Noah Stone pushed the dolly toward the door that had the sign on it: "Noah Stone, PhD. Professor, Department of History." Classes hadn't started yet, but he was moving into his new office. A new University, a new office, and a new life in a new city. Thanks to his friend Selma. Noah had received his PhD "with distinction" about 20 years previously.
He was 30 when he finished his graduate work in Medieval History and had started teaching immediately after that. He had written three books. Two had disappeared into the gaping hole that is academic publishing but the third: the one that had brought him what notoriety he had, was the book dearest to his heart. He had written in a field that was not well explored: incarceration and punishment during the medieval era. The lack of scholarship in the area meant that there were very few "experts," and he had, "de facto" become one of the leaders in the field. The point of his work that brought the notoriety was his assertion that a certain portion of the population of Medieval Europe actually enjoyed being punished and sought out ways to BE punished without in fact doing anything wrong. Self-flagellation was only the tip of the iceberg, and again, an assertion that was far from free of controversy had been that a certain portion of the monks who entered monasteries had done so in order to find a source of punishment more readily than they could elsewhere. He had documented that the existing sleeping quarters of monks, and nuns from abbeys and convents, showed restraints at the wrists and in the walls above the beds, so as to restrain the individual. Apart from his scholarship, Noah stood out. He was a less than conventional figure. He drove a motorcycle to work, wore a leather jacket and a cap, had a grizzled appearance from his beard, and frequently lectured in t shirts and ratty jeans. The t shirts showed the tattoos that covered his arms. One of his grad students had said that Professor Stone did not sponsor PhD candidates who had more tats than he did. Whether that was true or not was debatable because in any event, it was hard to find someone more tatted than he was. Selma had helped him get this position when Youssef, his lover of five years, had walked out on him. Youssef had been, according to Noah, "my perfect man." He was taller and bigger than Noah was, with very dark, thick, curly hair, and a big smile. He was from Morocco, and Noah had fallen hard. They had met the old-fashioned way: at a bar. Youssef had been the one who approached Noah and as they chatted, Noah began thinking "this is a mistake. He's out of my league and in any event, we're both here looking for someone to fuck, and to fuck them hard." Then, Youssef smiled his big smile at him. "Earth to Noah/Earth to Noah, you didn't hear my question." Noah shook his head. "Oh, I'm sorry Youssef I just... never mind. What was your question?" "I asked you if I could come home with you tonight?" Noah smiled. "I DID hear the question. I couldn't quite believe it that's why I was off in space. I think it's not a good idea." Youssef's smile had faded. "Why is that Sir?" "Well, we're both tops and." "No we're not Sir." He took Noah's hand and put it on the nipple pointing out of his tight white t shirt. "I have been fantasizing about being underneath you all night, and how you're probably fucking amazing in bed." Noah looked at him skeptically. "Are you bullshitting me?" Now the smile was back. "Take me home and find out. You can always toss me out if I am." "Let's go," was all Noah said. And an hour later, he learned that Youssef was NOT bullshitting. Once they got into Noah's apartment, Youssef followed Noah's lead. He had experience and responded to anything that Noah did. When Noah whispered into his ear "what do you want me to do to you?" Youssef had answered "whatever you want, Sir." "I never fuck on the first date. I never fuck on the first date," Noah told himself right before he fucked Youssef on their first date. He fucked him the next morning and the next afternoon. And when he came back from teaching that night, he fucked Youssef again. Youssef moved in three months later. He brought a collection of toys with him and again, with that smile, he said to Noah "I'd like you to use at least one of these on me every week, and then repeat the cycle." "I have my own toys too Youssef" "Yes Sir. I know. I didn't say you should stop using them." Why did he walk out? They hadn't fought, there was no evidence that Youssef was cheating, but one day, Noah came home to a half empty apartment and a note that said "I've left. Be well. Yossi." He had seen Youssef in the bars after that, but any time he approached him, Youssef would walk away or walk out. Then he started seeing Yossi in places other than the bars, and it destroyed him. One day, he could have sworn that he saw Yossi on campus. He wasn't mistaken. Youssef had gotten a job in the IT department for the