Teach Me (The Gentlemen's Club)

Trigger Warning

Thirteen Years Ago

"Daddy, please! Please, don't leave us. Please!" The tiny child was sobbing hysterically, clinging to his pants. The man moved with purpose, uncaring, dragging the little girl.

No! She didn't let go. How she wished her hands were bigger so she could surround his limb with enough force to make him stop. Unconcerned. Irritation marring his features.

It was no use. The small frame that was her body got drag along. He continued to walk towards the door.

"Leave him be, brat. He doesn't want us anymore." No! That was not true. She was daddy's little girl. He loved her. He read her stories at night and he would always bring her chocolates.

Her swollen eyes pleaded with him. "Please, daddy. Don't leave me." He doesn't even look at her. His face was graven and his hands were clenched. His anger was palpable and he looked outside where his car was parked. The engine was left running.

Dad shook his head, removed her hands around him none too gently. She stumbled when he pushed her a bit hard. Shock filled her. He had never hurt her before. She was his little girl. He loved her. He must.

He took that advantage and he got out the door, straight to his car without a backward glance. Not even once.

Why? Had she done something wrong?

"Mom?" That one loaded question was ignored. She continued to drink tequila straight from the bottle.

"Yourrr...dad...willl...not...come backk! Remmm...mem...berr that, brat!" She looked at her with malice, and with a cruel smirk, dismissed her with a flick of a finger, wanting her daughter away from her sight.

Sinclair ran to her bedroom and cried herself to sleep.

Dad will come back. He must. He loved her.

Her tummy rumbled. She ignored it.

-Daddy, please come back.-

***

"Son of a bitch! You are a fucking burden! Brat! Idiot! You won't fucking eat. Bitch!" She trembled from the hits she was receiving from her mother. Her fault. She burned their dinner. Her fault.

It was always her fault.

She ran to the kitchen to serve her mother her dinner.

There was constant roaring in her ears when mother was hitting her a bit too hard with a bottle. It hurt a lot. Bees were swirling inside her head. Big fat bees. Her mother would always aim for her head.

Moving fast despite her size, she scrambled to make things right. She didn't want to make her mom angry.

To salvage the dinner - scrambled eggs and toasted bread - she scraped the edible parts to a different pan. This time the flame on the stove was just right.

Tremors ran through her small body. She had to serve her food soon or else.....

Sleeping outside on a cold night was no fun. That was her constant punishment aside from her mother's physical abuse.

Damn these tears! Make it stop.

She was startled from the tap on her thin shoulders, she held tight to avoid falling from the makeshift platform she was standing at.

"I said are you done, brat!" Jeez. She didn't hear her. She read her lips instead. "You move too fucking slow! Hurry up! I'm hungry."

"Yes, mum," she mumbled.

It had been like this for a year now. Her mother's liquor addiction has worsened. Thank God, her aunt owned the diner where she worked and the mortgage in this house was paid or they will be out on the streets.

Her beatings have worsened as well. The teachers began to notice. Sinclair would always tell them she fell from the stairs, from the bathroom, everywhere. She didn't want her mum to go to jail and she didn't want to go and live at an orphanage.

At her age, almost 9 years old. She understood these things. She had to.

***

Five Years Later

Yes! Aunt Lydia had finally consented for her to work part-time at her diner. She knew she was only fourteen. So, her Aunt told her what she will mostly do was assist the cook and wait on orders if the diner was a bit busy.

It was okay. As long as she got tips. Her goal was to go to college. She would need money for that.

Sinclair wanted to be a teacher. Which she will be someday.

Her humming stopped whilst she entered their home. Mom hated her daughter's voice but ever since her aunt bought her hearing aid, she couldn't stop. She smiled.

Her aunt and her husband were God-sent.

"Mom?" She called excitedly. The house was too quiet. Damn! Oops, she didn't mean to swear. The house was a mess. Beer bottles were everywhere. Leftovers rotting. Her nose wrinkled at the foul smell.

Did mom have a party while she was at school? She usually does at night but Sinclair made sure to escape and took off to her aunt.

She didn't like the predators her mom brought home with her. They would always look at her strangely

Where was she? She was not at the diner where she was supposed to work.

