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SIXTY-THREE: Still, He Has Nothing To Say
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2025-12-04 22:00:46I curse myself for not running faster when I could. For letting him stop me in the first place.
I shake my head, my face a stony grimace. My eyes tell him not to close the few steps that lie between us.Why do I always let him stop me?The silence between us is heavy. There is so much that needs to be said, but for a few simmering moments, neither of us is brave enough to say them. He stares at me. Silent and longing, not his usual pensive self. I couldn’t read him if I tried. He is blank, his eyes nearly reflecting my blue-clad frame. As if that is all he is taking in."How... how are you?"I retract my neck and feel my face bunch in confusion.How are you? I stare back at Harlan as if he's just spoken to me in a foreign language and there is no hope in translating his meaning.After he's spoken, the two of us are silent for a long moment. When the silence becomes too awful to bear, we both speak at the same time."It's good to see–""Why are you
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SUBMISSION 101 SEVENTY-SEVEN: It's Time To Make A House Call
Milo and Jax are silent for a long time after I finish talking. Rhea is too, but somehow in a completely different way. While she sits there with her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs with the guilt of knowledge, the other two gape at me openly, as if trying to decide whether or not I am playing some sort of sick, practical joke on them. The longer they look at me, the more I feel like I am shrinking, and the more I want to melt into the cracks of the couch cushions beneath me. In my mind briefly flickers the image of Horace Slughorn from the sixth Harry Potter, and in that moment, I too wish I can transform into a piece of furniture to flee from my accountabilities, nondescript and guiltless. And unable to be attacked by my friends.I am exceptionally grateful when Jax finally licks his lips and leans forward in his seat: the tell-tale sign that he is about to say something as soon as he is done grappling with his thoughts. Even if he tells me he thinks I am disgusting and
SUBMISSION 101 SEVENTY-SIX: I've Got Something To Tell You
Oh–oh. I know from experience, of course, that he likes to slap me during sex. But it isn’t ever really that hard or aggressive, and a part of me had thought that it just occurs from the heat of the moment. But this…this…he likes it. He likes the pain. He likes…being hurt. And he likes that I hurt him. I swallow both my spit and my surprise, and lift myself back up onto the counter, lifting my chin. He waits for me to motion him to approach, but when I finally do, he lunges to me, taking me in his arms in the blink of an eye, wrapping himself around me and capturing me with a smouldering, desperate kiss. Our tongues slide and fight, and my hands dart to grip his belt-loops, yanking him closer to me. Now, he drips and aches and finally, finally, I am ready to let him give me what I want. I don’t remove his clothes. That way, he still has his tie, and I can use it to control him. I begin working on his belt, unbuckling it, and stroking his cock slowly thr
SUBMISSION 101 SEVENTY-FIVE: Who's Weak Now, Professor?
Lips…lips that are soft and hot, but the motion is violent, like he is starving. I am starving too, I realize, and don’t even give question to the possibility of resisting. Professor Harlan turns me, shoving me against the counter.Then, she is gone – the young woman who’d developed a violent crush on her professor a year ago. And I am back. I shove him away but keep my clutches around the collar of his dress shirt. My eyes are dark.“I’ll show you weak,” I spit, giving him another good shove so he is turned around, taking my place pinned against the counter.I grip his tie with one hand and grip his jaw with the other, nails biting into his skin. He groans slowly as I slip my tongue forcefully into his mouth. He steadies his hands on the counter, knocking over papers and supplies. I pin him in place with my hips against his, and the demand within his pants is growing evermore urgent. I don’t ignore it; in fact, I brush against it with my own hips over and over again, ju
SUBMISSION 101 SEVENTY-FOUR: It's Just Me... And Him
This is slightly better. At least if I am going to talk, I am somewhat isolated now, even if the entire building is empty with the exception of me and him; sometimes it just feels better to be behind closed doors.He stands a foot in front of the door. I stand facing him as far against the other wall as I can without bumping into the copier. It only leaves a few feet in between us. His eyes are dark and narrowed. His jaw is set. Nothing about him indicates that he is nervous or emotional in any way – nothing except the way his chest seems to heave, only slightly, as he draws in breath. I stare back at him. It is silent for some time. Nothing is said, no noise made, save for the sound of my laboured, heated breathing. It is quiet on the surface, but the air is thick, riddled with everything that has been left unsaid.And it is enough to fill the entire fucking room.I lose myself then.It is as if I black out. I don’t remember lunging for him, my arm bending at the el
SUBMISSION 101 SEVENTY-THREE: The People Here Are Different
The next morning at the office is a rough one. The back of my head houses a dull and persistent ache, compliment of my severe lack of sleep from the night before. Every time I pass a reflective surface, I wince at the sight of the grey circles underneath my eyes. I look sunken and exhausted.And I look empty.But at least I’ve had two weeks of uneventful stagnation. Because after Grace approaches me with my new assignment, I’d give anything for some good old deep dissatisfaction instead of what I have on my plate now.“I’m really sorry,” she tells me, “but the receptionist at the Press had her baby, like, weeks early. And her replacement isn’t ready to take over yet.”“Oh,” I mutter, my brain rapidly spinning ideas that might get me out of having to go work in Professor Harlan’s office. Shouldn’t temps replacing employees on maternity leave be prepped for this kind of thing? Isn’t that sort of…the whole point? Has one person been ill-prepared for only me to pay the p
SUBMISSION 101 SEVENTY-TWO: Too Late To Go Back
"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me."I sigh, purse my lips, and stare blankly at the living-room ceiling. Rhea has been pacing the lower level of our house for fifteen minutes, cycling through every possible version of disbelief."And you had no idea he was going to be there?" she sputters, bursting back into the room, looking at me almost accusingly.I sit upright, muscles locking. "I hope you’re not implying what I think you are, Rhea," I snap."Sorry! I just… you said it was independently owned. Doesn’t it seem a little convenient that Harlan’s press owns yours?"I lurch forward. "It was supposed to be independent!" I spit. "And this isn’t convenient, it’s my fucking nightmare! He’s everywhere!" I squeal, then flop back and bury my face in my hands.Even when Harlan was still on campus actively ruining my life, I could count on Rhea. Now I’m terrified I’m about to lose her too."I think I’m gonna take a nap and get ready for the party," I say flatly,
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