Ascension of the Alpha MaleChapter 5
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ReginaldChapter 18 free porn video
Erika explained, “Yes, but I think the History of Art may have connections to some of your own scientific subjects. I was intrigued at the idea from Prudence that the first printing ink was based on artists’ oil paint of the time. If there is more crossover from science, then you might be able to help me with aspects of the history of art. Speak to my lecturer, Reg, and see what you think.”
Later that day, Reg met Erika outside the door of her lecture room. She dragged him into the room. “Doctor Hemming, this is Reginald Robertson, that I told you about. He is a genius in the fields of science, and I am trying to get him to see where science fits into the history of art.”
Doctor Hemming was a middle-aged tall man with a head of red hair. He shook Reg’s hand.
“Welcome, Mr. Robertson. I can assure you that science plays a large part in art history. Pigments in particular can be dated by their constituents. Take blue in paintings: Ultramarine blue goes right back 6,000m years to Afghanistan, as it is based on powdered lapis lazuli, a semiprecious stone that is mined there. It was used in Egyptian tomb paintings.
Prussian blue doesn’t appear until 1724, and Cobalt blue first puts in an appearance in 1807, then Cerulean blue in the 1860s, so establishing which blue pigment is used in a painting can help with provenance. The same applies to other colours. If the painting is reputed to be of a date earlier than the introduction of that pigment, then the painting cannot be as early as claimed.
So science is of value in proving whether a painting is a fake or probably genuine. I say, probably, because some forgers used all the correct pigments for the supposed date. Then you have to rely on styles of painting, which certain forgers became adept at reproducing. Recent microscopic techniques have allowed us to determine from brush strokes what kind of brush was used by the artist. That can be a give-away.”
Reg was fascinated by this tale. “Amazing! Thank you for that summary, sir. I now see what Erika was on about. I shall look into such technology and become more knowledgeable about pigments.”
“Delighted to enhance your knowledge, Mr. Robertson. I gather you are Erika’s boyfriend.”
“That is so, sir.”
“You appear to be a good influence on her. She has been paying closer attention to the lectures in recent weeks, and that is reflected in her recent work.”
“Glad to hear that, sir. I act as tutor to an evening group of students. They seem to like my way of describing the content of their lectures. They pay me by teaching me social skills.”
“It appears they have had some success, young man.”
“That is so, Dr. Hemming. I now have to take her away and find the rest of the group. Thank you again.”
“Farewell, Mr. Robertson. Take care of Erika.”
They rushed off, leaving the lecturer pleased at Erika’s involvement in his art course, enough to drag her boyfriend into a discussion of pigments.
That evening, Freda made another attempt to reach her parents, on the assumption that they might be back from their short break. She again got through to her brother instead.
“Hi, Julian. Are Mum and Dad home yet?”
“Not yet, Freda. They should be back tomorrow for dinner. What do you want them for?”
“Julian. Listen, bro. I want to speak to them first, not you. I’ll let you know afterwards.”
“Suit yourself, little girl.”
“I am not a little girl, Julian, and you know it!”
“All right. Don’t get your nickers in a twist. Hey, I made another two million for the bank today!”
“Good for you, big brother. I am sure that made you happy.”
“It did, Freda. I should be in line for a big year-end bonus this year.”
“Shove some of it my way, and I’ll be happy for you, Julian.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t approve of bank traders?”
“It is not that, Julian. It is simply that I think you you could do better things with your life. Priests get little money, but on the whole they help a lot of people.”
“I don’t think I would fit in, Freda. I like women too much.”
“I know. I have seen some of those that you brought home. Upper-class tramps, in my opinion.”
“A few were, dear girl, but their Daddies in banking positions were worth cultivating; that was what mattered.”
“Don’t you ever look at a girl with the thought of love, Julian?”
“Nope. I am having too much fun.”
“I hope I never take that attitude.”
“Freda, I don’t normally mention it, but your chances of being able to attract a man are almost nil, girl.”
“Little do you know, Julian.”
“What?” He paused to think things over, then declared, “Hey, that’s it! That’s what you want to speak to Mum and Dad about: you have a boy drooling over you, and you want to gloat. Is he ugly, or a geek, or just blind?”
“Julian! Stop it! You don’t have to be nasty all the time. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“Sorry, Freda. My mouth ran away with me. I apologise, little sister. What is your guy like?”
“He is kind, clever, and understanding, even if he is poor.”
“Not a geek, then?”
“Not a geek, no. He was a loner, because his parents never wanted him. Our parents wanted us; that is why we are loved. He never had that love, and is only now learning about what love can be.”
“And you are teaching him? Really? With your vast experience?”
