"Please comfort me, Hicchan. Just for today."
 
The words come out of my mouth before I know what I'm saying. They hang in the air between me and Hisao like the flakes in a snow globe.
 
He looks at me in stunned silence, his mouth opening and closing.
 
I can't stand it. I throw myself into his arms, pushing him onto the bed.
 
I want these hands that have touched my Shicchan to touch me. I don't want to be alone any more.
 
I want. . .
 
I want some closeness. Some kind of tenderness in my life. I want to be loved.
 
Is that so bad?
 
Hisao's eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in determination. He pushes me off roughly, and I fall onto his bed. The feel of the springs bouncing underneath me is like a bucket of cold water to the face.
 
Hot tears well up behind my eyes as I lay on his bed.
 
I don't think I've ever hated myself more than I have at this moment.
 
"You're right, Hiccan. I'm sorry."
 
Hisao lies on the bed next to me. He closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief. "Don't be."
 
"No, Hicchan~. It's okay. I am really really really~." I laugh hollowly. "Just. . . I think just asking was enough for me. I'm happier that you said no."
 
That much is the truth.
 
Hisao and I make our awkward goodbyes, and I leave the room, closing the door behind me.
 
-----
 
I wish I was never born.
 
I wish I had never come to Yamaku.
 
I wish I'd never fallen in love with my best friend.
 
I wish I'd never been so weak as to try and find comfort in the arms of my best friend's lover.
 
There is an old joke about a man who goes to a psychologist. Says he's depressed. Life feels pointless. The doctor tells him to go to the circus. Watch the clowns. Feel better.
 
"But doctor," the man says. "I'm with the circus. I am a clown."
 
That joke's not very funny at all.
 
-----
 
"Mikado?"
 
The deep baritone voice breaks through my shell of self-loathing as I wander aimlessly away from the class.
 
Professor Mutou is standing in the middle of the quad, his briefcase in one hand, the other hand resting in his pocket.
 
"Mikado, are you all right?"
 
"Y. . . yes, I'm fine," I hear myself say.
 
Mutou doesn't reply. He just walks over to me.
 
One rough hand reaches to my face and brushes a tear off my cheek.
 
"Are you sure?"
 
For the second time tonight, I throw myself into the arms of a man. I bury my face in Mutou's chest and cry.
 
Warm arms wrap around my shoulders. Professor Mutou says nothing, just rests his hands on me and lets me hold him close and cry my heart out. The tears flow hot and hard as I stifle my sobs against his tweed jacket.
 
Pain and sorrow fade into a dull, stony ache settling just under my heart. Miserable with self-loathing, I sag against the tall man, eyes closed, almost unable to stand.
 
"I'm sorry."
 
Mutou rests his hand against my head and gives me a friendly pet, like a master stroking a favorite dog.
 
"Do you want to talk about it?"
 
"Yes," I whisper.
 
Mutou nods and takes my hand. He leads me across the quad to the parking lot. He lets me into his car, and we drive into town.
 
-----
 
His car smells clean but not particularly nice. There is the lingering scent of too many fast-food meals eaten on the go, too many long nights spent driving alone with a cigarette in one hand and the other on the wheel.
 
He drives us to the Shanghai, where we find a booth and sit down across from each other. As usual, the teashop is quiet tonight.
 
I'm grateful for one thing. This isn't one of Yuuko's nights. I don't think I could stomach dealing with her on top of all this.
 
The manager, an older man with grey hair, comes out from behind the counter and stands silently by our table. "The usual for me," Mutou says. "Mikado?"
 
". . . just tea."
 
The manager nods to us and goes back into the kitchen to take our orders. Mutou leans back in his chair and regards me with a studying look, as if I were a particularly interesting particle colliding with another one in a laboratory accelerator. "Something happened today?" he asks.
 
"Yes." My voice feels small and weak. The words vanish in the air between us. "Shicchan and Hicchan. . . Shizune and Hisao. They're dating."
 
"Yes, I know," Mutou says patiently. "And you don't approve?"
 
I hug my arms around my waist tightly. "He's good for her. Hisao is a good guy. He'll treat her right. And Shizune. . . she loves him too, even though she's too stubborn to show it."
 
"But?"
 
"But. . . I used to think that if Shizune was happy, it's all I would ever want. But now she's happy, and all it does is make me feel horrible."
 
"Because she isn't happy with you."
 
"Yeah," I whisper. Another word lost in the still air of the Shanghai.
 
The manager returns to our table with our drinks orders. Mutou pours cream and sugar into his coffee and looks into the caramel-brown liquid, steaming hot in the plain white mug.
 