Frowning and adjusting her hearing aide, she called out once more.

Where was she? Her heart began to thump. Panic setting in.

Sinclair ran to her mom's room.

It was empty.

***

Mother never came back after that day. She waited and waited. And waited.

They both left her. Was it because she deaf? And she became a burden? But it happened from her mom's beatings. She couldn't help it.

The child services came by. Aunt Lydia took full custody. Sinclair begged her to let her stay in her own house. At first, her aunt didn't want to but finally relented when the child escaped every night.

She had to wait for her mom. Maybe she will come back one day.

Senior high came, she was not there. She received her medals alone. No parents, no friends, no family.

Aunt Lydia sold her diner at Rose Hill a while back and moved to Fort Worth USA, where uncle Steve was assigned. She refused to go with them.

Telling them in no uncertain terms she must be here when her mom decided to come back.

Except mother never did.

Sinclair declared herself an orphan at age 18.

Alone.

Surviving.

Sinclair

This was the third trimester of the year, three more months, ninety more days, and she's done.

No more late nights at the library. No more three jobs to keep her afloat. No more walking three miles a day whenever she missed the bus.

Just three more months and five more majors standing in her way. And this day was the first in the countdown.

Sinclair's head ducked, avoiding fellow unis converging on the spacious hallway. Everyone belonged in a group. Except her.

She couldn't stand them. And they sure as hell couldn't stand the poor girl at the campus.

Someone even pointed out she smelt funny. Funny? At least she smelled clean and not like an overdose potpourri. Yuck! The thought alone could trigger her allergies to strong smells.

She favored fresh flowers though. And when she had enough money to buy a nice cottage, she will surround herself with a beautiful garden.

Girls giggled when she passed by, pointing at her. She paid them no mind.

She was funny because she didn't smell like a million bucks? The petite and graceful girl mentally scoff. They found it irritating because she got the opportunity to attend a rich kid's university.

She knew they were out of her league. Never one to shy from facts. Her clothes were bought from bargain sales and her bag was a hand-me-down. At least she was enjoying honest living.

The money she earned was clean. That made her proud.

And hey, she was riding on a full scholarship. It was a million euro chance and she had never regretted taking advantage of her blessings.

People bump at her on purpose, she braced herself, since she was small, she made it a mission not to be thrown to kingdom come and worst, fall on her arse. Her audience would surely cheer.

Why were the rich folks so freaking big? What do they eat? Bricks? The thought made her snort. Obviously. Most of them have bricks for brains.

Going directly to her locker to deposit her heavy books and backpack, she looked neither left nor right. All she wanted was to start her day.

Her lips twisted in a grimace at the schedule she was gripping in her hand. Her brain would be tested starting today.

Advanced Calculus.

Advanced Trigonometry.

Advance Special Care studies. -Well, that's a breather.-

World History.

Advanced Literature. Ah. Favorite.

Yup. And last but not least 5 to 7 pm for the library.

Not affording the expensive books, she had to make do with the cheap resources she could find. If manning libraries were her answer then who was she to complain.

With her old laptop under her armpit, she was off to her first subject of the day.

-Excited? No.-

***

Thank you to all the Buddhas in the world it was finally the last subject of the day. To add icing to her cake, it's literature. Hallelujah!

Well, she was not a Buddhist. Nor a Catholic. Though, she had nothing against religion. To each his own.

Arg! This mind of hers confused her at times. To think at the age of twenty-one she should no longer be at odds with herself. Her mind, body, and soul should be in harmony.

-Fat chance of that from happening. Concentrate, Sinclair!-

Tapping her dainty fingers on her outdated laptop during the interval, she was busy saving lectures she could remember.

She consciously adjusted her hearing aid. Damn! It was getting annoying. She will have to replace the earpiece soon. The static kept distracting her during lectures.

Girls were giggling to her far left and it caught her attention. Though flitting, it would still make her feel like she was their subject of amusement. For once, she promised to devote herself to Buddhism if they'll just leave her the fuck alone.

Leaning more towards their voice, she sighed in relief hearing their conversation.

