Sociopath? (23 page)

“Now who is coming to whom, Professor
Barnes?” he thought.

Rafe had a theory, not a very scientific one,
not one that he intended to try to publish in a peer-reviewed
psychology journal, but a theory nonetheless, one that had proved
out more often than not. It went right along with his view that
females usually gave early clues as to sexual desires. It went like
this: whenever Rafe met a woman, if he had the opportunity, he very
briefly invaded her space. He thought he could generally tell from
her reaction to that small incursion into her territory, what she
wanted from a man. These were usually subtle reactions, more
psychic than physical, sensed more than seen.

The first type of woman instantly fell back
and ceded her spot to him without protest. They were the kind of
girls who, if he asked them what movie they wanted to see or where
they wanted to eat, would tell him they didn’t care or whatever he
preferred was fine with them. They could be dying for Mexican food
but if he suggested Chinese, they’d fall agreeably in line. If you
took them to bed, you had to be prepared to always take the lead
and to treat them with tender loving care to keep from frightening
them (much the way he’d handled Lida). They were the romantics, who
were eagerly happy to turn themselves over to a man to be taken
care of.

The second type would instantly stiffen and
prepare to fight for her turf. They’d let you pick the movie or the
restaurant the first time but the next time around, they assumed it
was their turn and they should get to choose. They gave as good as
they got in bed, expecting to receive pleasure but willing and able
to give back to the man in equal measure.

The third and last kind of woman, hesitated
at first, then took a step back if he forced the issue. Like the
first group, they wanted the man to take charge, but the difference
was that they couldn’t admit it. They had to put up a fight first
and he had to win in order to gain their respect. Oddly, in his
experience, many of the women who considered themselves feminists
were in this category. He thought they were hoist on the petard of
their own conflicting desires. They wanted to be strong and
independent but they also wanted a commanding man. Ask them where
they’d like to eat and they’d ask back, what sounded good to him?
When he said, “Mexican”, they’d instantly tell him they would
rather have Chinese. He’d insist on Mexican (even though he didn’t
usually give a damn one way or the other) until he prevailed.
They’d put up a bit of a struggle in bed too until he overpowered
them and did it his way.

Rafe didn’t really have any preference in the
type of woman he preferred. He enjoyed them all. He wondered what
Helene Barnes would do when he stepped into her space.

When the door opened, he didn’t wait for her
to invite him in but walked right toward her, practically in her
face. He chuckled inwardly, when she stood stiffly for a moment,
then took that small, involuntary step backwards. He could sense
that she was feeling out-of-kilter at being forced to walk ahead of
him as he watched from behind. This definitely wasn’t how she
planned for their tete-a-tete to begin.

He took his seat before she was able to reach
her own so she had no time to turn around and motion him to a
particular location. Then he simply lounged in his chair, one
booted foot over his knee. She tried to out-wait him. Usually, a
second year student called to a professor’s office for an unknown
reason was anxious but Rafe seemed perfectly relaxed and content to
sit as long as necessary. She was the one who actually felt nervous
with those emotionless black eyes boring into her.

Her office wasn’t very big but she’d made it
look larger by the clever use of furniture and decor. Her walnut
desk was small so that it didn’t overpower the room. Everything on
top was neatly stacked and arranged. It contained some personal
pictures and a basket of daisies as well as business items. The
walls were painted a light airy blue and the curtains were blue and
white striped sailcloth. The posters on the walls were pastels,
most of them with some kind of inspiring feminist message printed
across the bottom. This was an “a place for everything and
everything in its place” kind of room. Her books were confined to
the wall of bookshelves, not piled here and there in stacks as they
were in many of the professor’s offices he’d been in. A white
rocking chair sat in front of the window with a small antique table
beside it. A lamp with a plump white porcelain base and a
rose-colored shade sat on top along with a brass bowl of silk
flowers.