university. "I need to get out. I can't stay here," he thought. Selma, who had come from out of state several times to help Noah deal with his grief, finally took a firm position. "OK, you're a tenured professor in an area of history where there aren't many people available. My university (Selma had defended her dissertation a week before Noah did. She was an American Historian), doesn't HAVE a medievalist. Let's get the ball rolling. Next time I come back, you're returning with me. If Noah was a Dom, Selma was a DOM'S DOM. She had once said to him "Honey, I don't NEED the spiked heels or a whip. All I need is my tongue and a comfortable pair of shoes." Doors opened, grant lines became available, and soon, Selma's university was issuing press releases about how "Proud we are to announce that Professor Noah Stone will be joining us in the next academic year. He'll be teaching a survey course on Medieval History, advanced undergraduate courses and hopes to invigorate our graduate Medieval studies program. And he was there that weekend to start moving in the books that he did not trust the movers to bring: the volumes in Latin and Greek and German that he had acquired when he was away doing research on grants. It was hot that day, and he was sweating. He needed something to towel off his face. He found a restroom at the end of the floor and realized that, in addition to a quick rinse of his face, he needed to piss. Badly. While he was in the bathroom, a BIG man came in. He was wearing a janitor's uniform, and Noah saw the word "Tex" embroidered over his left pec. "He must be 6'4" and 220" Noah thought to himself. "He's fucking BURSTING out of that uniform. "Tex looked up. "Excuse me bud, but I've never seen you around here before. How the hell did you get into this building on a weekend?" His voice was deep, and secure. Noah looked up from the urinal. "Let me wash my hands if you don't mind. I'm Noah Stone. I'm starting in the history department in September, and I'm just trying to move some stuff into my office. Nice to meet you... Tex" He held out his hand. Tex returned a firm handshake. "My apologies Professor. I just, well, you must know this: you don't look like the standard professor around here and, I've been working in this building for about four years and I'm protective of it." "No need to explain Tex. And if I'm calling you Tex, you need to call me Noah." Tex reddened. "I will today, but not around other faculty. I'll lose my job. They're a little snooty about that around here. By the way, my last name is West." "Tex West." Noah smiled. "Almost has a porn actor sensibility about it." "This man is gay. HOLY FUCK" thought "Tex." "Tex West" was not his real name. His real name was Mark Heller. He used a different name because, well, most evenings he worked as an escort for women. As one of his best friends had told him "do you think a woman would rather get laid by Mark Heller or Tex West." And it was true. He was always booked solidly with the ladies. Unfortunately, the name "Tex West," coupled with his size and appearance, caused a problem with the other side of his life. Tex was gay. He liked to bottom. Most of all, he liked being submissive. There were few guys who believed he was anything other than straight trade when he told them what he liked. There were even a few who recognized his ads from the web sites for straight women and would razz him for being a fake. When things got to the point where he had asked a woman he was escorting if she wanted "a good hard fuck," he would close his eyes and think of the man of his dreams. That man always looked like the man who was standing in front of him. Tex got cold feet. "Nice to meet you Noah but, I gotta go. I shouldn't be here anyway. You'd... be surprised how much paperwork there is for custodians. I'm sure I'll see you around. Take care Sir. Let me know if you need any help getting settled. More than happy." Then he was gone. "Story of my life," Noah muttered to himself. "He'll make a good fantasy tonight though: me my handkerchief and thoughts of what I'd do to a big straight boy like that. "
The semester started with the craziness that every semester does. Noah was so buried in orientation meetings ("why are they all the same? Does every university use the same fucking script?" he thought), meeting his new students (his lecture class has 120 students signed up for it. He hadn't expected that. That meant there would be a rush to set up discussion sections with graduate students, which would be a challenge since the University, strictly speaking, did not have a medieval history program. Noah was starting it, so he'd have to recruit from other departments. He was at the university late, a lot. He saw Tex from time to time, and tried to smile, but a conversation was out of the question. Still, if Tex passed him on the floor or in the building, he'd make sure to catch a look at the boy's ass as he