Dear Dr. M,
I'm quite nervous about the upcoming exam but I have class during your tutorial hours. May I come into your office for extra help?
Thank you,
John
John,
Sure. 3:30pm on Thursday is fine.
Dr. M
Dear Dr. M,
Thank you very much. See you then.
Respectfully,
John
John arrived late at 3:35pm and announced himself with a sheepish knock on the door. "Come in. You're late. You cannot be late next time. Close the door behind you," I said plainly without looking up from my computer and added, "Have a seat." I motioned for him to sit down on the chair across from me on the other side of the desk. He nervously walked in. The solid wood door closed louder than either one of us expected and we both jumped at the noise. John placed his bookbag beside the simple wooden chair and sat down gently as instructed while I continued to work on the computer.
I dressed purposefully and did not bother with any undergarments today because I knew he was coming. The marigold jersey knit dress was sleeveless and form fitting on top, with a more daring neckline than my usual outfits on teaching days. The color complemented my honeyed skin and the dark wavy black hair that brushed my shoulders. I accentuated my small pert breasts with a corseted brown leather belt. I may not be busty with a B cup, but I know how to show off the goods that I have. The material of the dress was stretchy and thin enough to see the dark outlines of my always hard nipples. The temperatures in all of the university buildings were never warm enough, something about austere measures during economic downturn. I paired the dress with a smart jacket to conceal my nipples. The bottom half of the dress flared and would sit slight above the knees if I were to stand up. The material fell loosely on my toned legs and round bottom. My 40 years have been kind and the thrice weekly Pilates class really helped to keep all the right things in the right places. This morning, I chose to wear one of my gold necklaces that would fall perfectly at my modest cleavage. I had taken off my jacket and hung it up on the back of my chair while working, as well as taking off my patent leather pumps too so I was barefoot. I preferred to be as comfortable as possible while writing up my research or preparing reports. Today was I preparing a summary report for a research grant.
"I'll be just a minute. Take out the materials we're working on this week. Just give me a second."
John shifted nervously in his seat and began pulling out various wrinkled sheets of paper from his bookbag, then placing them on his side of the desk. His notebook was overstuffed and frayed with pages half torn off and one corner folded up. From the corner of my eye, I could see his wide hazel eyes peering at me and staring at my hard nipples from behind his thick brown bangs. I reached up my left hand to play with my necklace, tracing the tips of my fingers up and down the chain of my necklace. John began biting nervously at his lower lip, eyes fixed on my breasts. I pretended to absently stroke my neck as if I were thinking, using the tips of my fingers to gently trace along my collarbone and down my cleavage, ending at the pendant which rested just above the low neckline of my dress. His gaze followed and his slender fingers began fidgeting with the stray pieces of paper protruding from the binding of his notebook. I slowly returned my hand to the keyboard and the only sound in the room came from my fingers clicking away.
A couple of minutes later and in silence, I finished up my work and saved my files. I spun the monitor sideway and pushed it aside so I could look directly at John. He was wearing his usual outfit, athletic pants, a tee shirt, and what looked to be one of those expensive pairs of designer trainers. His pants draped over his sizeable package as he was slumped in the seat across from me. My eyes landed on the shape underneath his pants right away when I turned towards him. In truth, I've noticed the pronounced bulge before when he'd stood in front of the class to present a reading summary (for which he also performed poorly). John was quite tall, probably 200 cm if he were to ever stand up straight. He wasn't muscular but had some muscle definition, as young men his age often do if they were even the slightest active. Bless them and their fast metabolism. His thin white shirt loosely hung on him, its collar worn and stretched out, Star Trek insignia faded. Even though he was so tall, seated down during lecture I always saw those wide hazel eyes looking up at me, bewildered or confused, I was never sure. But since he was in my office for help with the course materials, I suppose it was a bit of both. In truth, John was quite regular looking but there was something that caught my attention from the first day of term. Maybe it was his deep voice. Maybe his meekness. His nervous fidgeting?
"How can I help you, John?" I asked, breaking my own train of thought. I noticed that his hair was slightly damp. I glanced quickly up to the small window positioned high up on the wall. It was not raining. He must have just taken a shower.
"I don't know. I'm just really struggling. The exam was horrible."
"You didn't perform well on that," I replied. He received 3 points out of 50. To say that he did not perform well was being extremely generous.
"Where are you struggling? How can I help? How would you like me to help you?"
John shrugged, slumped further into his chair, and looked down. We sat in silence for a moment.
"I'm just so bad at this," he finally said, patting his palms on the disheveled notebook on my desk.