Do Unto Others

DO UNTO OTHERS -- PART 2

Author's Note: Thanks to those who accepted my invitation to

influence the story line. I have incorporated several suggestions

in this part and will include others in Part 3.

The weekend was particularly lonely for me. I spent nearly the entire time thinking of Jason and, more specifically, what should or should not be done about our mutual attraction. I suspected he was doing the same. I resented the time I had to spend on routine chores like grocery shopping and having my car serviced because it took time that I wanted to spend trying to devise a plan by which we could attain what we both clearly wanted. I was sure that I wanted him in my bed, not merely for sexual gratification but to express my love for him in the most meaningful way possible. Based on what he had said -- and I had no reason to think he was insincere -- he wanted it as much as I did. But one question haunted me: was it worth the risks?

The risks were real but difficult to assess.

For my part, I had to overcome the moral training (brainwashing?) that had been programmed into me as a youngster. As I progressed through puberty and realized that what excited and aroused me was a mortal sin. I fought to resolve the conflict. I suffered through periods of frustration, shame and depression. Eventually however, I had accepted my sexuality and achieved peace of mind. I had expunged the notion that homosexuality was abnormal and sinful. Or so I thought. The opportunity I faced -- to enter into a union of bodies, minds, and souls with another male -- was like tapping into a hidden pocket of molten lava that exploded to the surface of my consciousness in a searing, volcanic eruption. The symbolism of my dream -- my scowling father in the doorway of my bedroom as Jason and I lay naked and embracing -- seemed obvious. I loved my father. I respected his perseverance while leading a troubled life. I appreciated (at least in retrospect) his demands on me to be responsible, ethical, and to "behave myself." How could I betray his patently obvious desire to raise me to be a "respectable" adult? Those thoughts that I had dispensed with long ago reincarnated with surprising and frightening force and created significant emotional turmoil.

On the practical side, there were two risks. First, I had told Jason that sex would corrupt the relationship that should exist between a teacher and a student. That reasoning no longer carried any weight. Each of us had admitted to our attraction to each other and, in fact, loved each other. The student-teacher relationship that ought to exist had now been compromised. Consummating that love with sex would, however, make an unacceptable situation much worse.

The second practical risk was even more serious and harder to assess. That was the damage to my career if it were to become known that I was in a sexual relationship with a student. At least I could think through that risk unemotionally even though the probabilities were arbitrary assumptions. I had a continuing contract to teach at the college but I was a long way from being tenured, which meant that I could be fired (in the language of the contract) "at the sole discretion of the college administration for any grievous conduct detrimental to the college, or to its students, staff, or faculty." The terms, grievous and detrimental, were ambiguous and clearly left to the largely unpredictable judgment of the college administration with no appeal possible. Who would hire a professor with that kind of blotch on his record? The attitude toward homosexuality in the academic subculture was more liberal than in society at large. But sex with a current student, consensual or not, male or female, would surely be deemed detrimental and grounds for dismissal. The specter of losing a job that I loved with little or no chance of finding another similar job remained as an insurmountable argument against having sex. In weaker moments, I tried to convince myself that Jason and I could be exceptionally secretive about our relationship. No one would know. I wouldn't tell. And I trusted Jason to keep the secret. As I began to soften my objection to sex, I would inevitably realize that, through some careless mistake, our illicit affair would be exposed. But we could be careful, I argued with myself. Then I would imagine the situation, however unlikely, that our relationship might sour. Jason might seek revenge by publically accusing me of molestation, or even rape. Would such an acrimonious falling out happen? Possibly. If it did, would he be spiteful enough to extract vengeance? Doubtful but still possible.

Through hours of agonizing thought, I had calmed my emotional turmoil over betraying my parents' teachings. I was anything but successful in assessing the practical risks. I came close to overcoming my resistance to entering into a gay relationship with Jason several times. Throughout my soul searching, a parallel train of thought was never far from my mind: the joy of loving Jason, the thrill of receiving his love, and the ecstasy of intimate bonding. But the risks loomed too large. I changed my mind repeatedly.

