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Chapter 1

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DISCLAIMER: the following is a work of fiction. It may contain scenes of sexuality, bondage or violence, and is intended for adult readers only. All characters portrayed in this story are adults. This work in not for profit and is intended as entertainment only. Characters in this story are fictional and not based on any person living or dead, and are not meant to infringe on any existing characters in other literatures.

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Tom Brown had started working at Penndale University in the Fall of 2015 after finishing a Masters Degree in History. It had been four years since his graduation until an opening for a full-time non-tenured T.A. position opened. He had been highly recommended by his thesis director, an older teacher on the verge of retirement, for whom he had done some research work, Roxy Carlisle. She had made quite a push on the department head, Curtis Arrowsmith, and so Tom had been given his chance.

He was very grateful for it. It had been a long time coming. Several times during his education, Tom had gotten sidetracked. After high school, he had spent a year abroad living in Malaysia, doing charity work as a member of a global organization called 'No Borders', before heading out for college to get his preparatory courses to get into university. He had been inspired during his trip and had chosen History as a major. Upon getting his bachelor's degree, he had unsuccessfully tried to get a job in his field, ending up working at several places during a four year-hiatus that he would much rather forget. Unsatisfied with his life, he had managed to put enough money away to go back and get his Master's.

And now, finally, at the age of 34 years old, he was in the system. For two years now, he had been teaching in the classroom under the supervision of his mentor, Dana Foster, a 42-year-old veteran with almost twenty years under her belt at Penndale.

Finally, things were looking up for Tom.

A new semester was rolling in for Fall of 2016, and Tom was hard at work prepping his material. He was finally going to get to teach to his specific field of studies. As one of the teachers had retired last semester, quite hurriedly in fact, an opening for a new class had been created. Dana Foster had pushed her department head to allow her protégé to fill that spot, and given there were no issues with Tom's performance, he had been given a month to prepare a new class on The History of Contact in Asia - a class where they would discuss the various historical interactions between many countries in the Eastern World with the Western World, mostly during the 18th and 19th centuries. It was Tom's passion, his Thesis subject and the reason he had gone to Malaysia back then in the first place.

Tom was now checking the student list. Most of them he had never met, which wasn't very surprising. There were at least thirty teachers in his department, each with their field of humanities, and most students from outside the program only took one class in the field. There were also the regulars, the people studying in history and looking to pursue a career there: given his own hardships getting in, Tom pitied them a bit but he couldn't - nor wouldn't talk them out of it. All in all, there would be 22 students attending, mostly women. Their ages ranged from 19 to 22 mostly, though there a few older students out there as well.

The phone rang across the room, at his mentor's desk. They shared an office for lack of space. He let it ring until it went to voice. The automated message was heard.

- You have reached the office of Dana Foster, extension 156. Leave a message.

- Dana, hi. It's Randy. Listen, uh... look, it won't work. I can't go on. Therapy's not working for me anymore and... look, it's over. Sorry.

Tom had listened in, despite himself. Randy and Dana had been together for about ten years. Something had happened between them last March, something that was Randy's fault, according to Dana, and they had apparently been consulting. Tom didn't know the details, not that he didn't care but he minded his own business.

*quot;What a jerk,*quot; Tom mumbled to himself.

How could someone break up over a message on a receiver. Dana would come in, listen to it, and just lose it. How couldn't she? Tom knew better than to stay in the office for that scene. He wanted to allow Dana her privacy. He gathered his papers and walked out, unsure of his destination.

At around 5'8*quot;, with matted dark hair and a round face, Tom wasn't bad looking. He was certainly looking better than his hiatus years where stress had made him gain roughly thirty pounds. Since then, he had whittled it down to a reasonable 160 lbs. He didn't train much but he walked a lot, making the 20-minute trip from his apartment to school every day unless the weather didn't allow, in which case he took the bus. He didn't hold a driver's license although he wanted to check into that, just for convenience. He strutted through the empty halls of the university - students ataköy escort wouldn't come in until the next week and headed for the library, a nice quiet place to work.

He passed the counter and sat down at the closest table, unfolding his papers so he could resume his work.

He was interrupted two hours later by a text message which he read immediately.

- In town. Wanna meet?

Tom smiled. The text was from his best friend, a man he had met overseas in Malaysia, another worker for the 'No Borders' project who had stayed on as a permanent fixture.

- Sure. Where? When?

- 2night. Starbucks. 12th