Stolen

“Sally, hukim, Sally,” his fingers glided over the top of her spiraled notebook like Vladimir Ashkenazy’s 1983 piano performance at the Barbican Centre, it was placid, momentarily merciful. She immediately ceased from writing the last of her dexterous doodles that so finely covered the bottom end of her notebook page and gazed into his easy blue eyes, they were sweet, gentle, in her mind they were somehow affectionate. The moment lasted several seconds, astray in his delicate, masculine approach, her eyes lost along the widened edges of the pupils that so easily mimicked her own, “oh, sorry, yes?” “What size jacket will you be needing? You did not mark it on the new student orientation list. ”She took her paper back from his large bush-covered hands, and placed an x along the short line next to small, “will that be all?” His tall bolder like frame turned and walked away without a word. She replaced the cap over her highlighter and tucked her notebook beneath her arm, “you guys have ten minutes, we will be resuming in room 207.”

The quiet was more than enough to hear, one of those noteworthy instants that make even the slightest needle drop sound like cascading rods of thunder, it echoed from the inside of her drum through the Spalted Maple doors, which she could only recognize because of grandma Mordeen. It sloped past the rainbow trail still gracing the floor of the foyer into the dining hall at least 30 bases away. Her desire to make up for lost time ensured she was the first to enter, she found her chosen seat directly in the front of the room. The nameplate engraved in the top right corner of the desk read Sally Egan, everything was different, from the paint that cleaned the walls to the desk that made it impossible to believe that this school received all its elegance from donations. They were crisp to the touch, clean polished, they screamed for admiration. Even the whiteboards were different, they weren't just your normal dry-erase melamine stagecraft, they were impossible to match, a distinct picture of art. Gold trim enclosed with what had to be porcelain or even Ginori. The entire room wreaked of expensive vintage.

“What, you don't like pizza?” A familiar voice said from behind her. Her startled chest practically jumped through her hands, “huh, you scared me,” she said as she squeezed the top edge of her jacket. “Dammit!” Black silk glowed like the shining locks of Black Beauty resting under the dimming sun, she quickly tucked her burgundy button into the back of her pants pocket, adjusted her collar to fit her new wardrobe, and met his words as if he didn't just get a sneak peek of Mordeens hidden treasures. “No, I, I actually felt really bad about being late sooo I decided to get first dibs on this view,” she calmly uttered as her gaze wandered about the room.

He walked closer towards the dim lights, “Nice! Well, I guess I'm an early bird like you.” The strap of his pack slide off his shoulders and landed on the desk one over from hers.

“Looks like it.” Her hiked brows matched his pinched lips while silence fed, ingesting every ounce of their scattered conversation that had now disappeared. She swallowed softly as her eyes spotted the first long-length pants suit infiltrator. Aaron, her long hair caressed the sides of her sparkling pink lipgloss, while her blushed cheekbones gleaned with evident confidence. It was the same for everyone, even the other two males that came in after Zack. They'd enter, stop, then take a moment to stare in disbelief before they go and find their seat. The few that became acquainted in the dining hall who were lucky enough to be grouped together sat in the back, soft chatters of oohs and ahhs enveloped the rear end of the class giving off the official hype that fems in groups can't resist the “oh my gosh girl lango.” They all did it, Oh my gosh girl this Oh my gosh that, it was like a 90’s female dominant sitcom episode where being loud and obnoxious was favorable.

The three of them stormed in together, the aura of their bodies impersonated the strength of a powerful Anker of gravity, pushing everything in its path towards the center of the room, you could feel it, hear it, even taste it. The description their faces animated was more than necessary to say they meant business. She walked to the front southwest corner of the room, sat in the cherry brown computer chair that glowed just as bright as the golden marble desk that hide the cross of her legs, her lips were flat, smug almost as if she wanted the class to know if she shit it wouldn't stink. Her eyes darted in every direction examining each and every newbie trying to escape her presiding presence. Even the loud girls in the back muted and lowered their heads to their notebooks.

He stood next to her, his shoulders hiked like huge boulders of stone, to say he mimicked her expression would be an understatement, he made her piercing eyes look like one of those sad puppies with floppy ears. Everything about him read vicious, undeniably remorseless. His lip pulled up to his nose as his exceptionally white teeth rested beneath giving off a growl that everyone could hear, it was silent but you’d have to be blind to miss it. “I wonder if they do it like this all the time?” Sally thought to herself, she was sure it was some kind of act or a stage play, in room 217 the tall guy with the big smile gets you calm and relaxed before you get acquainted with the demented K9s. That so attractively imitated wild wolves readying themselves to defend their territory.

“Class, this is Nielly, and this is Horb, you may refer to them by their first names, however, you will acknowledge me as Mr. Guss, and Mr. Guss only. Understand?” His powerful tone blanketed the room as he waved his head anticipating everyone's nod in agreement. Her duoed fingers played as a stand for the side of her forehead, she lolly-gagged her peeking eyes at him, unshaken and totally unimpressed. Her squinted eyes became free, taking on the role of a Japanese Persian women as the tiniest echo of laughter escaped her windpipe, “hukim, ukim,” she covered it with a cough, quickly adjusted her notebook, pulled one of her loose curls from her face behind her ear and nodded in agreement. “Dammit,” rolled from her lips as sweet as honey, it’d be a miracle if anyone besides Zack could hear her cursive breath. “Are you buying this?”

His red face worked tirelessly to stay straight, he kept his eyes glued to his pen as he continued to jot down every detail of the sovereign presentation his worn wrist would allow. Fire traced the outer portion of his ears highlighting the deep oppression brutally feeding on him. Sally rolled her eyes in a subtle attempt to observe the room, she calmly eased herself straight into her seat and aligned her shoulders as she cleared her throat, it was clear that everyone in that room had undoubtedly declared themselves as omegas.

They sat there like acquiescent children making note of all they were told, while the Alphas, the distinct authority paced the tile floor, through the rows, down the aisles, like hungry guards possessively protecting their enclave, checking and ensuring obedience. There was a zero-tolerance policy in which they made known, that either you do what you're told or you go out that door. It was clear that one mistake was enough to send your entire nursing career packing. “We are the big dogs in the business,” Mr. Guss smugly repeated as often as he could. Each one had their own agenda to fulfill, Nielly made known the attendance and dress code was crucial, while Horb ensured the understanding of the three Z’s, Zero tolerance, Zero fucks, and Zero bullshit.

The highlight of the evening came while scorching hot bodies were still in their destitutely feeble state, the point of no return, the devious smirk on his face told it all, it absorbed sultry jitters from feeble faces. He pounded the spalted table with both fists, hard, with little reserve, like two diesels smashing head-on in a Monster Jam competition knowing the finale was here. Carefully, with great custody, he pulled it from beneath the table to his body then eased it away, placing it on top of the vintage maple, ensuring everyone could see. Just as extraordinary and striking as everything else that made a home in this room, it was gold, sparkling clean, crisp, and bedazzling to the eye. It polished the eight-foot table from end to end, allowing the ancient stones to be completely visible. Mr. Guss layed his now soft auburn hands over the top as if he were gently caressing the rear of a new baby, his eyes closed as his hands began to float, a loud graceful wind zoomed across the table, through the cavity of Niellys desk, over and across, zig-zagging the first row of desk until it landed. Causing the hairs along every inch of Sally's trembling arms to stand. Her stomach cringed as her face flushed, pulling her into her desk, exposing the area of her chest that was no longer fastened. Like the charming music box her grandmother gave her, It was open. “Does anyone know what the Rod of Asclepius is?”