"Have you heard the news?" Oh, their favorite subject. Gossip. Sometimes they put gossip girls to shame. And she loved that series. Pity.

"About what?" More giggling. So fucking annoying even to a deaf with a malfunctioning ancient aide.

"We have a new professor and he is gorgeous as fuck! Can't wait to have in-depth study sesh with him." Seriously, their folks were wasting money.

"Oh. I heard about that. My mum is bosom bows with his mother. He is a first-born of a Viscount. From a true English High society." Well, that's new.

"Yeah, I heard that, too. He came from UCLA. There was a scandal of some kind. You know."

"Pft. I won't mind the scandal at all if I can have him where I want him." God! Apparently, being a slut was universal. One didn't have to live in hovels where prostitution was rampant to be one.

"Shhh, the deaf girl can hear you."

"Really, she is deaf for a reason, Sandy."

-I hear you perfectly, bitches. Hmmph!-

Sinclair tapped her forefinger on her left ear a bit where she could still pick up sounds. But she had to concentrate to hear properly and she had to read lips. The right lobe was hopeless. It was damaged beyond repair. But she was saving for a new medical device soon.

She locked her jaw to dispel the memories assailing her all of a sudden. To think by now she would have gotten over her past somehow.

Learning a valuable lesson from it. She had lived with a strict principle.

-Love is pain. Never open your heart to anyone.-

-Stay alone. Solitude is a true companion.-

Those were her mantra. She had never dissuaded from it. Not even once.

Dispelling her gloomy mode, she gave her attention back to her work.

The silence inside the room made her look down towards the entrance. She was the only one sitting at the back of the class. All her life she had always tried her best to be a wallflower. Unnoticeable.

Frowning, she glanced at the silhouette filling the opened door. And her jaw dropped. She blinked.

God in all the heavens! Well, it's not too late to be a devoted Catholic.

Why was the man entering the classroom had some kind of a halo following him? Was it a trick of the light?

Sinclair heard the tittering girls to her right sighed. Disgusting. She blinked again then averted her gaze. She was not falling for this shit.

Was he their literature professor? Yeah. From his confident posture, he must be. It was surprising though, he looked too young to be lording over a

group of a hormonal mix of young ladies and men. All looking at him like he was the most expensive of chocolates.

Except her.

But...she guessed looking at the man was acceptable. She shrugged.

He was beautiful. He was in a Cavalli gray suit or maybe an Armani.

Doesn't matter. He will look gorgeous in anything. And those glasses?

Why does he look stylish on it when her own pair made her look like a nerdy Mongoloid?

He was tall. She was expecting him to look very English but he was not. He was mixed. And his eyes, the pair as dark as the night. Chiseled jaw, flawless skin, and astounding physique. His muscles rippled under his suit when he walks.

Sinclair again looked away. She was not a giddy teenager and she was not interested.

The beautiful man started to talk. And she gave her attention to what he was saying. By reading his lips, because he was a bit far and he was not using a microphone, she was able to get the gist of what he was saying. Just the usual shit on the first day.

So, it's official. He was their lit professor for three months. Him? The God of handsomeness. Uni girls will be all over him in no time. But not her. Never her.

Busy with her thoughts, she was heedless of the tittering of the girls beside her until she noticed the professor moving towards them. Uh oh. Happy day to the bitches.

Shit! She couldn't blame them. He was climbing the steps and his lean muscles beneath his clothes were enticing.

The damning part was, he was walking towards her. Why? Dumbfounded, she tilted her head up and looked at his lips to read him.

He was looking at and addressing her directly. Sinclair gulped.

She must be drooling. No! Panic mode she was and she knew she was blushing furiously.

He was still saying something because she was in shock, she couldn't make out what he was saying. -Tilt to your left, Sin.-

"She can't hear you, professor, she's deaf and a simpleton." One of the bitches snickered with her gang.

She blushed deeply in embarrassment. Great! The first time her girly self had a crush and she already felt like running away from him. -Admitting it, Sin?-

He turned his attention sharply to Sandy. That's the girl's name. -I think.-

Could the floor just swallow her whole?

