Spice by Seressia Glass Page B

people wake up one morning and go, ‘Hey, I want to study how people think about sex.’ I didn’t even know it was something you could study for a degree program.”
    â€œTrue, and thank you,” he said as he watched her eat. His focus should have made her self-conscious but he seemed pleased that she enjoyed the food he’d prepared for her. “You’ll be happy to know that there’s no great tragedy in my past that led me to my chosen field. Not really.”
    â€œNot really?” She munched on a skewer of vegetables, cupping her hand to catch the juice that squirted when she bit into a tomato. “What does
not really
mean?”
    â€œMy parents and I lived all over the world before we settled in Seattle when I was thirteen. So I got exposed to a lot of different cultures and people. Some places are more sexually repressed than America, but many aren’t. There are some that recognized a third gender, for example. It was halfway through my freshman year in college when I had an epiphany. It might have been the copious amounts of alcohol and the lively discussion on men and women and dating and sex and what was acceptable that inspired me. Anyway, I realized that sexual education—real education, not just lip service—would go a long way to encourage sexual acceptance in society as a whole. Especially if we could all agree that consenting adults are sovereign in their own bedrooms.”
    â€œOr kitchens,” she added with a sly smile.
    He winked at her. “Or their own kitchens.”
    â€œOkay, so you got a degree in sexual psychology and became a professor. But you do more than teach, right? You write too.”
    â€œActually, I did some writing and counseling before I became a professor,” he replied, pausing to finish off his vegetables. “I got on with a think tank in D.C., published some more, and then got noticed by Dean Campbell at Herscher. She invited me to join the newly created Center for Human Studies here. Then the Red Light Rapist case happened.”
    She nodded. “I remember a little about that. Every thin blonde woman between eighteen and thirty thought she was a target. How did you get involved?”
    He fiddled with his wineglass, looking sheepish. “Well, I had the temerity to tell the FBI their profile was wrong. Things went downhill from there.”
    She stared at him in disbelief. “Taking on the FBI? Is that what got you on all the national news channels?”
    He grimaced. “Yeah, it was apparently a slow news week. Anyway, the publicity led to more speaking engagements, a book deal, and a rush to get the department ramped up. After all, Dr. Kaname Sullivan, Professor of Human Sexuality, Center for Human Studies, Herscher College, sounds awfully impressive to the media. It made it seem like I actually knew what I was talking about.”
    â€œYou did know what you were talking about.”
    â€œTrue.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if he had no reason to be modest when it came to his career. Truth be told, he didn’t. “The net result was record enrollment in our program, which made everyone at Herscher happy.”
    She took a sip of her wine. “It might have been a slow news week, but I’m sure the fact that you’re drop-dead gorgeous didn’t hurt.”
    â€œYou just called me gorgeous. I’ll have to remember that.”
    â€œDon’t let it go to your head, Professor. I’m surrounded by gorgeous people.”
    â€œBut not drop-dead gorgeous ones,” he replied with a grin. “I’m sure my genes had a lot to do with my popularity, but I’m lucky in that I have a brain to back up my looks. The book deal followed, and like I said, we’re bursting at the seams as far as enrollment is concerned. I’m hoping that will translate into tenure pretty soon, since I really do enjoy teaching.”
    â€œMaybe it’s my imagination, but I