"If human beings were logical creatures, we would never feel pain," Mutou says. "There are philosophers and scientists who have believed that all of the world's problems could be solved if we could only teach human beings to be logical. History is filled with examples of men who have tried and failed. The truth is, human beings are creatures of both logic and emotion, mind and heart. Despite the best efforts of scientists and philosophers, human emotion still rules over logic far too often." He takes a sip of his coffee. "In the end, I suppose it's what makes us mortal beings, and not gods."
 
"I don't want to be mortal," I say, curling up and holding myself tightly. "I just. . . I want these feelings to go away. I want them to vanish." My hands close tightly around my teacup. "I'd do anything to make them vanish. . ."
 
"They don't do that," Mutou says. "Despite your best efforts. . . emotions stay." He reaches a hand out and covers my own with his large, rough hand. I let go of my coffee cup and clasp his fingers in mine. The human contact feels warm and comforting.
 
"I feel so ashamed. I did something terrible tonight. . . I tried to, at least. I tried as hard as I could, but I didn't succeed, and when I failed, I was happy. I don't know what I would have done if I had succeeded."
 
"Emotions are like that," Mutou agrees. "There are things that I feel that I am ashamed of as well."
 
I look up into his eyes. His hand closes tightly around mine.
 
"There's nothing you can do that will make those emotions go away," he says, "and sometimes, the heart will overrule the head and you'll do something you'll regret. In those times. . . you need to learn to forgive yourself. To stop punishing yourself for the sins you have committed." His hand squeezes tightly around mine, then lets go. "It's not easy. I won't pretend it is. But time and distance help."
 
We finish our drinks together without saying anything more.
 
-----
 
We get back into Mutou's car, and he starts up the engine, as behind us, the lights of the Shanghai turn off. He's pulling out of the parking lot and about to turn back up towards Yamaku when I feel a sudden rush of fear rise in my heart.
 
I don't want to go back there. Not tonight. Not where Shicchan might come by my dorm room and talk to me. I couldn't bear to face her.
 
"I don't want to go back," I blurt out. "Can't I. . ."
 
Mutou's mouth sets in a grim line. "Mikado, I. . ."
 
"Please. I don't want to go back to my dorm room tonight."
 
Mutou's hands clench around the steering wheel and he closes his eyes. "All right," he says calmly. "Do you have any family in town? Any friends?"
 
"No. . ."
 
"I can put you up in a hotel room."
 
The thought of spending a night alone in a strange room is even scarier to me. I shake my head. "Please. . . no. No, I'm. . . I don't want to be alone. . ."
 
Mutou's knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel tightly. He inhales and lets the breath out in a slow, ragged sigh. "Very well," he says.
 
He turns his car away from Yamaku, and we drive into town.
 
-----
 
The apartment building is two stories tall. Mutou walks up the stairs to the second story and opens up the second door.
 
The apartment itself is small. There is a kitchen and a living room with a couch and a television. Several empty beer cans sit on a coffee table with some scientific journals strewn here and there. A large box of instant ramen noodles on top of the refrigerator.
 
There is very little decoration, very few touches of home. This is a sparse, spartan place, meant only as a place to sleep and occasionally eat a light meal or drink a beer in front of a television.
 
"You can use the bed," Mutou says. "I'll sleep on the couch. The door locks, so you don't have anything to worry about."
 
"All right," I say timidly.
 
He lets me use his bathroom and loans me a toothbrush to brush my teeth, and one of his shirts to sleep in. I hang up my school uniform on the back of a chair and sit on the bed for a long time, listening to the television in the living room playing some late-night comedy show.
 
There is a crack in the plaster of the ceiling that goes across one corner. I stare at it for a long time. I feel cold.
 
I want to feel warm again.
 
I don't know what impulse of mine brings me to my feet, or unlocks the bedroom door, or walks out into the living room. The only light comes from the television set, as Mutou lays on his couch in a t-shirt and his boxer shorts, watching the television with detached disinterest.
 
He sits up as he sees me enter the living room. Any words he's about to speak are taken away as I unbutton the borrowed shirt and let it slip off my shoulders, leaving me in my underwear.
 
"Mikado. . ."
 
His mouth opens and closes a few times. His expression is filled with the same kind of familiar self-loathing I've seen in the mirror too often.
 
"Mikado, this isn't. . . it's not wise," he says.
 
But his eyes are on my body.
 
I sit in his lap, stradding him, and reach up to touch his stubbled face. Mutou closes his eyes at my touch, and he trembles with fear. . . and longing.
 