left. He wondered if Tex had his uniform pants tailored, or if his ass really DID look that good. "He should be working in the art history building, don't you think, love?" Selma had come up to him. "How is this university treating you?" "EH, Vanilla, chocolate, it's all ice cream Sel. We haven't had a chance to sit and have coffee or anything." "Well, that's about to change. And we're going to gossip about one of the most beautiful specimens we have ever seen." She smiled. "You mean Tex?" "Uh huh." "You have tea to spill?" "Uh huh" Noah looked at his watch. "I don't meet with the juniors and seniors for two hours. You have time?" "Only to scratch the surface dear. Just the surface." They were sitting in one of the University cafeterias, because it was the closest place to get a coffee. They made some small talk and then Selma sat back. "So, you've met Tex?" "Well, yes, he was working on the Saturday that I started moving in." "AH. He must have had a slow weekend, so he asked for overtime." "He has a second job?" "The oldest one in the profession Noah Darling?" He stopped for a minute. "He's a whore?" "Dear, we call them escorts now. Surely, you've heard of them." "Well, yeah, but." "Darling, let me not get your hopes up. Yes, he's incredibly desirable but, he plays for my team." "How do you know that?" And Selma, who could do a Mona Lisa smile better than any woman he knew, sat back. She had the "what I wouldn't give for a cigarette look." "I'm a woman with needs, sweetie, and you gay men don't own the internet you know. I found him. He's expensive. And worth it." "Uh, how many times?" "Three. Then he saw me here and said it was too risky. Too bad. But now I have Sven. Not as caring or as careful but, well, more focused." "SHIT" Noah thought. "Oh well, I didn't intend to have any sex this semester anyway." "Well, THAT would be a first for you, love. I mean, do you have a list of the bars that you prefer yet?" He laughed. "I haven't even gotten that far, Sel." She pulled a folder out of her leather portfolio. "With momma's compliments." She looked at her phone. "I violated the cardinal rule and gave the students in my seminar my cell phone number. Ashley -- UGH, why are they ALWAYS named Ashley- can't decide what to write her term paper on. I think I'll suggest the history of shampoo in the US." "YOU WOULDN'T!" "HA. You'd be surprised. Someone wrote a history of middy blouses in the Japanese navy. Got a fucking PhD for it." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I think Ashley will explore the world of surfactants and perfumes. Her boyfriend is a chemistry major so, I guess there will be a plagiarism issue if I ask. I don't think Ashley herself could tell you what's in water." She got up and blew Noah a kiss. "Ta ta Noah. Trust me: best that your bubble gets burst early rather than late. I know how you can moon." And nothing else notable happened until late in that first semester. It was getting close to finals, and Noah was working very late some nights, getting grades recorded, writing questions for his exams, approving papers, etc. He was doing his own research too, and had his nose buried in a bad photcopy of a monk's diary, written in bad Latin, when he heard a knock on the door. "Hey Professor. I haven't seen you in a while and I wanted to check. How are things going?" Tex smiled at him. "Have his arms gotten bigger? Is his face even prettier? DAMN." "TEX! I'm so sorry, I've seen you around, but it's just been so bloody crazy." He looked around. He found a bag of stale cheese crackers and a lukewarm soda over at the side. "I can offer you a seat and I can offer that junk food over there, but I wouldn't take the junk food if I were you." Tex chuckled. "It's okay, prof. Junk food's not on my diet. And today is a fast day. You know the system I bet: strength and growth and then fat burning." "I know it. When I was young, I used it." "PROF. Say younger. C'mon. You're not old. What you study is old, but you're not." "He's good," Noah thought. "I guess he can't help man spreading either." "So, what brings you around, Tex? I mean, I'm glad to see you but I didn't expect to." "Well, prof, I wanted to ask you something. And no is an ok answer." "Is he asking to date me? Gods be with me" Noah thought. "I know you read a lot of books and you get a lot of books you don't read so, I was wondering: could you let me know the next time you want to get rid of some of them because..." Now he blushed. "I'm kinda interested in this stuff too." "Well, well, well," Noah thought. "We're getting somewhere. "OF COURSE, TEX. In fact," Noah turned around. He pulled down three books. "These are two where I have extra copies. Sometimes my students have trouble finding the works and so I always have extras around. This third one... it's in Latin but maybe you can find a translation. It's a good one. "Prof, I can read Latin." "YOU CAN? How's that?" Tex sat back and he