*Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you. Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you. And without feet I can make my way to you, Without a mouth I can swear your name. ―Rilke*

![237-2376379_jennifer-lawrence-black-and-white.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmXMLNbets8sg6XRpNnboV8h8cnMrpE24rQxmCmJKHS9ga/237-2376379_jennifer-lawrence-black-and-white.jpg) *Obsession*

The meeting with Jana went better than expected but I couldn't overlook certain elements that sent flashing caution lights telling me I crossed into a danger zone. Somehow the stalker knew how Jana would be dressed—that concerned me. If it was true, Jana was playing me, but all my experience with women told me something else. She had feelings for me. It's crazy to even acknowledge it to myself because it strengthens our bond and makes it harder for me to draw a line between us. I can tell myself she's my student and crossing that boundary would be unprofessional—but that's no reassurance, no guarantee I won't do it. I've done it before with Clare, and it's predictable how flirtation, leads to obsession and ultimately compulsion.

I failed Quinn back then because of my weakness—it could be summed up in a phrase Fitzgerald used to describe Gatsby—‘a romantic readiness' that seduces you with pleasant imaginings. It's easy to express romantic feelings—harder to manage daily love—to forgive failings close to feelings—to divide self from soul. Sarah was right, though—I am a player—all I need to verge over into infidelity is a come hither stare and I act on impulse following a familiar script. No wonder women want to kill me.

I'm sitting before the fire again and it's raining softly. I should be working on my lecture notes but honestly, I'm obsessing about Jana. There's something about rain that's plaintive and filled with longing and draws your heart out of your chest filling your mind with images of romance—at least it does for me. I try to break the mood by making a coffee but end up making a rum hot chocolate—heavy on the rum. Okay, I know I'm self-medicating but need something to get me past this rough patch. I add real whipped cream and have this insatiable craving for croissants, the kind Jana was nibbling. Maybe it's not rain or the mood—but something in me I'm fleeing.

I hear a quiet knock on the front door and immediately my mind goes to her but when I open, Sarah's standing alone on the verandah. "Hi Prof, thought I'd check in on you. How are you doing?" "I'm surviving, " I smile, "Would like to come in for a hot chocolate?" She eyes the huge mug in my hand. "Sure, but no rum—I can smell it from here and I'm on duty." I stand aside to let her in. "I understand." I say, colouring. "I've had a day. Trying to unwind." She shrugs off her rain-jewelled leather jacket and drops it on a chair. "Sure you're not trying to forget?" "I'm sure," I lie, but it's futile really. She sees right through me and knows I've been struggling.

I make her a large mug and top it with a mound of whipped cream. "She's really beautiful, Liam—I don't blame you for being haunted." I could argue, but don't. Truth is, she looks lovely herself in firelight and Jana's image recedes from my mind as I stare into her dark eyes. I know, I know...I have a problem, 'romantic readiness' aside. Hell, I just like women.

But I need to get real. I feel like there's a hole in the floor and we're just tiptoeing around it. I finally cave and ask her. "What makes you think I'm obsessing?" "Well, let's see, Prof—Could it be the framed picture of her on your side table?" My jaw drops. She picks up a small framed portrait that was a watercolour I bought at an antique mart but now contains a dramatic black and white photo of Jana.

"I—I have no idea how that got there," I stammer. *Why the hell don't I notice things*? Yeah, too damn preoccupied, is my guesss. "You have a state of the art security system complete with cameras. Did you receive any push notifications on your phone, or check the event history?" I turn red with embarrassment. "I was so anxious about this morning's meeting with Jana, I completely forgot to arm it." "Hmm," she shrugs, "seems we've been down this road before." She reaches into her jeans pocket and opens her cell. "What are you doing?" I ask stupidly. "I'm texting Beta to get over here immediately. The security perimiter's been compromised and God only knows what kind of malware has been installed on your devices."

She punches in a few digits and then turns back to face me. “I notified Ross outside that we've had an intrusion. He's checking the grounds and exterior of the house.” "I'm really sorry, Sarah," I mutter lamely. "Sorry doesn't cut it, Liam. I don't want a corpse on my conscience—especially, on my watch." She motions me to remain in place and then with gun drawn, makes a complete search of the interior of the house starting with the bedrooms and ending in the basement.

She finally emerges from downstairs looking cross but satisfied there's no other problems. "I'll get Beta to dust for prints but doubt we'll find anything. We're going to change the security protocols, however, and put the whole system on a set schedule. I'll need times when you go out and return during the week and your weekend routines." A few minutes later, Beta shows and within an hour re-programs the system. There was malware installed on my I-Mac and on a Fire tablet I leave on my night table for bedtime reading. He checks my laptop to be sure but it's clean and sweeps the premises to look for bugs but turns up no spyware. "A simple in and out," he observes, sipping a hot chocolate I made him. "You were lucky. I figure it was just intended to send you a message." Noticing Jana's photo, he whistles softly, "Nice looking girl." "Just lovely," I nod, stifling my anger.

It’s past midnight before the forensics team clears along with Beta, leaving only Sarah and me sitting before the fire. "Can I trust you to manually arm the system if there's a departure from your usual routine?" "I promise," I grin shamefacedly, "Scout's honour." I flash her the three-finger salute. She rolls her eyes. "I can imagine you in short pants. Okay, maybe I shouldn't go there," she smirks. "That's okay—I have it coming." "Do me a favour, Prof—work on your weakness." Saying that, she brushes her lips across my cheek and winks as she exits. I hate to admit it, she totally unnerves me and the touch of her lips lingers far into the night, which is probably what she intended.

To be continued…
© 2021, John J Geddes. All rights reserved
[Photo](https://images.app.goo.gl/LHn8CPSsjqgpEvbi6)

Topics