Adam Winter scolded himself for not paying attention to Victoria Lovelace sooner. He should’ve known that someone so quiet would’ve had worlds to hide. When she walked in the first day of their Introduction to Creative Writing class, she wore a hoodie and sweats. She introduced herself quietly, murmuring a brief “Victoria Lovelace” and her major before passing on to the person to her right. She hadn’t stayed back to talk to him about her poetic dreams or novel ideas; she ran past him to the side of one Katlyn Dempsey, a student he hadn’t seen since first year.
He was ashamed to say that the first time he paid attention to her was early one September morning in the gym, when Katlyn forced Victoria to spot her. It was quite clear from Victoria’s incessant tugging at the short pants and her tight tank top that she hated her situation. Adam should’ve noticed she was his student first and her assets second. But he couldn’t tear his gaze from her heavy rack; the way her tits pressed against the cotton drew his eyes from across the room.
Victoria finally turned his head in class with her first poem. He didn’t give it a second thought upon submission. She’d turned it in only seconds before the deadline, her title in all lower case. He got to it last, and in his drowsy, caffeine filled daze, Adam thought he’d read it wrong. Every word was carefully chosen. She’d grasped the concept almost perfectly, and with a little edge to her images, she could’ve been perfect.
This pattern continued until her midterm. Every poem was turned in seconds from the deadline. He couldn’t tell if she was deliberately messing with him or just lazy. Her in class commentary was the bare minimum, only showing hints that she knew a little more than she was letting on every now and then. She’d refer to obscure poets and classical horror writers like they were generic ice cream flavors. Adam found himself explaining her references and, on occasion, challenging her on them.
And then there was her midterm. The moment he knew that there was something about her that needed more of an exploration. He hadn’t thought twice about the ending of her narrative. As an expressive poet, he focused more on the pure power of sensory imagery. It hadn’t occurred to him that there were other ways to read the piece because he was so focused on the details. Nor had he realized that the lazy and quiet anthropology major was fully capable of revising her own piece as critically as she had. Adam liked anyone who could take criticism.
So Adam was obsessed. Obsessed with chipping away her cynical shell and getting her to show him what’s inside her mind. Obsessed with learning her style of writing. Obsessed with her hidden features, which she either didn’t want to show to the world or didn’t know she had. What Victoria might’ve viewed as pestering was Adam feeding his addiction. He liked to spar with her when she refused to open up. He liked how she frowned at his suggestions and used them anyway. And, shamefully, he liked how her eyes memorized his body all those times he changed his shirt in front of her. That should’ve been crossing the line with her. But Victoria never said anything; she just watched him with the same fascination he watched her. And he liked that.
But there was another side to his beloved Victoria, one he’d only seen a few times. The one that brought her great shame, though she didn’t want to admit it. Her anxiety wracked her body, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. The last time they were together, Adam let just a shred of himself loose in fear of breaking her. He didn’t know how much she’d be able to take if he let go completely.
“Morning, Adam.”
Adam was brooding in the department office, his mind absent from his surroundings as he stared at the coffeepot. He didn’t realize there was another person in the room until Rick Johnson, his good friend and professor of literary theory, nudged him aside. “Hey Rick.”
“Someone’s out of it,” Rick commented, filling a ceramic mug with coffee. “Are you doing okay?”
It was eight in the morning. Adam and Rick were the only ones who bothered to come in that early, aside from the poor student worker assigned the early bird shift. “I’m just thinking,” Adam excused himself. “I’m at a strange personal impasse.”
“Oh?” Rick chuckled. He leaned against the window, the early morning sun making his blonde hair glow. “Having poetic writer’s block?”
Adam shook his head. “No, it’s about a woman, actually.”
Whistling, Rick said, “I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone. I kind of always assumed,” he waved his cup in the air, “you know, after Parker…” Parker, Adam’s former boyfriend who left him in the snow for a hotshot abstract artist. Adam tried not to crush the bottle of creamer in his hand at the mention of him. “I’m not that straight either,” Rick continued, “but I did think you were gay for a while.”
One breath in, Adam counted, one breath out. “I’m interested in people,” he finally replied. “And right now, that means a very timid woman who I’m worried Travesti will crumble under my touch the minute I get rough with her.” Adam tried to lift his mug to his mouth without spilling the coffee. His hands shook too hard, though, and a splash of his hot drink trickled down his crisp grey shirt. “I have a usual dominant persona, Rick. I call the shots. I’m,” he frowned, “cold. And aggressive.”
