Richard Big-Smith and Irene Stickwell entered Rochester’s campus home at Oxford for some afternoon tea. The shades were drawn. A sliver of light snuck easily through a small opening between the two, long drapes and fell across the dining room table. It was clear to both of them that Earl Gray would not satisfy. “I find,” began Rochester, “that a hard day’s work is best topped off with something more…” “…carnal,” Irene completed his sentence. “I was going to say lascivious.” “Quite. My nether excretions concur,” Irene ran a finger up her plaid leggings. “Do you know what really gets my nether regions oozing?” “I can posit a hypothesis…” Rochester approached his massive, soaring, loaded bookshelves in the posterior of the room. He stuck his finger in, and after fiddling about a bit he pulled out a small book whose spine read Joyce’s Dirty Letters. “Read it to me, you pedagogue!” Irene bit her lower lip and uncrossed her legs. ” ‘Dublin, the second of December. Dear Nora, my love for you allows me to pray to the spirit of eternal beauty and tenderness mirrored in your eyes or…” Rochester looked up and locked eyes with the witty wet vixen vying perniciously on his tea time table-top – both knew what approached. “…fling you down under me on that soft belly of your and take you up behind, like a hog riding a sow, glorifying in the very stink and sweat that rises from your body! Glorifying in the open shape of your upturned dress and white girlish drawers!” “Say it again, Rochester!” “Drawers!” “OOO! Rochester!” Rochester laid the book down. “Faulk…ner!” “Oh my, how forward of you!” “No! William Faulkner, read him to me, Rochester!” Rochester ran along his shelves, his fingers plucking at the occasional leather-etched edges protruding. At last! ” ‘When they get it finished they are going to put her back in it and then…’ ” “Dick! Dick…ens!” Irene was all atwitter. “Read me Dickens you dirty dirty curmudgeon! You brackish brooding beast!” Rochester ran, poking as he went… ” ‘Behind the scenes the same unwonted excitement prevailed. Miss Snevellicci was in such a perspiration…” “I perspire, Rochester! I am positively glistening! Finish me!” Rochester rushed to the other end of his massive bookshelf and plucked an ancient volume from a corner. ” ‘ “Come to me, Arthur…” ‘.” “Rochester… come to me! But read as you ambulate!” ” ‘ “Leave those others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come and we can rest together…” ‘.” Rochester and Irene embraced, inching closer to infinite pleasure. “The way your dewy locks fall on your flannel shoulder pads makes me positively… ticklish… sticky… The way your thick jacket is draped over your hefty thigh makes me bothered.” “Quite!” “Excited…” “Quite!!” “HOT!” “Lecherous!” Rochester took a step back and removed his students’ term papers. “These are worth 50 percent of your grade…” “Role playing!” Irene clapped the excitement. Their adventures had only just begun.

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Illustration by Gardi Arroyo