Pearl was a straight-A student, 4.0 since high school. When she received the note from her Erotic Studies professor suggesting they meet to discuss her work, she felt a twinge of anxiety. Had she, by some fluke, failed to turn in an assignment? At her dorm room computer, Pearl pulled back her long, auburn hair into a neat pony-tail. She compared her files to the class syllabus. No, she had not missed an assignment. There was her most recent paper, "Eastern Erotica: A History of Tantric Positions." She quickly scanned the text for flaws, and, having done copious amounts of research in the great hushed library on campus, found none.
"Well," she said to herself, packing her backpack with a textbook and notebook, "I've done my research. Let's see what he wants." Before heading out she changed from her sweatpants and shirt, pulling on a baby-tee with the college insignia, and jeans that were not bulging, but, she felt, comfortably tight from her 'freshman ten.'
Pearl entered the door to the lecture hall of Erotic Studies 101. The class would not begin for another two hours. She walked down the carpeted steps towards the professor's desk and lectern. Professor Randall sat at the desk, sifting through the clutter of papers. He did not look up as she came in.
"Hello Pearl," he said to his papers. Professor Randall was well-liked among his students, being one of the younger and 'cooler' male professors on campus.
"Professor Randall, I got your note. You wanted to see me?"
"Yes." He looked up from his papers. From her usual seat in the lecture hall Pearl could tell that he was an attractive man, not more than 40 years old. She fancied she had a crush on him. Her suspicions of attraction were confirmed up close as she stood only a desk-length from his medium, muscled frame. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses as he spoke. "Pearl, there is a problem with your work in this class."
"A problem professor? I take my work very seriously."
"I'm sure you do, Pearl. What I mean is, your paper on tantric positions was well written, and well researched." Pearl relaxed her shoulders at this. "But," the professor continued, "it lacks...depth."
"What do you mean?" She always tried to write from the heart, even in academic essays.
The professor rose from his chair as he spoke. "I mean when one reads your papers, well, they're very good but they lack depth of feeling. And that," he walked slowly around the desk towards her, "is at the heart of erotic studies." To maintain a professional distance, Pearl took a step back towards the desk. At this distance, the professor was indeed very attractive. And how was he looking at her, with what intensity? He took another slow step in her direction. "You're a very pretty girl, Pearl. There are things I can...teach you. To deepen your understanding of erotica."
The shock at these words was dulled by the feeling inside of Pearl. The tension between her body and his was electric. She took another step towards the desk. Searching herself, she felt her spirit consent to his tutelage.
He advanced until Pearl was against the desk, hands on the surface to support herself. Instinctively, she lifted her ass to sit on the desk. Professor Randall moved so that his hips were between her open knees. He reached one hand around to settle on her lower back, pressing her towards his taut body. She surrendered with a soft moan as he kissed her lips, her neck, sometimes softly, sometimes savagely, as if he struggled to control the beast within him. "Take me," Pearl whispered. He pulled away to look into her eyes with a question.