Super Star

By Nolan Frank

Super Star is the first book in The Deceit of Appearances trilogy, which follows Mac during an academic year as he seeks true love on his university campus while struggling to avoid compromising his values and his best interests in the sexually-charged city in which he lives. The trilogy, three short novels, each about one-third the length of a full-length novel, is rich in depictions of physical and emotional attraction and the conflicts it spawns, including the struggle between desire and restraint, the sensations and the sensible, the irrational and the rational, and the indulgent and the ethical. Super Star will be followed by the second and third offerings in the trilogy, Rhymes With Delicious and Foxy’s Girl. The trilogy will be the first of a lengthy series of novels that chronicles Mac’s near lifelong obsession with the opposite sex and his quest for true love. It will be followed by a rash of prequels and another round of sequels, each of which finds Mac at a different point in his life, be it childhood, adolescence, or adulthood—including at least three sequels that illuminate the series’ themes from the standpoint of late middle age.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nolan Frank
• Release date: Apr 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476106793

Nolan Frank

The author lives in Florida with his wife and their two dogs, Brooke and Tess. After many years as a research-oriented cognitive psychologist and university professor, having published extensively in scientific journals, he has turned to writing fiction full time, with a rekindled youthful passion. He received his Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley.

Book preview

A Frank Mac MacAlister Novel

Super Star

By Nolan Frank

Copyright 2012 Nolan Frank

Smashwords Edition

Book 1 in The Deceit of Appearances Series

Anna Alicia, I said, standing at the lectern and reading from her class card. When no one responded, I looked over the heads of my students to her unoccupied desk at the back of the room and recited her name again, a bit louder, though I knew she wouldn’t hear me. She was not in the room. Had she been, I would have seen her. The fact is, I loved the sound of her name and the erotic way it danced around in my mouth. Saying it gave pleasure to my lips, my tongue, my teeth, and my palate. An-na-A-li-cia, like Lo-Lee-ta, had a lyrical, seductive quality; the four a’s framing and poeticizing itwhile the penultimate syllable which rhymes with the li in delicious lends resonance and sensuousness. Alone, Anna and Alicia are unexceptional, at once prosaic and trendy. Together, they suggest radiance, mystery, and lost civilizations. It hadn’t always. Before I saw her, when I first read it out loud at the beginning of the semester, it was little more than a ten- letter name with an exceptionally high number of vowels. But when I saw her and heard her say it, correcting my mispronunciation of it, all five of its syllables had come to delicious life and, so, whenever given a reason to say her name out loud, I did.

Instead of marking her absent as I normally would for students who did not answer, I simply placed her card on the bottom of the stack and proceeded to take attendance. I was about halfway through this ritual, as expected; Anna Alicia arrived late as she had twice before. Once again, she entered through the door closest to me, not the one closest to her seat. Everything about her entrance was the same: the soft cylindrical sound of the knob being twisted, the sharp creak as the door opened, the rapidity with which it closed again, followed by the tick-tack of heels. As the other students noticed that it was she, their expressions changed abruptly. The guys gawked and beamed. The co-eds subtly shrank and turned sullen. Making her way along the length of the room toward her desk, Anna Alicia was a familiar sight: the thick, gleaming dark hair, the Ivory soap complexion, the expensive looking, tight fitting skirt, the dressy blouse, the black hose, and a face and figure that you would never guess belonged to a science major.

She moved quickly yet coolly to her desk, like someone used to being watched, with a downward cast of her eyes and a kind of studied indifference to her audience. When she reached her desk she slid into her seat, crossed her legs, opened a notebook, and looked at no one—as though she had been there all along. In a room full of casually dressed, typical looking undergraduates, she looked expensive, removed, and out of place.

It must have seemed to the other students that I, too, was beaming because when I became aware that I was the center of attention once again, I had the uncomfortable feeling that my silence and demeanor made a bad situation worse. Several of my female students were looking at me in a way that was not hard to read. The time had come to make good on my pledge not to tolerate repeated instances of tardiness. Anna Alicia, I said, savoring the sound but trying hard not to seem pleased with the prospect of being alone with her, please see me after class. The slimmest nod told me she would. From the way she re-crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt, however, I got the impression that what I had said was not unexpected.

