Dr. Michaels didn't call on Jason again for the rest of the weekend, dropping plans she had brewed up for Saturday afternoon in light of his misbehavior. She was left frustrated and furious, but she refused to give the boy the satisfaction of her company if he was going to try tying strings to her and make her dance. He could just simmer away alone in his sad apartment for awhile for all she cared.
Michaels holed up with her work for most of the weekend, venturing forth only to restock her stores of beer and frozen food. After at last painting the last of the freshman studies papers red, Dr.Michaels spent the rest of the weekend proofreading a draft of an essay she'd written on the works of Alisdair Gray that she hoped to submit to a literary journal that had published one of her papers before. Jason—the only person she knew who had read anything by the man—insisted the piece was more than ready for submission, but what did that stupid little child know about publication standards? He never would have even read Gray if she hadn't lent him some of her own books! No, the essay was most certainly far from ready. It rang hollow, forced. Confused, even. Dr. Michaels just hoped she could make something genuine of the whole affair before the deadline came and it was too late.
Classes began on Monday, and went as well as they ever did. Dr. Michaels was mobbed first thing by juniors begging for a review before that afternoon's test on the first half of Ulysses (she reluctantly promised 10 minutes, with no questions or discussion). Just before lunch, she handed her freshman studies class back their godawful essays, and reduced a tiny, mousey thing in round glasses to tears. Dr. Michaels patted her after class, and reassured her that she had many more chances to correct her work before the final grade. The sad, desperate creature actually hugged her afterward!
Intro to Rhetoric didn't roll around until Wednesday. Michaels dreaded it—loathed having to see Jason again—yet the spark of fury she felt at seeing his face soon faded away as she began her lecture. No matter what transpired between them in private, seeing the kid at her feet was somehow deeply divorced from seeing him behind a desk. As a student, he was just another in a sea of young, doofy faces hanging on every word and gesture and furiously scribbling notes. It helped that, at the end of class, he maintained his place and slunk off without hanging around to pester her.
It wasn't until the next day, during office hours, that the pet finally came crawling back to her. It was late in the day, nearly dusk that time of year, and Dr. Michaels was sleepy from clearing her inbox for almost an hour. A knock came at her door, and she knew it was Jason after the first rap. The boy had a range of knocks for her doors, and Michaels knew them all. This one meant that he was slightly reluctant and extremely humble.
Michals waited a good ten seconds before calling him in. Jason slipped inside the office, smiling but with his eyes downcast. He closed the door behind him stretched his hands out with a gift.
"Hello, Ma'am," he said softly. "For you."
Dr. Michaels glared daggers, but took the coffee and danish from his hands. She popped the lid from the coffee and took a sniff—one sugar, one cream. Perfect.
"Pathetic," she said, and flicked Jason beneath the nose.
He smiled wider and knelt on the floor near her elbow. Michaels idly pinched his ear between her fingers and jerked his head back and forth while she took a pair of small sips from the coffee and took a bite of danish. Blueberry, and still warm—he must have jogged all the way from the campus coffeeshop. She released his ear and gave him a slap. Damn boy! How dare he leave her waiting so long for an apology! He could have come forward anytime, but instead withheld like a coward.
Ah well, he was here now, and she was no longer anywhere near so sleepy, and not just because of the coffee.
Dr. Michael's scratched her nails deep along her pet's scalp while she sipped her coffee and nibbled away at the warm patry. Once she had finished, she allowed Jason to suck the sugar off her fingers, then knocked him under the chin and handed him a brush from her bag as he stood. Jason eyed it with an uncertain, vaguely frightened expression on his face.
"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, you dumb perv!" Michaels snapped. "Just brush my hair until I say to stop. I've been too busy to condition it lately and it's getting coarse."
"Yes, Ma'am."
As he stepped behind her and raised the brush, Michaels balled her fist, ready to lob Jason in the stomach when he inevitably began to hack at her with the brush in the way she had sometimes seen him tackle his own frizzy mane. Yet the bristles of her brush practically kissed her scalp on the first stroke, and grew firmer in the only slightest way with each new pass. Jason massaged her hair with the brush with as much care and reverence as his hands had plied the rest of her body only days before. Even though there wasn't a lot to work with, Jason still seemed to worship every inch of her dark hair with every pass of the brush. The fingers of his free hand began to twist into her locks, and somehow managed to find and gently loosen every little tangle just before the brush swept through.
