After making a total spectacle of herself, Allison decided to stay in her seat until nearly everyone else left the auditorium. She couldn’t bear the thought of standing in the bottlenecked lines waiting to get out the door.

Barclay, on the other hand, made his move to leave the second the professor started to leave the stage. He smiled at Allison, said, “Catch ya later,” and then high-fived one of his buddies on the way to the door.

Getting a bit paranoid, Allison wondered if Barc was simply saying hi to a friend, or was secretly letting him know that he had made a move on her in the dark. She shook her head with a laugh. As if making a move on someone like me was something to brag about, she thought with a tinge of sadness. She rolled her eyes, gathered her things, and then made her way two buildings over to American Lit. Oh how she was dreading that dry class, but it was something English majors couldn’t easily escape.

As it turned out, the class was fairly small--just a dozen or so students. Like grade schoolers, the professor made them scoot their desks into a large circle to “facilitate communication” as the pretentious instructor put it. Just glancing around the room Allison knew she was in for it. Of course there was the geeky set with glasses, but the scariest ones were the preppy guys in branded polo shirts and chinos. Not jeans like everyone else on campus wore. Heavens no. Almost equally terrifying was the trio of nicely dressed women who stuck their noses up in the air and only spoke with one another. Allison sighed, wishing this class were over and she was on her way to ENGL 369. Now there was a class she really couldn’t wait for. She wanted to be a writer, and any other class she took was little more than a price to pay for getting there.

Allison pulled out her journal and began free writing as the rest of the students chattered in their cliques waiting for class to start. She dreaded the phony commentary and literature analysis that was sure to come, so she focused on her honors creative writing class instead, and prayed that none of the students in this class were in it.

Allison really had no right to judge these people, and she knew it. After all, she hadn’t even seen them in action yet. It was just a gut feeling she had… Allison sighed as the old cliché “You can’t tell a book by its cover” came to mind. While that may not be the best way to navigate through life, at least she was consistent. Allison didn’t think she’d be accepted by guys because of her plain Jane appearance either. With a shrug, she went back to writing in her journal.

Mercifully, the time passed quickly. The class discussion was a blur as Allison was only half-listening, but she promised herself she’d pay closer attention next time. She was simply too excited about her next class to concentrate.

As she trotted down the stairs toward the building’s exit, Allison ran into Kaija. “Hey, roomie!” she called up the steps with a wave. Allison’s eyes lit up at the sight of a friend. Of course she probably wouldn’t be a friend any longer if she knew what Barclay had done in Psych class, but she wasn’t even going there.

“What’s a music major like you doing in a building like this?” Allison teased, catching up to her.

Kaija giggled. “Freshman comp,” she responded simply. “Don’t you have to take it, too? Every freshman does.”

Allison shook her head. “I tested out of it.”

“Well excuuuuuuse me !” Kaija teased, sticking her nose up in the air for fun. The girls laughed as they stood on the walkway in front of the English building. Kaija glanced at her watch. “I’ve got Band until 5 o’clock. Wanna meet for dinner around 5:15?”

It was cutting it tight time-wise for Allison’s 6:30 creative writing class across campus, but she would rather gulp her food with a friend than dine alone. “Yeah, I’ll see ya there!” She waved as Kaija ran in the direction of the Fine Arts Center.

Deciding to kill some time before dinner, Allison headed over to the Student Union building. A trip to the campus book store was in order, she decided. While she had already purchased the necessary textbooks and supplies, she was in the mood to shop.

Wandering around the book store was a blast for Allison. The kinds of things they managed to print the school’s mascot on amazed her. In addition to the usual t-shirts and sweatshirts, there were MSU woven blankets, imprinted golf balls, shot classes, coffee mugs, mouse pads, notebooks, teddy bears, baby bibs, an MSU-branded version of Monopoly, CDs of the school’s marching band… The list went on and on. It was easy to see that Allison could do the lion’s share of her holiday shopping right here!

Seeing it was closing in on 5 o’clock, Allison proceeded to the front of the store. Then she spotted it—one lone Harlequin romance novel in a display rack by the cash register. It seemed odd that a college book store would carry such a book, but Allison was intrigued by it just the same. “Passion in the Park by Sally Collins” she read, picking up one of the three remaining copies of the book.

She flipped the book over so she could read the blurb on the back. Ah, the story was set in Maryland, that’s why the store carried the book. Local interest, she assumed. Allison had always wanted to read such a book, but it wasn’t exactly something you did as a Catholic school student. But she wasn’t in Catholic school anymore, she reminded herself. As if she needed to justify her actions further, she reminded herself that the book was set locally. Could be very educational, she decided with a grin.

Allison purchased the book, and then tucked it safely away in her backpack for later reading.

After a nice leisurely dinner with Kaija and Barclay, Allison headed back to the English building for her creative writing class. She was so excited, that she could have sworn her heart started to beat faster as she approached the room. Finally, she stood outside the door of room 222, a room that was located at the far end of the building on the second floor.

Taking a deep breath to chase away the nerves, she reached for the doorknob to enter. Room 222 was unlike any classroom she had ever seen. Instead of being furnished with desks or tables and chairs, soft sofas lined the edges of the modest sized carpeted room.

