Tease

By Patricia Payne

It was a few days after I returned their term papers when she came up to me after class. She was always impeccably dressed, with a penchant for fifties-sixties clothing which was fitting because my anthropology class was about the social mores of the of the fifties.

Today, she looked like she had raided Jackie O's closet. She was wearing a teal, A-line Oleg Cassini dress with a perfectly tailored matching jacket, a pill box hat that was at a rakish angle, and a pair of black patent leather pumps with a 5 inch heel that normally might have been inappropriate with that outfit, but somehow, she pulled it off. I found myself idlly wondering if her taste in underclothing matched her exterior outfit.

"Excuse me, Sir. I was wondering if we could discuss the grade on my paper. I think it was better than the B minus you gave me, and I cannot read some of your comments."

"I cannot speak with you now about your paper. I have a staff meeting to attend in a few minutes. However, I should be free in about an hour. Would you be available then?"

She glanced at her watch.

"I am scheduled to take a friend out for drinks to celebrate her birthday in a half an hour. We will be at the pub. Why don't you join us there after you are done with your meeting?"

"I can do that," I said. "Are you sure I will not be imposing?"

"Not at all. It would be a pleasure to have you join us. I have told my friend a lot about your class and I am sure she would enjoy meeting you. Besides, maybe I can get you to drink enough to change my grade," she said with a slight smile.

"We shall see, although I would not count on that," I replied. "I will see you shortly."

After my meeting, I stepped into the men's room to put a quick comb through my hair. I thought I looked pretty good that day. I was wearing a black cashmere turtleneck, black jeans, a camelhair jacket and my black loafers were nicely polished.

I found her sitting alone at a small table at the back of the pub. She was re-reading her paper and did not see me as I approached.

"Hi. I know my handwriting is impossible. I get comments about it all the time. Where is your friend?"

"She wasn't feeling well, so she cancelled. I would have called you to reschedule, but I didn't have your cell phone number and there could be worse things than killing time having a drink or two."

I pulled up the chair across from her and ordered a beer from a passing waitress. "Gin or vodka martini?" I asked her.

"Gin," she said. "And thank you. Before we discuss my paper, I just want to tell you how much I have enjoyed your class. As you can tell from my wardrobe, I have always loved the fashion and art of the fifties, although I didn't know much about it, other than I liked it. You have some great insights as to how the times influenced their evolution."

"I am glad to hear I have been helpful in your education."

Our drinks appeared and I deciphered my handwriting for her.

"Your work is not bad," I said. "But it lacked a little continuity and the writing could have been tighter." I found myself unable to stop looking at her searing red lips and her retrousse nose.

I ordered another round of drinks.

"I am really enjoying the section about pulp art we are studying now," she said. "I have been doing a little independent research. Are you familiar with the work of John Willie?"

"Of course, he was a premier pulp artist in his day, although his work is a little racy for the classroom. What do you like about him?"

She took a sip of her drink and then said, "His drawings are excellent. Very well-rendered. And they make me kind of hot. Oh my God, did I just say that? I talk too much when I have been drinking. That was so inappropriate, Please excuse me."

My heart began to race.

"We are not in class. His work was suppose to be erotic. What do you like about it specifically?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, blushing. "The high heels, the voluptuous women in bondage."

"John Willie would have loved you. You have the perfect figure to be one of his models. Now we have both said something inappropriate, so we are even."

I slid my hand under the table and lifted up her skirt. She was vintage through and through and I toyed with one of the fasteners on her garter. Instead of brushing me away, she made an excited little sigh.

"In your John Willie research, have you learned about Sweet Gwen?"

"She is my favorite, although I am only just learning about her."

"Would you like to learn more?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then let us go to my apartment. If you'd like, I will teach you more about Gwen. And perhaps teach you how to be Gwen. Would you like that?" I snapped her garter.

"Yes, Sir. Very much."

I offered her my hand to get up and escorted her into the night

© 2009 Patricia Payne