Wireless, and up to 60 ft! Gushed the sales lady as she laid out the rest of the toys on the table. At the time, you and your friends giggled and rolled your eyes at the absurdity. Who would dare use something like that in public? And now it lay nestled among pink tissue paper, the absent remote an unspoken promise for what awaited you at your Creative Writing class tomorrow.
Professor Hiddleston leaned against the instructor’s desk, hands clasped at his stomach as he surveyed the room as if he owned it. His gaze caught yours as you anxiously shuffled to your seat up in the front row, painfully aware of what nestled so very intimately within you. You smoothed your mini-skirt over your thighs, your legs pressed protectively together. A corner of his lips curled ever the so slightly. He reached down and patted his jacket pocket, and gave you a wink. Then he turned and addressed the class.
“ ’She was a phantom of delight, when first she gleam’d upon my sight. A lovely apparition, sent to be a moment’s ornament.’ William Wordsworth.” The words rolled from his tongue, as if he tasted every syllable that fell from his lips. “Call me old fashioned, but I believe poetry is the key to anyone’s heart. Words can twist and bend the imagination and set fire to the soul.”
Your classmates nodded enthusiastically. All you could do was chew your lip. You didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he could switch it on at any moment and catch you off guard, or the suspense of expecting it to be turned on, but kept waiting in anxious anticipation.
“I trust you all have completed your assignments. Please find your partners from last week and discuss your favorite poems.” His eyes rested on you; he smiled slightly. “For those who missed last week’s class, come see me.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest like a thousand doves as you make your way to the front of the room as everyone else got into their groups.
“You stood me up last week,” he murmured quietly, hands tucked in his pockets. “I was expecting you at class.”
“I had a fever-” Your words caught in your throat as a deep hum reverberated within you, sending white hot jolts through your body. You clenched the edge of his desk, trying to steady yourself as warm tingles shimmied through the core of you.
“Are you alright? You do seem a bit flushed.” He gave you the most innocent smile as he pulled up a metal chair and placed it across from his desk. You stumbled stiffly into the seat, fingers gripping your skirt. The steady hum was low. Hypnotic. Maybe if you focused on your breathing, you could resist it-