grinned. "I was home schooled, and my uncle was a Catholic priest. A Jesuit. I studied Latin with him for six or seven years." Now Noah was intrigued. Seven years of Latin with a priest. What else did his uncle teach him? Well, open this one up. See if you can handle it. Tex looked down at the book and began reading "A manual of self-flagellation for monks. So let it be understood that the rule for self-flagellation is that too much may be as bad as too little." He giggled. "I'm not sure about that professor." Then he went on. "How intriguing. And you never went to college, Tex?" "Wasn't in the cards for me. Felt too confining." He looked up. "In the corner Prof, is that an Iron Maiden?" "You know about Iron Maidens?" "Well, yeah. I mean, you can't study this stuff without encountering them, right? Can I ask how you got it?" Noah had to make up a story. It had been in the collection of a Hungarian he had slept with, and it had arrived a week after Noah had gotten home as a thank you gift. "Oh, I spent a little time in Hungary and there was some kind of estate sale, and I got it for less than it cost to ship it home. Now I threaten my students who are unprepared with it, Ha ha." "It's kinda scary. I wouldn't want to be in it for sure." "Well, I've never used it on anyone. "Now Noah smiled. "At least not yet." He saw the color drain out of Tex's face. Could Selma have been wrong? He laughed "Tex, you're WAY too big to fit in that thing. Even if you WANTED to use it, you couldn't fit unless I cut off your legs at the knees, and then well, what's the point?" Tex's voice dropped. "I'm sure there are other devices that work on big guys, professor. Weren't the Slavs pretty big?" "Stocky but not tall. When you read about giants in medieval literature, they're really talking about guys your size." Tex was silent. "But to answer your question, yes, there were. There are tales about giants being captured, and then being tortured. Was that a wet spot in Tex's uniform pants. "If, if you can think of any books talking about that Professor, I'd be very interested." "Let me give it some thought, Giant. Now, I'd love to keep chatting, but these papers are not going to grade themselves." Tex held out his hand. "Thank you, Professor. After I read these, maybe we can discuss them. "Of course," said Noah, while he thought "And maybe we could act out parts of them."
Noah recounted all of this to Selma when they sat down for a "we won't see each other until finals are over" lunch. Selma was her usual cynical self. "Be careful Darling. I mean, you think you're tough and you have a hard shell, but guys like Tex, well, they can smell vulnerability the way a shark smells blood." "Noted. I will be careful. Just for the record, I haven't invited him on a motorcycle ride, for a drink or anything else. All above board." "Good. Leave something for us biological girls, stud." She sighed as she got up. "What is it that you always say: those papers aren't gonna grade themselves. And yes dear, this one is on you. I'm not charging for my psychological insights." And the semester ended. Noah met with his Teaching Assistants after the undergraduate survey final, he read and graded his advanced undergraduate seminar papers, and then they went into the holidays. The university closed down for a week before "real Christmas started," and Noah was doing work in his office. He had to make a trip down to the basement before he left that day: he had remembered a book that was a survey of medieval literature and he had remembered, correctly, that there were several stories about giants in it. He had gotten it, NOT as a Christmas present, but as a gift for Tex. He got up and took the elevator to the basement. He had never been down there before. Most Professors hadn't been. It was dark, but there was enough light to see, and he looked around. He didn't hear a soul. "I guess they left for holiday too, or at least most of them." Then he heard a noise. Grunting. Moaning. It sounded like something he had heard in back rooms all across the country. "OH YEAH. HARDER. DEEPER. MAKE ME HURT STUD. MAKE ME SCREAM." He recognized the voice. Was that Tex? He turned a corner of the basement and he saw Tex, bent over a sawhorse, his pants down, and another janior, almost as big as Tex, plowing Tex's ass. Noah had come in from behind where they were, so they didn't see him, and he couldn't see them well. Had he come down from another direction, he would have seen the handcuffs around Tex's wrists. Noah froze. He wanted to watch but, no, he wasn't going to do that. He didn't want to embarrass Tex, even though what he wanted for Christmas at that point, was to step in front and get sucked off by that big hunk. Instead, he left the book on a table covered with tools. As he got back in the elevator, he heard the other guy yell as he climaxed. "Well, this changes everything," he thought. "Second semester is going to be interesting."