**
The beginning of a school year is both exciting and draining. First, there are all the meetings with administrators presenting new projects that look remarkably like last year's projects. The rush to get class materials ready for the new semester. More meetings. More initiatives. Then, finally, the first day of class, when the faculty are almost as nervous about meeting their new students as the students are about taking the classes.
The first day of class, I try to be witty. Usually, I am only half successful. This semester was no different. I gave the usual spiel--get your work done on time, start early, don't miss class, have fun, do the work, pretend to be interested--you might just get interested. Then I run through the main policies, remind them of textbooks, and, usually, give them their first assignment, something to get their minds working. Lately, that seems an increasingly impossible task. The interminable circus leading to this year's election makes teaching history seem a waste of time. But, it's time to pull up the big boy pants and get the job done.
As usual, most of the students fled the room, while a few hung back. I noticed one young woman dawdling in the back. I assumed she was waiting on one of the small groups in front of me, but, finally, they all left, and she was still there.
****
Heading back to campus for my last year kept me constantly fluctuating between excited and nervous. I had a lot to think about--hoping to graduate on time, finding a decent internship--while my friends kept me out late every night, trying to make the most of senior year. I've been labeled ornery and petulant. I've never been the "perfect" student. But this year would be different, I was determined.
I walked into my History course, a class I've been putting off since I first enrolled, and rolled my eyes. Looking at the syllabus, I knew this wasn't going to be an easy A for me, like I had intended. I sat by myself, not having seen any of my typical crowd, and tried to listen intently to him as he went over his expectations for us. I'm not wont to play "class pet"--I'm not innocent enough to play that part--but I really needed to do well in this class. I was trying to turn over a new leaf for my last year, after all. I noticed my professor's broad shoulders and handsome features. Maybe it would be easier just to talk to him about my concerns upfront and be completely honest...
**
"Can I help you?" I asked.
She hesitated. "I want to do well," she said. She looked down, fidgeted. Looked up at me.
I felt my heart stop. "Jesus," I thought. "What the hell?" I flushed, then to cover my feelings--and my sudden erection, I lifted my briefcase, standing behind it, laughed nervously, and said. "Well, actually, I want you to do well, too. I want all of you to do well." I was suddenly nervous. "So, how can I help you," I said.
****
I gave him a sheepish smile, "I was just wondering what sort of extra credit you might be willing to give? I just know that I'm going to need it...I don't know if I can handle all of these difficult assignments..." My gaze met his, and I felt a pang of excitement in my stomach. I shrugged my shoulders, bit my lip, and reached out my hand. "I'm Mary, a fourth year here."
**
"Hi," I said, shaking her hand. "I don't do much extra credit. Is there something about the course that especially worries you? I can always talk with you--or a group of students--during my office hours."
Mary was pretty, and watching her, I found her endearing--which was somehow incredibly sexy. I felt myself throbbing, something that had not happened in a very long time. I was VERY glad that my briefcase was between us. God, I've got to get myself under control.
****
"I need to do well in your course. It's one of the last ones required for me to take before I can graduate. Office hours would be really really helpful, you're right..." I was rambling on, ready to plead my case if he would listen. His hands, both clutching his briefcase, looked powerful. His shirt was neatly pressed, his tie perfectly knotted. I appreciated the style, and the authoritative demeanor he gave out. I knew i needed to stop myself before I said something incriminating.
"Well, I'll check out the texts and stop by sometime, when I have any questions? Thanks for the suggestion." I picked up my bag and turned around, my jeans taut on my long legs and ass.
**
"Wait," I said, all the while watching the way she moved as she walked away. She turned around. "Look," I said. "I really do want to help you. Why don't you look over the textbook reading tonight, and then come by my office tomorrow, and we can talk. Just drop me an email in the course to let me know when you can come by." I hesitated. "If nothing on my schedule fits yours, you could always join me for lunch--if you don't mind me talking with my mouth full."
****
"Really, you wouldn't mind? I really appreciate it, thanks so so much," I reached out and grazed your forearm with my hand. "You don't have any time right now, though, do you?"
**
Her hand on my arms sent shivers through me. "Well, this is my last class of the day. I usually head home after this. . . . Is there someplace close by we could go?" I couldn't believe what I was saying. I was actually trembling.
****
His eyes were piercing, and I was nervous. I wanted to keep my hand on his arm, feel his brawny body. I didn't have an answer to his question, but I spoke anyway, "Hm. Other than the old study rooms in this hall, I'm not sure..."
"Any where you know where we can be alone?" I wanted to say.
**
I had to get myself in control. This was getting out of hand. "Let's see if one of the old study rooms is free." I said.
She followed me down the hall. From what I could see, all of the rooms were open with no one in them, not surprising for this time in the afternoon. I stopped at the final room at the end of the hall. "This looks good," I said. The room was small containing a table about the size of a card table with four folding chairs. Along one wall was an old leather couch with a small coffee table. I motioned her inside--and on impulse--closed the door behind me.
****
I traced my fingers along the edge of the table. It was dim in the room, only a small window let in natural light. I sat my bag down on a chair, sitting myself down on the couch. I let my hair down from the tight pony I had thrown up this morning, and it fell to my shoulders. He stood in the doorway, just in front of the closed door. I crossed my legs and grinned.
**
When I turned around, she was sitting on the couch, her hair down, legs crossed, and grinning. I had thoughtlessly set my briefcase on the floor as I closed the door. My erection was painfully obvious. Was that the reason for her grin? I flushed deep red but couldn't stop myself from thinking about her crossed legs and wishing she had chosen a short skirt today instead of jeans.
****
I uncrossed my legs and stood up, slowly walking towards him. "Anyway, thanks for your willingness to help. I just wanted to let you know that I'll do anything I can to do well..." I went to my bag to pull out the textbook.
**
