Let's face it. Every college professor knows that the fastest way to get escorted off campus for good is to have sexual relations with one of your students, undergraduate or graduate. That isn't saying that a professor can't have sex with a student, just not one that he has in his class, or who works for him. This is one of the biggest no no's that every faculty member who values his or her job has to keep in the forefront of their mind. As a faculty member at a Midwestern university well known for its partying, it's not all that unusual to have a student make requests to "improve" their grade by means other than diligent intellectual effort. As a general rule they always get the same answer, unless they plan on sleeping with every boss they'll ever have, they might as well get used to being evaluated on their intellectual performance rather than their bedroom performance. This rarely sits well with the student desperate to pass after not putting in the needed effort, but it does keep one out of trouble.
Not all students that come by for special assistance are doing so because they are struggling in class or even need any kind of additional help with their grades or assignments. Sometimes, for reasons I have never quite understood, some young ladies are just attracted to older men, or to particular older men. These students are always the most difficult to deal with because they are easily hurt, and hurt students often do things to hurt those they perceive as having wronged them. More than one faculty member has been accused of things that never happened, by a student who wanted things to happen that didn't.
It was obvious to me after only a few weeks in my class that Sara was one of these students. Extremely bright, excellent work ethic, always on time for class and always on time with her assignments. Those are traits I like to see in all students, but where I grow concerned is when the office visits start becoming extremely frequent. Requests for help in homework problems that she clearly understands, stopping by to drop off "innocent" little gifts, like a piece of chocolate or a funny cartoon found in the paper, all these add up to a young lady clearly infatuated with a professor who is more than twice her age.
I've always tried hard to learn something about as many of my hundred plus students as I could, but reality often rears its ugly head. I learn maybe twenty of my class, those that sit in the front and are extremely attentive, and those who sit in the very back and think they are trying to slide by without being noticed. Sara definitely fit the first of those two groups. She sat in the front of the class, always attentive, never doing anything provocative or overt. It was almost like she was concerned about keeping her feelings for me from everyone else.
By mid semester she was stopping by twice most days, sometimes just to wave hello in my door and other times to stop and sit for a "chat" for a few minutes. I had tried to gently push her away, letting her know that I appreciated her studiousness in class, but that she should probably find other things to occupy her time than frequently visiting my office. Her response was that it was "not out of the way" and she just enjoyed poking her head in to see me. All in all she tried to make it seem very innocent, but I could tell by the slightly more revealing dress she wore almost every lecture that it was growing quickly out of control. Her clothing had gone from conservative, to revealing to downright slutty at times. I was going to have to do something, and soon!
Dr Hanna, as her students called her, because they frequently stumbled on the Chinese pronunciation of her last name, was a relatively new addition to our department. This was only her third year, which didn't make her an ideal choice to take this kind of a problem to, but I knew that she also had Sara in her class. She was also one of the faculty advisors for the Zeta Tau Alpha sorority, of which I was reasonably sure Sara was a member. Between the two sets of interactions with Sara I thought she might already have some rapport with the young lady.
"Hanna!" I said pleasantly as I stepped into her office. She looked up at me with her large dark brown eyes, which always seemed to accentuate softness of her facial features.
"Gregory? What can I do for you today?" She asked pleasantly, pushing back from her desk and leaning back in her office chair as I stepped around her desk to settle in a chair she kept for students to use.
"I have a bit of a problem with which I'm hoping you might be able to help." I said quietly, trying not to stare at the short hemline of her gray skirt that had ridden up her thighs. My mind suddenly wondered if I were still standing in front of her desk, instead of sitting beside it, if the very short skirt had ridden up far enough to expose her underwear. For that matter I suddenly wondered just exactly what kind she wore, being single and half my age and all. My mind wondered if she wore some form of small thong panty or something more... demure. I pushed away the thoughts and finally responded to the reply she had long since formed.