There remained another uncertainty: Jason. He expressed, with his impulsive kiss and in explicit words, that he loved me. I was extraordinarily flattered and humbled by that. I believed that he was sincere and honest with me. But was he only feeling what he thought was love? Was it the result of an intense craving for sex? Was he mature enough to know the difference? Would he, to put it bluntly, grow out of his hormone-driven lust or infatuation with me? I knew that he was intellectually mature beyond his years but I had too little evidence of his emotional maturity. That led to an even more troubling unknown. By allowing sex, I would be expecting commitment to a long-term relationship. Was he emotionally ready to make that decision?

I reminded myself of my self-imposed obligation to help a troubled young man. But I was no longer sure of what "help" is needed and appropriate. Nor was I sure of my willingness to sacrifice years of deprivation and schooling to provide that help.

I wanted to take the young man I loved into my bed and seal our loving bond. But would it harm him? Would our love survive until he graduated in two years? Could we keep our secret that long? If not, would I be fired? Could I find another job?

I spent the entire weekend agonizing and I couldn't resolve my dilemma. I went to bed Sunday night without having made a decision.

Monday morning dawned. Instead of greeting the day enthusiastically anticipating the arrival of Jason, I felt only dread because I knew I had promised to talk about our relationship and our future and I was no closer to a plan that I had been on Friday afternoon when he left.

"So what's the plan for today?" he asked cheerfully when I opened the door to let him in.

"Well," I replied, relieved that our discussion could be at least temporarily postponed. "I was hoping you could help me with my computer. I haven't been able to get my wireless router to work for quite a while. I was hoping you might be able to fix it."

"I'll try," he replied as he walked toward the spare bedroom that I had converted to an office.

I watched him check all the wires and connections and then sit down at the keyboard. His fingers flew over the keys, pulling up screens that were totally unfamiliar to me. "If you don't mind, Jason, I'd like to switch roles. You be the teacher and I'll be the student. Explain to me what you're doing so maybe I can do it myself if there's another problem."

He grinned, no doubt proud of the fact that he knew something that I didn't. "Sure," he said.

For the next two hours, I got a crash course in geek. I was awed by his mastery of the mysterious working of computer hardware and software. He was patient with my ignorance and clear in his explanations but I'm sure anyone else would have learned much more quickly because I was distracted. As I sat next to him, our proximity, the scent of his aftershave, and my conflicted feelings about what to do or not do about my attraction to him, muddled my mind.

At ten, I suggested it was time for a break. My head was spinning from trying to absorb everything he had shown and explained to me. We sat on the front porch drinking ice tea. For the first several minutes, we talked about what I had learned. Then, he got very pensive and stared out into the street.

"Jerry," he began while still looking off into the distance, "I've done a lot of thinking over the weekend. About us. You said we could talk about it. Is this a good time?"

I couldn't refuse. I suspected that he was troubled, that he needed to talk, and both our anxieties would increase if we kept it bottled up inside us.

"As good a time as any," I replied. I wanted to hear what he had to say before I admitted that I was still uncertain. "Wanna go first?"

He then turned to look at me and said, "Jerry, I want you to know ... I want you to be absolutely sure ... that I love you. Not as a great professor, which you are. Not as a father or brother. Not just as a good friend. I love you like ... well ... like a man I want to spend my life with. At first, I admit that I was mostly being horny. I craved the satisfaction of having sex with a man. And when I found out you were gay like me, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to find out what gay sex is really like. That's not how I feel anymore. The more time I spend with you, the more I respect you. Not as a male body with a penis but as a compassionate, caring, human being. I'm happiest when I'm with you. You're the kind of person I could devote my life to. I don't know any other way to say it, Jerry. I love you for what you are not for just your body. I'm still horny and want to have sex for that reason but not with just anybody. I want you, Jerry, because I love you. Am I making any sense?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm touched. I'm flattered and humbled by your eloquently expressed feelings. I have the same feelings for you. I've never met anyone that has meant as much to me as you do. But I have to tell you ..."