Ninety minutes later as I was talking to two students at the front of the room Anna Alicia approached. Even though she stood off to the side, not looking at me, I was very much aware of her. She had always left quickly after class so this was as close as I had been to her, close enough to confirm that she was not wearing a ring. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the others left. Then I had my first really good look at her. She seemed reluctant to look at me, glancing downward and to the side, but when she did, I saw that her eyes were nearly as dark as her hair, which was cut just above her eyebrows in front, just below her ears everywhere else, and had a soft, furry sheen, like the inside layer of a water dog’s coat. Up close, except for her age, she looked even less like an undergrad. There was usually something scruffy, blemished—even slovenly about college students. By contrast, everything about Anna Alicia looked neat and clean; from her hairline, which had a distinct edge to it, to her skin, which looked as though it had been bleached of impurities, to her shoes, which matched the sheen of her hair.

I had to see you about being late, I said, as I moved some papers on the table that was between us so that I could sit directly in front of her.

I know I’ve been late three times and I’m sorry, Dr. MacAlister, she said in a voice I could barely hear over the noises coming from the open doorway to the corridor, where students were coming and going between classes.

You can call me Frank, or Mac, like everyone else, I reminded her.

I’m going to talk to my supervisor tomorrow about leaving from work a few minutes earlier. I’m sure he will be okay with it.

So, why didn’t you talk to him about it before? I asked, beginning to wonder if she had been late on purpose.

I thought it was okay, that you wouldn’t mind, she answered. She had been present the first day of class when I laid out my expectations, so this puzzled me.

Well, alright. It really isn’t a problem for me. It’s just that it can be a problem for those who are here on time. So, if you think your supervisor will allow you to leave early, we should be okay, I said trying to project the impression that I was reasonable and easy going.

With that, she said, Have a nice evening, Frank, and turned to leave. As she made her way to the door I had my first look at her directly from behind. I wasn’t disappointed. Again, I was impressed with how neat and clean she looked, especially her hair, which was shaved down to an immaculate little point at the nape of her neck. But, there was something else, something more carnal about her backside, judging from the rhythmical fullness of her flexing calves and the voluptuous way she filled out her skirt just below the waistline, as though she were wearing a bustle.

Anna Alicia, I said for the fourth time that day, just as she got to the door. Anxious to prolong our meeting as she turned around, I managed to think of something else to say. I gather you don’t work at one of the casinos. If you did, you wouldn’t be wearing heels, I said looking at her shoes.

No, I work for a law firm, she said in that same soft-spoken manner. "Do you know where Hughes Tower is? I work there near the top floor.

Yeah, I think so, I said, visualizing the building. How long does it take?

Only about ten to twelve minutes, depending on the traffic but since I don’t have to cross The Strip, there’s never a lot.

I can picture it, but I wouldn’t know how to get there.

Something about this exchange or perhaps it was something about the way I was looking at her must have pleased her, because for the first time I thought I saw a smile stretch her lips. How small and fragile her mouth seemed even with its sides drawn apart.

After she left, I released my grip on the edge of the table. To my surprise, not only were my palms wet but stuck to one of them was a lecture note. I pulled it free and thought about the weeks ahead. There were still ten weeks left in the semester.

Chapter 2

A week later during office hours, several students from Anna Alicia’s class showed up to discuss their most recent quiz. They had performed poorly and wanted either help or sympathy. It happened every semester and dealing with students at risk of failing was part of my job. After fifteen minutes with two of them, I was worn out from arguing about the validity of my scoring, so I wasn’t looking forward to meeting the third. As soon as she entered my office my mood changed.

Madison, I said, I didn’t know it was you out there.

I found a quiet place to sit down the hall, away from your office. I don’t have a lot of time, so I had my book out trying to figure out why I got so many questions wrong. I’m still at a loss, she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Sit down, the chair right in front of me is still warm, I said, noticing that her familiar mass of untamed blonde hair looked wet, like she had just showered.

When she did, my mood improved even more. Something inside me warmed and softened. Up to now, I had thought of her as the second most attractive student in class and the most outspoken. Several times during each class, it seemed, she interrupted the flow of my lecture by asking me to slow down or to repeat something. She always seemed to be playing catch up, struggling to capture in her notes what I had just said word for word, while the rest of the class seemed prepared to move on. Several students were obviously annoyed by these interruptions, but her unpretentious manner, the apologetic tone in her voice, which sounded like it had been nurtured in Texas, were met by more smiles than grimaces. From a distance, from