Lecture One

Lecture One, she thought.  The worst part of the job, ever.  By now, having given Lecture One a half-dozen times at three universities, the style of her presentation had begun to coalesce out of its own merit.
UCLA - it was ugly, and a disaster.  She joined in as a lecturer, and was given a small starter grant from friends in the Industry to lecture on The Blue Movie in America.  The film school gave her little more than a smirk and a classroom, and her presence on campus was widely ignored as a stunt.  Professor Paris Hilton, they called her; and they called her many more things. Under her strident protest, enrollment was opened to all undergraduates, and the course had over five hundred students jammed into a lecture hall.

Her original goal for Lecture One was to offer a summary of the coursework, and her expectations of performance.  The audience - it really was an audience - treated it like it was a fraternity party.  Catcalls of "take it off!" and "nice boobs!"  rained down from the crowd.  Dani had dressed conservative and dowdy even, a cable-knit sweater over a long dress.  Some of the students dressed for a Hallowe'en Hookers' Ball - always the ones sitting with boyfriends, she noticed.  When the class began, she noticed with some shock that she was being completely ignored by the crowd - it was waiting for ShowTime.

A catcall from the front brought her up short.  A Japanamerican Frat Boy mouthed off for her to "take it off, ho'!"  She glared at him.  He was sitting with - clearly a girlfriend - in a tight leather corset.

"You.  Here, now, Goddamit!"  ordering him to the stage.  He shuffled up with a smirk.  She warned the girlfriend to sit tight.  He looked a little apprehensive when she turned back.  "Coward," Dani. thought.

"Name?" she snapped when he finished his stageward mosey.  "Ken Yamaguchi, what's it to you?" he sneered at her.  "You got your phone?  I'm calling your parents!" she said, and the audience howled at her impertient idea.

Dani spoke quickly, in quite decent Japanese - "I'm going to tell them - Mr. Yamaguchi, this is Professor Rosenbaum.  Your son has been expelled from my university class because of his disrespect to the professor.  He has embarrassed your name."

Ken stared blankly - he clearly spoke no Japanese.  His girlfriend was transfixed.  SHE knew what was siad.  Here eyes were the size of anime-girl saucers, with her little hands over her mouth like mousie-paws.  Wearing that corset, SNAP!  a picture for her porn-movie memory album.

Ken looked worried, and his complexion turned a bit curdled-milk, watching his girlfriend's expression of clear horror.  "What?" he pantomimed at the girl.  "What she say?"

She pulled the classroom microphone off, and repeated her proposed 'phone call to him.  His face turned the color of smoky milk, and he dropped like a lead puppet.

The room turned immediately silent, and the fiesta mood drained away like candy from a piñata.