Allison was the first one there, except for a young sandy blond-haired guy with amazing green eyes who sat in the corner in a single overstuffed chair. “Uh, isn’t that chair meant for the teacher?” she asked, her eyes skimming the other seats in the room. He was clearly sitting in the most prominent location, and being the only chair in the room, it seemed logical that it was meant for the lecturing professor.

“Hi, nice to meet you, too,” the man returned, flashing a dimpled smile. He stood up to shake her hand.

Allison blushed. Leave it to her to meet a hunk of a guy and instead of introducing herself to him, she accuses him of sitting in the wrong place. God Delaney, no wonder why you’ve never had a boyfriend, she thought, her cheeks growing even warmer.

“Colin Salinger,” he introduced, his warm smooth hand gripping hers firmly.

Her mouth fell open, just a bit, as she stared up at him, momentarily forgetting her name. “Uh, Allison Delaney,” she finally croaked, mesmerized by those incredible green eyes. Then it hit her, like an icy snowball making contact with soft warm skin. “Colin Salinger?” she repeated, her eyes widening. Jesus, could she have made a bigger fool of herself?

Colin nodded quietly, as he returned to the spot that was indeed his as the teacher of the course.

Allison opened her mouth to apologize, but thought better of it as the door opened and more students straggled in. At that moment, she made a conscious decision to sit as far away from Professor Salinger as she could. She would have rather blended into the walls or left altogether, but this class was far too important to her. Hopefully she hadn’t blown her chances of passing it by acting like such an idiot. 

Once the last of the students had filed in, Professor Salinger stood up in front of his chair. “Good evening, I’m Colin Salinger. Welcome to English 369: Honors Creative Writing.” The class giggled, but Allison couldn’t figure out why. She made a mental note to ask Kaija about it when she got home.

“As you know,” Professor Salinger continued, “the twelve of you were hand-selected for this class based on your writing samples. Given that, you can rest assured I’ll be pushing you to your limits.” The professor, who Allison was certain, had to be the youngest teacher on campus, wandered over to the window, looked out, and then turned around. “Now open your notebooks,” he directed, sitting back down. “We’re going to try a little exercise,” he explained, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

The sounds of backpack zippers and turning notebook pages filled the room with a flurry of activity. Once everyone was settled, Professor Salinger went on with the assignment. “Being advanced writing students, you’ve all undoubtedly heard the expression ‘show, don’t tell’ ad nauseum.” He looked around the room at the nodding heads for confirmation. “What we’re going to do this evening is try to heighten your awareness of your environment.” He clasped his hands together and raised them to his lips, appearing to gather his thoughts. “What I want you to do is close your eyes for just two minutes and open all of your senses. Experience every sound, smell, and sensation around you. When I tell you to open your eyes, I want you to write down everything you remember—the tickle of a fly landing on your arm; the smell of a classmate’s cologne; the sound of someone sneezing…every little thing you experience during that two minutes. Any questions?” When no one raised their hand or spoke up, Professor Salinger looked at his watch, paused, and then said, “Ready, set, go!”

Allison closed her eyes, a bit uneasy at doing so in a room full of strangers. But she complied obediently. It took her a while to tune in to her environment, but once she did, she was surprised by the number of things she was going to have to write about.

The buzz of a mosquito…the sound of a woman in high heels walking down the tiled hall…the tickle of her sofa-mate’s shirt sleeve as she shifted in her seat…the smell of a wintergreen Tic-Tac coming from someone close by…the sound of coins dropping into the pop machine and subsequent clunk of the can falling down the chute….a gentle breeze as the professor presumably walked by…giggles from a group of students walking by the building…the hum of the fluorescent lights…a door slamming in the distance… Allison was truly amazed by the number of things that were going to make her list.

Professor Salinger’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.” The students looked at one another, mouths open in shock at the result of their experience. “Now I want you to divide the notebook page into three columns. We’ll call one Sounds, the middle one Smells, and the last one Feelings. Once you’ve written down the column labels, you can begin writing down your experiences from each category. And once you’re done, we’ll do some sharing.”

Pens clicked, readying for action; pencils squeaked on paper; and erasers rubbed frantically to alter words. Apparently everyone had had a large number of items to record, because when Professor Salinger told everyone to stop because it was time to share their findings, several protests of “Wait,” “Two more minutes, please?” filled the room.

Allison, who had finished writing everything down, watched as Colin Salinger made his way around the room to check on students’ progress. As he bent over to speak to one student, Allison immediately noticed his tight, narrow butt, each curve outlined with clingy khaki-colored fabric.

God, am I becoming a pervert or what, Allison wondered, mortified that she’d notice such a thing about one of her teachers. She finally decided that it was merely the incident with the couple in the bathroom shower and seeing Kaija naked and, uh, pleasuring herself that had her thinking about such things. At least that was what she wanted to believe…

 “Okay,” Professor Salinger said, standing in front of his chair and clasping his hands. “I think we’re ready to begin.” Allison assumed he’d start with the student immediately to his right or left, but he didn’t. His captivating green eyes focused deep into her puppy dog brown eyes, and he said, “Ms. Delaney, would you like to start?” His question was punctuated with a dimpled smile that was enough to make Allison swoon.