"Um, you have Sara Deshel in your class, don't you?" I asked, dragging my eyes from her creamy thighs up her body toward her face, pausing briefly on the cleavage displayed by the several open buttons on her gray silk blouse. It had always interested me just how large her breasts were, compared to most women of oriental descent, easily a full D cup or more. Damn what had she just said?
"I'm sorry," I said, finally dragging my eyes up to her face.
"I said, yes I do, is there a problem?"
"Well, in a way. I know you've only been teaching a few semesters, but you do seem to do a lot with the Zeta sorority, so I thought you might be able to help with the young lady."
"Oh? You want me to set you up on a date?" She asked, the corners of her lips turned up in a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly around their upturned outer points.
"Huh?" I asked stunned. "No, no. Just the opposite." I added as she laughed quietly.
"I know. It's fine. Yes, Sara is one of mine. In fact, she's been in my office on a number of occasions oozing what I can only characterize as a rather intense desire to get into your pants."
"Say WHAT?"
"Oh not in so many words. But it's clear when she talks about you, which is surprisingly frequently, that she has much more than a passing interest in how you look, how you sound, how you move. Should I go on?"
"Not really!!" I said emphatically. To say the turn the conversation had made was uncomfortable would be an understatement.
"Oh, that's a shame. I thought maybe you'd enjoy hearing that she thinks you have a really cute butt, she likes the little bit of gray in your hair and oh yes, she fantasizes about just exactly how big that bulge in your pants would be if she could get it out." Hanna said with a devious little grin.
"Oh lord." I groaned, thinking that this couldn't really get too much worse.
"I have to admit, I wouldn't mind seeing either." Hanna added with a sigh.
"See what?" I practically snapped.
"What's making that." She said, nodding almost imperceptibly toward my lap where her eyes were currently glued.
"What?"
"The bulge in your pants. It is pretty large, isn't it?" Hanna asked with a smirk on her face. "To be honest, Sara hasn't made any secret of her desire to get to see you around the sorority. I know of at least half a dozen girls that have scoped you out. Personally I think I'd be flattered that I could still have that kind of impact on young ladies at your age."
"Seriously? I'm fifty one! What the hell would a twenty something see in me?"
"I'm a twenty something." She answered with the smirk still pasted on her face. "I hear older men are more experienced and can really treat you to some fantastic sex. I've always wondered if it were true. Might be interesting to find out."
"Good lord Hanna! You're not helping!" I practically squeaked, feeling the heat in my face from my obvious embarrassment.
"Oh goodness, you should see yourself. I can't think of the last time I was with a man that embarrassed that still had his pants on!" Hanna said laughing.
"So you're just pulling my leg then? She really isn't going around talking about my butt and crotch?" I said feeling some relief.
"Oh she most definitely is. I just think it's funny that you are so embarrassed by it. You're a good looking man. Good shape, no pot belly, well mannered, obviously sensitive. No, I can see why a younger woman might want to sample your wares, especially when you're turned on. You do have a pretty prodigious bulge in your slacks. I don't suppose you'd want to just whip it out and let me see, would you?"
I sat for several seconds taking in her comments, more stunned than anything else. I didn't know whether to believe her or if she was just joking rather crudely. "I don't suppose you'd like to just pull your skirt up and your panties down and let me see you, would you?"
She looked at me for several long seconds. "Maybe." She finally answered, the little grin coming back to her face. "At least I might if I were wearing any." She said as she swiveled her chair around to face me, her knees pointing almost directly toward me and slightly apart.
"Oh lord." I said in frustration, getting up and walking from her office before the conversation could deteriorate any further and before I could let myself look up under the hem of her skirt, a view I suddenly realized she intended me to have. Now instead of having a single student apparently panting after me, I had one of my colleagues teasing me along those same lines.
I walked into my own office and plopped down hard in my chair and rolled back under the desk to start working at my computer again. It took at least half an hour for me to get my mind off her legs and back to the tasks at hand.