"I beg your pardon, miss? I don't tolerate rudeness in my class. If you can't be civil, step out." She shivered from his deep angry voice. He reprimanded softly but the threat was real. It registered with the way his body stiffened and with the way his gaze sharpened.

The room grew silent once more.

He turned his attention back to her. She gulped.

"Are you ok, miss..." his eyes softened.

"Yes...um... Professor." She squeaked. Why couldn't she breathe?

"Can I request you to sit in front? Please...Ms," His perfect eyebrow rose in a question.

Oh, her name. He wanted to know her name. "I'm Sinclair Yuan, sir."

He smiled slightly. Jesus! He shouldn't do that.

"Come, sit in front, Ms. Yuan." The professor waited for her patiently to rise. Being a true gentleman, he held out his hand to help her up.

No. Nope. Not happening.

But she found herself getting up as he requested. And her cold hand was warmed by his.

-Don't read too much into it. He sympathized with you because you are deaf and petite and pasty.-

Sinclair glanced at the girls and they stared back in disbelief. They couldn't believe this was happening. Neither could she.

Escorting her to a seat right on the front row on a chair in front of his desk, he cleared his throat after he made sure she was comfortably settled.

Sinclair blushed harder.

"Good morning. This is advanced literature, where we analyzed, evaluate, scrutinized every world-famous sonnet, poem, script, text, and writings, and so forth. Nope, we are not going to do role-playing. We are too old for that. And we are not in high school anymore." He began. His diction was precise and his posture was commanding but relaxed.

Everyone sighed in relief.

She had clearly heard the amusement in the professor's voice.

"What we are going to do is master them by heart, so when your pupils or students ask about it. You will know what to answer. And most importantly, you will know how to teach it."

Feeling at ease despite the incident with the bitches, her lips curve in a smile. She loved kids. That's why she was here.

"But before that. I want to introduce myself."

He turned to walk towards the whiteboards. Nice butt. Sinclair!

Nicholas Stafford VI, Ph.D. in Education. Major in World Literature and Natural Science.

His name alone spoke of leadership and aristocracy.

When he faced them once more, his eyes bored into hers.

He walked to stand directly before her. Shit! Not again. "Ms. Yuan, what is your favorite poem?"

Why her? She hated being in the spotlight.

"I...ah...Song To Celia, sir. But...um... I have several." Damn. He smiled patiently at her stuttering. See, he pities you.

"Ah. By Ben Jonson. Care to share a verse?" Why was he doing this to her? -Do what? He is your professor. That's what they do. Teach and discuss.-

He was waiting patiently for her answer.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. -Don't make me stammer, please.-

"Drink to me only with thine eyes

And I will pledge with mine.

Or leave a kiss but in the cup

And I'll not look for wine." The words were almost whispered.

Professor Stafford blinded her with his white teeth at her breathy words. His eyes gleamed.

Her heart skipped a beat. No! Not happening. She was too old to have a crush. Not him. Not ever.

Those tempting gaze left her. She gulped a breath.

"And that is the first poem we are going to study. I will give you fifteen minutes to research it then we begin our discussion."

Thank God they had a diversion for the day. -Just for the day.-

She'd have to be in his presence five days a week for three months.

Just great. Really great. -Note the sarcasm.-

-Is it too late to shift class?-

______________

Sinclair

To say the professor was relentless was an understatement. They, the students, became slaves of the subject.

And he was taking no prisoner. One only had two options. Passed or failed.

He was a freaking slave driver.

And to think Sinclair loved literature. All along she thought it was the easiest of amongst her major subjects but it was not.

The research, the debate, and the dissection of each piece were mind-boggling. On top of that, she had to make a thesis with one old poem, and from there a short story with a minimum of seventy thousand words. Basically, a novel. Who in their right mind would do that?

Him.

Her professor.

-Wait? What?-

Where did that thought come from? Well, she didn't mean it like that. She meant in a purely professional way.

This conversation with herself was getting old.

And he was looking at her again. Not in a perverted way. Nope. Not like that. Like he was thinking of something to say. And she was the dictionary.

"What you do think of Charlotte Brontë, Ms. Yuan?" Christ! Can't he call someone else?