"Wait!" he interrupted. "Let me finish. I understand why you don't want to have sex. No. That's not right. You want to but you don't want to. I understand the position you're in and why you're afraid of having sex with me. Over the weekend, I realized that if I were you and you were me, I would be afraid, too. Am I disappointed? Yes, very disappointed. There's nothing I would like more than to go to bed with you. But if you think it's too dangerous for you I won't subject you to that danger. I almost wish that I had dropped out of school. That way, you wouldn't be having sex with a student. But I can't do that. Not after all the things you've done for me, not after you've made it possible to finish my education. So here's the bottom line. I love you. I want you. Forever. And I hope and pray that you'll change your mind about having sex.

I was speechless. I fought to stem the tears. As soon as I was able to think clearly, I said, "Jason, in the few short moments that you spoke, my love for you increased to a level I never thought possible. You have demonstrated an emotional maturity that I had doubted. You expressed a convincing desire to form a long-term relationship, which is very important to me. You seem willing to sacrifice in the short term in the hopes of achieving a long-term goal. I'm overwhelmed by what you've told me. You have proven without a shred of doubt that you're the one I want to spend my life with."

His smile was radiant! I'd like to think that my smile told him how pleased I was.

"How about you?" he asked. "Is there any chance you'll change your mind about having sex?"

"Before I answer," I began, "I must tell you what I was thinking over the weekend." I then related a summary of the mental torture I fought through -- my overpowering love for him and my fervent wish that I could express that love intimately -- how I had to re-conquer the irrational prohibitions against gay sex instilled in me as a youth -- how I had tried, without total success, to assess the probability of someone finding out and the possibility of losing both my current job and any prospects for another -- and, finally, my consuming fear that by having sex, I would be hurting the one who meant so much to me.

"So here's my bottom line, Jason. I love you more than I ever imagined it would be possible to love another person. But I must -- at least for the time being -- deny myself and you the pleasure of consummating that love by having sex."

It was obvious that he didn't like what I said.

"So what you're saying, Jerry, is that we'll have to wait."

"It will be difficult," I acknowledged. But anything worth having comes with a price. And you are definitely worth waiting for. Now let's step inside." I rose from the chair and walked indoors. There was something that I felt compelled to do. Jason followed. I closed the front door, put my hands on his shoulders, and said, "This will be the closest thing to what we both want but it will have to do." I pulled him into a tight embrace and kissed him -- a long, passionate, meaningful kiss. I felt my dick swell. I felt his press against me. When he began to grind his hardening cock against my equally stimulated one, I broke the kiss before our passion overwhelmed our judgment.

Speaking softly to avoid the possibility of his feeling rejected, I said, "We can't go any further. I know you want to. I also want to. But we can't. I have to ask you -- and demand the same from myself -- to exercise self-discipline. We simply cannot allow ourselves to become so aroused that we make a mistake. I know it will be very difficult. But it's something we must do. Can you do that for me?"

He looked sad. I'm sure he was as frustrated as I was. But he replied, simply, "I'll try."

"That's all I can ask," I said. "And I'll try as well. I don't like it any more than you do but we must wait. And we may have to avoid any more kissing because that could lead us where we must not go."

Two weeks later, I got a call from Dr. Robert Thompson, the chairman of the Biology department at school. Initially, it seemed to be a friendly call to inquire about how I was enjoying the summer vacation and did I need any help preparing for classes in the upcoming school term. Then, he changed the subject. His suddenly serious tone was somewhat ominous. "There's a matter I need to discuss with you, Jerry. Would you have time to come to my office? It's something I'd prefer to discuss with you personally."

"Surely," I replied, confused over what might require a face-to-face meeting.

"Splendid. Is two o'clock tomorrow afternoon convenient for you?"

"That will be fine," I replied. "Is there some sort of problem?"

"We can discuss it tomorrow, Jerry," he said enigmatically.

