He had only been in the office a few minutes, his first time, he was new to this University, classes wouldn’t start for almost a week, when there was a tap at the door, which he hadn’t fully closed.

“Come in.”

The girl was probably a student. Crazy ringlets of copper hair. Bright green eyes.

“Sorry there’s no chair here. I’ll have to see about getting one.”

“Right,” she said. “Maybe get two. But at least you have a desk.”

“Right,” he said. “And lots of wall space. And a big window.”

“Right,” she said. “A nice view. You could move the desk so you could look out.”

“Right,” he said. “So what can I do for you?”

“I’m hoping you can give me permission to be in your writing class. It says ‘Prerequisite: junior standing or permission of instructor.’”

“Prerequisite,” he said. “I wonder if there’s any difference between prerequisite and requisite.”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but I really hope you’ll let me in your class. I love your stories.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, the way they get right there and stop. It just makes me—I don’t know.”

“Furious?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not furious.”

“But something like furious?”

“Excited,” she said. “Eager. Anxious.” She laughed. “The one that was called ‘Don’t Stop,’ that was so ... It practically made me...”

“What? Throw the book across the room?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Okay. I didn’t mean to tease you. So do I have to sign something or what? I’m new here, you know?”

“Me too,” the girl said. “My parents just dropped me off. They met here like thirty years ago. They couldn’t believe how much the place has changed. They said they wouldn’t recognize it.”

He nodded. “Lots of new buildings, it seems. Maybe thirty years from now you’ll drop off your own kid, and you’ll hardly recognize the place.”

“I can’t imagine how that would be.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, having a kid. A twenty year old kid. I haven’t even...” She looked down. Bit her lips. Looked back up at him. Those green eyes. He couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like in orgasm. With him inside her.

“Sure, you can be in my class.”

“Goodie,” she said. “And you can have this apple. My parents grow them. This is a new variety They gave me six of them. They suggested I could give them to my teachers. Shall I put it on the desk?”

“Sure,” he said.

She set the apple on the desk.

“It looks nice,” he said. “If I write a story about it, I might call it ‘The Requisite Apple.’ Would you like to share it?”

“Um, yeah, okay, but I don’t have a knife.”

“How about you take the first bite?”

He loved watching her bite into the apple. Her eyes on his while she chewed. Even more, he loved watching her come, while he was deep inside her, lying back on the desk bare, the half-eaten apple abandoned.