The spice girls were already tripping at her. They saw her as a teacher's pet and just yesterday that Sandy girl cornered her in the bathroom to splash water on her. Typical, cliche bullies.

Well, in retaliation, she dumped her OJ on the bitch's expensive top. So, they were even. For now. She mentally smirked.

What? She knew how to fight when cornered.

He cleared his throat to gain her attention. She had zoomed out once more. Her cheeks redden. What to say?

"I think Charlotte Bronte based her poems and novels on how she and her sisters survived adulthood. The way she spun her works that have combined moral realism with gothic views was a reflection of how they grew up. Poor but with morals. A good example of that is Jane Eyre written in 1847. Sir." She licked her dry lips nervously. His eyes pierced her even more. She tried to suppress her shivers.

Hoping it was the assessment he was looking for, she waited.

Their discussion centered on famous novelists and authors. Today was no exception.

Uncomfortable from his serious scrutiny, she looked away. Embarrassed all of a sudden.

He nodded and moved back to his generic classroom table.

"Great, Ms. Yuan. Before we go -- I know all of you are excited, frat party and all that -- please find time to read Shirley this weekend. Exams on Monday." Everyone groaned from the announcement. It was not surprising to her anymore. They had been doing this for a month now. Every Monday was exam day. Yehey! -Sarcasm once more.-

"You're dismissed. I was a frat boy once so I will be kind to you on a Friday night. Ms. Yuan get your paper before you go."

No! She didn't want to be near him. He smelled so good, she will have nightmares later. -Really, Sin. Nightmare?-

-Okay. Wet dreams. Happy?-

With small timid steps, she approached his table. People were filing out of the room. The two of them were the only ones left behind.

He looked up at her. Waiting. His dark brown depths were serious yet kind.

She glanced at the paper he was holding. Damn! She got an A+.

"I like how you interpreted To Celia. Just like what I did back in college." He murmured. She shuffled on her feet. Eyes cast down. She blushed at the compliment. Uncomfortable with his undisguised appreciation. To be compared to his accomplishments was bliss. He was an expert.

"Thanks...um...professor." Does she go now? With slightly trembling fingers, she retrieved her paper from his outstretched hand but he held on to it.

"Are you going to parties tonight?" Stunned, she met his eyes. Confused. Huh? Why question her that? Didn't he know she was an outcast and therefore was not invited to any of the parties her peers were enjoying every weekend? Not that she would go.

She shook her head instead of voicing her thoughts.

"No plans?" His voice grew deeper. As if he wanted to tell her not to attend college parties. She never did and she didn't plan to.

"Umm, I have work, sir. Tonight and weekends." Why was she telling him this?

-Can I go now, please?-

"Hmmm. Okay. You take care, Sinclair. See you soon." God! She had to go or she would surely fall at his feet. She nodded her head.

Without saying goodbye, she almost ran out of the classroom in her haste to be as far from temptation as possible.

Only then she realized she doesn't have the paper in her hands.

-This is bad. Really, really bad.-

***

Determined to forget a certain someone with dark eyes and handsome body and even a marvelous brain, she did an impromptu general cleaning.

She knew her old house in Rose Hill was beyond hope. The roof was leaking and she had to climb on it to fix it several times. It will be okay for a while. But it will only last for a month or two.

The carpets were worn out. Though always freshly scrubbed and cleaned. She only had one sofa, one old rocking chair, and a side table. No tv. Can't afford that nor cable. No phone. Just her old cell phone.

Old appliances and old kitchen table, again with two working chairs.

Sometimes, she had to bathe in cold water since she would run out of gas from time to time before the pay date. So the heater wouldn't work.

Her body had gotten used to everything. She even budgeted her food. Meals will only be twice a day with minimal snacks in between.

That's why she looked like a stick. A pale undernourished babe.

Who would want someone like her? Certainly, not the professor. -My professor.-

Shit! There it was again. A possessive form of the noun.

Scrubbing the pans vigorously, dispelling the thumping in her heart, she kept analyzing her preference for a certain someone. -Her professor.-

Not going there. Nope. Not her heart.

-You have a crush on him.-

She doesn't. Someone like him had girlfriends left and right. She can bet her meager savings on that.