She shivered at the sound of his voice calling her ‘Ms. Delaney’. It made her feel so…grown up. Did he see her as a grown up, or was it just a mere formality with him? Either way, she was scared—scared he addressed everyone that way; therefore she wasn’t special. And scared that he did in fact see her as a woman rather than a girl. A fine sheen of perspiration collected on her brow as she cleared her throat and began reading aloud from her various columns.

When Allison had finished, Professor Salinger instructed the person to her left to read any items he had on his list that weren’t on hers. They were to make their way around the room in that manner until every single item they had come up with had been listed. Allison noticed with a satisfied smile that she was the only one the professor had addressed by name.

By the time each student had read their list to the class, Professor Salinger’s point had been driven home. “To create a story that’s truly alive, you need to incorporate all of the senses. As you’ve just witnessed, even when you think there aren’t any to draw on, there may be a whole bunch that you’re missing. It’s a simple exercise really, but one we as writers should take the time to do from time-to-time. Just to keep us grounded in what works, you know?” His voice trailed off as he contemplated the next assignment.

“Before we take a short break, I’d like to let everyone know that from this point on, we’re going to move class to my house. It’s much more conducive to writing than this room is, and we can snack while we work. Here are the directions,” he said, passing out sheets of paper to each student. “Why don’t you use part of the break to arrange car pools and such,” Professor Salinger suggested.

The class broke up, some heading for the pop machine, others headed for the rest room. A few merely lingered in the room like Allison did. Two busty students walked up to the professor, fiddling with their hair and moving their chests to draw attention to their assets. Sickened by the sight, Allison pulled her journal out of her backpack and began writing. Not surprisingly, the first topic that came to mind was the to-die-for professor himself—Colin Salinger. 

Allison was never one to fantasize. After all, that’s not what good Catholic girls did. But the last twenty-four hours had made her so curious about so many things, things she’d never before considered. Like in the shower that very morning…she desperately wanted to touch herself like Kaija did. Just to see what it felt like. But it seemed so wrong... And there was something about the couple getting it on in the shower that fascinated Allison, but those were all forbidden activities. The nuns at her old high school didn’t exactly say so, but the way they spoke of French kissing being a sin, Allison was certain the other activities were far worse.

But that brought up an interesting point. Writing about something wasn’t actually doing it. Could she have found a way to explore those pleasures without writing herself a one-way ticket to hell? Sure, lusty thoughts were wrong, too, but she technically wouldn’t thinking them, she would be writing them… For a little extra insurance, she could name the person something radically different from her own name. Something like Rebecca. That was it; she always liked that name…

Grinning at the solution to her little problem, Allison balanced the notebook on her knee and started writing at warp speed.

“Rebecca was the last student to leave the classroom. She lingered purposely, jockeying for some alone time with the handsome young instructor. She had to know if he was attracted to her in the same electric way that she was attracted to him. Had to feel his arms around her, taste his warm moist lips…”

Allison’s heart beat faster as she immersed herself in the scene.

“She sauntered up to the young man as he secured his laptop in a leather attaché case. She leaned over him just enough to give him a good view or her cleavage. ‘Hi, handsome,’ she greeted in a deep sexy voice with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. ‘I was hoping you’d stay,’ he returned, placing the briefcase in the overstuffed chair he had been occupying moments before. He gathered her in his arms, the subtle musky scent of his cologne made her smile. She could hear his heart beat as she placed her turned head against his chest. One searing hand rubbed her back through the silk blouse, while the other tilted her chin up to his face. Rebecca’s lips parted ever so slightly, giving him the invitation he needed. His mouth captured hers hungrily. Tentatively, she slid her tongue into his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny. A soft moan escaped from her lips as their kiss intensified.” 

Allison gnawed on the cap of her pen nervously. It wasn’t the best prose she’d ever written, but what does a naïve Catholic girl know about writing steamy love scenes anyway? She could learn that, she decided, still chewing on the end of the pen.

A voice broke her concentration. It was the pair of girls who sauntered up to the professor at the beginning of the break. “Professor Salinger thought you might need a ride next week,” the blond said. Allison shook her head to flush away the memories of what she had been writing. “My name’s Mandy and I live on campus, too. We could take my car.”

Mandy was pleasant enough, but Allison dreaded making the trip with two bubble-headed model types. She did need to get to class somehow, however, so she reluctantly agreed to join the twosome on their mini road trip. “Thanks,” Allison smiled.

Then she noticed the redhead looking down in the direction of her knee. Allison’s eyes widened in horror; she had forgotten to turn the notebook over when the girls approached her. Shit! Not a very Catholic girl thing to think, but the only word that seemed appropriate given the circumstances.

The redhead someone had referred to earlier as Erica smiled. “Don’t worry,” she grinned. “We think he’s pretty hot, too!” She winked and then turned away, heading for the door. Mandy followed.

Warm with embarrassment yet again, Allison sank into her end of the sofa, holding her hand over her eyes to hide her reddening face from her classmates.

Chapter 4