"It's been a long time since I last did this," he says. "I wouldn't be a good first time for you."
 
"I've never done this before," I admit. "Never with a man. I don't. . ."
 
"Mikado," Mutou says again. He reaches for the blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. "I wouldn't be a good teacher. . . or a good man. . . if I let you do this."
 
His hands rest on my cheeks, and he kisses me on the forehead.
 
"When you're not my student any more. . . and you're certain you want to do this. . . then come and see me again," he says. "I'll do it right and proper for you, the way a wonderful girl like you deserves. But like this? Right now? You'll regret it later. I won't let you live your life with a regret like that in your past. And I won't let myself regret being the one who did that to you."
 
My eyes close and hot tears run down my face. "I. . . I feel. . . I'm just so lonely," I sob. "I don't. . . I don't want to feel like this. . ."
 
Mutou wraps his arms around me and holds me close under the blanket. "Then you can stay with me," he says. "I'll keep the loneliness away."
 
Once again I sob my heart to him, soaking the thin t-shirt that is all that separates his narrow, gaunt frame from me. He holds me until I fall asleep: a gentle, caring embrace, like that of a father or a lover.
 
When I wake up, I'm still in his arms.
 
-----
 
"We need to leave early," Mutou says, as he straightens his tie in the mirror. "I'll drop you off at the bus stop in town, and you can take the bus in. That way, we don't get seen coming to school together."
 
"I wouldn't mind," I say.
 
"I would. High school girls don't have much. Your reputation is something I don't want you to lose."
 
"All right."
 
Mutou puts on his dark brown sport coat, and we walk out of his apartment together in the cold pre-dawn grey light. The chill of the morning makes my breath fog up before me.
 
"Professor Mutou?"
 
"Yes?" he asks.
 
"Did you mean what you said last night? About if. . . if I'm not your student. . ."
 
"But you are."
 
"Yes. But when I'm not. . .?"
 
Mutou sighs, and that look of self-loathing returns to his eyes.
 
"We all have our sins, Shiina," he says. "Mine is a sin of the heart. I've never acted on it. . . but it's a sin nonetheless."
 
And he leans down and kisses me on the mouth.
 
He tastes like cigarettes and stale beer, but his lips are soft and his hands against my face are warm and kind. My breath catches in my chest as I close my eyes, feeling my soul become lost in his touch.
 
As we pull away, and before we walk down to his car and drive back to the school, he leans forward and whispers something into my ear.
 
"Remember," Akio Mutou says. "You're never alone."
 
-----
 
Epilogue:
 
-----
 
"Can you stop throwing your pencil please?" Mutou says. "How do you even throw a pencil that loudly?"
 
"I'm not throwing it~, when I get nervous, I like to spin it around, but~ then I forget I'm holding it and--"
 
"It doesn't matter," he interrupts. "There shouldn't be pencils flying around. I get enough of that during regular school hours. I don't need it after hours."
 
"R-right. Sorry."
 
"Whatever. Just stop throwing, or releasing, or dropping things, please," Mutou sighs. He opens up his newspaper and scans the next line. "Teachers have work, too."
 
"But you promised me that you'd help me with my science classes!" I point out. "I need this grade to get my GPA up!"
 
"In that case, will you please sit down and calm down?" Mutou says, frustrated. "You ask me for these supplementary lessons, but we spend so much time arguing over useless nonsense before we even get started."
 
Neither of us have talked about that night we spent together in his apartment. It's a silent agreement. That Night never gets mentioned between us. There's too much emotion bound up in it, too much taboo. Too many words left unspoken.
 
Screw that. Everything changes tonight.
 
"You know~," I say, as I twirl my pencil between my fingertips. "In a couple of months I won't be your student any more."
 
"Yes," Mutou points out. "But until then I am still your teacher, and you are going to do these supplementary lessons, or I won't give you any extra credit."
 
"Can't I earn extra credit some other way?"
 
"Do the lessons, Mikado," Mutou says sternly. "And hurry up so that I can go home."
 
"So if I don't do the lessons, you don't go home~?" I giggle. "So what if I decide not to do any of them?"
 
"Then I guess we stay here all night," Mutou says harshly.
 
I giggle at that again, and Mutou shakes his head irritably. I like seeing this side of him. He's always so deadpan most of the time, that seeing him flustered or irritated is fun. I like seeing that Akio Mutou has an emotional side to him. Especially if I'm the only one who gets to see it.
 
"You know~," I say, as I ponder the next question, twirling my pencil between my fingertips. "There are terrible violations of the school code going on right~ now?"
 
