Home CommentaryStudent Life Just another Mr. Boob

Just another Mr. Boob

by Archives January 20, 2009

Mr. Boob had known his eldest daughter, Salima, for years. Because of him her soft brown eyes now looked straight at men, older men in particular, because she wanted to ward them away by appearing confident and happy. She began a psychology class and naturally felt threatened by a student who was much older. Donald was tall, thin, with no hair and small glasses. He wore insanely coloured shirts that contrasted with the younger students’ very conservative blues and browns. He joked in class, made everyone feel comfortable. Even the professor seemed amused by his good-natured intrusions. Salima compulsively watched him from across the lecture hall, making sure he never saw her silent interrogation. Unfortunately they were assigned to a group discussion and she could no longer avoid him.
“Well, which madness shall we present?” Donald asked, rubbing his hands as if choosing a mental illness were the same as picking dessert.
“How about OCD?” one of the four girls asked. “You seem to be knowledgeable about it!” And she imitated his hand-rubbing as if it were compulsive washing.
Everyone laughed, except Salima, who almost barked, “Can we get this done? We only have 20 minutes.”
Donald looked at her for the first time. Though she tried to meet his gaze confidently she was shaken inside when his pleasant blue eyes impossibly changed into brown pools of flashing deception. His hands were before her, dirty burrowing animals about to quietly move against her skin: she was paralysed by that awful feeling between her legs. She held Donald’s gaze in a desperate attempt to appear at ease. He raised his eyebrows and looked away so she would relax.
“Well, whatever!” another girl, Kathy said, noticing the two were having a moment.
The summary they were to organize went quickly and Donald presented it to the class in masterful style, making everyone laugh at the right parts and become serious about the important ones.
“What was that all about?” Kathy asked Donald as they blended into the din of students in the hall.
“I have no idea,” Donald said, looking around to be sure Salima was not behind him, “she went blank and just kept staring at me.”
“Maybe she likes you,” Kathy said, squeezing Donald’s hand for a second, sure that no one would notice in the crowd.
“Please,” Donald smiled, “I have my hands full with you.”
Kathy was more than half Donald’s age, away from her family, and really wanted to have good sex for the first time. She had let two young men share her residence bed and they had been dreadful. She became curious about Donald after those experiences, his strong hands and open manner drawing her to him. She asked him for help with the first multiple-choice exam.
“Are you sure you need my help?” Donald said, after meeting her in a fourth floor library study room. “You seem to know more than I do.”
“I do have a good memory,” Kathy agreed. “But I wanted to study with someone smart.”
“If I were smart I wouldn’t be attending university at 48 years of age.”
“Good point!” Kathy laughed, smiling warmly, comfortably, her small breasts feeling pleasant in the heavy brassiere she liked to hide them with. They finished their three hours and other students came to the door to take the room. They packed up their books.
“Can I drive you home?” Donald asked. “It’s pretty dark out there now.”
“I live on campus.”
“Cool and groovy,” Donald nodded.
“Would you like to come see my room?” Kathy asked.
“Not really,” Donald laughed, sure he misunderstood her boldness.
Kathy was disappointed, but she studied with him over the next week and they wrote the exam.
“You are the best!” Donald congratulated her when they returned in January. They had both gotten in the high 90s. Kathy laughed and asked him to come to her room for a celebratory tea. This time he didn’t misunderstand and went with her.
Oh, what shock he was to Kathy! He talked her out of her clothes, he talked to her as he kissed and touched her, and he kept talking as she came against his soft, warm, confident hand. They didn’t even have “real” sex until much later and Kathy didn’t care. She felt so close to Donald. That was why she noticed Salima’s odd look: was Salima aware how special a person Donald was?
Kathy was lean, with long athletic legs. She had never thought of herself as beautiful, but Donald did: she could see by the warm light in his eyes as he touched her, kissing her with his words and soft, soft lips. For the first time in her 21 years she felt at ease with her body. She was studying to be a nurse, but Donald told her she was being foolish and to become a doctor. He made her feel beautiful and powerful. She found out what she needed to do to apply to medical school and she reorganized her courses and her thoughts about her abilities.