And he would never be interested in her even if she stood naked in front of him.

Which will never happen. He will puke in disgust if he saw her like that.

Deep in thought, she almost jumped out of her skin when someone rapped his knuckles on her door.

Who could that be? It's 8 p.m.

A delivery guy? She didn't order anything.

Running to the front door, she opened it a few inches and peeked.

"Hi. Ms. Yuan?" She nod. Uncertain.

"Yes. That's me." She gasped at what was held before her. It was an expensive-looking box, a huge teddy bear, and perfect pink roses. Huh?

"Please sign here." He held out a tablet.

"Wait, there must be a mistake. I didn't order anything. Who sent this?"

The guy shook his head. "I just deliver, ma'am. Anything else, I leave it to my boss. You must have a wealthy relative."

Oh. Maybe Aunt Lydia. She sometimes sent her packages. Mostly canned goods, worn bags, and shoes. But not this type of expensive-looking gadget.

Having no choice, she signed the receipt. He tipped his cap and handed her the items.

This was unexpected. No name anywhere.

The huge bouquet of roses was very pretty. Like what one would see on Pinterest. And the teddy, wow, it was bigger and taller than her. So soft and cuddly.

-I will call you professor. Shit!- The thought made her laugh.

-I'll cuddle with you later, professor.- She bit her cheek. It was an insane idea.

Now, what was in the box? Curiosity eating at her, with trembling fingers, she lifted the lid and she almost dropped the whole thing.

Her eyes widened. Expensive pieces of chocolates surrounded a MacBook Air.

Oh, God! Where did her aunt get all this?

She made a mental note to buy minutes to call her this weekend and thank her properly.

-Thank you, Jesus!-

Doing her homework will be fun with a new gadget.

Except, she was having second thoughts.

-Who did send her these?-

***

Sinclair rubbed her temples while she reread the same chapter. God! She was tired. And lonely. And sleepy.

The graveyard shift at the diner was taking its toll on her. And it was a school day tomorrow.

It's 1 am. Taking advantage of the empty place, she had taken out her borrowed books to study.

That was an hour ago and nothing had occupied her mind except her...the professor.

He must be busy with a lady's company tonight and her thoughts were with him. An ache had made known on her chest at her imagination.

-Just get over it, Sin. Your infatuation will lead you nowhere.-

With a heavy sigh, she slammed her book shut.

Her tired eyes fell on the clear glass window, her attention was caught at the odd sight outside the diner.

Five expensive-looking cars were parked outside. She didn't know the names of each but she remembered from the magazines and newspapers the diner has kept for the male regulars.

One of the car's doors opened and a man decked out in designer casual got out. A very handsome man with russet hair and ocean blue eyes. Wow.

Hmmph. Her professor was more handsome.

-God, Sin! Stop it!-

"Good evening, love." Yup, panty-dropping voice combined with a toe-curling smile. No effects on her.

She cleared her throat. "What can I get you, sir?"

"Just five black coffee to go," he murmured while he observed her. His eyes filled with...curiosity? Surely this guy was rich and he wouldn't rob her, right? She had no idea what she would say to the sweet old Mrs. Samson if that happened.

"Um... Coming right up, sir." Working efficiently, she handed him the hot beverages carefully in no time. He left a hundred on the counter.

Gods! Rich people always made her look for smaller bills. She was about to request a 20 when he turned to leave.

"Sir," Sinclair was unsure.

"Keep the change, love. It's yours." He winked at her then left.

She looked at the cars once more. One, in particular, caught her attention. The vehicle was in matte black and the windows were equally tinted heavily.

Why did she feel like someone was watching her behind those heavily tinted windows?

Weird.

***

Damn! It was 6 AM and she had to walk home because she missed the bus once more. In a few hours, she will have to be at the uni for her first subject of the day.

Almost in a zombie mode, hungry, dragging her feet, she fumbled for her keys, three paper bags at the corner caught her peripheral vision.

Turning fully, puzzled, she reached for one of the bags and fingered the note attached to it.

'Breakfast then sleep.'

What the...who...

What the hell was going on?

______________