I worried about the meeting the rest of the day, into the evening, and throughout the morning of the next day. My students' evaluations of my classes were good to excellent and my performance appraisal had been more than satisfactory. However, I knew that enrollments were down. Budgets were tight. Could it be that I was about to be laid off? It seemed to be the only explanation for wanting to see me in his office.

Jason noticed my concern and asked what was bothering me. I didn't want him to worry so I said it was nothing serious and tried to act normally. Either I was unsuccessful or he was far more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Or both. Yielding to his insistence, I told him that it appeared I might (emphasis on `might') lose my job.

"NO!" he screamed. "They can't do that to you!"

We were both despondent for the rest of the afternoon. We discussed options, including his transfer to a school near wherever I was able to find a new job, a choice I discouraged for a number of reasons. He would likely lose credit-hours in the transfer, his parents would not agree, and the whole process of securing part-time work and financial aid would have to start all over.

We accomplished nothing -- no work done in the house and no satisfactory resolution to the problem that I was sure I would face by losing my job.

As the time for the meeting drew near, I had nearly convinced myself that I would be out of a job ... in spite of Dr. Thompson's inquiry about my preparation for the fall term of school. I would ask for a letter of recommendation that Dr. Thompson would no doubt agree to write but the prospect of relocating to another city, far from the young man I loved, was distressing.

The department chairman invited me in cordially when I knocked on his office door, perhaps a little too cordially, which I interpreted to mean that he was trying to soften the blow. He began by telling me that my performance was exemplary. I felt more strongly that he was setting me up for an apology about terminating my contract.

But then he launched into a new direction. "As you know, Jerry, the college places a high value on our relationship to the community. Our reputation -- and that of the faculty and staff -- is critical to our success." I was thoroughly confused by the sudden departure for the earlier conversation until he continued by saying, "I've received information that's troubling. It's about you and one of your students, Jason Hendricks."

My heart nearly stopped. There was no way he or anyone else could know about our feelings for each other, much less about our completely chaste relationship. "I don't understand," I said. "What information? From whom?"

"As I'm sure you will understand, the source of the information cannot be revealed." I didn't understand but I let him continue. "You have done some extraordinary things to help the young man. You lobbied the faculty to hire him in the lab. You expedited the processing of his financial aid application. You even co-signed his student loan application. That's unusual but commendable. But now I find out that he's spending his summer with you. At your house. All day, every day. That goes beyond the unusual. It's given rise to some ... well ... speculation about your ... shall we say -- improper relationship with the boy."

I probably sounded too defensive when I emphasized Jason's superior intellect and great promise as a scholar, his unfortunate family economics that surely threatened his continuance in college, and my hiring him for the summer to work around the house doing things I hadn't had time to do and that would provide him with money to afford his tuition. I concluded by saying, "My relationship with the young man is to see that a deserving student earns his degree, no doubt with honors. I don't see how that would jeopardize the reputation of the college. Any allegations or innuendos that suggest the relationship is improper are false and -- may I say -- malicious gossip!"

"Calm down," Dr. Thompson said. "I'm not accusing you of any improper behavior. I'm merely following up on information that I've received. I'm obligated to do that."

With great effort, I spoke in a more even tone. "I understand your obligation but I can assure you that in spite of appearances -- appearances that have been flagrantly misinterpreted -- my motives are simple: to help a deserving student. Furthermore, I wonder about the motives of whomever suggested to you that my behavior is suspicious."

"My thoughts exactly!" he exclaimed. "That you would engage in an improper relationship is unthinkable. If I've learned anything from this discussion it's that I should trust my judgment of you. And be suspect of the judgment of ... well ... of the person who warned me of a potentially embarrassing situation. I apologize for subjecting you to a patently false accusation."

"False and insulting!" I retorted. "How you deal with the malicious informant is, of course, your decision. That's a good thing. Because if I knew his or her name, I don't know if I could control my anger."

After a few more minutes of casual conversation in which he inquired about Jason's progress in his studies, I prepared to leave. In parting, he said, "I'm sorry that I had to have this conversation, Jerry. But I hope you understand I had no choice. And, quite off the record, if the allegations were true, I would be even more saddened because I firmly believe that everyone has a right to their private life. I would have fought for you even if the college tried to invoke disciplinary action."

