Chapter 8

Wednesday, Aug 22, 7:55 am

Sarah entered the classroom with a smile ... which quickly faded as she saw that Bill hadn't arrived yet. A few other early students sat waiting, two of which talked quietly.

Nonplussed, Sarah took a seat in the front row, smoothing her short skirt out as she did, refusing to allow a blush to come at the thought of how much Bill would be able to see from his seat.

She got her books ready, pen and pencil, then waited, as did the students already there, and the ones who filed in on time and the ones who showed up a little late. Sarah started chewing her pencil.

At quarter after, Bill walked slowly into the room, apparently with some effort. He wore dark glasses, and the rest of his face caused more than one student to gasp.

He ignored it, reaching the table, setting his faux-leather case down ... then slowly ... carefully, sitting down.

Sarah's jaw dropped, the pencil resting on her lower lip, forgotten. He looked horrible. His lip was swollen and obviously had only stopped bleeding some little time ago. His nose, for God's sake, had to be broken ... it was swollen, puffy, with two pieces of cotton stuffed in his nostrils.

Looking down at his books and papers, Bill cleared his throat. "Good morning class. Let's get started."

Class passed uneventfully and quietly. Bill had someone pass out 3x4 cards to be filled out with name, address and major, and to be brought back on Friday. He spent some time speaking of what he wanted from the students.

And never once looked up.

At the end of class, Sarah again took her time putting her things together. Once everyone else had filed out, she rose with her things and approached the table where Bill sat, writing mysterious professor incantations.

Not knowing where to begin, but sure she was outside of her business, Sarah cleared her throat and said, "uhm ... Bill?"

Hesitating only for a moment in his writing, Bill didn't look up. "Yes, Sarah?"

Fidgeting a little, Sarah said, "Are ... are you ok?"

"Feeling better as the day passes, yes," still not looking up, "and I'll feel far better when the day is over."

Sarah nodded. "I'll bet." She looked towards the door, then back at him, feeling terrible for the man. Was he mugged? In a fight? Car accident?

She said, hesitantly, "Bill ... if ... if there is anything ... I can do..."

Bill shook his head normal at first, winced, and slowed down. "No, Sarah, but thank you. See you tomorrow."

Sarah nodded (not that he could see it, still looking where he had all through class). "Alright. See you tomorrow, Bill."

Turning, Sarah walked slowly from the class room. Something happened, something either really bad, or that he's really embarrased about.

Bill didn't watch her leave, though a strong urge to do so was present. He felt guilty even being in the same room with her. He had practically raped Trisha, but it really hadn't been Trisha he had been fucking. No, not really.

As he sat in his office ignoring his rumbling hungry stomach (too embarassed to face the cafeteria), Bill's phone rang.

"Hello, Bill Simmons, how can I help you?"

A purr answered. Then he heard Trisha's voice. "BBBBillly ... my god ... what you did to me..."

Bill stood and closed the door to his office, sitting again, he turned away and cupped the phone, whispering. "Trish?! Are you okay?!?"

"You've ruined me, Bill. I won't walk straight for a week." He heard a slight chuckle. "What got into you last night? I've never seen you like that before ... not anything like that before."

Bill sighed. "I dunno. I honestly don't. I'm sorry, Trisha."

"You're sorry?? You made me cum harder than I have all my life ... and I think I hurt you. There was all this blood when I woke up ... more than what came from my ... my ass." The last word started out hesitant, then turned to a purr.

Feeling the poundng from his nose, head and lip more than ever, Bill said, "Trish, I'm fine. I was just worried about you."

She sighed. "I'm fine, Bill. Wonderful ... I think." She hesitated. "But, I think we're going to wait longer than the few weeks we usually do before next time. I need time to..." she laughs softly, "well, heal ... and think." Serious now, quiet. "I've never done what we did last night. I need to know if it's something I would ever want to do again. I'll get back with you, Bill."

And she hung up.

Sarah wasn't allowed much time to dwell on Bill's injuries for the rest of the day on campus.

Her classes kept her busy, and lunch was spent fending off Josh Christian. He was certain they had gotten off on the wrong foot and just wanted a chance to rectify things. But the way he said "rectify" turned Sarah even colder.

She made it to work early, and being the Hump Day and the fact that a waitress had called in sick, was immediatly put to work. Nine grueling hours later, Sarah leaned against the bar with her arms crossed on it, chin resting on her forearm, and sighed. She had made over $400 in tips tonight, but had been non-stop busy since she had arrived. She had only one bathroom break in all that time, and hadn't eaten anything since her lunch had been interrupted 14 hours ago.

Tom came out, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, a cigerette dangling from his mouth.

"How you doing?" he asked.

She grinned wearilly at him. "About half past dead, I think."

He chuckled and leaned his back against the bar. "it will get worse before it gets any better. But you'll eventually grow kinda used to it."

"Oh god," she moaned and buried her head in her arms. How many years did she have to go? 7? 8?

She looked up as a door closed. Bill Partridge exited his office, striding to the center of the bar. All of the employees stopped what they were doing and gave him their attention.

Puffing on one of his endless cigarettes, Bill smiled about the room. "Excellent job tonight, everyone. We kicked ass and took names. We'll do clean up in the morning, everyone can go home. Karen, I need to see you in my office." With that he turned and headed back to his office.