In Memoriam H. R. Requiescat In Pace
(A short story)
The funeral had gone well. As well as such things can go and, after a long reception, the guests had gradually left until there were just the two old friends remaining.
"So, Michael, tell me please, how ever did you two meet?" And he began..."Let me tell you a story...
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They sat down simultaneously and for a moment there was a brief uncomfortable silence. That wasn't unusual in itself but there was something different about it. She seemed familiar. Then it came to him, she had been in his Introduction to International Communications claclas
"So," He said, "You're looking for a supervisor."
"Yes." She nodded. "Dr. Pitman said it was your field and in particular that you'd worked in China."
He hadn't "noticed" her, he never noticed undergraduates except for the occasional "stunner" (she was cuteish after a fashion but no stunner) who would be the talk of the common room for the first week or two of semmester one, but he had recognised her face. It had been a short, third year class, only ten lectures and a short assignment (which, he felt, was more trouble than it was worth). Still, over recent years, the class had grown in size (60 students last year) which, he'd hoped, would save him from any further irksome undergraduate commitments.
Another brief silence and he wondered to himself, how many inconsequential memories he'd gained from five hundred minutes each year staring uninterestedly at dozens of gormless undergraduate faces while reciting the same lectures he'd been delivering for nearly a decdecad
"That's right," He said, "I coordinated and taught on the university's pre-enrolment programme in Beijing for three years. Now, your proposed Master's Thesis...?"
"A Case Study Of An Australasian Joint Venture In Shanghai - The Challenges Presented On Entering A Foreign Market." She announced, proudly.
There were, he thought, two types of Master's by thesis students. There were those who came inordinately proud of their proposed title, many of whom seemed to think that, after weeks of effort in constructing the perfect title, the next 40,000 words (not to mention the lit. review) would take care of themselves. Then, there were those who came with an air of depression and self defeat. They'd spent the entire summer trying to crystalise a research proposal and still weren't sure what they wanted to do.
Generally he preferred the latter because, after some academic counselling, they usually became inspired and needed little additional support except to keep to the word count - he'd known one such student who handed him a first daft of 82,000 words. "Save it for your doctorate." He'd told him". The former, by comparison, were much more work. Generally, they were good solid students but their inspiration frequently began to fade after they'd formulated their perfect title and they needed to be kept focussed and motivated...much more worwor
"Have you identified a business and gained access for your study?" He asked.
"Oh Yes," She replied, still brimming with pride and confidence. Robinson Pacific. It's my father's business. They're lawyers with offices in Sydney, Melbourne, Perth, New Zealand and Fiji and they're opening an office in Shanghai next year."
"I have a draft reading list for my lit. review." She added, after a moment's pause, and handed him a sheet of closely typed titles and authors.
"This is good," He said as he looked down the list, "But they're all books, no papers."
"Yes." She replied. "I was worried because I couldn't find any papers specific to the topitopi
Keen and focussed, he thought. They discussed the work in general and he agreed to supervise it (he didn't have much choice, the Dean, Pitman, had made that quite clear) then they arranged to meet two days later for coffee and to discuss her study in detail.
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...the two men poured another drink and shared a mutual, knowing nod. After a good pull on his brandy Michael continued...
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It was one of those nothing days. Warm and dry but overcast, hardly enough blue in the sky to darn a sailor's sock let alone make him a pair of pants. Yet she was sitting at an outdoor table as he arrived at the cafe. He took a chair opposite her and the waiter was there almost before he was seated.
"Cappuccino." She saisai
"An espresso," He added, "And a double Grand Marnier in a brandy glass."
And what of it, he thought, he had no lectures today, in fact no more contact hours this week, and they were off campus.
He handed her a list of papers to add to her reading list. "This may help with your lit. review." He said. "Have you signed up for Professor Markson's class on academic referencing?"
"I took that last year." She replied, and, for the life of him, he couldn't detect the least hint of a boast in it. Almost unconsciously, he found himself moving his seat closer to hers and, to his quiet astonishment, she, too, moved her seat closer to hishi
"You might also want to take my class on literature review." He added and was surprised that he had said so hopefully. " It's only five lectures - one a day in week four - and no assignments."
"Yes," She said, "I've already registered for it."
They discussed her proposal at length. Bright, he thought. Keen, focussed and bright and surprised himself again to discover he was warming to her.
"I've got tickets for the film festival this afternoon. Would you like to come...
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..."that was foolish of you." He said. But Michael went straight on.
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They watched the film together. His arm went around her shoulder and some mild mutual groping followed and, after it was over, without a word between them, he led her to the Hyatt, which was just a short walk from the university film club.
They made love quietly, gently and slowly and he had the strong impression she was a virgin. Not bad enough that she was half his age and his student, he thought, but a virgin. He imagined a Dean's disciplinary...she couldn't be more than 22 or 23.o
"How old are you?" He asked.
"20," She replied, "I'll be 21 the month after next."
Very bright, he corrected himself.
"You remind me of my daddy." She saisai
He swallowed hard and felt his stomach drop to his pelvic floor. Keen, focussed, very bright and a fucking nutter. Christ! He could pick. His mind alternated between visions of a Dean's disciplinary and a furry animal boiling on his stove...and he couldn't decide which would be worse.
She touched him gently and, as if she'd heard his very thoughts said, "I'm not nuts. It's just that you are like him."
He didn't know whether to respond or grab his clothes and run.
The pragmatist in him took over. It was too late to run and where could he go? He'd still be her supervisor tomorrow mormornin
"So. Where to from here?" He asked.
There was a long, long pause and he was almost thankful when she broke it.
"Please don't interrupt." She started and there was another long pause. "I want to be your slave...no...shush..." He'd been about to interject but she put a finger lightly across his lips. "...I'm not nuts. I saw you at a BDSM show over the summer and I asked and was told you're a Dom. I want you to be my supervisor AND my Master."
He needed to sleep on this...and alone. True, part of him wanted it an