"Thank you, sir," I replied. "But I'm sure I won't be putting you in that position."

I left feeling pleased that he was open-minded and greatly relieved that I was not losing my job. My relief, however, was overshadowed by my paranoia over my relationship with Jason. And I was completely mystified about how the anonymous informant could know or even suspect the true nature of my inappropriate relationship.

I was still distraught when I arrived home. Jason ran out of the house to meet me, asking, "What happened?"

"Good news - bad news," I replied. "Good news here: I didn't lose my job. Bad news in the house." He followed me into the house.

"So what's the bad news?" he asked.

I summarized my meeting with Dr. Thompson and concluded with, "Somebody suspects, Jason. I don't know who. A neighbor, a faculty member, somebody else ... I just don't know. Whoever it is has absolutely no reason to know or even suspect. We've been very careful. Whoever it is either has a very dirty mind or is out to get me. Or both. What I know for sure is that we will have to continue to be very careful."

Like the previous afternoon, we accomplished no work. We just talked. Upon leaving, Jason said, "Don't even think about paying me for the time I didn't work yesterday and today."

"I most certainly will," I said emphatically. "You've been a great help to me by listening, by asking questions, by giving advice. That meant more to me than any physical labor you might have done. I have to tell you. It's extremely comforting to know that I have someone to talk to, to confide in, and to help me think through things."

When Jason left that day, I felt better and I'm sure he did, too.

Several days later, after supper in the evening, I checked my email. One was strange. I didn't recognize the sender and was about to delete it as spam when I read the subject line: "I'm watching". Thinking (fearing better describes my feeling) that it had something to do with the unknown person who talked to the department chairman, I opened it up to read it. "I know about you and that boy. You must have lied your way out of it the first time but you won't get away with it. If you don't stop, I'll stop you."

I briefly debated whether I should tell Jason about the threatening email but decided that he should know if only to increase our vigilance about not giving any clue to our love for each other. When I showed it to him on my computer, he was visibly upset.

"Who's it from?" he asked.

"I don't know. Look at the "From" line at the top: "sw37m." I don't recognize it."

Without a word, he started clicking on the screen to reveal what looked to me like a bunch of jibberish. "What's all that?" I asked.

"Codes that trace the route taken by the email from the sender to you. Whoever sent it has an account at one of the free email services. Lots of people use them because they're free. Some people use them to conceal their identity. They give completely phony information when they register so there's no way of telling who the sender really is."

"So we still don't know who sent it," I said dejectedly.

"Not without a court order. A court can subpoena the ISP records. That will include the URL of the sender. But even that's not much help if he's using a public computer like in the library.

"I don't understand what you're saying. ISP? UR? But I gather that we can't identify the bastard. And the only thing we can do is to continue to be careful?" I mused.

"Right," Jason said. "That means we'll have to lock the doors and close the blinds when we have sex."

"JASON! You know we can't do that!" I exclaimed forcefully.

"Hey, chill out, Jerry. I was joking."

The summer passed all too quickly. There were no more threatening emails. I had thoroughly enjoyed having Jason around and, together, we finished an amazing amount of work. While we both were frustrated that we couldn't consummate our love and were close to paranoid about doing anything that would hint of our affection for each other, being together was a joy. I dreaded the approach of the Fall term when I would be able to see Jason only occasionally. At least I would see him three times a week because he had registered for one of my classes.

Four weeks into the school year, I noticed that Jason and another student, Todd Barrington, had become good friends. They sat next to each other in class. They laughed and joked before and after class. They petitioned me to assign them as Lab partners and I agreed. I thought very little about it until one day I left the classroom but had to return five minutes later to retrieve some notes I had left behind. Jason and Todd were standing in the hallway talking or, to be more accurate, whispering. They didn't see me and I was about to approach and greet them when they went into the rest room together. As I collected my notes from the classroom, another student came in to ask questions about an assignment. We spoke for about 15 minutes. When I left the classroom, I saw Jason and Todd exit the rest room grinning. They didn't head in my direction but walked down the hall toward the exit. I returned to my office and sat obsessing over what I had seen. Fifteen minutes in the rest room together. Whispering before they went in and grinning when they came out. When I recalled something else, my suspicions exploded into irrational jealousy. Jason's shirt had been tucked into his trousers when he entered the rest room but hung out loosely when he came out.

