Joely Sue Burkhart

I’m going to post a few more of Rae’s letters to Conn as I work on my next project.  Warning:  they are raw, emotional, and contain some elements of BDSM.  I’ve put the letter behind the cut in case you don’t care to read any further.  There is another yummy picture of Clive Owen included to tempt you, though.  *wink*

The first letter can be read here.

Dear Dr. Connagher:

Months have gone by. The fall semester has started. Did you walk into class hoping to see my last minute registration? Or were you relieved not to see me sitting there in that white mini-skirt you hated so much? Do you miss me barging into your weekly office hours, tongue-tied, naïve, and hoping you’ll shut and lock your door again?

Daddy is doing better every day, but we’ve accepted the fact that he’s never getting out of that wheelchair. When he was electrocuted, the surge of power shorted out parts of his brain. As well as losing a hand and foot, he’s broken inside, where he can never be fixed.

I’m trying to get over you. I’m lonely, and it’s been so long since I saw you. Since I sat in your class listening to your incredibly sexy voice reading Shelley and Byron. Since I came to your office every week to soak up your presence like a sponge, desperate to earn your approval.

I’m dating someone, Daddy’s assistant. I’ve known him for years. He’s safe, Conn. I need safety right now.

But why do I feel so guilty? As though I’m betraying you? You made me promise to always tell you the truth, no matter how terrible and frightening.

Well, here’s the whole, ugly truth. You shorted me out on your desk that day. I’m in an emotional wheelchair because of you, Conn, and I’m afraid I’m ruined for any kind of relationship ever again. I’m broken, deep inside, where I can never be fixed.

Except possibly by you.

Why am I still writing you? Honestly? Because I have no one else to talk to. What, do you think I could just walk up to Daddy and say, “The last day of school, my English professor bent me over his desk, spanked me, and gave me the best orgasm of my life. And then he gave me an A.”

That’s unfair, I know. You were so terribly careful to make sure my grade was determined by an unbiased third party who had no idea what happened in your office that day. You never gave me the A.

You gave me a whole different test, didn’t you?

Truth? I’d let you do it again. Sometimes I want you to do it again so badly I can’t breathe, I can’t think, for needing you. And that scares me more than anything.

~ Rae

 

This entry was posted on Friday, August 31st, 2007 at 6:00 pm and is filed under Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.