Note: I had hoped that my English (as a second language) would be good enough to skip such notes. But to forestall more comments, a small warning: there will be some spelling and grammer mistakes...
Here's how things are. I got a post, at barely 36 years old, as teacher in my local College, the very same place where I studied for my post-grad degree in psychology. It was close to the home I'd already settled in, no more than a 30 minutes drive. I love this region and had wanted to stay here all my life. I didn't have any women in my life right now, post-grad studies and full-time teaching taking too much of a toll on my time.
Except for this last detail, everything was going perfectly. I had the job I had always dreamed about, close to home, in a place I really loved. The first weeks of teaching were, of course hellish: I had been given, by the older teachers, the worst classes. First year classes, groups of three to four hundred students, designed to discouraged those that didn't really fit into the psych department. Students fresh out of high-school with ideas of grandeur and a badly overestimation of their talents and potentials. After only a month I had received seven crying students in my office, most of them convinced that they were already great psychoanalysts but who somehow couldn't pass the most basic of exams...
It was hard. I hadn't thought about this part of the job, and I guess that psychology students were more prone to despair than most. I managed to salvage a few, offering them private lessons, but two of them had completely abandoned. Not only the class but had left College altogether. Now, two months into my first semester here, I had a total of eight students that regularly came to my office for those private lessons. I was happy to help, and as I was not already overwhelmed with research projects, I had ample time for them.
And then, something I *should* have anticipated, hit me completely by surprise. The first time it happened I thought it was a fluke and would not happen again soon. Well, it happened again the following week. As the mid-terms were coming up, two girls in the class began trying to seduce me. At first it was quite subtle: bending over, wearing blouses opened one button too low, flashing great smiles... When I realized that they were trying to seduce me for grades, I was dismayed: how often do such things happen in real life?
Now, while I hadn't been one of the most popular guys during my student days, I'd had my share of girlfriends. Yet the kinds of girls that were interested in me never were those that, now, were trying to seduce me. A tall red head with salon commercial hair and an incredible figure; a short, incredibly cute blonde with big breasts; a brunette with a dazzling smile and an ass to die for; another model-type blonde that kept finding ways to rub against me; a raven-haired with thin silver glasses that only emphasized her pale grey eyes... Never before in my life had I been pursued by so many beautiful girls and young women. They kept laughing at my jokes, smiling warmly at me, sitting in first row and watching me as if what I was saying was utterly fascinating...
But even if I had never been tempted so in my life before, even if I knew I could use my position to discover bodies I never dreamed of knowing before... I also knew that this very position was being endangered by those gorgeous girls. So, by a real effort of will I managed to politely turn them back. I always waited for them to do an obvious move, then gently told them that I wasn't interested. Usually they left my office, red-faced and embarrassed, but nothing worse. By the time November came to an end, I had even begun to bring a recorder to my office just in case one of those girls, frustrated, would try to fake her way into a legal revenge.
I guess they had to determine if I was opened to such advances, and as I was a new teacher, they had no other way of knowing than trying it. And I was getting better at guessing which student would try such a ploy: they were all nicely dressed with expensive clothes, low-cut blouses and dresses, had just a bit more make-up than usual, their hair were always pulled up elaborately, and kept smiling like toothpaste spokespersons. So as the three difficult last weeks began, the last drive before the semester's final exams, I thought I had everything under control.
That's when Milla came knocking at my office door. When I asked her to come in, I immediately saw that she was a surprisingly beautiful young woman. Nothing flashy or trendy, but when she gave me a faint smile before introducing herself, I knew that this was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Very nice figure with big, well-formed breasts. She was wearing old jeans and a tight white tee-shirt, her hair simply loose around her shoulders, going down to the middle of her back. She had no make-up on and was clearly troubled about something. Nowhere were those eternal smiles and compliments. And so, for all those reasons, I never saw her coming.
When she turned around just before sitting down in front of me, I understood why jeans can be just as sexy as anything else. Despite being a slim, tall girl, she had a full ass, impossibly outlined by her old jeans. It looked hard, and judging by her thighs Milla was a girl who kept herself in great shape: they seemed lean and strong. Her ass, in addition to being so wonderfully full, would most probably be just as firm as those thighs.
I shook my head and listened to her problem. She had had decent grades on the previous homeworks and exams, but felt that she was not able to deal with the latest subjects we had seen in class. She pulled out a list of things that were troubling her and we spent the next hour working through it. As time went by we got to know each other a bit better and the atmosphere was comfortably relaxed. She laughed at my jokes but not unduly, didn't try to push her breasts out or bend over to show me that incredible ass of hers.
And that was a good thing too: I was really glad that I couldn't detect any suspicious behavior on her part. I think that she would have given me the hardest time of them all. But it was clear that she was understanding and learning, so I didn't think of getting my guard up. I discovered that she learned things differently than most people and that analogies often did the trick for her. I was glad to have realized this and spent the remainder of the hour trying to find relevant metaphors.
When her hour was up and the following student knocked on my door, she gathered her things and left, thanking me with a quick smile. And with an unavoidable show of her ass as she walked out. Damn! I had never seen an ass that was flowing gracefully between womanly hips, so lovingly round and full, yet looked firm and trained like a tennis player's. I had never noticed her in the class, so she must sit in the back. Thank God! I spent the rest of the Friday afternoon in my office and then called a friend, Joey, asking him if he wanted to play tennis with me tonight...
The following Monday I watched for Milla in the class and saw her walking down the aisles to what must be her regular place. She didn't look at me while coming in, and even though I would have enjoyed her smile, I was also relieved. The three hour class went well, as most students knew that things would get hairy if they didn't listen. Some teases were still in the first row, flawlessly dressed and smiling: that was the girls that hadn't go too far yet. I hope that that they were listening, even if only a little, because they were not going to get freebies from me. Despite the fact that they all looked absolutely delicious!
