Got Your Number

the one who had memorized his features and mannerisms while watching him eat lunch every day. She had been the one to sit through his Intro to Theology class for four semesters, convinced he would one day notice her.
    And he had, at long last. Her final semester, April twenty-first. Third period. She'd "left" a notebook at her desk, then waited until the room emptied of students before going back inside. Dr. Carl had been erasing the chalkboard in long, powerful strokes and hadn't heard her at first. Until she "dropped" the notebook. Then he'd turned and smiled, offering a hello.
    "I forgot my notebook," she'd said, holding it up.
    "Are you in my class?" he'd asked.
    "Yes."
    "That's why you look so familiar."
    "Yes." She'd waited while he finished the board, then descended from the dais carrying his own books. He seemed surprised that she was still standing there, but now that she had his attention, she wasn't about to budge.
    "Four times."
    "Pardon me?"
    "I've taken this class four times."
    His eyebrows had gone up, then his gaze had traveled to her snug sweater. "You must like theology."
    "Not really." His gaze on her had made her feel bold, womanly. Just thinking about it now sent a heaviness to her midsection.
    He'd checked his watch. "What's your name?"
    "Angora Ryder."
    "Well, Angora Ryder, where is your next class?"
    "I don't have one."
    He had looked her up and down again, then pursed his mouth. "I was just going back to straighten up my office. I could use a hand."
    She had smiled and followed him to his office, where he'd locked the frosted-glass door.
    "Students are always popping in," he'd explained. "Which is why I can never get my files in order."
    "Where should I start?" she'd asked, fairly trembling at the sexual charge in the air.
    He'd sat down in his office chair and pulled her to his lap for a long, hard kiss that had steamed up his glasses. When he pulled back to take them off, he'd looked at her. "Is this what you wanted?"
    She had nodded, too far gone now.
    His eyes were hooded as he'd fumbled with her sweater, pulling it up along with her bra to free her breasts. He had been all lips and teeth, making little wanting noises, and she'd felt flush with power. Then he was pushing her head down, down to his fly, which had somehow come undone. She didn't have time to think about the techniques Roxann had taught her on the tube of toothpaste—it all happened too quickly. One minute she was on the verge of suffocating while he gasped and moved her head up and down on him, and the next minute she was gagging. He had gone so limp and so quiet, she was afraid he'd had a heart attack. But when she'd spit out the offending goo, and it landed on his expensive shoe, he had recovered rather quickly.
    "You'll get your passing grade," he'd said brusquely, then stood and helped her straighten her clothes.
    Shocked, she realized he thought she'd taken his class four times because she was too dumb to pass it, not because she wanted to be near him. She'd opened her mouth to explain, but he'd shushed her.
    "This must be our little secret, yours and mine, or you could get into a lot of trouble." Like a sheep, she'd nodded. Then he'd opened the office door, given her a little shove through it, and closed it behind her. That night in her bed she'd suddenly remembered one of the things he'd murmured during the deed.
    "Roxann."
    He'd noticed the resemblance, and although he had no idea they were related, he'd been thinking about Roxann the entire time. After that, Carl had ignored her completely. But the real slap in the face had been the C she'd received in the class.
    Angora blinked and drained the glass of sour chardonnay. She'd given the man a blowjob in his office, and he hadn't even recognized her today. He'd only had eyes for Roxann, and if her cousin was telling the truth, they'd never even fooled around. Once again, the spoils went to Roxann.
    She returned to the bar for another drink. While she stood in line, the audience suddenly burst into applause. She turned to see Dr. Carl Seger himself at the microphone, waving for quiet. The man was splendid.
    "There is a person in the room," he said, "whose name came up for the Distinguished Alumni award for dedicating her life to helping others. But her volunteer work is of such a confidential nature, the board decided to forgo the honor lest the nomination attract publicity that would be detrimental to the programs she serves."
    He sought Roxann in the audience, and