Me: What kind of underwear are YOU wearing? I’m guessing you’re a tighty whitey kind of guy.
Jace: That’s insulting. Guess again.
Me: Ohh, are YOU wearing a red thong? I bet that looks good, with all the cake you’ve got back there.
Jace: You like my ass, huh? You can see the whole thing. All you have to do is let me take you out to dinner.
Jace: Hell, I’d even let you smack it. Whatever you’re into.
Me: I like how you avoided answering my question. Interesting. It must be a pink thong, not red.
Jace: UnderArmour brand boxer-briefs. Navy. Skin-tight. Sorry to disappoint you.
Me: I’m definitely not disappointed. I would only be disappointed if you didn’t send me a photo later tonight.
Jace: Agree to go out to dinner with me, and I’ll send you a photo right now.
Me: You have one ready to go on your phone?
Rather than answer me, he left his seat and squeezed past the other students in his row. He jogged down the stairs and quietly exited the auditorium.
The donor was still giving a speech. The head of our department nervously shuffled his feet like he was looking to interrupt him, but was afraid to.
And then my phone buzzed again. This time with a photo.
I glanced at Professor Galloway to make sure he wasn’t watching, then carefully opened the message.
Oh my God.
The photo was taken in the bathroom down the hall. Jace was standing in front of the mirror, his pants around his ankles and his shirt pulled up. He was turned sideways, showing off the boxer-briefs that clung to his muscular thighs and butt like a second skin. Above, his abs were on full display.
Suddenly, it felt very warm on stage.
Jace returned to the auditorium, this time choosing a seat right on the aisle where he wouldn’t disturb anyone. He wore a big smile as he tapped on his phone.
Jace: No response? Wow.
Me: I have a response in mind, I just can’t send it. Yet.
Jace: That sounds interesting.
Me: I think you’ll use a different word when you get it.
I put my phone on silent and went back to pretending like I was enthralled by the donor’s speech. I shouldn’t have been receiving semi-nude photos from a student. And Idefinitelyshouldn’t have been considering sending him one of my own.
But I didn’t care right now. My entire body felt alive, like I was connected to an electric battery.
When the speech eventually ended, I quietly left out the back door by the stage. When I reached my office, I closed the door and locked it, then shut the blinds on the one window looking out.
Then I unzipped my dress pants, pulled them down until I was showing off a little skin, and snapped a photo. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent it to Jace on Signal.
The app told me that he had received the text. But he didn’t text me back.
I collected my things and went home. I settled onto the couch and admired Jace’s photo a little bit longer, zooming in and admiring the bulge in the front. I wondered how big he was.
Deep down, I desperately wanted to find out for myself.
Me: No response? Wow.
