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Short Story : The Story Of A Story

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“Professor Michaelis…how dare you fill their heads with these unpure notions. It was not your place to tell them about this.” I interrupted.
My hands were shaking and I began to sweat on my face. What if Mother finds out about this? Without another word, I turned to leave the room but my arm was clasped by a strong hand that I’d never felt before and they pinned me against the wall. The hands were firm and restraining like Mothers. I have never been grabbed like this by another person before, let alone a man. Professor Michaelis met my startled gazed with a seductive smile. His right hand gently clasping my chin so that I could not avert my eyes. He stared at my porcelain face for what felt like an eternity. It was then that his left hand glided down my white dress and began caressing my left thigh. I closed my eyes as he continued petting me and turned my knees inward so I wouldn’t collapse. He then forced my thighs back open with his right knee and held me there smirking.
“Perhaps, you can be my little helper then, Little Robin,” he said.
Without answering I managed to wiggle free from his grip and put some distance between the two of us. There was a short silence…as if we were trying to anticipate the other’s next move. He walked towards me, I turned to run for the door, but he grabbed my left hand on the door knob before I could open it. His touch was surprisingly gentle this time. He took both of my hands in his and kissed them lightly on the fingertips. I quickly removed them not wanting to continue his game for another second.
“You are a despicable demon,” I said.
“How could you be so shameless, in front of these young girls? This is the house of God.”
He smiled, releasing my hands, walking over to his desk seemly uninterested in what I said to say about my religious beliefs.
“Are you a true woman of the cloth?” he inquired.
“I find it very hard to believe since you’re still here after that display.”
“If what I just did truly bothered you, you would have turned to leave by now.” “So…you’re not nearly as sanctimonious as your Mother, how she imprisons you here like an iron maiden is quite a sad sight indeed—” “You’re mistaken,” I said interrupting him.
I lowered my head and thought of Mother, what

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