He hadn’t known what to expect as far as
Helene was concerned. The reality was an attractive woman, late
30’s to early 40’s, with a chestnut braid down her back, a firm
sturdy shape wearing an ankle-length skirt, a peasant blouse and
short-heeled sandals. Striking green eyes in a somewhat broad,
freckled face. No make up, no surprise there. “Earth mother,”
thought Rafe, wondering idly if she was a lesbian. Not that it
mattered but many of the most devout feminists were. He thought she
might have an appealing smile although he didn’t know for sure
because he hadn’t seen it and rather suspected he wouldn’t be
seeing it either.

She broke first, as he’d known she would
(hardly anyone could outlast Rafe when he was in his watchful,
waiting mode). “Aren’t you curious about why you’re here?”

He shrugged. “You invited me, Professor
Barnes, I assumed you’d eventually tell me why.”

“I heard a lot about you last year, Rafe. I
didn’t like what I heard and I’d really hate to see that behavior
continue this semester. The fact is, I think you’re a sexual
predator.”

“What makes you say that, Ms Barnes?” he
asked with genuine curiosity. “I’ve never raped anyone. I’ve never
sexually assaulted anyone. I’ve never even slept with anyone who
wasn’t as old as me or older.”

“I don’t accuse you of anything so obvious as
assault but I believe you are guilty of emotional rape.”

A smile flickered across his face. “That’s a
rather Victorian view for a radical feminist to take, don’t you
think? Your students aren’t helpless victims, they’re independent
and intelligent and able to make choices. I thought that’s what you
liberated women were all about.” He pointed to one of her posters.
“Our Lives, Our Choices” was inscribed in high italic letters
across the bottom. “Choice is what you trumpet at every turn.”

“Let’s not be coy, Rafe. You are extremely
skilled at the art of seduction. You and I both know it. You imply
promises you don’t intend to keep and play on the vulnerabilities
of girls who want to believe you.”

“No, Professor, you’re wrong. I never lie
about my intentions. The only thing I offer is temporary pleasure.
I promise nothing more than that. And I think I fulfill my end of
that bargain. Have any of your girls ever told you differently?”
The smile was so quick, she wasn’t even sure she saw it, because
she was too caught by the midnight eyes.

“Rafe’s Riders! The very term disgusts me.
It’s so utterly demeaning.”

“How do you even know it, Ms Barnes? I didn’t
coin it and I never say it. In fact, I’ve never told anyone who
goes with me on those rides. They could keep it a secret if they
chose.”

“No,” she said bitterly, “that’s the worst of
it - that they’re not ashamed.”

He stirred in his chair.

“I’m not sure what the purpose of this
meeting was, Professor Barnes. I can only think of a few reasons.
Maybe you just wanted to get a look at me to see if I really have
the horns and tail of the devil you seem to think I am. Or, maybe
you’re actually thinking of filing some kind of disciplinary action
against me, but you might want to be careful if that’s the case. I
know I haven’t done anything illegal and, as far as I know, I
haven’t even broken any school rules. Promiscuity may offend you
but it isn’t banned in the student handbook. And, besides, do you
think you’d get any of your students to testify against me?” He
paused, “do you, Ms Barnes?”

She was silent, knowing he was right. If
anything, they would gladly give him a character reference.

“And lastly, maybe you thought you could
prevail on my better nature to change my behavior,” the swift grin
didn’t extend to his eyes,” but you can be pretty fucking well
assured that isn’t going to happen. So, unless there’s something
else you think we need to say, may I be excused, Ms Barnes?”

“Get the hell out, Rafe.”

*

“Jesus, Helene,” Gil told her, “I can’t
believe you called one of our students, whose father is one of our
largest individual donors, incidentally, a sexual predator with no
proof whatsoever. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I suppose he went whining around about me
harassing him?”

“No, Helene, he didn’t. Someone saw him go
into your office and mentioned it to someone else who mentioned it
to someone else who told me about it. I couldn’t figure why you’d
be seeing a student with whom you have no reason to have any
contact whatsoever and that’s why I called you in. I knew you had
strongly negative feelings toward him. What was his reaction to
your lecture anyway?”

“He was an arrogant little smart ass. He
pretty much told me he was going to continue doing as he always did
and he didn’t think there was anything I could do to stop him.”

