This is a work of fiction and any resemblance of these over 18 year old characters or situations in this story to anything real is purely random chance. The seed of inspiration for this story came from reading a couple of other stories with similar themes that melded nicely with my own recollections of daydreams and wishful thinking about the assembled array of co-eds as a teaching assistant in college. Alas, none of it is personally true. The story takes a while to build. I put this one in the Romance category because there is a lot of character development and I think it transcends the sex but it isn't really a classic romance.
Chapter 1 -- First Day of Class
Paul Weller strode into the cavernous lecture hall, trying to emanate a sense of purpose and determination that would mask his shear terror. Careful not to betray his shaking hands, he placed the copies of the syllabus on the corner of the podium and began to organize his notes.
As he shuffled pages and made sure his notes were more organized than his adrenalin-charged brain, he was vaguely aware of the parade of students filing past to get the syllabus. Almost unconsciously at first, he gradually registered that the warm weather had influenced the state of dress of many of the students and that most of the students in his class were women.
Panic began to set in with a vengeance. Paul realized that facing a large class of mostly women dressed for the unseasonably warm weather while trying to keep his mind focused on Intro Biology was going to be a challenge. He reminded himself to check the demographic info on the class list and see if the students were generally first timers or repeaters of this course. He knew that Intro Biology had a reputation for being a weed-out course for the biology majors and he hoped he wasn't faced with a large number of last chance students.
Paul began his introductory comments by introducing himself as a sessional lecturer for the course while he was working on his Ph.D. in cell biology. He reviewed the main points of the syllabus, paying special attention to the details of how the marks were calculated. Right away, several hands popped up.
Turning towards the closest hand he said "Yes?"
She was dressed for the warm weather but the air-conditioned lecture hall was playing havoc with her thermostat. Her tank top was stretched delectably over her firm breasts, her nipples clearly sensing the A/C and betraying her lack of a bra. The little desk attached to the seat heightened the illusion that her long tan legs stretched back into some dark and mysterious place. Paul dragged his eyes back to her face and reminded himself to maintain eye contact while listening carefully to her question.
"Professor, do we really have to pass the final to pass the course?"
"Yes, Miss ..."
"Jessica"
"Yes, Jessica, you do. This course has always carried that stipulation because there is plenty of opportunity to collaborate with your fellow students and yet the university requires that we assess your individual performance accurately. If you work on the assignments and gain a good understanding of the material, you should have no problem with the final exam."
Just as quickly as they shot up, the rest of the hands went down. Apparently the final exam was already the main source of concern.
Paul finished up his description of the course mechanics and launched right into a review of some basic high school biology. The chorus of groans was noticeable.
"I know you think we don't cover course material in the first class but this is a challenging course for some people and I want to use all of the class time productively."
This statement brought another round of groans but Paul soldiered on for the full class time. To cap off the allotted time, over the rustle of books and backpacks, and chirps from music players and cell phones he raised his voice and assigned readings and practice questions out of the textbook.
The departing students had looks of disbelief plastered on their faces and a few comments bouncing between students filtered back to him from the departing crowd.
"Do you believe that shit. Expecting us to, like, take notes and do homework the first day. Like, what kind of a fucked up class is this?"
"That's bullshit. I wanna hit the beach this weekend, not the books. Like, what the fuck does he think he's doing?"
"Man, if I didn't have to take this, I'd, like, drop this shit in an instant. Fuck, this is nuts already."
Paul smirked inwardly to himself. Part of his strategy as a rookie lecturer was to be seen as a no-nonsense kind of guy. He figured they wouldn't walk all over him if he started off firmly in charge of things. As the departing din lessened and he gathered up his notes, Paul noticed that Jessica was lingering waiting to approach him.
"Yes - Jessica is it?"
She beamed with pride that he remembered her name and then blushing at the realization she was acting like a high-schooler, hurriedly stepped forward with her question.
"Professor, I'm really worried about this final exam thing. This is my second and last chance for this course and the final is what bit me last time. Is there any way around that rule? Can I do extra credit to show you I know the stuff even if it doesn't come out on the exam? Please? Anything?"