“But not with her?”
“I’m scared to hurt her,” Adam admitted.
Rick took a long drink. “I’m seeing someone too,” he finally said, “and I had the same problem at first. She liked it rough. And I’ve never been with someone like that before. I think the key is trusting your partner and knowing they trust you. And aftercare. G—She loves baths.”
Adam eyed his friend, choosing to ignore the name slip-up. Victoria was certainly someone he trusted. But the question was not if he trusted her. Adam hesitated a beat too long before saying, “I trust her.”
“And does she trust you?”
“That’s the question,” Adam grumbled.
His companion pondered Adam’s dilemma for a moment. Opening his mouth, Rick paused at the sound of someone entering the office. “Hey, Kate!”
Adam spun at the sight of a bright-eyed Katlyn Dempsey, his former student and a friend of Victoria’s. Katlyn was dressed in a tight purple tank top and space themed leggings, drenched in sweat.
She grinned and waved a piece of paper at Rick. “Hey Rick! Long time no see!” Katlyn turned her bright smile to Adam. “You too, Adam! I really thought I was gonna take classes with both of y’all, but those chemistry profs have got me in a tailspin.” Katlyn approached him in two steps, her dancer’s legs making quick work of the office. “I’m here for you, actually,” she said, holding the packet out to him. “Tori’s out today. She wanted the workshoppers to get their notes.”
He accepted the packet, quirking his lips at the sight of Tori’s erratic red edits. “Is she sick?”
“No,” Katlyn shook her head, “She’s having one of her days.” The flighty chemistry student offered the professors another bright smile before turning away. “See you guys!”
“One of her days?” Rick repeated.
Adam clutched the packet to his chest. “Victoria’s anxious,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t like to tell people about it, from what I understand. I’ve seen her have a really bad panic attack before.”
“That…sounds familiar.” Rick looked away.
Adam didn’t ask. It, at the moment, wasn’t his business. He bid Rick goodbye and returned to his office, preparing for the rest of his day. It was a Friday, meaning he had a 9 am 20th Century Poets course and Victoria’s afternoon Crafts of Fiction class. 20th Century Poets went by like a blur, with Adam’s attention only half on his students. Later, he and Rick ate lunch at noon with a mutual friend from Film Studies. Even he noticed Adam was out of it; Adam was pretty sure Rick told their friend to back off of the matter when Adam wasn’t looking. Once lunch was over, Adam retreated to his office to ponder whether or not he should reach out to Victoria. He didn’t want to put pressure on her at all. But after their last time together, he’d started to feel responsible for her.
After they slept together, Victoria disappeared from Adam’s house in the middle of the night. He had no idea how or when, just that his arms were cold when he woke up. She left no message and gave him no indication of how she was feeling during their Wednesday afternoon course. When Adam mentally noted the heavy circles under her eyes in class, his heart ached for her. He longed to reach out and get her to tell him something, anything, but she wandered out of the room before he could say anything. And now she wasn’t even coming in for class.
He opened his laptop. There was at least one thing he could do, given the circumstances.
To: Victoria Lovelace, Sailor University
From: Adam Winter, Sailor University
Victoria,
Your friend Katlyn dropped your comments off today. She said you weren’t feeling well. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
– Adam.
His finger hovered over the send button. The school system must’ve filtered the messages in case of tampering, or something. Maybe he was just paranoid. Adam still reconsidered his actions long enough to open up a word document and type out, The spare key is outside in the lockbox next to my mail slot. You can’t swipe into the building, use the entry code. Robert Frost’s birthday. Adam attached it to the email and sent it, before deleting his record and shutting the computer. All he wanted was to make sure that Victoria was safe.
She didn’t show up to his class, as expected. When he got into his car that afternoon, Adam hit his head on the back of his car seat. He shouldn’t be as invested as he was. He shouldn’t have been invested at all.
In an attempt to distract himself, Adam threw on some indie pop singer and started humming. He could hear Victoria’s soft snark in the back of his head, reminding him that written poetry was Ankara Travesti his strong suit. Her voice played on loop as he pulled off the interstate and onto the side streets. It haunted him in the parking structure and on his way up the elevator. Into the halls and through the front door and—
The water in the bathroom was running. The poetry pad smelled like pizza.
