The following is a work of fiction. All characters are at least 18 years old.
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Margarette had considered herself a refined lady for as long as she could remember. Her parents were set up with old family money to which they added from their lucrative careers as attorneys.
Perhaps because they took her to operas and classical concerts from a young age, she was much more comfortable in formal attire than anything else; she would never be caught dead dressed casually.
The body was a temple in Margarette's mind and should be adorned elaborately like all of the great cathedrals the world over. She was continually updating her wardrobe making sure nothing ever showed any wear. Her clothes were always fashionable, albeit quite conservative.
Her parents met at Penn State during their undergraduate studies. Dad became a district judge just as Margarette was going off to college. She chose to attend Temple, a decision that brought the confused ire of her parents.
She said she wanted to go to a smaller school that was more academically minded, but deep down she just wanted to get a rise out of her parents. While she appreciated all that they have given her, she felt that they valued their careers more than her.
Her college experience was pretty normal, if not boring. She had a small group of friends with whom she loosely hung out, but she never really got close to. Most people took her to be a bit of a snob. Although she was polite, she always seemed to give off a vibe that she thought she was better than everyone.
She would smile and carry a polite conversation with anyone, but it was like when a small child tried to seem important to adults. There was nothing you could say that could enlighten Margarette.
She got great grades in school and actually graduated Summa Cum Laude. She attended Pitt for her Masters degree, and then got a job at George Washington University, where she taught Freshman composition with classes that averaged about thirty students. She was a tough teacher, but the students who made it through her class and survived, tended to do better in their scholastic careers. She harshly hammered into them a deep respect for the English language.
The rest of the faculty respected her, but she never made any close friends on campus. Even with her lack of a PHD she still seemed to hold herself in higher regard than her peers. She got the job because her collection of short stories sky rocket up the New York Time's bestseller list. It peaked at number seven, but stayed on the list for months. The short stories were aimed at an adolescent audience and were unique in that they were very plain. They were simple tales of mundane everyday teenage life, but there was something in the stories that teenagers could really get behind. No one knew if she was working on anything else of late.
As to her personal life, it was very similar to how it had always been. She would occasionally get serious boyfriends, but they never seemed to last very long. All of her boyfriends were very similar. They were good looking, successful men that became completely subservient to her.
Eventually she would slowly drift away from them. It was as if she was just simply getting bored. They never talked bad about her after a relationship, and they never quite seemed the same either.
She ran her class like a drill sergeant. If anyone would even whisper out of turn she would berate them in front of the whole class. Most of her students loathed her at first, but typically, as they saw their own writing improve. While they had a general disdain for her methods, recognizing their own development and improvement in their writing skills, they realized it was for their own good.
John was failing her class badly. Too many late nights and too little effort, he had dug himself into an academic hole, with the realization of his impending failure imminent. John was desperate. If he failed her class he was in danger of losing his lacrosse scholarship. One late night he was telling his good friend Billy about his predicament over a multitude of beers when Billy's eyes lit up. He had been in a similar situation when he was a freshmen and one of his older fraternity brothers told him about secret "tutoring" sessions that Miss Featherly did for certain students.
After multiple reassurances that John would not tell anybody what Billy was about to tell him, Billy said that if John would do everything that Miss Featherly asked of him, he could pass the class. All Billy would say about the acts he would have to perform were that they were sexual in nature, and Miss Featherly would be in total control of the situation.
John was already a few sheets into the wind, and he saw no other possible way of passing her class. The thought of having to please her for a grade aroused John greatly. It seemed liked a win win situation, so he decided to go meet her in her office the very next day.
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"Yes Mr. Williams?" Margarette didn't even look up from her book as she addressed the young man who had just entered her office.
"Hi Miss Featherly, I just wanted to talk to you about my grade." John seemed extremely nervous.
Margarette put down her book and studied the young man He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that was struggling to contained all of his muscles. His blonde hair was a mop of disarray on top of his head. She wondered when was the last time he had washed it. He did have a cute charm, despite his lack of grooming. White teeth shown from beneath a radiant smile and his sheepish blue eyes were simply lovely.
"Lets us talk then." She folded her hands on top of her large mahogany desk.
"Well," The boy continued timidly. "Grades are coming up, and I don't think I can pass your class. I mean, even if I get an A on the final, I still will have a D at best I think."
"Mr. Williams, if you got an A on the final, I would be quite surprised. You haven't gotten anything higher than a D so far if I recall, and you rarely even turn in your work. It seems that you are having a bit too much fun your freshman year of college. Am I right?"
His eyes opened a bit wider by her accusations, but she had nailed it. He wasn't sure if there was a time when he wasn't hung over or high in her class. "Yes Miss Featherly, its just that college is so different than high school."
"Many more temptations aren't there?" She looked up from her book and inspected him. Her eyes looks inquisitive behind her glasses.
"Yes, thats for sure."
"First of all you will address me with respect. i\It is Yes Miss Featherly, yes ma'am, or yes professor."
"Yes Miss Featherly."
"Secondly, what have been the greatest temptations so far for you?"
"Parties definitely. Miss Featherly."
"And have you been devoting your time to the pursuit of young coeds?"
"Huh, oh, yeah."
"Oh yeah? Did you mean to say, 'Yes, Miss Featherly?'"
"Yes, I guess I did ... I mean, yes, Miss Featherly."
"So what do you want to discuss about your grade Mr. Williams?" She sat arms cross, under her lovely breasts, while she was looked up at her student. She hadn't invited him to sit yet.
"Umm, well." Nervously he ventured, "I came to ask for some private tutoring. My friend Jack, Jack Peacock, told me that you offered private tutoring sometimes."