In class Kathy never sat with Donald so no one would suspect. He was married and had two kids older than she was. She sat in the back and that was how she caught Salima’s intense analysis of Donald.
“Every class, I’m telling you,” Kathy stressed, “Salima is watching you like she means it!”
“I have no idea why,” Donald smiled, patting Kathy’s thigh as they drove to his place. His wife was away for a week out west. He didn’t seem to mind what the neighbours might see, so Kathy didn’t either. It was so nice to sleep in a big bed with him all night, to laugh out loud in the shower and not fear that anyone would know. He cooked for her, showing her foods she had no idea existed. He asked that she let her boyish hair lengthen, to grow out her pubic hair, and to stop using breath freshener or his penis was going to fall off because he was allergic. He asked her why she wore bras when she didn’t need to. She was startled by the request.
“What? You think you need to wear armour to protect them?” Donald asked, his penis waving limply as he shaved. Kathy watched him from the bathtub as she dried herself. He was so comfortable in his nakedness.
“I’ve always worn a bra,” she said.
“Why?” Donald asked. “You have small perfections. You should share such beauty with the world.”
A week later, walking into class for the first time with just a sweater on, her nipples hard and obvious, Kathy flushed as if she were naked. She could see some of the girls look, and there were mostly girls in all her classes as boys did not take social sciences anymore, and the professor certainly had a glance, but the one person who looked shocked was Salima.
“Did you see her?” Kathy asked Donald later.
“No.”
“She was horrified!” Kathy said. “She was absolutely horrified.”
“She’s East Indian. They wrap their women up like Muslims.”
“She is Muslim.”
“She dresses Western. I thought she was Hindu.”
“Whatever she is, she’s strange. First she gives you the eye, then me.”
“It’s probably that class,” Donald consoled Kathy. “We are, after all, in Abnormal Psychology: maybe she took it for a reason.”
“Well, I want to study it, not experience it,” Kathy said. “You know, her father’s a prof’? He’s nuts too.”
“What does he teach?”
Kathy explained she had been ill in her first year, before his final exam in religion. When she tried to explain her poor result to him, almost in tears and asked for a make-up exam, Salima’s father left his desk and gave her a hug.
“What was really freaky is that, as he reached around, the back of his hand went right across my breast, like he meant to do it.”
“What did you do?”
“He really scared me. I backed off and looked at him.”
“And then?”
“He went back to his seat. His whole manner changed and he basically said he could do nothing for me. It was creepy.”
“Fascinating,” Donald said, sitting up in Kathy’s small bed, keeping an eye on the clock as his wife would be home before six. “I didn’t want to mention this before, but I think Salima was looking at me the way she does because someone older hurt her, probably sexually.”
Kathy smiled and shook her head. She could care less about Salima’s sexuality and didn’t want Donald thinking about it either.
“You know, Donald, we were warned not to take this abnormal psych’ stuff too seriously.”
“Why didn’t you make a complaint about him touching you?”
“Are you kidding? I wanted to pass the course.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t go to that human rights person on campus.”
Kathy laughed, and mimicked a spoiled child, “Excuse me, but Mr. Boob pushed my tit. Can you arrest him?”
“You call him Mr. Boob.”
“No, other girls call him that.”
Donald looked at Kathy with surprise, “He’s done this before?”
“Yes. You aren’t going to cause any trouble are you?”
“Who calls him Mr. Boob?”
“Nobody I know!” Kathy cried, and began dressing for her evening class.
“Come on, tell me?” Donald asked, getting into his underwear, reaching for his pants.
Kathy explained she had been at a party and mentioned Mr. Boob and three other girls there told her he had done worse to them, actually grabbing their breasts, pretending it was an accident when they pushed him back.
“And not one of you thought to do anything official?”
“No!” Kathy said, realizing she had started something she didn’t want to happen. “You’re going to see someone about this, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am.”