"Oh?"
 
"Yeaaaaah~!" I say, smirking. "Shicchan and Hicchan are screwing like bunnies in the student council room~!"
 
"Interesting," Mutou says, deadpan, turning to the next page in his newspaper. "And how do you know this? Have you developed psychic powers?"
 
"Nope~! Shicchan told me that was her plan this morning! She and Hicchan never~ get to spend time alone together, so she was like. . . 'Misha, be sure to leave early so that Hisao and I can have some private time together~!'" I drop my voice down about half an octave to give Shicchan a bossy-sounding voice. I don't think that's what her real voice would sound like, but it works for my purposes.
 
"Well," Mutou says. "It's good of you to tell me this, but as long as I don't directly observe it myself, then I honestly don't feel the need to take action on this matter."
 
"So you don't need to do anything about it if you don't see it yourself~?"
 
"Out of sight, out of mind."
 
Bingo. Trap sprung.
 
I get up out of my chair and close the classroom door, locking it. Mutou glances up from his chair and frowns. "What the hell. . ."
 
I turn off the light switch and plunge the classroom into darkness.
 
"Mikado. What are you doing? This isn't funny at. . ."
 
It's exactly twenty-five steps from the classroom door to Mutou's desk. I know this because I've measured it out every night that I've come here for my supplementary lessons. I turn back towards the desk and take my twenty-five steps, taking the black scarves I borrowed from Shicchan out of my skirt pocket as I do so. Before Mutou's eyes have had a chance to adjust to the darkness, I use one scarf to blindfold him, then use the other one to tie his hands together behind his back, like Shicchan showed me.
 
I don't think about why she knows how to tie a man to a chair quickly and efficiently, and she didn't ask me why I wanted to know too. She's a good friend.
 
"Mikado, I'm going to give you. . ."
 
"So you don't~ feel like you need to report any~ wrongdoing you don't directly observe, right, Mutou~?" I ask.
 
". . . what are you getting at?"
 
"Well," I point out. "You're blindfolded and sitting in a chair with your hands tied behind your back. So you can't really observe anything that's going on here, right?"
 
". . . okay."
 
"So," I say. "After I put these earplugs in your ears, you won't know what I'm doing, right? For all you know, I'm just going to leave." I lean forward and breathe lightly against his ear, making him twitch in surprise. "So. . . it could be anyone that does what's about to happen to you."
 
I'm surprised at how breathy and seductive my own voice is. Perhaps it makes Mutou pause too, because he stops struggling against his bonds and sits still.
 
"Of course, the person in this room would know that if you want to stop. . . all you'd need to do is shout," I say to him. "Someone is sure to hear you call out for help. It's your choice."
 
I take the earplugs out of my other skirt pocket and insert them into his ears. Mutou inhales sharply, and I brace myself for the shout.
 
It doesn't come.
 
Suddenly I'm not sure why the hell I even decided to do this. Maybe it was Shicchan blatantly telling me that she and Hisao were going to have sex tonight. Maybe it was too many nights laying in my bed alone, running my hands over my body as I reminisced about that night in Akio's apartment. Maybe I just needed to stake my claim on this gentle, intellectual man. Maybe I was just horny as hell.
 
Either way, things were going to go down tonight.
 
I lick my lips as I kneel in front of my bound, blinded, and deafened teacher and unzip his charcoal-black pants. To my surprise, his cock is already straining against his boxer shorts. It seems that Akio Mutou isn't so stoic after all.
 
I undo his belt and ease his hard erection out through the fly of his underwear, then run a finger up the underside of his shaft. He lets out a little moan of pleasure between his teeth, which makes me giddy with delight.
 
I've wanted this for so long, to hear these sorts of noises coming from my beloved teacher. Ever since the moment when he kissed my forehead, I've longed to feel his touch against my skin again.
 
I kiss the swelling tip of his member and let my tongue lick across the little hole at the end. It tastes salty and kind of musky: really different from the girls I've been with before. It's a strong, masculine smell, like Akio himself. I want to taste it all.
 
I undo the blouse of my school uniform and let my breasts fall free. I didn't wear a bra today. I was kind of hoping that Akio would notice my hard nipples poking through the thin cloth, but he never did. Oh well. Time to make use of them
 
I'm not always happy about my body. I don't like the little rolls of fat around my waist, and my thighs always feel so big and bulky compared to Shicchan's slenderness, but one thing I'm always proud of is the size of my breasts. Even Shicchan is a bit envious of them: hers are pretty nice for her body type, but mine still has her beat. I make good use of my body's best feature as I push my breasts together, enfolding Akio between them. It throbs with every beat of his heart.
 
