The Old History building had an aura of age and faded prosperity but it smelled like rotted wood left out on a British beach for a decade. The stench clung to his clothes at night and did nothing for the papers that sat steeping day after day on his desk. The only thing that could make it worse was the air conditioner that blasted his desk with slightly cooler air and powerful fumes every time he sat down. A handful of small statue replications stood across his desk like some sort of general's invasion plan as they bravely fought against the wind that tugged at his flapping pages.
He picked up a bust of Robert Walpole and retrieved one of his post-it notes. Puzzling through his handwriting for a moment, he turned to his computer and added it to the digital notes before finding a place where it would be appropriate to add to his thesis.
“You were late,” came an sharp voice from the door. It was Hannah, the Associate Professor and his supervisor.
He looked up. She was a beautiful woman with large breasts that begged to be spilled out into his hands but her prickly attitude made it impossible of even jerking off to her image at night. He cleared his throat and gestured to the computer. “For the meeting? I was here like you asked.”
“I said to meet me in the boardroom.”
She was wrong, the meeting said his office. He tapped the keyboard to unlock the screen. “The meeting invite said to meet here—”
“No, I clearly said the boardroom,” she interrupted with the tone of voice that didn't acknowledge reality. Her wire-frame glasses sparkled in the light and her hair quivered under the breeze that blew away from his desk.
He glanced at her, fighting the urge to prove her wrong and risk another screaming fit. He sighed and pulled his hands away. “Sorry,” he said, hating that she was always finding something.
“Well, you wasted most of my morning. Let's see what you've pulled together since last week.”
The meeting was only scheduled for an hour, but he didn't think it mattered to her at that point. He unlocked his computer to print it off.
Hannah came around. “Move out of the way,” she snapped.
He tried to back up but the only place to go was up against the wall next to his desk, trapped unless he was willing to touch her; something she stated in no uncertain terms would get him thrown out of the program and school in an instant.
Her phone rang out. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. With a huff, she swiped to ignore and bent over to page through his document. Occasionally, her body would shift closer to him as she lifted herself up to type directly into his document without using a comment or track changes.
John couldn't help notice that she wore a skirt that highlighted the beautiful curves of her ass that were dangerously close to his hand. He turned his head away from her and took in a shuddering breath that brought the sweet smell of her perfume to dazzle him. It was difficult to concentrate with his natural urge to look at her perfect ass or the legs presented by her heels.
Hannah's phone rang again. She straightened up, her breasts looming over his seated position. Pulling it out, she sighed. “What is wrong with that girl?” she muttered before smacking it on his desk.
One of the busts toppled and papers began to slip off the page.
John reached out but then caught himself as his hand almost brushed the back of her thighs. With a gasp, he yanked his hand back.
Hannah glared at him. Then jammed one fingers against the screen. “What the hell is this? I thought you cut the section about Mark Hunking? No one cares about how his younger brother cheated on him.”
John sighed. “I think it's important in showing the parallels to his brother's actions. Benning would later use the same justifications as his brother did in his letters to his creditors after his bankruptcy.”
“It isn't useful at all. There is nothing similar between the two.”
John struggled for a moment. He made the note before and still felt it was right, but Hannah's demands were difficult to resist. She was his supervisor and was also responsible for him getting a doctorate, but she obviously didn't care for Benning Wentworth or John's study of his reign of corruption.
Her phone rang out again.
“Oh, for God's sake.” Leaning against his desk and giving him no quarter to escape, she answered sharply, “What is it, Ester?”
The annoyed look on her face faltered for a moment, then came back with a surge of anger. “What the hell?”
More speaking, higher pitched and rapid. John knew that Hannah had two twin daughters, Ester and Ruth, but he hadn't met them and Hannah only kept the photos on her phone, not on her desk.
Terrified of getting caught, John stared down at his feet as he listened to his supervisor's phone. It went on for a moment.
“Oh, for God's sake,” muttered Hannah again, “let me call the school.”
She hung up on her daughter and called another number while glaring at John.
He folded his hands and waited, wanting to get back to work or escape but she made no effort to get out of his way and he wasn't going to suggest anything in the foul mood that radiated from her in a palatable field.
“Yeah, give me the damn principle. ...I don't care, get the bitch out and answering the phones! You have protesters outside of the school and you don't report it to the parents! We have a right to know what's going on and I shouldn't be hearing it from my daughters!” A tinny response. “I don't care if they are exercising their free speech shit or not, I don't want my children at risk because those cops in the school decided to keep out of the way. What are you paying them for? What if it turns ugly with those plague rats outside!?”
She stood up, bumping John as she spun around. Her ass shoved him up against the wall for a moment, crushing him in the soft cushion, before she stormed out. “Of course I'm going to get them out! If you can't do your damn job, I'm coming right over there and getting my girls away before they get hurt!”
Hannah stormed out of his office. “You will be hearing from my lawyer too!”
John let out a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't be facing the brunt of Hannah's answer for a little while. He listened until he heard her leaving while still yelling into the phone before returning to his computer. A quick “Save As…” and then holding down the Undo button let him use Track Changes to figure out what alterations she made and if they made sense.
Still stinging about the disagreement about the entry about Mark, he decided to leave that and just focus on the other criticisms.