It looks like a normal classroom. It smells of hormonal teenagers and is painted in those cold colors that excited less than a grandmother in a bathrobe. Even the desks, dingy green, are stupidly small. The vast majority of us don't fit in here. Although I'm sure Vera does, she's the perfect size for this place. The memory of her makes my dick tug, and I search for her with my eyes. Okay, the amphitheater thing was weird, and it doesn't suit that innocent little girl face of hers at all, but I can't hold anything against her. That's what we're all here for after all, right?
We're all seated, men and women, in our ridiculous uniforms, in front of the stage where our tutor is seated. He leans back at his desk, arms folded, as the last students finish coming in. That gives me plenty of time to analyze the middle-aged man in a suit who looks a bit like a math teacher. Only I've never had a math teacher in my life who looked so good in a suit. I remember him from the stage because he was the only one who wasn't dressed strangely. At least I've been lucky. The professor stands static, watching us all with his calm eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses.
I run my hand along the coded message that the previous tenant has left written for me: "You're going to get your ass handed to you". Nothing new on the horizon, though I'd prefer to avoid that particular experience, thank you.
The bell rings, irritating as only one can be, and the professor gets up to close the door.
"All right. Thank you all for coming. Welcome, I'm your tutor, Professor John Steven. No, I'm not from here as you may have guessed. No, you can't call me by my first name. Here to mind my manners, gentlemen. You will soon discover that the faculty of this institution take our work very seriously. We expect respect and attention from you."
Someone laughs behind me, and I look over my shoulder at the brave man who has taken this gentleman's threats as jokes. The guy in question is young, he may have just come of age. He wears his long hair down over his right eye and is disheveled, with his shirt open almost to his navel, his pants halfway down his butt revealing black boxer shorts and his tie tied on his arm. That must be the epicenter of the hormonal teenage boy smell, the poor guy still hasn't showered enough to get rid of it.
"Oh, come on, that was funny," he says when everyone stares at him. "The dirty old man wants us to give him respect while he teaches us sex."
"I guess that must be Zacarias, right? ," said the professor."
"As I live and breathe."
"I have orders to send you to the special class in case you don't know how to behave. For your well-being, I advise you not to be too smart with me. I remind you all why you are here: a judge has found you guilty of being lousy lovers."
As if we could forget. I still remember my judge, an older woman who looked at me arrogantly when she gave me my sentence. Okay, I may not have made an effort with Marta, I could have been a little more, I don't know, generous, but is this public finger-pointing really necessary? I understand that the low birth rate and increasing anxiety problems in the population led to this decision, but when I voted for it, I didn't imagine that I would be one of those affected.
"Well, first things first. You have sat where you have wanted to sit, but that is going to change. Please move as I call your name."
This is déjà vu from my student days, it is clear. We get up as he calls us and I immediately see the pattern: men, women, men, women. Unfortunately, it's my turn in front, right in front of their table, in the very first row. I look to my right, where a middle-aged woman with the stiffest posture I've ever seen is frozen. One who has not yet accepted where she is. I wonder if her husband has put her there, or perhaps her lover. The woman is indeed past the twilight of her life, but the uniform doesn't deceive and she has breasts like udders. The undershirt doesn't hide the fact that she's wearing one of those lacy bras that women in their forties are so fond of.
My left is empty, it's the only gap left.
The professor begins to pass out a series of papers to everyone, and when he gets to me, I see that it is our calendar. I don't have time to look at it, as a dull thud draws my attention to the door that has burst open. There stands Vera, the last one missing, sweaty and panting.
"I'm sorry! I got lost, I couldn't find the classroom," she says in a trembling voice.
Her hair is wet, as if I had just got out of the shower, which makes her excuse sound even cheaper. She's red, her skirt has moved, and the staying power of those buttons must have been tested at NASA. Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, she hastens to tug on her shirt, and reposition everything.
The professor does not seem at all happy about the interruption. He turns back to his natural posture, shoulders crossed, and watches the apparition with distaste.
"Vera Tarra, I presume. You've been lucky, I haven't given notice of your absence yet. Today you will be the class volunteer."
"What?" asks Vera, blinking very quickly.
"Sit down first and let me get on with the class, please. You've interrupted enough for today, don't you think?"
Vera blushes and glances around the classroom until she sees the space next to me. She hurries to sit in it and doesn't raise her eyes at any point. I wasn't wrong: she fits perfectly, as if she were custom-made. I am excited to see that she will be my deskmate, I can smell her shampoo from here and everything. God is smiling on me at last, that old scoundrel.
"In front of you is the weekly calendar. As you can see, you have no days off, but you do have hours of study and practice. You will have a total of seven teachers, a psychologist and a sexologist to attend to your academic needs," says Professor Steven as he paces the stage. "I will give them the Basic Classes, after their hour of physical activity with Professor Silvia. After lunch you will have a series of specialized classes according to the preference you showed on the registration form. If any of you think your schedule contains any errors, please let me know at the tutoring time, from five to six."
He sits at the table, previously loosening the button that ties his jacket, and spreads it out elegantly so that it does not wrinkle.
"It has been considered that an individual presentation is not necessary. We only have forty-eight hours in total to get into basic anatomy, foreplay and the mechanics of sex. So, without further ado... Come up here, Miss Vera."
I watch the trembling girl leave the desk and make her way hesitantly to the dais. The professor looks her up and down, and after nodding, smiles like a wolf that has just found its prey.
"And now, please undress."