in the opposite direction, revealing that he had walked with Georgia for her sake.  Georgia turned around and headed inside to her third floor room.  She came upon a young woman cooking in the common-use kitchen.  She knew she had roommates, just never met them.

              “Hi,” said Georgia.

              “Hello,” said the woman.

              “I’m in the third room,” said Georgia, “My name’s Georgia.”

              “I’m Evie,” said the woman.

              “I’ve been here for a few weeks but we haven’t had a chance to meet yet,” said Georgia.  Evie turned toward Georgia and held out her hand.

              “I know,” said Evie, “It was interesting because your room was empty for the first few weeks of the semester and then we were trying to figure out if someone was living there because we never saw you come in or out.  We thought maybe someone was squatting or being dodgy for some reason.”

“That’s funny,” said Georgia, “I’ve had to wait on my ID and my books so I was studying in the library and doing all my reading from reserve books.”

“Oh, wow,” said Evie, “How was that?”

“You get used to it,” said Georgia.

              “I suppose so,” said Evie.

              “What’s the name of the other girl who lives with us?” asked Georgia. 

              “Her name’s Deirdre,” said Evie, “She goes by Didi though.”

“That’s funny,” said Georgia, “Friends used to call me Gigi.”

              “That makes us Gigi, Didi and Evie,” said Evie.  Georgia laughed.

“Sounds like a
Disney
cartoon,” said Georgia. 

“It does,” said Evie.

              “I’ll let you continue with your food,” said Georgia, “I’m gonna go fall out for a few hours.”

“No worries,” said Evie, “I’m a bit knackered myself.  I just wanted to fill my stomach and I’ll probably go fall out, as well.  I sleep better on a full stomach.  Knock on my door if you wanna go out later.  There’s a place a few blocks over, where we go for a pint of dog or a cigarette.  Just me and Didi.”