My feet felt heavy walking along the hallway, the doc martins were doing their job of keeping my feet dry in the typically wet weather of November. I didn't have class today, so I dressed in more of my comfortable clothes. Black leggings and a lose fitting V-neck shirt that dips in to my cleavage line revealing what little cleavage I do have with my B-cup chest. The sweatshirt I'm wearing is to help keep the chill off but it's warm enough to leave it zipped open.
I'm nervous because I've never ventured to this part of the campus before even though it's my sophomore year. People like me don't get called to the teacher's office, I'm usually in the top percentile of my classes. Granted I have been a little distracted this semester socializing with some new friends I've made. I was going to get myself together next week and attend the rest of my classes, ask for some extra credit and make sure I apply myself more for the rest of the semester. I have a few days to pull myself out of the little rut I have created.
My fictional writing class is what has suffered the most. Writing has always come natural to me, so it'll be easy to get back on the proverbial writing horse. Hopefully Professor Stevenson has made an appointment with me before the long weekend at his office with good news. 'Maybe he is impressed with the paper I wrote last week,' I thought to myself as I peered down the smaller hallway with three offices. I could see the light on in the room down at the end of the hall, with the two remaining rooms parallel from one another locked and shut down their owners taking advantage of the long weekend. I proceeded down the short hallway with my rubber soles making slight squeaks on the floor.
I knocked on the door softly even though it was already ajar, and stepped in slowly "Professor Stevenson, you wanted to see me?" my voice in my politer than usual tone. Naively I look up to meet his gaze with a smile, however he sat there focused on reading a paper and didn't even acknowledge my presence. A few moments ticked by and without any distraction from his reading, he instructed "Miss Mack. Sit down, please."
I was shocked, it was almost rude. He didn't even bother to take a second and acknowledge me. I was trying to be positive and hopeful before, but maybe this isn't a good visit after all, I started to worry. What had I done to deserve this kind of treatment? So, I had missed a few days of class, it wasn't that big of a deal, I can make it up. Maybe I can ask for some extra work? What am I going to do to get out of this? I can't fail, my scholarship is something I can't lose. How did I get myself into this situation? I need to think of a plan, as I sat down on a nice leather chair.
The cold of the leather penetrating my leggings gives me chill bumps across my body. The environment around me reflecting the way I'm being treated by my professor.
He sat there and continued reading, seconds turning into minutes as I sit there across from his large ornate wooden desk. Nervousness starts to bubble inside of me as I stare at him, willing him to get on with the meeting. As I yearn for him to start the conversation, trying to make eye contact him, I realize how handsome he is. Dark hair, longer than most of the professors on campus, and brown eyes framed with glasses. He always showed up to class dressed professional, like he's a board member of a high corporate office. Professor Stevenson is always on time and never rushed; everything he does is thought out and planned. Every time you are in class with him, just his aura demands attention. It's natural. What am I thinking? I need to stop these thoughts about my teacher immediately.
I shake it off and make my eyes wander around the room. The shelves cover two sides of the room with different books, all different shapes and sizes making me feel like I'm in some library. Why wouldn't it be, I am in my professor's office. I see a few awards placed randomly throughout the shelves and I find myself wanting to know what he won these for.
Ten minutes have gone by and there is really nothing else to look at while I wait. My restlessness is taking the best of me and I look in his direction again, my eyes started to wander down his body. Even under his nicely tailored suit it was obvious he worked out. I've been headed home from a party (real early, or late depending on how you look at it) and have seen him running which looks like a typical routine for him.
As my eyes continued downward to his ring finger and saw there was no Mrs. Stevenson. I started to daydream about his lips brushing against my own, soon I really start enjoying what I am thinking, and start observing a little too long. I don't even know when he finally acknowledged me, but I know it was somewhere in my own fantasy of his fingers pinching my nipples when something brought me back to reality.
Our eyes met and I tried to swallow, he said nothing. He caught me staring and I was completely embarrassed, I felt my face flush and look down, the way he stared at me made my heartbeat quicken and my mouth go dry.
"It has been brought to my attention by my TA, Miss Mack that you have been late or completely absent at least ten times and its barely mid-semester. I looked through the assignments you've turned in. You seem to understand what is required of you. But as of right now you are on the way to failing my class."
I was shocked, his words were being heard but I could barely register what he was saying. I don't even know if he stopped talking or if he's still talking right now. I need to start fixing this problem fast. I can't lose my scholarship.
"I'm sorry, professor. I...I have no idea how this happened." I manage to stutter. His eyes look straight through me and I squirm in my seat. How could I fuck up in this man's class? Any good impression I had to make on him was thrown out the window.
