Thread: The Hourglass Archives [ Ariamella & jvj9000 ]

The question of attraction or sexual interest did not enter into his mind at all, of course. The furthest he would go down that path even mentally was to acknowledge in the most chaste way imaginable that Stephanie was obviously a very attractive person. Bright, charming, friendly... he would even get a bit hesitant to acknowledge, even to himself, that she her interest in history and anthropology made her more attractive. Certainly he did not dwell on her physical appeal when he thought of his student. That her smile was lovely or that her perfume was memorable were simply facts which could not be ignored rather than the observations of an inappropriately interested supervisor. And if he noticed the shapeliness of her backside as she bent forward and momentarily imagined anything untoward it was certainly purely physical and based more on his own rather nonexistent sex life and the fact that her body was rather easy to appreciate especially in such tight jeans than anything specific to her. At any rate, his appreciation was quite brief before he caught himself and studiously looked away, glad for the slight presence of stubble to conceal any tell-tale color that might rise in his pale cheeks. He nodded a time or two as she told him about the form's requirements and took the pen from his shirt pocket -- a fountain pen, of course -- to note the time for the meeting. He scribbled the time beside the address and reserved his questions until after he had read through the pages she had presented him. His thoughts about whether or not there was a wardrobe requirement or anything of that sort might, he decided, seem to indicate the fact that he had been, however briefly, appreciating her ass a moment earlier. Instead, he simply nodded and then slid the pages into his bag. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled as she bid him adieu, smiling as he shifted his bag onto shoulder. You can thank me after I at least do something, Miss Kensington, but your enthusiasm is infectious. I'll see you on Saturday, he said as she turned to go, forcing his eyes to gathering up the last of his lecture material lest he find himself appreciating her backside anew. Damned suggestively tight fashions. Caleb was up early on Saturday morning. Earlier than he intended, anyway. The previous night's blind date, a set-up with a colleague's cousin, had been an unmitigated disaster. The colleague was a professor in the math and engineering department and had mistaken his sister's fondness for The Tudors for an actual interest in and knowledge of history. He had succeeded in being polite when he realized that she thought Henry VIII was friends with Sir Henry Cavill, but when she started to conflate Anne Boleyn with the character the same actress played on Game of Thrones he may have gotten a bit too biting. At any rate, the date barely survived dessert and the dry peck on the cheek at night's end was a good deal earlier and less satisfying than he had hoped before the date began. He polished his material for next week's lectures before calling it an early night and rose early to work through whatever frustrations the date or week provided at the gym. His pale, muscular body cutting expertly through the water of the school's gym was a stark contrast to the figure he presented hours later at the VISIONEX entrance. Out of deference to the weekend, he had foregone his usual tie and vest. That he still wore a light grey suit jacket and matching trousers was perhaps to be expected, but brown boots and a matching belt and the top few buttons of his shirt left unbuttoned still lent him a more relaxed air than he had in class. He carried a folder with the forms all filled out under his arm, briefly pausing outside the entrance to scan for his student. He wondered if perhaps he should have asked if they were to meet outside or inside and realized that he had had a very similar anxiety the evening before. This was not a date, of course, and he was early, after all. He sat down on the low stone wall that flanked the entrance to the building -- a rather plain structure on the outskirts of town -- and flipped his phone out to check the time. Nearly 330 and no email to reschedule, he wondered if he ought to have gotten Stephanie's phone number from the student directory before coming. If something had come up he would have had to send her an e-mail, and if she were running late and he wanted to make sure she was still coming that would certainly be a poor way to ensure that she was all right. His imagination ran away with itself for a moment as he imagined all sorts of emergencies from the prosaic to the extreme. Perhaps her car won't start or perhaps she is arrested for a crime she didn't commit... He was scanning the student directory for her number, just in case, when a man in a labcoat blocked the sunlight enough for Caleb to look up. Excuse me, the man said. He was chubby and balding and looked happier than most academics would be working on a lovely saturday afternoon. Are you here for the 330? Caleb nodded and stood up, extending his hand. I am indeed, he said. Caleb Martensen. I'm Dr. Blaylock, he said with a weak handshake, I thought from the appointment log you might be Professor Martensen... the initial processing takes a bit and your partner has already been through the screening, so if you're going to be ready on time, we oughta go ahead and get you started. You ready? Caleb slipped his phone away and picked up the folder he had set beside him. He shrugged. I guess we'll find out. I think these are in order, he said and handed the folder to Blaylock before following him to the door and walking in to begin the screening.