Part 1 - Daniel
It had been a very long day. I always tried to pace myself as we approached the end of the school year, but invariably the schedule got the best of me. I looked over at the clock; it was 4:15. After grading the quiz I had given my juniors, I would be fifteen minutes from the bottle of Chardonnay I had chilling at home. I could almost taste the smoky, buttery goodness; but the wine would have to wait as there was a knock at the door. A head peaked around the corner; it was Melissa Shaw, the mother of one of my seniors, Emily Shaw.
"Mr. Allison? Are you free?"
I stood and met her halfway into my office. One of the nice perks with teaching at a private school (at least this one) was that I actually got my own office; not just a classroom. "Ms. Shaw. It's good to see you." It was Ms. because she had recently divorced her husband. Rumor was that he cheated on her with his secretary. That told me all I needed to know about him - a first class moron. Ms. Melissa Shaw was a striking woman - tall, about 5-10 (only a couple of inches shorter than me); curves that weakened the knees; toned legs that went on forever, and platinum blond hair that framed a beautiful face with big, expressive eyes. She was probably in her mid-forties, making her about 10 years older than me. How anyone could ever cheat on a woman that looked like her, I couldn't figure out.
"Please, have a seat," I said, motioning to the chair at the side of my desk. "What can I do for you?"
She looked down at her purse, which she held in her lap, then up at me. "Well, Mr. Allison, I'm concerned about Emily. She told me that she's been having a little bit of trouble in your class."
I flipped through my grade book to the senior year advanced chemistry class. Taking a ruler, I scrolled to about three-quarters of the way down the page. "Here we are," I said. "Right now, with only the final exam left, Emily has an 85 average, a solid B."
The look on Ms. Shaw's face changed from one of concern to pain. "That's not going to be good enough, I'm afraid," she said.
I knew from speaking with her other teachers (and from having her in my physical science class freshman year) that Emily was normally a straight A student and that it would be critical for her to get straight A's this semester before applying for college and scholarships.
"Well," I replied, trying to be optimistic, "if Emily were to ace the final - let's say with a 95 - she could bring her average up to..." I did the calculations. "...a 90 - half a grade up."
Ms. Shaw pursed her full, perfectly painted lips. "She really needs a solid A to compete for scholarships at the schools she's applying. She has a 3.9 GPA; getting a B-plus or A-minus would really hurt that average."
I could certainly empathize with her. The students that go to a private school like this one are highly competitive and look to gain any advantage. On top of having a near perfect GPA, Emily was on the National Honor Society, the debate team, and the field hockey team, where she was one of the best players. But, for whatever reason, she was a little off her game in my advanced chemistry class.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Shaw, but even if Emily got a 100 on the final, she still wouldn't be able to get the 10-12 points needed to get her to a 95 or 96 final grade."
A look of defeat on her face, Ms. Shaw sighed as she looked wistfully out the window. It had begun to rain, the sound of raindrops hammering the pavement and roof soon filled the room.
"Is it possible," she said with a glimmer of hope in her voice, "for Emily to do something for extra credit, like a project or paper?"
I had a strict policy on "extra credit." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I don't allow extra credit projects because it tends to lead to students doing extra work to make up for past mistakes rather than learning the material in front of them. I'm sorry."
She nodded. "Of course. I understand."
Emily's mother stood and I followed suit. "Thank you for your time," she said, offering her hand.
"Anytime," I replied. Her hand was warm to the touch, and I was actually taken aback by its softness. My fingers lingered over her skin as she turned toward the door, and for a moment I thought I would take hold of her hand in an effort to keep her in the room; I felt a mixture of arousal and guilt.
As Ms. Shaw walked to the door, I couldn't help but stare at her long, toned legs and round butt. Her dress, although conservative in its cut, accentuated her figure. When she reached the door, she turned slightly and paused, as if weighing something in her mind. The light from the hallway framed her voluptuous silhouette in the doorway. "Thank you again for your time," she said. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I replied, sighing to myself as she left.
Looking outside at the pouring rain and then at the clock, I decided it was time to head home. I stood outside the back entrance of the school, the awning momentarily protecting me from the rain. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. Opening my umbrella, I quickly made my way to my Explorer. Just as I was about to start the engine, there was a knock on the passenger side window. To my surprise, it was Ms. Shaw, huddled under a small umbrella. I unlocked the door and motioned for her to come inside.
"Ms. Shaw, are you alright? Is something wrong with your car?"
She was still catching her breath as she spoke, "No, no..."
