Bevy

Bevy was a college co-ed who started late, opting to take a couple
of years off after finishing High School to work in her father’s
office in order to save up for College. Her real name was Beverly,
but she had been Bevy for short for such a long time that she almost
didn’t answer to Beverly much anymore.

The men who worked along side her left her alone since her
father had made it absolutely clear what would happen if any of his
employees hit on his daughter. They still stared when she wasn’t
looking, of course, but they didn’t ask her out or make rude
comments when she was around. Not that they didn’t when in
private company, however, for Bevy was certainly attractive.

Since then, she left the office to go to school studying
business and accounting. She was a junior now and having finished
the majority of her Major was now concentrating this semester on
electives.

One of these was a psychology course, a subject that she always
did have a knack for, which she found particularly fascinating. It
dealt mostly with abnormal behaviors and how to classify and treat
them.

However, as the spring semester wore on, she began to find her test
scores slipping and her papers earning lower than usual grades. Her
professor, Mr. Davis, seemed to like her well enough, he frequently
called on her and she would have the answers readily. She sat in the
second row and took attentive notes, but her papers all said the same
thing: “Lack of attention in Class, Miss Connoly”.

Finally, a week before spring break and mid-terms, the class
subject matter turned sharply away from the usual material of
depression and clinical psychology and toward sexual manias: Homophobia,
sadism and finally, nymphomania.

Bevy’s paper on Homophobia only got a C+. She was hoping to do much
better so as to lift her overall grade in the class. On the back of the
paper in the professor’s notes was an attached folded piece of paper.
She opened it and it read: Miss Connoly, couldn’t help but notice your
difficulty over the past couple of weeks. Would you be interested in a
study session on Friday at 8:00 p.m. in my office? Prof. Davis

She decided to attended the session on Friday after packing to
go home for the vacation. Since she had a 4-hour trip home and she
would go right after the session, she decided to wear a white v-neck
t-shirt that she had turned into a Tank top and a pair of figure-hugging
sweat pants, which were grey with orange stripes on the side. She wore
her shoulder-length black hair in a short french twist aided by a
banana clip, put on her small-framed Bill Blass glasses, picked up
her notepad and went out the door.

When she arrived, she noticed the main hall was deserted. She
walked up the stairs to Prof. Davis’s Office (she hadn’t been there
before, but she remembered his instructions on the first day of class)
expecting to hear the sound of other students in the session, but all
she heard was her own footsteps. She came to the professor’s office in
time to see him stand up from his desk and turn out the desk lamp.

There were no other students in the office, which while not as
big as the other department head’s offices, was big enough to house his
desk, an old flip-top student’s desk and a chalkboard. She knocked on
the office door and he looked up. “Oh, Miss Connoly, I was about to
give up on anyone showing up for this little get-together. I assumed
that everyone was on their was to Florida or someplace. Where are you
headed, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, not at all! I’m afraid I’m not going anyplace exotic like
that, my father asked that I come home and help him at his office
during the break.” she said. “Well, that’s certainly kind of you to
think of your family at a time most people are only thinking about
their own pleasure.” said the Prof. “Well then, since your here, we
might as well get started: Please have a seat, Miss Connoly.”

“You can call me Bevy, Prof. Davis, it’s not like we’re in
class!” she said as she sat down.

“Even so, I like to maintain a certain Decorum with my students,” he
said, “please refer to me as either Professor or Sir”.
Since she was used to working with her father she said, “Yes, sir, I
understand.”

He picked up his notebook and sat on his desk in front of her. “Now,
then, Tell me why you picked the topic you did for your last paper.”

“Well, since we only had the three to choose from, it was really a
process of elimination.” “How, so?” he prompted. She continued, “First,
I find sadism particularly nauseating and Homophobia I picked because
I’ve had some experience with it, the Men who worked at my father’s
office thought being accused of being a Homosexual was the worst thing
in the world, and as for Nymphomania….” “Yes, Tell me about Nympho-
mania…” “Well, I don’t know too much about it…”, she said.

“Really? I thought that you might have some insight into it, being a
mild sufferer yourself.”, he said.