“Oh!” Kathy implored. “Keep me out of it.”
“You won’t back me up?”
“Of course not!”
“I can’t believe four young women would allow a man to abuse them.”
“He’s a professor. There’s no proof.”
“He’s an abuser.”
Kathy could see she had lit a fuse and there was going to be an explosion. She shrugged.
Donald went to see the human rights officer. He didn’t name names, but he told the woman what he knew and asked if something could be done. Nothing could be done unless the young women with the pawed breast made a complaint. But they were not going to make a complaint. This seemed to please the officer more than the fact a sexual predator had been identified.
“And then what did you do?” Kathy asked, her eyes wide, hoping her name had been left out.
“I told her I was disappointed a sexual predator was going to be mashing young women’s breasts for years to come and there was nothing anyone could do about it.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yes, that’s all I can do, unless I can convince you to come to the police with me.”
“You really are insane.”
“Me!”
“I was upset about what he did, but, honestly, it could have been worse.”
“What a way to think!”
“I needed to pass his course, I don’t have time to get mixed up in a big court case that will go nowhere because there really is no evidence.”
“I think if four young women told their stories . . . ”
“Forget it.”
“I’m in shock.”
“Look at you and me, okay?”
They were in bed together, naked, ready to make love until they’d been distracted.
“Imagine I walk out of here and claim you assaulted me. The police, the media, the university would all get involved. A big mess, nothing could be proven, and we would both suffer. Who needs that?”
“That’s not a proper example.”
“Sure it is: you won’t leave your wife, for example. I might want to lie, to punish you for that.”
“I told you, I can’t leave my wife,” Donald stressed, his eyes anxious.
“I know, you said that,” Kathy said happily. “Listen to me: I’m just saying people say things all the time that are false or mistaken or stupid, and it just makes things bad for everyone and in the end nothing happens anyway.”
“I can’t believe you’re so cynical.”
“I’m sensible. I know you’re not going to leave your wife. And I know no one here cares about a professor who touches girls’ boobs. That’s life.”
“I care.”
“About Mr. Boob, or leaving your wife?”
“Stop being silly,” Donald said, sighing. “I don’t like that dark look you get in your eyes when I tell you I’m not leaving my wife. What will I do, come live in this residence with you?”
“I’m moving into my own apartment in a week.”
“You are? You’re staying over the summer?”
“I am. I have a job with the Health Unit.”
“It won’t be easy to see one another. I can’t use school as an excuse.”
“Move out.”
“Kathy . . . ”
“Besides, I’ve solved the problem for you.”
“What problem?”
“Do you love me?”
“I love you. We’re very happy together.”
“Then problem solved, because I love you,” Kathy smiled, the black look disappearing from her eyes, rolling onto Donald, and pleasing him one last time as lovers.
When Donald got home his wife was waiting for him. She had received an anonymous letter explaining his infidelity. Donald spent the next week with Kathy in her cramped residence, and then moved into her new apartment. They were, to the disbelief of all who knew what happened, perfectly matched and very happy.
Donald was walking through the university later that summer and passed Salima. Her eyes froze on his face as she silently hurried by. A shudder passed through her body as if she had been right about him all along.
“She looked at me as if I were the biggest pervert. I resent that, knowing what her father’s like,” Donald said, exasperated.
“You’ve got more than just her disgust to worry about,” Kathy laughed, “because my parents are coming this week for a visit.”
“Do they know about us?” Donald asked, shocked by so little warning.
“They will. It’ll be okay. You’re the same age as my Dad, you know. You should get along just fine.”
Donald smiled weakly, knowing her parents were going to think him just another Mr. Boob.
“You know, Kathy,” he said sadly, “it’s only since I came to university that I realized the world is full of perverts.”
“Grow up a girl,” Kathy smiled.
“I’m a pervert to everyone.”
“Well,” Kathy said brightly, meaning what she said, “that’ll teach you to get a university education, won’t it?”

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