Chapter 4 - Some Like It Soaked

 

~ Nicolette ~

“No, I can’t go, but thank you for the invite,” I replied, looking at Professor Malorie who most graciously took the ancient mirror out of my apartment. Oddly enough, when he admired the thing and even touched it, nothing happened to him. It led me to believe that its curse—if it was even called one—had already stuck to me and it was nowhere near transferring to another poor soul.

But whatever. I am just happy enough that it’s out of my hair for good.

“Are you sure? You are a donor, too. You helped us quite a lot in establishing the museum.” The professor looked at me in disbelief.

I avoided his gaze and stared at the carpeted hallway of my apartment. “I...I have other plans for the night, professor."

It wasn't an alibi. I do have one and it was a date with my paint brushes and easel. Ever since I left Malta, I hadn’t finished the painting I was commissioned to do by a movie actress. The deadline was still by the end of the month though, twenty more days to go, but still, my hands itched to hold the brush.

“Okay, but if you change your mind, here’s the invite.” He looked at me with understanding and then handed the green card.

“Alright, thank you.” I took it and nodded at him with a smile.

Closing the door once he left, I took a deep breath, feeling relieved now because finally, the source of my problem was gone. Maybe for a die-hard fan of Fantasy and Paranormal, they’d accept their fate of being cursed and thrown into a different world, but not me. I value my sanity and life. I had been surrounded by too much weirdness ever since I became an archaeologist and I wanted nothing more of it.

“I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine. That mirror is gone now,” I reassured myself as I made my way into the kitchen.

*****

Eight hours later, my optimism disappeared.

“Stop it. Stop it!” I shouted as I threw the paintbrush against the wall, fed up with the faint female echo in my ears. I had hoped that everything in my normal life would return. I didn’t expect that the mirror would still hunt me by using a disembodied voice, making sure I’d be uncomfortable for the rest of the day since its departure from my bedroom.

The cursed thing was really cursed. Maybe I should have thought about it before I hauled it up from a stone box in our excavation site.

“Shit.” I massaged my temples and peeled my vision away from the half-finished painting of a nude woman exposing its tits in front of me.

“Fine. Fine!” I shouted again, standing up. My attention redirected to the green invitation card resting on top of my work desk. I needed a distraction, that was certain, and the best way to get that was to go to an opening party.

In less than ten minutes, I changed into my best attire: a body-hugging semi-sequined dress that was just above the knee. The gathering was a formal one so I needed to wear formal clothes as opposed to my everyday wear of ripped jeans and shirt. I allowed my hair to run loose, but added some stud earrings just to balance my look. In my four-inch heels, I sashayed out of the building. Josie, the kindest bellman I had ever met, hailed a cab for me.

"Enjoy the party, Miss Holland," he said, while tipping his baseball cap down.

"I'll try to, Josie." I winked and slipped inside the vehicle.

Thank goodness there was no traffic, so the ride didn't take long. I disembarked in front of the main building of the Costard University Museum where the party was held. Seeing some college students lining up outside the building made me remember my past when I was still a student. I had great memories here: the studying, the research, getting cooped up inside the library, having my first kiss with my crush, which turned out to be awful, and the daydreaming of becoming a full-fledged archeologist.

I sighed and smiled to myself, feeling sentimental for a moment.

Luckily, the green invitation card turned out to be a VIP-access pass. When I showed it to the student-usher, she allowed me inside without a fuss.

“Miss Holland! You made it!” Professor Malorie exclaimed the second he saw me enter the foyer. 

I smiled at him and accepted his cheek-to-cheek greeting. The man was thrice my age, almost like a grandfather, but in his navy blue suit and classic necktie, he looked younger.

“Yes, uhm, my prior plans were cancelled, so yeah, I’m here, professor,” I answered.

“Good. Good!” He nodded, with his smile stretching from ear to ear. Then he placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Let me take you to my table. I want you to meet my colleagues. They are intelligent people you would be happy to engage in a conversation.”