“He’s right, you know, Helene. You’re a
professor, not a fucking hall monitor.”

“He’s completely amoral, Gil.”

“Maybe so, Helene, but that’s not our
business so long as he doesn’t commit any violations of law or
policy and so far as I can see, he hasn’t.”

She was somewhat concerned now, after the
fact. “Do you think his father will try to get me in trouble?”

“No, that’s one thing you have going for you.
If any kid knows how to keep his mouth shut, it’s Rafe Vincennes. I
doubt he’ll ever tell his father. In fact, he’s probably forgotten
all about this by now. I suggest you do the same.”

* *

In that last part, Gil was completely wrong.
Rafe had barely cleared Helene’s door after their meeting until he
was plotting his plan of attack.

He did a little quiet research toward that
end. It turned out that Helene was, in fact, a lesbian. She lived
with her partner, Kaddie Lamb, a trainer at the fitness center in
town. That was good, it would be easier to pull off if she wasn’t
part of the college. Part of Plan A depended on just how motivated
Kaddie was in her own sexual orientation. Rafe believed, from
having an openly gay brother, that some people were born to be what
they were. If they were single-mindedly dedicated to their own sex,
then that was that. But, of course, some people could go either
way. If Kaddie, was one of those, if she had even a spark of
interest in men, then he was probably home free. He’d be able to
tell soon after meeting her if that was the case.

So he hied himself down to the fitness
center. It wasn’t a funky old gym, his preferred kind of place to
work out, if he had to work out, which he’d really rather not do at
all if he had his druthers. Exercise simply for its own sake always
seemed like a waste of time to him when you could actually be doing
something instead. Rather than horses or cars or boats that took
you somewhere real, fitness centers contained stairs that went
nowhere and stationary bikes (an oxymoron to his way of
thinking).

This place was called Shapes. It was all
light, airy rooms and modern equipment and inspirational posters
and even hanging plants, for Christ’s sake. Fortunately, the woman
behind the registration desk wore a nametag that said “Kaddie”, so
he didn’t have to waste time tracking her down. She was a pretty
round girl. Not fat or soft, just round with strong firm legs and
round melon breasts and a round face framed by bouncy blonde curls
and big round blue eyes. She wore shocking pink silk shorts and a
lighter pink shirt with a Shapes logo on the chest. He bet she was
always on a diet, wanting to be thinner (didn’t all women want to
be thinner?) but it would never happen. Her body shape was what it
was.

As, luckily for him, was his - lean and
brown, with long muscular legs, narrow hips, flat belly and broad
shoulders in red shorts and loose red tanktop. It required no
effort on his part to maintain - no diets, no particular exercize.
She gave him a frank appraisal, taking in as well, the high
cheekbones and dark eyes and black hair.

He told her he wanted to join Shapes. He told
her he was more sedentary since he was in college. He told her it
hadn’t started to happen yet but he wanted to be pro-active and not
let himself get out of shape. He told her his name was Rafe
Vincennes.

At that her head went up sharply. “I know who
you are. Helene Barnes is my partner. She really, really doesn’t
like you.”

Rafe smiled, his full-bore smile. “She has a
wrong impression of me. I’m not as bad as she thinks. Are you still
willing to help me get started here, in spite of her prejudice
against me?”

“I’d have to anyway. You’re a customer and
we’re expected to be pleasant and helpful to all the customers.”
She crinkled her blue eyes at him as if to tell him she wasn’t
going to find being pleasant to him that much of a hardship.

“I’m in,” he thought.

She did the tests that were required before
approving a new client for membership. She checked his blood
pressure and his heart rate (which were perfect) and his muscle to
body fat ratio (which was perfect) and measured him (6’) and
weighed him (170). He professed ignorance about the dials and
read-outs on the various machines, (although he’d spent hundreds of
hours on machines just like them under the eagle eyes of one coach
or another). She helped him devise a workout plan to help keep him
fit and toned. After she left to attend to others, he quick-stepped
through the stair routine and rode the bike the obligatory distance
(!) and lifted the weights set out on his program. Lord, he hoped
he didn’t have to spend a lot of time on this horseshit.