Reputation(42)
And I’d like to make that happen . . . and more. I just need to figure out her stakes. How to ensure it doesn’t go up in flames. Basically, I need to make sure it doesn’t go the way of what happened with Alfred Manning months before.
I thought I’d read Manning right when I’d planned out the scam. I’d paid my dues by being his faithful assistant for months, enduring meetings with Marilyn O’Leary, endless coffee runs, boring discussions about policies and staff changes and budgetary blah blah blah and admissions requirements and a meeting with Barack Obama, which unfortunately I hadn’t gotten to attend. I’d pretended, postured, become the perfect Aldrich girl he needed. Hell, I even audited classes in case Manning, for some reason, memorized my Aldrich schedule and quizzed me on the subjects. I knew what his stakes were—his milieu wouldn’t look kindly on the news that the president of the university got busy with his student assistant. And that night in December, I was ready to pounce. This was going to be an even better version of Dr. Rosen. I was so ready to take his cash.
He’d invited me over to his house in Blue Hill to screen the latest Aldrich promotional video and make notes. We’d meant to do it in the office, but he was mired in meetings—and the notes were due that Monday.
It was almost too good to be true. His house, where we’d be alone? No cameras, no nosy Marilyn? He was almost asking for what I had in store. I was ready, too: the hemline of my blush-colored silk dress stopped at the top of my thighs. My shoes were high, pointy-toed, and expensive. My hair was blown out and soft around my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle and sexy. Ringing his bell, I shivered—I’d left my heavy winter coat at home. But big coats weren’t sexy, and tonight, it was go sexy or go home.
The door swung open, and there was Manning, dressed in a fitted, long-sleeved tee and slim-cut jeans that seemed to belie his sixty-nine years. But he looked confused at my appearance. “Did you come here without a coat? Aren’t you freezing?”
“I’m not,” I said, trying to bite back my annoyance. I lowered my lashes and gave him a playful punch on the arm. “But I’d love to come in.”
“Well.” Manning tugged his collar. I couldn’t tell if he was feeling bashful or awkward. “Yes, do. Come in and get warm.”
I sashayed past him. I could tell he was looking at my ass. Good, good, good.
We walked through the house and into the basement, which was carpeted and smelled like lemon Pledge. Manning flicked on a light in a room to reveal a small theater with tiered rows of plush seats and a large screen at the front, framed by velvet curtains. “Wow,” I said. “Swanky.”
He found a seat. I slid right next to him, a notebook in one hand. The seats shared armrests, and I made sure to drape my arm over his armrest in hopes our hands would bump. My gaze drifted to the side of the room. A door was ajar, and inside I saw a long bathroom counter where several pill bottles were lined up. I wondered if anything fun was in those bottles. Something we could do together.
As Manning dimmed the lights, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. Earlier that day, I’d downloaded a video app that could film in near darkness. Manning was busy fumbling with the remote and didn’t see me prop the phone on the far arm of the adjacent chair at such an angle that it would capture both of us in the frame. I felt a pang of regret. It was starting. There was no turning back now.
The opening credits to the promotional film filled the screen. Ever so slightly, I angled my legs toward Manning’s. He didn’t move. My heart was a jackhammer. I could sense the video counter ticking upward, logging every moment. I slid my left hand down our shared armrest toward his lap. On the screen, Alfred appeared, speaking about Aldrich’s long tradition of excellence.
“Oh!” I cried, grabbing his hand. “It’s you!”
He chuckled. “In the flesh.”
Then he turned to me, a curious sparkle in his eye. You can do it, I urged him telepathically. I won’t bite. I pushed out my breasts. Touch me. Nobody will see. Nobody will know. I glanced toward the open door to the little bathroom again. Let’s pop some of those pills. Get crazy.
Then Manning’s eyes darted to the seat past me. “What’s that?” He pointed.
“What’s what?” My voice was a strange, high-pitched warble. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I realized that my phone was more visible than I’d anticipated. The screen glowed faintly, reflecting the resplendent campus meadow in the film.
I palmed the phone and tucked it into my bag, then turned to the screen. “Oh my God, the quad looks gorgeous with all those cherry blossoms!”
Manning was still staring. A strange glaze came over his eyes, and his features seemed to distort. “Raina,” he said in a low voice. “Perhaps it was a mistake for you to come.”
“W-What?” I could feel the smile melting on my face.
“I want you to leave.”
I was thrown that he’d figured me out so fast. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” But then I stared down at my bare legs, my tits hanging out. I looked ridiculous.
And then it was just . . . over. I couldn’t go to his office that next Monday. I wondered, actually, if I’d ever set foot on Aldrich campus again. The prospect gave me chest pains. Aldrich University had seeped into me. I didn’t want to leave its walls. I sat down on the frigid curb outside his house, too numb to cry. It felt like I’d run into a brick wall. Like I’d fallen down a deep, endless hole.