“You are reverting to type, Julian. Me and a bunch of other students are teaching him social skills that he lacked, in return for him tutoring us in our subjects.”
“Hey, that sounds very altruistic: just what I would expect from you.”
“It was a good deal, Julian. Reg has rounded out a lot since then. I am quite proud of his achievements.”
“So congratulations. You have a boyfriend, Freda. How long do you think it will last?”
“I don’t know, but I want it to last a long time. He is so sweet.”
“Good grief: you sound lovestruck! Look, Freda: don’t build up your hopes too high. First loves tend not to last. Just enjoy it while you can.”
“I intend to hold on to him, Julian. I think he will be worth it.”
“Good luck, then; seriously. This is your big brother giving you advice: enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Julian. I will. I’ll phone Mum and Dad tomorrow evening. Don’t tell them anything, will you?”
“I shall be the soul of discretion, Freda. I hope they take it well.”
“Bye, Julian.”
“Bye, Freda.”
She put the phone down, cursing herself. She had said far too much to Julian. She had let herself get annoyed with him as usual. She would say as little as possible to her parents tomorrow.
She went and asked the other girls was anyone fixed up with Reg for tonight. On hearing that nothing definite was arranged, she said, “I could do with him in my arms tonight: I need reassurance, after talking with my brother.”
Frances was on her wavelength. “Go ahead, Freda. I have the same feeling of need on occasion. Reg is good on reassurance, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. He has had that need himself, and seldom had anyone to give it to him, so he knows what is required: a bit of loving.”
“And the great thing about loving is that you can give and receive at the same time.”
“You are right there, Frances.”
The clan had a pleasant evening talking to each other and sharing their experience of the day, and then a good night’s sleep. They were all chirpy the next morning, ready to face another day of lectures.
Erika was coming to the end of her first lecture when she received a text message to meet her university mentor, Mrs Harding. She grimaced at this command, concluding that it could not be good news.
She made her way there, and knocked on the office door.
“Come in!”
“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Harding?”
“Ah, Erika. Yes. Come in, girl and shut the door.” Mrs Harding pressed the button that lit a sign outside that said “Do not disturb”.
“Sit down, Erika. I want to hear about an event yesterday, involving you and a group of boys.”
“Oh, that. Yes, ma’am.”
“Well? Care to tell me about it?”
“Someone called ‘Jim’ was involved, ma’am. He ‘accidentally’ tripped up Reg, causing him and Prudence to fall; and then I ‘accidentally’ knocked into ‘Jim’ and my knee ‘accidentally’ managed to coincide with his crotch. It was all accidental, ma’am.”
“Curious. An unlikely sequence of accidents, Erika.”
“Indeed, ma’am. That is the way of accidents: they are accidental, so not predictable as to timing.”
“You are a clever girl, Erika. I have been looking over your class records, and while you started out mediocre, your performance has improved considerably of late. Any reason you can think of for that?”
“Reg, ma’am. He has been acting as our tutor, showing us how to do better.”
“I take it this is the same Reg that was tripped yesterday?”
“It is, ma’am.”
“Was your presence in the vicinity accidental as well?”
“No, ma’am. Reg’s girls tend to stay as a bunch.”
Mrs Harding’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Reg’s girls?”
“Um ... the girls in the study group where Reg is the tutor.”
“Really? You made it sound more than that, Erika.”
“Well, Reg is my boyfriend, ma’am. That makes a difference.”
“You have a boyfriend? Well done, Erika. You have shown no interest in boys before.”
“That is not quite correct, ma’am. More accurately, boys have shown no interest in me.”
“Oh, yes. I see what you mean. This Reg must be someone special.”
“He is, ma’am. He sees me as ME the individual; not me the plain-faced girl as most boys categorise me. Reg loves me for my brain, my personality, and all that goes into making up an individual.”
“That is rather unusual, Erika. Not many boys are that perceptive.”
“Ma’am, Reg was an unwanted child, and was brought up without being loved; merely tolerated. Then his father was killed in an accident, and his mother viewed him as an obstacle to her getting a full-time job. He started university as a grant-aided loner, saying almost nothing to people he met.
Frances collared him and got him to agree to a deal. He would act as tutor for a small group, and they in turn would teach him social skills. It worked.”
“I see. It worked. On that basis, I expect you to be bringing in more students to your group. Is that the plan?”
“No, ma’am. We think it would be unwise, as it might overwhelm Reg. He is still unsure of himself at times, socially, so we don’t want to upset his equilibrium.”
“You have consulted the university psychiatrist on that point?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then your argument falls, being mere opinion. Or is there more?”
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