His stifled moans through gritted teeth grow more and more desperate as I continue to stroke him with my tits. The sight of him tied to the chair, helpless to do anything but submit to my will, is incredibly arousing. It reminds me that there's a warm heat between my legs that needs tending to.
 
I run my fingers down my body and between my thighs, begin caressing my wet sex with my fingertips as I let my breasts fall free and slip his shaft into my mouth. I'm surprised just at how big he is: way bigger than the finger I've been using to practice suppressing my gag reflex. It takes my breath away as I slide my lips all the way down his length and let them wrap around the base of his veiny cock. The smell of his pubic hair is musky in my nostrils with every dip of my head into his lap.
 
My jaw is aching, and my neck is sore, but it's still a moment of sublime satisfaction when Akio tenses up and, with a strangled moan, unleashes himself in my mouth. I'm surprised at first at the sudden taste: not quite like the "salty milk" that the magazine claimed it was, as it fills my mouth with the thick, slimy fliud. A bit of it dribbles out of the corner of my mouth as I pull free and swallow down as much as I can.
 
It's a weird sensation, and I feel a little bit ill, but I do it as best I can. For my Akio.
 
I use my handkerchief to wipe off my mouth, then use the clean side to clean my spit and his cum off of Akio's cock. Thankfully, not much of it got on his clothes, and what little did I clean off with a fresh handkerchief.
 
I quickly remove my wet panties and stuff them in Akio's jacket pocket: a little souvenir for him to remember this night by, then gather up my things and get ready to go. A quick tug on the scarves that bind his hand, and the black silk comes free of its knot. He sits still for a moment, then begins to reach up to undo his blindfold.
 
By the time he undoes it, I'm already out of the classroom and hurrying back to the girls' dorms.
 
I feel hot as hell, and my head is spinning. I need to cum more badly than I've ever had to in my entire life. I know that the moment I get back to my dorm room, I'm going to masturbate until I orgasm. Hard. It's going to be a pain keeping the noise down. It looks like my pillow's going to get some more teeth marks on it tonight.
 
Before I can reach the end of the hallway, though, a strong arm has grabbed me by the wrist. I turn to find Mutou looming over me. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me in close, kissing me.
 
My world goes white.
 
-----
 
I don't know how we get into his car. I don't even know how we safely manage to drive off-campus. All I know is that when I come down from my blissful high, I'm back in his apartment, in that big bed of his.
 
His lips are running down my body, kissing me all over, running over every erogenous zone I have, and a few I didn't know existed. Waves of ecstacy are wracking me over and over as his stubbled jaw grinds against my inner thigh, his tongue doing delectable-feeling things to my clitoris.
 
Another moment of mindless bliss.
 
Another flash of memory. I'm laying on the bed, kissing Akio. He's inside me. It hurts a bit, but it feels so good too, so much that the pain is like an old memory: distant and forgotten. With every thrust of his hips inside me, my inner walls tighten around him. I long to hold him close, to keep him inside me. I want to be closer to him, I want to never let go of this man.
 
Flash.
 
I'm looking at myself in his closet mirror. I don't know who this girl is, grinding in the lap of his older man, her back arched and her eyes nearly closed with the intensity of the sensations running through her body.
 
His hands are caressing me all over as I ride him. One hand is between my legs, teasing me around the edges of my entrance, where he's pushing deep inside over and over. The other hand is hefting my breast and tweaking the nipple.
 
His mouth is pressed to the back of my neck, and he's kissing the nape of my neck over and over. Between kisses, he's whispering something to me that I can't quite understand. . .
 
Just before the moment when my world explodes into delight, I realize what it is that he's saying.
 
"I love you. . . I love you. . . I love you. . ."
 
-----
 
"We're in trouble," Akio says, as we lay in the bed together. "I just slept with a student."
 
"I'm eighteen years old," I point out. "There's no law against it."
 
"No," he says. "But it's not ethical. I control your grades, after all. It's improper for me to. . . get emotionally involved with you because of that."
 
I roll over onto my stomach and look up at him. The glow of the cigarette between his lips is strikingly vivid in the dark blue of the pre-dawn twilight. He takes a deep drag before he stubs the butt out in his ashtray.
 
"We shouldn't have done that," I agree.
 
"No, we shouldn't have." He leans down and kisses me one more time. I close my eyes and just enjoy the feeling of his lips against mine.
 
"But I find," he says, "that this is one sin that I will find it easy to forgive myself for."
 
END