"Do you think that's an acceptable response? 'You don't know how this happened?' Seems to me like I just explained to you how it happened." He says it simply, not mean but it seems to slap me across the face all the same. He's right. Putting the ball back into my court.
"Well, no, I mean I..." He's still staring straight through me. I need to think of something. I'm not quick on my toes in situations like this. I'm not good with confrontation. Not only that but people usually like me. I can usually work my way through certain situations. Maybe I can right now.
"Is there any way I can do some extra credit, Professor?" I say, bringing my sweet voice back and hoping good looks will help me out. "Please, I know I fuc-screwed up sir. Sorry, sir." My typical bad mouth slipping out with the stress of the situation.
Professor Stevenson smirked in an extremely sexy way that nearly made me forget the trouble I was in, "Do you think that's reasonable Miss Mack? Everyone else knows what their responsibilities are in class. Knows the schedule. You have barely been present to turn in your papers, let alone turn in extra credit on top of the regular work that will be given?"
This is not going well. I feel my palms start to sweat as my panic sirens start to ring in my ears. I need to solve this. Mr. Stevenson does not seem to be lending a sympathetic ear.
"No sir, it's not fair. But surely there has been situations that have been worked out with people who've had to take time away from school for medical issues."
"And you think that those special situations apply to you?" He questioned me.
It's really starting to frustrate me that he's not even meeting me half way at least. How is it that big of a deal? So, what if I've missed a few classes? I try to calm myself and take control of the situation. I need to think of something. My mind is running around trying to think of how to handle it when he brings me back, "Well Miss Mack, do you have anything to say."
I can feel him looking down on me, sitting there at the head of his desk with all that superiority, the power to take someone's educational career away with a little ink from pen. How could he enjoy watching me shrink down and beg him for his forgiveness? I'm not going to play that game.
"Well, Mr. Stevenson," I pick with the armrest on my chair for a second trying to act nonchalant, I look up and meet his stare for a few seconds, my voice no longer the sweet politeness that it normally is. "It would be horrible for rumors to spread about a professor who tried to assault a lonely student while no one was around. Perhaps he even made the appointment right before the long weekend on purpose. You know hypothetically."
Even as the rest of the words spilled out of my mouth I was ashamed. Not only at the confrontation but my inability to deliver it confidently.
It could have been an hour that we sat there, testing each other. I don't know how long it was, but I couldn't stand it any longer and I look down. He knew I wasn't serious the minute I said it. He knew it, I knew it. He's going to call my bluff. He let me sit there in my shame before he says anything to me.
"Okay, since we are speaking hypothetically, a lot of things can happen. Try and start that little rumor, or even go and make an official report. All sorts of investigations will happen. You probably don't know much about me, Miss Mack. So, let me enlighten you. First, I'm a tenured professor with an impeccable reputation on these grounds. Secondly my brother in-law happens to be Dean Walker and my sister is in charge of one of the sororities here. So, let me ask you, Miss Mack. Do you think, you're 'hypothetical rumor' made by a student who has barely attended class, which any one of my students would testify on my behalf could handle all the investigations that would go in to her life as well?"
"No, sir" I don't even know how I manage to squeak out. I'm still processing the words I threatened him with, I've never said anything like that before and I am completely shocked. I obviously did not think about this. My mouth is dry and I don't even know how I'm holding back my tears.
Like from the beginning of this meeting, he lets me stew in my chair as he observes me for a few moments.
"So, Miss Mack." He gets up from the desk unbuttons his jacket, comes around and leans on the desk in front of me. "We have two options and you can tell me how you wish to move forward."
"Okay," I say looking up to him while he's in front of me. I've never been in this proximity of him before, and it's almost too overwhelming. His cologne, his masculine strength, his intelligence was all very intoxicating. I'm by no means a virgin, but I've never been with a man quite like this. And I want to be.
"Option One, you get up accept the extra credit I've given you, we act like you never accused me of those horrific acts and we hope you can bring your grade up before the deadlines and pass this class that you've realized is so important AFTER you practically fail." As he emphasizes 'after' I realize how foolish I have been, skipping class like some stupid high schooler. He was treating me the exact way I deserved.
"And the other?" I barely utter. Not knowing why, I have the need to please him suddenly, but I need to show him that I'm not the person I've been acting these past few weeks.
"Or," he pauses and glances over me one more time, I think I imagine his eyes lingering over my breasts, but I shake it off "You acknowledge your mistakes, accept punishment for them. Do your extra credit you receive on top of all the other work that is required of you and hopefully you will pass the class."
