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here that Dean Morgan did most of his reading, rather than
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behind the power desk that commanded the corner of the room
and was backed by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the
entire campus. It was to the sofas that Dean Morgan led Ronnie
and Stacy.
 Ladies, I ve already spoken to Professors Croft and Marks
this morning, and I understand Dr. Cole was present as well;
however, I ve been unable to reach her. She s apparently gone
overseas. My intention is to gather the facts, hear Dr.
Michaelson s side of the story and, if it is warranted, take action
against him. Of course, Miss Frost, you have the option of speak-
ing to the police.
Ronnie nodded.  I know that is an option, Dean Morgan, and
I may pursue it; however, I understand that it will be my word
against the word of a tenured university professor. I m not sure
I ll be believed 
 You will if it s true.
Ronnie offered a slight smile. She very much liked the dean,
but he clearly didn t understand the ramifications of a woman
crying rape.  Well, I know it s the truth, but I ve brought Stacy
Armbruster here with me today because she has a story to tell.
Ronnie and the dean looked at Stacy, who had yet to say a
word. Ronnie took Stacy s hand and smiled at her encouragingly.
She squeezed Ronnie s hand and began.  You probably know
that I m Dr. Michaelson s research and teaching assistant. When
I started working for him last year, it was very professional.
Everything was done in his office, the hours were legitimate, and
I felt proud of my accomplishments. I guess that was the point.
Professor Michaelson was bonding with me, creating a relation-
ship. I admired his intellect, and soon he started asking me about
authors I read or music I liked. And after about six months the
lines became blurred. He would bring in postcards he had seen
of paintings I admired, or he d find books I wanted to read. It
was still innocent enough, but it was definitely moving from pro-
fessional to personal. And part of me liked it. He gave me atten-
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tion. Now that I can analyze the whole thing, I d say he made up
for the father I never really had. Anyway, things started to
change. We d meet at his house and work there. Sometimes he
would cook, and we d look like the model of domesticity. Then,
eating led to drinking, which led to touching. Of course the first
time he ever kissed me, I balked, but only for a moment. By then
I had grown quite fond of him.
Ronnie glanced at the dean, who listened intently.
 Then one night he asked if he could paint me, naked. He d
introduced me to ouzo and it affected me quickly. I hesitated but
he helped undress me and positioned me on the bed, because of
course his easel was in his bedroom. It was when he sat down
that I realized he was only wearing a robe, but he seemed
involved in the painting, so I assumed everything was still pla-
tonic. He kept talking about the beauty of my breasts and the
thickness of my thighs, all sorts of sexual remarks that began to
make me uncomfortable. Periodically I d take another drink of
ouzo, and I was having trouble holding the position he wanted
because I was drunk. Stacy paused.  What I remember is falling
onto the bed and Elliot appearing over me, his robe removed
and a big smile on his face. His hands were all over me, and he
was whispering in my ear, telling me how beautiful and desirable
I was. I was drunk and partly believing him, and yes, it felt good
to have someone touch me. I let his hands roam, but when he
opened my legs, I said no. I told him to stop.
Tears streamed down Stacy s face, and the dean handed her
his handkerchief. She blotted her eyes and composed herself.
 I was a virgin, she said simply.  Afterward, Elliot gushed
about how wonderful it had been and what a capable lover I was.
Even though I had resisted, he was complimentary, effusive. He
told me he was in love with me. And somehow, amid all of his
talk, it made it okay. I forgot about what he had done. So the
next night, I gave myself to him willingly, and as physically
painful as it was, I didn t let him know how much I hated him on
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top of me. She shrugged.  It went on like that for a few months,
but Elliot started to get bored with me. I think he was fantasiz-
ing about Ronnie, because he constantly talked about her, and he
would look for reasons to go to Dr. Cole s office. And when that
calendar came out, he went ballistic.
Ronnie shifted on the couch. The idea of Elliott Michaelson
being aroused by the calendar made her queasy.
 I was sitting in his office, and he stormed in, the calendar in
his hand. He locked the door, and before I could say anything,
he d grabbed me and pulled me to the couch. In two seconds his
pants were undone, and he reached under my skirt, ripped off
my underwear and pulled me on top of him. It was so violent.
Stacy shivered, clearly disgusted by the memory.  He came
quickly, and then pushed me aside. Once he d zipped his pants
up again, he unlocked the door and left. That was the last time
we had sex. I d been trying to break up with him for the two
weeks prior, but I was afraid of how he would react, and if he
would hurt my standing at the university. Then when I heard
that Ronnie had stood up to him at your party, I wanted to come
forward.
Dean Morgan patted her hand and went to his phone.  Call
Elliot Michaelson to my office, now.
The three of them sat in silence for the five minutes it took
Michaelson to appear. He had only taken two steps into the
dean s office before he stopped and the color drained from his
face. As much as he tried to compose himself, his journey to the
sofa only belied his anxiety. Ronnie looked at Dean Morgan,
power emanating from his being, his strong jaw and steely eyes.
She admired and feared him at the same time.
 Elliot, you will explain yourself now.
Michaelson looked from the dean to Stacy and Ronnie.
 John, I don t know what stories these girls have concocted, but
I assure you 
 Damn it, Elliot, I don t have time for stories. The truth,
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now.
Michaelson s mouth started to quiver, but he wouldn t budge.
 John, as someone who has known you for years, I m telling you
that this is all a misunderstanding. These women have aligned
themselves with Diane Cole, and she would do anything to dis-
parage my name.
Dean Morgan sighed.  This has nothing to do with Diane,
Elliot. Leave her out of it. Did you or did you not try to rape
Veronica Frost?
 Absolutely not.
 Did you have an affair with Stacy Armbruster?
 Of course not. It s against school policy.
 Liar! Stacy cried. She clenched her teeth, her face full of
hate.  You used me, you seduced me, and when I said no, you
kept going. The first time, you raped me!
Michaelson s indignation seemed believable.  The first time?
Are you suggesting, young lady, there were multiple times? He
looked from Stacy to Dean Morgan.  John, I m not sure where
this is going, or whose side you are on, but I ll be contacting the
faculty review board and an attorney. We ll get to the bottom of
this and expose these young ladies for the malicious slanderers
they are. He glared at Stacy and Ronnie before strolling confi-
dently to the door.
 I m pregnant, Stacy announced.
Only then did Elliot Michaelson s shoulders sag in defeat.
Ronnie gunned the engine to sixty as she found a straight-
away on Highway 1. The Mustang s top was down and she was
rolling with the curves, tapping the brakes as little as necessary.
It was a game she played when she was upset drive fast and
dangerously. She shifted the wheel from left to right and back
again as the road wound up the mountains. The sun had set long [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]