Gabby Is Missing: Part Eight

~ beetleypete

This is the eighth part of a fiction serial, in 776 words.

Andrew.

Once she had said she needed help, I knew I was in trouble. Not that it was unknown for lecturers to have relationships with students, but it was frowned upon. And all she needed to do was to say that I had coerced her into having sex, and my career was doomed. After all, I had invited her to my home. She would know the layout of my house in detail, and even worse, be able to describe every part of my naked body.

Even as I kicked myself for the stupidity, and knew I had been played by a teenage expert, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

She was like some kind of feminine heroin, fatally addictive.

So of course I did what she asked, and by mid-term I was not just helping her, I was actually typing out the course work for her, which she signed and handed back as if it was her own. Naturally, it was of a high standard, though it took me some time to re-write into a form that a student would submit.

She got high marks from me too, the highest. I knew the quality of the work would stand up to scrutiny, so I wasn’t concerned.

My reward was in the form of sexual breadcrumbs. Fleeting moments with my office door locked, leaving me wanting more and more. As much as I hated her for manipulating me, I loved her more than life itself, and would have thrown it all away for her with one word.

Everything I had.

If the other students were jealous of her success, I neither knew nor cared. Truth be told, I would have given her anything for one more night in my bed. I was solid proof that a good education doesn’t necessarily make you intelligent. And it certainly fails to make you aware of the ways of the world. At least in my case.

Many evenings, I would sit alone. Not bothering with food, drinking too much wine, and wishing she was there next to me. I had imagined my wife and son reading the headlines in the newspapers if Gabby ever went public. They would nod their heads, with that justification that they had been right about me all along.

Then one night, a taxi arrived outside my house. Something unusual in my village at night.

She swept in, fragrant and confident. “Please pay the taxi, Andy. I find myself temporarily short of funds”. There was wine, and another takeaway meal delivered late. Then there was my bed, and that same joy I had been savouring in my mind for weeks. The bill for that came the next morning. Over coffee, as she waited for the taxi I had ordered and paid for, she spoke very casually. Not a question, a done deal.

Andy sweetheart, I really need to shine. I have to be top in my set, get an outstanding degree. I am counting on you to do that for me, my love”.

Like a love-struck idiot, I nodded. “Leave it to me, Gabby. You will get a double-first.” I didn’t even know if I could make that happen, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. If I kept up the high standard, there was no real reason why that shouldn’t happen.

As she grabbed her things to be ready for the arrival of the taxi, she spoke in a matter of fact way. “Let me have some cash, honey. Save me going to the bank machine. A hundred should do it”. I only had seventy in my wallet, and she took that with a shrug. “Okay, I suppose that will have be enough”.

As the cab drove away, I tried to be angry with myself. I was writing up her course work, paying for her taxis, and now giving her cash. I hadn’t said a single word that even remotely sounded as if I was standing up for myself. I had wanted to ask her what I meant to her. If I meant anything to her at all.

But I was too scared to hear her answer.

When we were next alone at the uni, I tried to be chatty, asking her how the move had gone, and what she thought of the house. How was she getting on with her house-mates. All fair questions, and very normal. Or so I thought. She was not amused.

“Why all the questions? You are getting very clingy, Andy. I don’t like clingy people”.

She left in a huff, and my voice sounded pathetic as I called after her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that”.

44 thoughts on “Gabby Is Missing: Part Eight”

  8. (1) “Even as I kicked myself for the stupidity…” Andy must be a contortionist. I could never kick myself.
    (2) Andy couldn’t get Gabby out of his mind. The worst part is that she was trampling on all fifty shades of his gray matter with red spike heels. (Note: Representatives for Christian Louboutin and E.L. James refused to comment on this incident.)
    (3) “She was like some kind of feminine heroin, fatally addictive.” (Nick Curran, when asked about Catherine Tramell)
    (4) Andy is a crusty old man who should stick to earning dough as a teacher rather than settling for sexual breadcrumbs.
    (5) “Truth be told, I would have given her anything for one more night in my bed.” Except a chastity belt, I presume.
    (6) Overheard:
    Gabby: “Andy sweetheart, I really need to shine.”
    Andy: “How about I book a room at the Overlook Hotel? There’s a lot of shining going on up there.”
    (7) Pinocchio got tired of Geppetto stringing him along, so he finally stood up for himself. And by himself, too.
    (8) Gabby left on a Huffy. Andy rode a Schwinn. Perhaps they were incompatible?
    (9) “My voice sounded pathetic.” (Mortimer Snerd, complaining to Edgar Bergen)

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  9. How will this go? Gabby will cross a line where one of her suitors decides to end her (Gabby’s) life when she threatens to out them? That’s where my mind is right now. Of course, I’ll be around to see if I’m right. Good job so far, Pete!

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