His satchel hit the floor. “Victoria?” he called, walking toward his bathroom. Adam hesitated just outside the door. “I don’t want to disturb you, but…” But what? He could write her pages of poems, but he had no idea how to ask her if she was okay.
“Come in.”
To his own dismay, Adam all but leapt into the bathroom. He ignored the fact that Victoria was eating Hawaiian pizza in his bathtub and focused on the fact that she was there. “Can I join you?”
“Yes,” Victoria mumbled.
Adam stripped, stepping with care over her pizza box. Settling in against the opposite side of the tub, he positioned himself so he wouldn’t get stabbed by the faucet. “Katlyn Dempsey is a friend of yours?”
His Victoria nibbled on her pizza. “Too much of one.” She stayed quiet. “Mom’s off her medication, again.” She took a bite. “Which means she’s fighting with my dad for Teddy’s custody, again.” Another bite. “Which means he called me asking if I’m off my medication, again.”
“And are you?
Victoria stuffed the crust into her mouth. “Yes.”
“Vict—”
“—It makes me feel like a zombie,” she cut him off. “I’m not a goddamn zombie, Adam. I’m a person. I’m a person with feelings and a heart.”
He nudged her foot with his toe. “I never said you weren’t. I was going to say that I’m glad you felt safe enough to come here.”
“Home was too much,” she continued. “Kate is too much. Her—our—friend Gen was there. And even she’s…” Victoria trailed off. “You get the point.”
Adam watched her fidget in the water. “Let’s go,” he said, just as she reached for another piece of pizza. “You can take that with you. I just want you in my bed.”
Eyebrow raised, Victoria said, “You don’t want to fuck while I’m eating pizza, do you?”
A tempting suggestion, but Adam knew enough about Victoria to know that getting in between her and her food was a bad idea. “No,” he chuckled. “I want you to get curled up in a blanket while I get my computer and pick out a movie. And you can eat that,” his nose wrinkled, “sad, sad excuse for a pizza.”
“I am actively not going to have sex with you after that.”
“Is that a threat?”
Victoria stood up, splashing him directly in the face. She set her pizza box on the counter and toweled off. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t insult my taste in pizza.”
A better, more reasonable man would not have fixated on how the droplets of water hung to her full, tender breasts. Nor would he watch her round ass swing back and forth like a hypnotist’s pendulum. But a better and more reasonable man wouldn’t be plotting how to fuck one of his students.
Victoria wrapped herself in one of the plush blankets he kept for the winter. He removed himself from the bath and, after toweling off, he followed her into the bedroom. Adam wandered around, grabbing his computer and a large cotton t-shirt. Tossing his shirt to Victoria, he said, “How do you feel about avant-garde films?”
“How do you feel about me leaving right now?” She shimmied into the shirt, dropping pineapple chunks onto the old black band tee. “I only watch avant-garde movies if I’m high and Cat’s crying about Ray Russo.”
Adam set up the computer in front of her. He settled onto the bed, holding his arm up so Victoria could snuggle in. It amused him to no end that Victoria, whose glare could cut a man’s throat, was a die-hard fan of cuddling. She nestled against his chest, curling into his touch. Her hair spilled out against his pale skim. “So,” Adam started, trying not to watch Victoria lick garlic and pizza grease off her fingers. “What do you want to watch?” He pulled up Netflix and began to scroll, pausing every now and then so she could examine her choices. She leaned forward at the horror section, but decided she wasn’t interested and settled back into his side.
“That one,” she murmured, pointing at Zombieland.
“You know,” Adam mused, selecting the film, “somehow I’m not surprised.”
The movie opened up with Jessie Eisenberg’s wimpy monologue, and Adam tuned out. He much preferred to listen to Victoria’s quiet commentary as he stroked her hair. After consuming half her pizza, she pushed the box away and opted to crawl into his lap. Adam snorted, allowing her to get comfortable. She tucked her legs under the comforter and wrapped her arms around his legs. As the movie dragged on, she got more relaxed, to the point that she was more focused on reacting to his touch than watching the film.
“You know why I came here?” Victoria murmured.
Adam stopped his petting, his hand netted in her hair. “For my winning personality?”
He felt her let out one of those quiet laughs where İstanbul Travesti it made no sound, just an exhale. “You wish.” Victoria leaned over and hit pause on the movie, sitting up in his lap afterward. She looked so small curved against his chest. He took her hands and placed them on his back. “I wanted to feel safe,” she murmured. “You make me feel safe.”
