Holding Hands Read Free

it.
    She couldn’t help herself.
    Dear Prof. Fischer, when can we schedule
another office hour? I really need to see you. I can come whenever
you want me to, even at night if that works for you. Just let me
know and I’ll be there. You can call me any time. Caitlin.
    At night? Since when did Scott meet students
at night?
    The girl’s email struck
Meredith as a bit...desperate. Beseeching. Like the plea of a
lover: Call me any time. I can come
whenever you want me to.
    Meredith shuddered. She knew Scott wasn’t
involved with Caitlin or any of his other students. He never would
do that. She had faith in him.
    Except... God, he spent most of his waking
hours at a campus filled with smart girls. Young, nubile girls in
their prime. Girls with smooth faces, girls with quick, sharp
minds, girls who undoubtedly got crushes on their professors,
especially if their professors were as good looking as Scott.
    Girls like Emily, beautiful and full of
energy and eager to experience everything, right now.
    Girls like Caitlin, willing to come whenever
Scott wanted her to.
    Grimacing, Meredith shut off Scott’s laptop
and the TV. She carried the laptop to the kitchen and left it on
the table so Scott would find it easily in the morning. Then she
wiped the floor around Skippy’s bowl where he’d splattered water,
shut off the light above the sink and headed up the stairs.
    She might not be young and beautiful and
nubile. But she looked smart, and at one time that had been enough
for Scott. Praying it was still enough for him, she eased open the
bedroom door.
    The light was off. The room smelled faintly
of mint. Scott’s breathing whispered the deep, steady rhythm of
sleep.
    She felt a hard twinge in her gut, in her
heart. She didn’t even want him to make love to her tonight; like
him, she was tired. But wouldn’t it have been lovely if they’d held
hands as they’d drifted into slumber? When was the last time they’d
held hands?
    So long ago, she couldn’t remember.
     
     
     

Chapter
Two
     
    “ FUR-LINED HANDCUFFS,” Diane
said. “Maybe a silk whip. Haven’t you read those books?”
    No, Meredith had not read those books. She
was probably the only woman in town, if not the entire world, who
hadn’t read the recent bestselling trilogy about a young woman
discovering the joys of sexual bondage and submission.
    She sat across the circular table from Diane
in the employee lounge at the headquarters of the Saver-Center
supermarket chain. Her closest friend at work, Diane worked in the
HR department. They ate lunch together whenever they could. Today
Meredith picked at a salad—no dressing, in order to save
calories—while Diane devoured a Mediterranean wrap stuffed with
roasted peppers, plum tomatoes, mozzarella, mushrooms and olives,
the thin, rolled bread glistening with oil. Diane had miraculous
metabolism. She always wolfed down huge lunches and never gained
weight. If Meredith didn’t love her, she’d hate her.
    “ I’m not going to start
playing sadomasochist games with him. Just the thought of having my
hands bound behind my back...” Meredith winced.
    “ It’s all about ceding
control,” Diane explained before taking a lusty bite of her
sandwich. She chewed, swallowed, continued: “It’s about trust. You
trust him to treat you well while you’re within his
power.”
    “ No. No whips, no
handcuffs.” Meredith could just imagine Scott trussing her up so
she couldn’t escape and then falling asleep because he’d been up
since five that morning. “It’s just that—” she speared a limp
teardrop-shaped leaf of spinach with her fork and sighed “—we don’t
connect anymore. We hardly even talk, and when we do it’s about
work, or the kids, or the dog, or my mother. We’re in such a rut.”
She didn’t add that she was worried about the adorable young female
students he came in contact with every day, students who really needed to see him,
any time, day or night.
    Nor did she add that she was