I worried about what I saw all evening. I wanted to trust Jason. I wanted to believe that he loved me and would keep his promise to wait until we could safely join together. I tried to think of a plausible explanation for what I witnessed but was unsuccessful. I couldn't decide what to do with the information I had.

Two days later, in class, I returned some homework to my students. On Jason's I wrote a note: "Please see me after class." At the end of the class period, I noticed Jason and Todd talking at the doorway. At one point, they both looked at me briefly. Moments later, Todd left and Jason approached my desk.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

"Yes. Do you have a few minutes to come to my office?"

"Sure," he said brightly. "Is there a problem with my assignment?"

"Not at all," I replied. "It was your usual superior work. Let's go to my office." He looked puzzled but followed me down the hall. After walking into my office, I said, "Close the door, please. And sit down." Before he could say anything, I said, "Jason, we don't have much chance to see each other ... not like last summer. I've been thinking about you a lot. I miss you. I want you to know that I love you as much or more than I did last summer. But I'm a realist. I know that you're younger than I am. I have no doubt that you want to be with someone for ... well ... I know that you get horny. I just wanted to tell you that if you want to hook up with somebody, I'll understand. It won't affect my love for you in the least."

"Hook up!" he exclaimed. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"We've talked about the difference between casual sex and loving sex. We can't have loving sex and that leaves you high and dry, so to speak. I'm just saying that if you want to have sex with, say, another student, I would understand."

"I would never do that! I told you I would wait for you! Didn't you believe me?" He seemed to be angry with me.

"I believed you, Jason. All I'm trying to say is that while we're waiting, you shouldn't feel obligated to deny yourself some pleasure. If you have the opportunity."

"NO! I won't! It has to be with you!" He was getting more upset. Or was it a convincing act?

"Okay. I apologize if I've upset you. I just want you to be happy. And if a little bit of innocent sex play makes you happy, then do it. Not with some stranger but with a good friend. Todd, for example."

I watched carefully for his reaction to my mention of Todd. I could detect no sign of guilt or fear. But could I recognize it if it was there? Could he be putting on an act?

"Todd?" he exclaimed. "We're friends, sure. But he's as straight as they come. He fucks his girlfriend every weekend. He's even offered to set me up with his girlfriend's little sister who, in his words, is a hot little bitch. Naturally, I declined."

"Okay. Just file this conversation away. And if you want to ... and if you have an opportunity at some time in the future ... don't be concerned about my reaction."

He was quiet for a moment but he took me by surprise when he said, "What's really behind this, Jerry? Have you found somebody? Are you giving me permission so I have to ignore it when you sack up with somebody?"

"Absolutely, unequivocally not! I'm a virgin and will stay a virgin until I can have the perfect man. That's you! There's nobody else I would even give a second thought to and there never will be."

He fidgeted a while before replying. "I'm sorry, Jerry. I guess I accused you of something with no reason. I shouldn't have done that. It's the kind of thing that bastard who sent the threatening email did. I'm truly sorry."

The significance of what Jason said hit me like a blow to the abdomen. I had made a judgment about him and Todd based on partial and inconclusive information. It made me sick to think that I almost accused him of something that I had only imagined and, in the process, almost put our relationship in serious jeopardy.

I stood, walked to the door, locked it and returned to Jason. "There's one more reason I asked you to come to my office. I want to give you something that I haven't given you for too long." I lifted him up, hugged him, and gave him a long, passionate kiss that he eagerly returned. It was too soon, it seemed to me, that we broke the kiss. "That," I said, was by way of telling you how much I love you."

