Dean Dawson kept to his word and didn't mention a thing about the fact that I – one of his students- was working in a massage parlor across town.
I guess he could have mentioned something to someone, but then he'd have to admit he had been at that same establishment. So like countries aiming rockets at each other, nothing could happen without the other doing the same.
My grades remained merely okay as I still worked my part-time job at school and part-time job at Crystal's massage parlor. My friend Tiffany and I would car pool over a couple days a week and work a few hours and made some nice money performing massages and creating a fantasy environment for the guys.
Tiffany revealed that every once in a while if they guy was very hot and persuasive she'd massage his love muscle, but I continued to work the edges of decency and was a sexy massage girl but not a hooker. I mean, there's a loose definition there, as I had shown my breasts to a few guys before turning 20 at school, I had spanked a couple of them and of course I had, with Professor Dawson, masturbated myself to orgasm while he did the same while watching me.
That had happened on two occasions after the first chance meeting at the massage parlor. On both occasions he'd asked for me, waited while I worked on another customer, then came back for his massage. Each time was a replay of the first, with my fingers working on my pussy and tits while he jerked his cock off. And on each occasion each of us got to orgasm...within the 30 minute time limit for the massage!
Working at Crystal's establishment wasn't terrible work. Once over the embarrassment, it was a job, maybe like a hair dresser or whatever. I mean, people make good money as trained massage therapists. While not trained, the guys liked my handiwork, and while it skirted the edges of being morally wrong I thought at least as long as no real sex was involved I could look myself in the mirror and smile.
Toward the end of the semester I learned there was a scholarship available for upperclassmen that would totally take care of tuition. And there were a couple available. Wow.
My grades were good, a solid B average with A grades in two of my five subjects. I was still deep in debt, but dealing with it, so getting the scholarship would be a godsend. I started studying more, working less at the massage parlor as I cut down to once a week. Fate had it that I hadn't seen Dean Dawson for several weeks but on one afternoon he was waiting for me and we repaired to the back room.
The massage was uneventful and as we got near the end of our time he hadn't done his normal request for special services. That surprised me, but the customer is always right!
After the massage he went to get dressed and spoke with me from behind the curtain.
"I hear you're are in the running for the Rogers Scholarship, there are several of you after it," said the Dean. "You've got a shot, but to put it bluntly you aren't in the top five. You will have to ace the finals and hope the others don't. I'm not sure that will happen."
We spoke about the competitiveness for the scholarship, the hard work it meant for the whole year and not just recent months. "If you'd have done better earlier in the year you really would have had a chance. But it might be too late."
After the Dean left I sulked for a few minutes, knowing he was right. Too many parties earlier in the year, too little time studying.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted that scholarship. I studied like crazy, but with just a week before the end of the semester I realized Dean Dawson was correct. Too little, too late.
He confirmed my impression that afternoon at Crystal's place, saying I was doing great but I was still at the bottom of the list. I was disappointed twice that afternoon, first from his words and second in that again he didn't ask for any extras at the end of his massage. Damn, I was getting used to getting off in front of the man!
The following day I saw Dean Dawson in the hallway near the library. We walked outside and toward the Student Union and saw under a tall oak tree and talking about this and that. Then the bombshell hit.
"So Robyn, Professor Chen and I were talking about those in the running for the Rogers Scholarship. You just aren't going to make it, sorry. I know you are trying hard, and have worked extra, but those months of slouching off hurt you. There is no way you're going to get it, as you are just too far behind the others."
Nodding my head, I expressed my regret. Told him he was correct, I'd not worked hard enough. I gave the excuse of having to work a couple jobs, that debts were too high, and all the other reasons why I hadn't done better.
He nodded back. Smiling, he said he really did enjoy our sessions at Crystal's place, the first time he had mentioned anything about them outside of the massage parlor itself.
We saw there, quietly, for a bit. It seemed he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. He simply had the look of something being on his mind.
It seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute.
"I know you are a good girl, and that your time over at Crystal's was not anything, well, untoward. There are a couple girls there that, well, uh, perform other duties for great tips. But I am positive you are not one of those girls. I've enjoyed our time there, and am positive you haven't mentioned anything to anyone."
"No sir I haven't, like you say that was our little secret," I said, smiling. "And it has been very sensual and erotic for me. I know that some of the guys I've dated maybe got a little further than they should have because I was thinking of Crystal's place."
The Professor looked at me. "You mean you had sex with a guy because of our, well, getting together there?"
We were being honest, so I gave a true answer. "Well, not really. I've not had intercourse with any of them, but I have, well, you know....used my head so to speak."
"Robyn you are such a hot girl, and that's exciting knowing you've blown a guy after being with me. I've often thought of you at night myself, and even when on a date. We are alike that way."
We spoke a couple more minutes, discussing our desires more than a professor-student conversation should be for sure.
"So, Robyn, here's the thing. I know you are a good girl. I know you are a good student. And I know Professor Chen and I could go to bat for you and get you the scholarship. We can do it."
I looked at the man knowing there was something else he was leading to, and I kind of knew what it would involve given our conversation.