I agreed with him. “Right then, lead the way, professor.”

As soon as we strode inside the darkly lit hall, the pumping of the techno music blasted through my ears. I smiled to myself, knowing without a doubt it would help me fend off the female voice haunting me.

“Everyone, I want you to meet Miss Nicolette Holland,” Professor Malorie said right after we reached his table. “She is the one who contributed to some of our museum displays tonight.”

With hands clasped on each other and my back straight, I flashed a ready-practiced smile at them.

“This is Madame Helen Ainsrow, the School Principal with her husband, Mr. Miguel. This is the University Board Director, Mr. Arthur Shuvert, and this right here is Dr. Millard Danes, my partner and co-museum owner.”

They each smiled on my way, but Dr. Danes, being the one that was near where I was, stood up and shook my hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Holland,” he said, showing a delighted face under the yellow and blue lights of the function hall. He looked of the same age as Professor Malorie too, but he still had black hair that may or may not be colored. He was tall, though. Probably four inches taller than me and I was wearing heels.

“Professor Danes, no, the pleasure is mine,” I said.

He swept his hand to the side and gestured for a vacant chair on his left.

“Come sit, we have just started dinner.”

I nodded at him, but some sort of curiosity suddenly hit me.

“Are you expecting someone, Professor Danes?” I asked, looking at another empty chair on my right.

“Yes, I am,” he answered while we sat. “He is the major benefactor of this museum.”

“Oh really? Then I should probably meet him to say my thanks. But uhm, he must be a very busy man,” I replied.

That only led him to chuckle faintly at my comment.

My forehead creased, confused why he would do so.

“Yes, he is. You have no idea, Miss Holland. His time is always of the essence.”

I watched as a male server neared us with a tray of a la carte courses. Without intending it, I giggled at myself for the boy, probably in his early twenties, winked at me as he handed the seafood pasta. I always had this kind of effect on men, even the ones that were below my age. I just turned twenty-six last February 7, still single after I broke up with my long-distance boyfriend and workmate, Sean. Though we loved the same job, we never got along fine. I was just lucky enough that I didn’t give my virginity to him. The man was always looking for an adventure. I guess he never saw me as one.

But good riddance to him.

I ate and conversed with the respected people at my table. The University Board of Director told me that after here, we would be touring the whole two-floor museum. I feigned excitement when he said that, but little did he know, I was dreading to look at a certain artifact again: the mirror.

Professor Danes seemed to be very uneasy, though, repeatedly glancing at the entrance door. It was probably because of this important benefactor that was why he acted like that.

Half an hour of eating and talking later, we noticed a commotion in a corner of the function hall—the area where there was a viewing deck that showed the school’s front garden. Then, squealing college girls ran out of the door.

I lifted a brow, clueless but curious.

“What’s that commotion over there?” I was the one bold enough to ask.

“Oh no,” Professor Danes quickly expressed while wiping his mouth with the pasta sauce, looking rather worried. “Uhm, excuse me my friends, I think my guest has arrived.”

He stood up and my eyes followed him as he exited the room.

***

~ Lucien ~

“God, didn’t I tell you not to be flashy?” the professor whispered-groaned at me when he finally squeezed himself from the idolizing crowd I had unintentionally gathered. I had just arrived in this school and yet I already collected a few approving and desire-filled glances of both men and women around me.

Men, because of my seven-digit sports car I drove and women, because of my good looks, drooling at me like I was some Sex God ready to lick them.

“It’s just Maybach, professor,” I answered after a small curve grew on my lips. “It’s not flashy.”

Dr. Danes just huffed at me, his expression flat. “Yes, right and your Audi R8 isn’t too.”

I shrugged, ignoring the lascivious stares of my crowd.

“The King of Zaxonia likes his toys shiny,” I answered and then stepped forward, throwing the key to a jock who caught it like it had herpes. His minions consequently bellowed at him to be careful.

Huh. Funny people.

“Come, let’s get you out of here. You are messing with my female students,” the professor exclaimed, just as he signaled the opposite sex to move.

