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around on Ben.
    What the hell are you thinking? But he knew exactly what he was thinking. He was going to try to ignite his stuffy literature professor’s secretly aggressive sexual nature.
    It was no wonder Dominick was treating Ben differently. He felt different. Something inside him was different, ever since he’d spied on Coyle at that damn party. A desperate, irrational need for the man burned within him. He could no more temper it than he could stop the exploding orgasm in his dream last night.
    Dom had scolded Ben for being unwilling to take risks. And yes, he’d always been overly cautious that way. But if things played out the way he hoped, then he planned to find out what would happen if he did take a risk. A big one.
    He was going to try seducing Professor Coyle.

 
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    Peter stepped into his campus office and sat down, taking his glasses off, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t usually this tired at the end of a school day, but his shoulders felt tense and he just wanted to go home and take a hot bath. Unfortunately he was expected to go to that dreaded cocktail party at Dean Yarboro’s place tonight.
    He shuffled through his mail, stopping short when he got to a large manila envelope. Dr. Peter Coyle was written across the top in black marker, and beneath that, From Benjamin LeClair .
    He’d felt an impending dread since seeing Benjamin near the Fine Arts Center earlier, sitting at the fountain across the walkway. Watching him? Or was it just a coincidence? His fingers tightened on the envelope. Was this it? Would this be the threat he’d been anticipating? He shook it, trying to determine its contents. Would it be the test he promised to turn in or something worse? Like blackmail photographs .
    “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself. “Stop being so melodramatic.” He had to get a grip, it was ridiculous, living in fear of some little punk student. Who may or may not have watched you fuck someone Friday night. While you fantasized about him .
    Tightening his lips, he tore open the envelope and dumped the contents onto his desk, jerking back as though expecting it to be a bomb or a family of spiders. He let out the breath he’d been holding. Just papers. Nothing but papers. No photographs.
    He sifted through. There was Benjamin’s test on chapters four through ten, along with an essay of some sort, and a letter. He set the other items down and picked up the letter.
     
    Dr. Coyle:
    I did find the test you said I missed. I was correct that I did in fact take it, but it appears I neglected to turn it in, so I realize that technically I am in the wrong here. I apologize for my tone when I spoke to you on Friday afternoon. I know that the tests have been handed back to other students, so you likely can’t be sure if this is the original test or if I cheated. I assure you I did not. However, I’ve taken the liberty of writing an essay concerning the subject matter in said chapters, and I hope you will take this as a sign of good faith, and allow it as compensation to my grade. I know you have no interest in student sob stories, but I have no parents or support system to fall back on, and if I fail this class, I’ll be forced to take time off to work so I can afford to take it again. I’m set to graduate in a few weeks, and I’d be forever grateful if you could find it in your heart to not hinder those plans.
    Thank you in advance,
    Ben LeClair
     
    Peter frowned at the letter then set it aside. Picking up the essay, he put his feet up on the desk and read it through. It was a compare and contrast piece on Steinbeck’s poverty theme in the novels Tortilla Flat and The Grapes of Wrath . Far from an original idea for a paper, but the student’s writing was solid, thorough, and his ideas were insightful and somewhat unique.
    Setting the essay aside, he did a scan on the web, checking for signs of plagiarism. It appeared Benjamin’s work was his own. He had to admit he was