He let the professor thing go by. Students did it automatically and truth be told, he rather liked the title even if it wasn't true -- yet. His mind quickly processed the "anything" but he dismissed that as academic desperation and not an open invitation into her shorts.
Trying very hard to focus just on her face, he said "Jessica, why don't you work hard on the assignments, make sure you come to my office hours if you have any questions and we'll see how it goes. If you're understanding the material that way, we can make sure the final isn't an issue for you."
"But I did that last time" she said with a sense of defeated hopelessness. "I did fine on the assignments all by myself but in the exam something didn't click and it all fell apart. Please, I need this course to stay in college. My parents'll kill me if I bomb out."
"Let's see how it goes for the first little bit. I've put some sample finals on the course website. You can try those and see if the same thing happens. If it isn't working for you come and see me later in the semester and we'll come up with a strategy to help you prepare for the final."
"Okay, I'll try. Thanks anyway, Professor."
Paul watched her departing form with interest. Her butt was beautifully shaped, both globes rising, falling and softly bouncing independently, outlined to perfection by her tight shorts. He couldn't see any obvious lines and he started to speculate about what color her thong was or if she was even wearing one at all. As he leaned over the podium to pick up his notes, he realized his jeans were uncomfortably tight up front. He groaned to himself at the prospect of an entire semester of that sort of off-limits eye candy that represented a direct route to the end of his short career as a sessional lecturer and grad student.
To add to his problems, he didn't have a love interest in his life right now. His girlfriend of two years had dumped him a few months ago with the classic "it's not you, it's me" speech. His thinking head was relieved because they had been going nowhere and he had been wondering how to break it to her. His other head was upset because the sex had been amazing. In fact, in the sack was the only time they did have something in common. She had been more than willing to try anything and everything two people and an assortment of toys could come up with. After she moved out, he had thrown himself into his studies and his advisor had noted the academic improvement. When the last minute opportunity for the sessional position had come up, it was his advisor who pushed him to try it.
"Great experience teaching an intro course. Good preparation for a career in academics. Looks great on your resumé," he had been told.
With three hours of lectures a week, office hours, monitoring online discussion groups and prep time, Paul realized the "great experience" was also slave labor. With the meager pay scale for sessional lecturers added to his grad student stipend he was sure he probably still qualified as poverty stricken.
"Oh well, with no time to socialize and no one to spend it on, I guess I don't need a lot either" he thought ruefully as he walked back to his office. This term was going to be rough. No girlfriend, no money, no free time and lots of nubile young eye candy.
Chapter 2 -- Second class day
Paul strode confidently into class for his second lecture. With two classes each week, they were an hour and a half long and he was shocked to realize once he finished today's material, that a week of lectures would have already gone by. He thought his nose-to-the-academic-grindstone approach was the right way to go as the students filed in silently like the condemned to their fate. His methods didn't appear to have created a glut of empty seats so he was probably safe with the administration also.
As he settled into a rhythm teaching new material and reviewing the practice problems he had assigned, a number of students were able to respond with the correct answers. Clearly, some of them had taken him seriously and done their homework. Buoyed by his revelation, he settled into a more interactive style, using the readings and practice questions to get students participating.
The students seemed to respond to this approach, probably because the readings and homework weren't just busywork but were good for the next class so they could see the purpose. As each student responded he asked their name and discreetly jotted these down, hoping to learn at least some of their names by the end of term. Amanda (three of those), Natalie, Heather, Jenn, Jenna, Jess, Sarah, Bill and so on. As he jotted the names he also recorded a quick shorthand about where they sat and their overall appearance. BSML = blonde, small chest, sitting middle left, RBFR = redhead, busty, front right and so on. For the guys he just noted where they sat since there were so few, the extra memory aids didn't apply and they weren't needed anyway.
Although some of the other students were responding to his questions, Jessica kept her head down the whole class, resolutely avoiding eye contact. As the class wound down, Paul once again outlined the reading assignment for the next class. This time, the students were quieter and more of them wrote down the chapter sections he rhymed off.
His list of readings and sample problems in the textbook wound down and the students began to file out. This time there was less grumbling from the departing herd.