It was so pleasurable and distracting that Dr. Michaels took several minutes to remember that she really did have work to do while the pet tended her. She tried reading a student essay, then tried harder to fill out some timesheets, but got less than halfway through either. Before long, Dr. Michaels simply shuffled papers and tapped randomly on her keyboard while Jason stroked and left silky, ticklish patches of hair across her ears, neck, and forehead. His hands were so warm gentle, warm, and strong...
"Ma'am?" Jason said after a time, giving Michaels s start.
"What?" she barked, quickly pretending to scribble on a paper with the wrong end of a red pen.
"Thank you for arranging that transfer. I had my first ethics class this afternoon. You were right, I really like Dr. Bertram. I think I'll do really well in his class."
"Just brush," Michaels sighed.
"I'm serious, Ma'am. Professor Kirkman was never going to pass me. I would have failed a basic prerequisite. I wouldn't only lose the right to register for half the classes I need next semester—I would have lost half my financial aide. You..." The bold little delinquent had the audacity to kiss the top of her head! Michaels' rolled her eyes in disgust. "You saved me again, Ma'am..."
Dr. Michaels elbowed Jason in the ribs. "I said brush!"
Stupid child, fawning over her like she'd done him some huge favor! She said she would arrange the transfer, and so she had. It had only taken six or seven calls, maybe fifteen emails, and waiting around campus for a couple of extra hours on Monday to talk to Dr. Bertram in person. Simple. Why did the boy always have to make such a big deal over these things?
Jason wheezed a bit, but did as he was told, and indeed did it so well that soon Michaels stopped even pretending to work as the pet's hands stroked bliss into her scalp with brush and fingers. It was the first time she had ever employed him in such a way, but this was certainly going to enter their regular routine. And who knew? Maybe one of these days, she would in fact use the brush for the more diabolical purposes that had initially worried Jason's face.
Between Jason's brushing and the twisted fantasies blossoming in her mind, it wasn't long before Dr. Michaels realized that she would need a change of underwear before heading home. Indeed, if she didn't act quickly her pant's would soon bear the kind of dark splotch that she had mocked and tormented Jason over the week before. And that would not do at all.
Michaels roughly snatched the brush from Jason's hand between strokes and hissed, "Strip!"
The boy gave a single, adoring pet of her now-soft hair and said, "Yes, Ma'am."
Michaels stood from her chair, though the sound of a zipper coming down behind her weakened her knees for a moment. If nothing else, her desk had become much neater and organized since she had started screwing Jason. She was quickly and expertly able to empty her papers and nicknacks into drawers, leaving a wide, clear space on top. She had even had Jason redo the cables on her computer so the monitor could smoothly be shoved to a far corner without snags. The floor behind the desk would have been easier, more private, and bore the distinction of being the first place Dr. Michaels had conquered her pet. Yet the desk itself, well...
Michaels was a teacher, and Jason was her student, and as deviant as it was, fucking him on her desk gave her some deep, perverse satisfaction that always set her over the edge. It was the only time, in fact, that she insisted he revert to calling her 'Doctor'.
It was a bit early for a desk fuck, but office hours were practically over and this floor was always abandoned by this time of day. Besides, the door was windowless and the walls in this building were even older and thicker than her apartment's. She had even once amused herself by giving Jason a quick, hard pounding in the fifteen minutes they were supposedly reviewing his portfolio while eight other students waited in line just outside her door. She wasn't exactly proud of that particular moment, but it proved the security and privacy of her office.
Yet Michaels was too riled up to feel shame as she finished stripping herself from the waist down and turned to find Jason already lying naked atop her desk, knees bent and feet bracing against the far, sharp edge. His young, thick cock was at the ready, curving up tall, wet, and eager. Michaels chuckled with mischievous glee and clutched the kid's balls at the base, yanking on them for leverage as she crawled up atop the desk. With one smooth, practiced motion, Michaels swung her leg over Jason and used one hand to help stab the pet's prick into her body as she sat down on him in a straddle. The boy's eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy, and even Michaels skipped a breath at the sensation of their bodies merging.