He grinned. "Can I tell you the same?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he attacked me with a forceful kiss that was even more enjoyable than the one I gave him.

Near the end of the Fall term, I was grading papers at home in the early evening when my door bell rang. I was surprised and delighted to open the door and see Jason. "Come in," I said enthusiastically.

"I'd better not," he said ominously. "Can we talk for a while here on the porch?"

"Sure," I said. "But why?"

"It's getting dark. I don't think I should be seen going into the house."

We sat on the porch where he stunned me by saying, "I can't be absolutely sure but I think I know who the bastard is that sent you the email."

"Who is it?" was my obvious question.

"First you have to promise me that you won't do anything foolish ... like beating him up or something. I don't want you to get in trouble."

"I won't do anything illegal, if that's what you mean," I said to reserve my rights for some kind of corrective action.

"Do you know Professor Taylor in the Chemistry Department?"

"Charles Taylor? About 50? Graying hair? Sort of pudgy?"

"That's the one."

"Yes. We worked together on a Curriculum Committee last year. Not the kind of guy I would call a friend but I know him. You can't be serious that he's the one! He's a bit of a milk toast, not the sort I would imagine to send a threatening email. Besides, how would he even know about you and me?"

"I told you I wasn't absolutely sure but let me tell you what happened and you be the judge. I'm in one of his classes this year. Early in the term, he seemed especially friendly to me. He was giving me extra help -- more than the other students. At first I was flattered. I thought it was because I was more eager to learn and maybe a bit smarter than the rest of the class. Pretty soon, though, when he was helping me in the lab with an experiment, he would lay his arm around my shoulder. I still didn't think much about it but one day he started holding me tighter and rubbing my back. I thought that was odd. I just smiled and let him do it. That was a mistake but I'll get to that part in a minute.

"Last week, he asked if I would help him set up some equipment in the lab for an experiment the class was to complete the following week. He said it took two people and his regular lab assistant would be out of town. I agreed to help him. He asked me if I could come in on Sunday as that was the only time he had available to do it. Again, I agreed. So far, so good. I got to the lab and it only took half an hour to set up the equipment. He then pulled a couple of beers out of a cooler, saying that he wanted to pay me for my time. I declined the beer -- alcohol on the campus is against the rules. Then, he wanted me to stay a little while to talk. I thought it would be about the course but he was asking questions about my life and family and whether I had a girlfriend. He told me I was a very handsome young man. What happened next was ... well ... weird. He put his hand on my knee and asked me if I would like a guaranteed A in the course. I didn't know what to say and just looked at him. He started slowly moving his hand up my thigh. I stood up and said I'd better leave. He stood to face me. He grabbed my arm and said, `Not so fast. All you have to do is one more favor for me and I guarantee you'll get an A in the course.' I tried to break free but he grabbed me into a hug and kissed me on the side of my neck. I kicked him in the shin. He let loose of me and I gave him a knee in the groin. I ran from the lab, leaving him doubled up on the floor."

"That filthy son-of-a-bitch!" I exclaimed.

"There're more. When I checked my email that night, there was one from "sw37m," just like the one you got. It said, "Don't even think about telling anybody what happened. Especially JC! There were no witnesses. It's you against me and you'll lose. Big time."

"So it really was Charlie Taylor," I said. "It's hard to believe. He's married with children and grandchildren. And he's such a wimp, it's hard to picture him being so brazen and foolish."

"I said I couldn't be absolutely sure it's him, Jerry. But who else could JC be?"

"Pretty incriminating, isn't it?" I said.

"Remember," Jason said. "You promised not to do anything foolish."

"I promised not to do anything illegal. And I won't be foolish. I'll have to think it through before doing anything."

"I'd better go now," Jason said. "He obviously saw me here last summer. He may have even been stalking me. For all we know, he may have followed me here tonight."

Jason later told me that Taylor was somewhat aloof toward him in class on Monday. He also confessed that he was worried about being punished with a low grade for rejecting the Taylor's advances.

