Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Melody walks up the stairs of the psychology building, notorious for its winding staircase. She mentally makes a note to prepare enough time take the sluggish elevator next time she uses the facility. She manages to get up to the third floor without sweating too much and opens the emergency exit door. She walks down the hallway, counting each office number until she reaches a wooden plaque on the door that reads: James Alexander, PhD.
The first time she met Professor James was at the end of her spring term of her freshman year at her university. At first, she was worried, as she heard countless horror stories of the professor tearing his students' papers apart with criticism and his unforgiving sense of perfection. "He marked me down a whole point for accidentally spelling consciousness wrong, it was the only word spelled incorrectly in my paper," her friend had cried into Melody's arms as she got her midterm paper back. "How anal can he be? "As Melody took his class, she, slowly but surely, got a decent grasp of the subject and managed to scrape a B. He was a tough grader but recognizes effort when he sees it. Since then, she's managed to take one of his courses at least once a year due to him being the sole professor that taught many of her core psychology classes.
Professor Alexander, contrary to popular belief, was highly sought after by students. Despite his ability to make students cry in their dorms after going his office hours, his appearance was addictive. His dark brown hair always brushed back or slightly tousled depending on how his day went, framed his hazel eyes that manage to pierce through every female student's heart. Even through his suit, it was clear he was built, with muscles rippling underneath his shirt every time he pointed at the projector. He dark features only adds emphasis to his intellect and discipline, enough to make any female student drool.
Melody knocks on the door and hears a low 'come in'. She opens the door to his office. Books neatly filled on shelves, situated entirely on one wall. The other was a window covered in reflective glass so it could only see from the outside. In the center sat a desk, and in it sits Professor Alexander, red pen twirling in his hand while the other holds a student's paper. He looks up from his desk with an amused expression spreading across his face.
"Ms. Locke, I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
"I know, I apologize," says Melody, lingering by the door, "but I'm working on a written project outside of classwork and I want to know your opinion on it."
Professor Alexander puts down his pen and paper and cocks his head to one side. "She's finally coming for help instead of debating for a grade."
Melody narrows and rolls her eyes. "It's the way your format and word your exams. They're confusing. Maybe if you took grammar classes, your students would get higher grades."
"And maybe if my students paid attention to the readings, they would have been able to differentiate cooperative versus competitive brain hemispheric activity."
"Okay, it was the one time I fell asleep trying to study for your class, give me some credit for at least trying."
Professor Alexander smirks and leans back into his chair, arms behind his head, eyes gleaming. "So, what's this secret written project?"
Melody comes into the office and sets her bag right next to her chair as she sits down across the professor. "It's a literature review, about the various coping mechanisms college students undertake to cope with academic stress. It focuses on maladaptive mechanisms and how to steer students away from them". She reaches into her bag and pulls out a folder It's a stapled stack of paper, strewn with paragraphs.
"Let's see if you managed to learn a thing or two in my cognitive neuroscience class." He smiles as he takes the folder from her. He retrieves his pen, and stacks his feet up on the desk, giving no regard to the shocked face Melody was currently wearing.
"You're just going to stack your feet up on the desk while you're with a student?" Melody askes in disgust.
"My office, my rules," breezily replies Professor Alexander. He begins circling and scribbling onto the margins of her paper. As he edits her paper, she couldn't help but notice his white shirt was straining over his muscular chest. His sleeves rolled up highlighted the corded muscle wrapped around his forearms, with veins snaking down. She always acknowledged Professor Alexander was attractive, but has always brushed aside the half-developed thought. Through her undergraduate years, she focused on trying to get good with a professor, any professor, to help her get into graduate school. Professor Alexander was one of the few professors that developed a close relationship with Melody, guiding her through the process.
"Melody," Professor Alexander puts the paper down on the desk and sighs. "You have the basics of the paper down, but there's an atrocious amount of misspelling and syntax error. There's also a lot of jumping back and forth between ideas. Did you at least proofread it before you asked for my opinion?"
No, cause I thought you'd be tired after teaching three classes in a row and you'd critique my arguments instead," Melody thinks. "I was kind of hoping you would overlook that and roast me on the content instead."
"I can't understand the content if my brain is doing mental Tetris for twenty minutes trying to decipher a single sentence," He says, leaning back, swinging from side to side in his chair.
Melody crosses her arms over her chest and looks down at the floor. "Could you please lower your standards for one second and please help me write this so-called abomination of a literature review?" She mutters under her breath.
Professor Alexander suddenly freezes. Silence falls over the room for several agonizing seconds. Melody looks up to find the professor staring directly at her. Thought his body was facing the bookshelves, his eyes were shifted to the left. His hazel eyes were now filled with emerald flames.
"Lower my standards?" He asks in a low voice so quiet that Melody barely heard it. He slowly swivels back, facing Melody across the desk.
"I pursue perfection and excellence," he stands up and leans over her, "and I push my students to do likewise." he straightens himself and starts walking slowly around the desk, like a cat to its prey.
"Ms. Locke, are you familiar with operant conditioning?"
Melody can feel a lump developing in her throat and a tingling sensation at the bottom of her stomach. She swallows hard and manages as smoothly as she could. "it's a learning process of trained behavior using rewards and punishments."
"Correct," purrs Professor Alexander. He leans against the table, his arms supporting his body behind him. "I've tried to get you to be more critical of your work through the thorough comments I spend hours on, but it seems you have selective sight because you make the same mistakes over and over again." He leans into her face until she can smell his cologne.
"Considering the number of classes you've enrolled with me, I'm disappointed in your lack of progress. Perhaps we should employ more simplistic learning procedures."
Melody's breath catches in her throat. She barely breathes and her heart is beating so hard and fast she's scared he can hear it.
"Should you be punished for making elementary errors, and rewarded when you finally learn your lesson?"
Her mind races through a hundred thought. Through her adrenaline rush she can feel herself getting wetter and wetter, pleasure shooting down her spine.
Professor Alexander takes the pen he's been grading with. He places it on the bottom of her chin and slowly raises it so she's looking directly at him. "Ms. Locke, I asked you a question." His voice was hypnotic, like molten honey.
Her face was inches away from his. She can see pure hunger and lust aflame in his eyes. His warm breath fans over her face like an aphrodisiac. His presence was intoxicating.