Leaning in, Adam kissed her cheek. He felt her arch into the touch. “Come here,” he said, laying back against the headboard. Victoria fell forward onto his chest, her bare lower half grinding against him. On her own accord, Victoria began to leave a trail of kisses from his temple to his chin. Her soft, supple lips were velvet against his coarse stubble. When she got to the crook of his neck, he felt her grin.
“What are you thinking?” He asked her, tracing circles on Victoria’s back.
She nuzzled him, before biting down. Adam hissed in pleasure. She dug her nails into the back of his shoulders, pulling back only to sink her teeth down, just below the first love bite.
“Victoria,” he groaned again, “what are you thinking?”
His mischievous Kitten looked up at him. “I think I want you to be rough with me,” she finally said. “I don’t want to be home because they’re too much, and then the minute I try to open up, they treat me like I’m fragile.” Her gaze hardened, and she began to toy with one of his nipples. “You don’t.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? If you’ve had a bad panic attack, I don’t want to over work you.”
Victoria leaned forward and bit his nipple.
Adam growled. He threaded his fingers through her hair and yanked back. “Kitten,” he warned, “are you positive?”
She looked up, her wide blue eyes begging him to touch her. “I trust you.”
His lips twitched. “Hard limits?”
Victoria pondered it. “No choking,” she decided. “Nothing like Gen.”
“Your safe word is Red,” Adam continued. “Understand?”
“Yes, Doctor Winter.”
That’s all Adam needed to know. He picked her up off him and rolled her onto her back. “Stay,” he commanded. Adam slunk off his bed and moved to his desk. The lowest hanging drawer had a numeral lock on the handle. Many of his codes were just the birthdates of his favorite poets. This one was Whitman’s. Inside the drawer lay a large black box, also locked.
He glanced behind him, watching Victoria squirm. She was nervous. Good.
Adam set the box on his desk and unlocked it. This wasn’t the only part of his collection, just one of the more vanilla sets. The box contained four soft, black restraints, a collar, and a handful of silver chains. He appraised Victoria for a moment. “Get on your knees,” he commanded.
His sweet Victoria did as she was told. Without him even having to ask, she supported herself on her elbows. Bent into a plank position, she waved her ass out for him. Adam snorted. Without warning, he swatted her left cheek. Victoria yelped. “Calm down, Kitten,” he said, rubbing the red spot on her ass. “That’s just the beginning.”
Adam rid her of the old band shirt. He selected the black collar from the box and pulled it out. A large silver loop stuck out from the front. Adam dragged the box with him and settled on his knees. His semi-hard cock hung inches from her face. Victoria was trying to ignore it, her eyes flickering back and forth.
Adam unbuckled the collar and slid it around her neck. He grabbed two chains out of the box and hooked each one onto the loop at the front of the collar. “These,” he narrated as he selected one of the chains, “are nipple clamps.”
Victoria sucked in a deep breath.
Adam stroked her chin. “Take a minute with me, hmm? Breathe.” When he was satisfied, he tilted her head up. The two chains were attached to tweezer clamps, easy to use clamps he found worked well with beginners. He slid the adjuster down on one and attached it to her left nipple, sliding the adjuster up until Victoria twitched. He grinned. “How does that feel?”
“Sharp,” she breathed. “It’s not too bad.”
He pushed the adjuster up half an inch. She gasped. “That’s more like it,” he grinned. He did the same with the second clamp, attaching it to her right nipple. Tightening it to the same level, he chuckled when Victoria gasped, yanked her head back, and squeaked again. “Every time you jerk yourself forward, you’ll move the clamps. Understand?”
She nodded.
It was time for the next step. Adam began to stroke his cock, slowly, while returning to the box. He removed the restraints and hooked one onto the left side of the headboard. Hooking her left wrist through the black strap, Adam tightened it just enough that if she needed to, she could break out. He didn’t want to leave her trapped. He did the same with her right wrist, before moving to the back of the bed. There were two more straps, one for each ankle. With each strap secure, he retreated to his closet.
“You’ve been a little sassy today,” he said, removing a small paddle from his closet. “You’ve taunted me on a number of occasions, casually threatening to leave like you had another option. And yet you still expect me to fuck you. You know I don’t have to do that, hmm?” He slid the paddle across her ass. “And not to mention the fact that you came into my apartment with that abomination of a pizza—”