“Indeed.” I stared at them—at their flushed, near-to-orgasm faces.

Side by side, we entered the main foyer, but Dr. Danes immediately stopped, showing a pissed off face. He turned and placed his arms akimbo.

“Alright, students, nothing to see here! Stop following the man. Get back to your tables or else I’ll give you an F!”

There were collective whimpers that I could hear after. I turned to the side and, to my amusement, saw my followers pulling a sad face and one by one, they disappeared into a hallway.

“Tsh, hormonal, the lot of them." He released an exasperated sigh once he turned to me. “Next time, I really should reconsider inviting you to a school activity.”

I stared at him and grinned. “See, I told you so.”

He sighed, and thereafter, we continued our way towards the venue.

Smoothly, I entered the sizeable hall like the king that I am: shoulders squared, back straight, both arms relaxed and cool, wearing the latest suit in the fashion industry, and a neutral face.

That neutral face, however, cracked when I caught a glimpse of a woman sitting at a table where we were going.

Hell, (or should it be heaven?) there she was, as stunned as me, staring straight into my eyes with not a hint of desire like those college girls before, but with a hint of fear and something close to confusion.

Heck, I think she recognized me even in my short hair, but would she believe me real then? I had a feeling she had already concluded to herself that what she experienced last night was just a dream. Me, just a dream...

Me, just a dream? Huh! Preposterous at its best!

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to introduce, Mr. Darien Ozric, the major sponsor of our museum,” Dr. Danes announced once we stood a few feet away from the table.

Everyone stood up, including my mysterious woman, but she was the last, maybe because she was still in shock.

Dr. Danes enumerated the people he was working with while they moved closer to me for a handshake. I nodded, gave them my reserved, practiced smile and exchanged pleasantries until it finally came to her.

Her.

“And this is Miss Nicolette Holland, one of the major contributors of the artifacts you’ll be seeing later,” the professor said. I just tuned his voice down, for my total focus was on her—the woman who had surprisingly lost herself in my realm.

We met eye to eye. I studied every inch of her—from her face down to her stiletto shoe.

Her hair, just like last night, was the color of blonde with beautiful shades of reddish amber. She allowed it to fall to her waist, creating a distracting display for me. She wore make-up, but only minimal of it; pinkish lips with a shimmer and some eye shadows. Just that. Nothing more, nothing less. But the simplicity of it just added to her beauty.

She wore a dress that perfectly flaunted her curves. Curves that I’d love to trace. Curves that I didn't notice last night since it was dark.

And now, shit, I’m feeling the tightness in my pants. Again.

Dr. Danes cleared his throat and it was only then that I realized she wasn’t responding to his introduction of me.

“Miss Holland?” he said.

“Miss Nicolette?” Professor Malorie stepped in and shook her shoulder.

She was still looking at me, eyes as wide as saucers. I didn’t feel uneasy at all. Instead, it amused me.

“Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the man pointed out.

Finally, she blinked and then cleared her throat, glanced at the floor and then back to me.

“Ah, nothing. Nothing, professor." She hastened to say, meant to erase both of the professors’ concern. “Uh, I just...uhm, hi, it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Ozric.”

She was quick to compose herself. Impressive.

“Such a small world, isn’t it?” I said just as I shook her hand. Double meaning there.

“Excuse me?” She cocked a brow, clearly under my trap.

“Hmm,” a rumble escaped from the back of my throat. I couldn’t help it, but it was so easy to mess with her. “It’s an honor to meet you too, Miss Holland.”

She appeared to be taken aback, but only briefly, for she narrowed her eyes at me. Calculating me.

Then calculate all you want, woman.

As if on cue, Dr. Danes stepped into our little bubble and said, “I reserved this seat for you, Mr. uhh Ozric. You wouldn’t mind sitting next to this lovely young woman, would you?”

He was clearly reading all the right signs, but he didn’t need to play Cupid at all.

I could handle it from here onward.

“I wouldn’t mind at all, professor,” was my answer.