In the meantime, I decided what I must do. I appeared at Taylor's office unannounced, walked in, and closed the door. The look of alarm on his face was strong indication that he had sent the emails. "I won't take much of your time, Charlie," I said, controlling my fury over what he had done. I handed him a printed copy of the email he sent to me. He read it, said nothing, but began to fidget and sweat -- a final confirmation of his guilt. "You obviously jumped to conclusions that are totally unfounded," I said. "I won't even inquire as to how you knew that I hired Jason to work in my yard and house last summer. Nor will I probe into the reasons for your interest in him." With that last comment, I gave him a menacing glare and watched him fidget some more.

I then placed a printed copy of the email he sent to Jason in his trembling hands. He read it and stammered, "What's all this got to do with me?"

Ignoring his question, I said, "Your behavior in the lab on Sunday was inexcusable and revolting. You will resign your position effective the end of the current term. You will have absolutely no contact with Jason -- or any other student -- apart from professional communication in the classroom and lab. You will award Jason a grade based exclusively on his work in class -- no more, no less. If you do all those things, I will consider the matter settled. If you don't, things might get ugly -- very ugly. Do I make myself clear?"

His body went limp. He buried his face in his hands. I walked out of his office, leaving him to his misery.

I returned to my office. I didn't feel good about terminating Taylor's career but, I reasoned, I would feel worse if he assaulted another student. It seemed eminently clear to me that his behavior toward Jason was motivated by prurient lust whereas my feelings toward Jason were respect and love. My decision to avoid sexual contact, it seemed at the time, gave me license to administer justice to a predator.

A week later, the faculty newsletter announced the resignation of Dr. Charles Taylor for "health reasons" that were unspecified. There was a glowing report of his distinguished career and his contribution to the college. It concluded with the formation of a search committee to replace him. Recalling my own anxiety about the possible loss of my job, I had a brief moment of sympathy for my colleague and a sense of guilt for causing him to resign. But that was quickly replaced with the satisfaction that I probably prevented his victimizing other students.

Dr. Taylor came into my office soon after the announcement. Without his customary greeting and pleasantries, he immediately asked, "Have you heard about Charlie Taylor's resignation?"

"Yes," I replied. "Bit of a surprise, isn't it?"

He cocked his eyebrows and said, "I'd like to know what's behind it. Official announcements always seem to put a positive spin on information. I don't suppose you would know."

Avoiding his implied question, I said, "You recently told me that you couldn't divulge the source of information you received about me. I'm sure you'll understand that I now find myself in the same position. I am in possession of information that goes far beyond what you heard about me and I'm not at liberty to reveal it."

He just looked at me, seeming to be momentarily confused, and then said, "I guess I really don't want to know, then, do I?"

"It's better that way, believe me," I replied.

A very broad smile crossed his face as he said, "Well, the college has lost a senior faculty member but I'm glad we have bright new ones like yourself on board. See ya later." He left me wondering just what role he thought I might have played in Taylor's resignation.

Jason, not surprisingly, received an A in chemistry just as he did in every other course that term and I had no doubt that he had earned it.

I took a quick trip to be with my family in Mississippi for Christmas. Jason agreed to check on my house periodically. He offered to stay there as he had done the previous summer and without pay but I emphatically declined his offer. I would be gone for only three days and I felt he ought to spend his holiday with his family. I did accept, however, his offer to drive me to and from the airport. As he dropped me at the curb in front of the terminal, he handed me an envelope. "Open this on the plane," he said. I was curious about what was in the envelope but agreed to his request.

Waiting at the boarding gate, I could no longer contain my curiosity. I opened the envelope to find a Christmas card and a picture of Jason. On the back of the picture he had written, "Don't ever doubt my love for you." On the card, under the standard Hallmark greeting, he had written, "This card is not the present I'd like to give you. But rest assured you'll have it whenever you can accept it." I knew immediately what the present would be and why he couldn't give it to me now. It was the same present that I wished I could give to him. I fervently hoped we could exchange our gifts to each other soon.

To be continued.