Whos Teaching Who Here

Professor Maguire smiled tiredly at his secretary as he entered the anteroom to his offices and rested his briefcase on the edge of her desk. Alice handed him his mail and messages.

"Professor, I put your 4:00 in your office."

He nodded absent-mindedly as he skimmed through his messages, making mental notes of who to call, who to email and said "You're a gem, Alice. Go on and get yourself home, enjoy the weekend. I'll see you Monday."

Alice bid him a good weekend, finished sorting her desk and gathered her things.

The professor gathered his things and stepped into his alcove/study. He set his briefcase down and tried to recall if his 4:00 was the young man accused of plagiarism or if it was the incoming adjunct professor that he'd offered to discuss doing a combined course together. Shrugging off his sports coat, he hung it on the coat rack and peered into his office.

Furrowing his brow, it would appear he'd gotten confused over his appointments. The figure gazing at his teaching degrees had her back to him. A well-dressed, professional woman from what he saw. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, her blue-green blouse was well-fitted without being excessively snug and her dark gray pencil skirt was also just the right fit as he continued admiring her form down the length of her shapely, bare legs in black stilettos.

This wasn't who he'd been expecting, but he wasn't going to complain as he slowly raised his gaze back upwards to be faced with a pair of smiling yet concerned hazel eyes.

"Professor, maybe we should re-schedule our appointment? I know you've had a long week and you seem a bit out of sorts. I can bring you up to speed next week if you prefer."

Professor Maguire's eyes widened with both instant surprise and delayed recognition as he gazed at his teacher's assistant, Samantha Ricci. He was more accustomed to seeing the young coed in yoga pants or jeans and he couldn't recall ever seeing her bare legs or her hair styled in any way but down.

Today Samantha looked decidedly more grown-up and polished. He shook his head as he proceeded to straighten his tie and strolled around his desk as he gestured to the chairs in front of it. "Don't be silly, Samantha. I'd just forgotten it was you I was meeting with today. I'm just a bit pre-occupied, but no more than usual." He chuckled softly to himself. "Have a seat, and you can catch me up on the plans and organizing for the symposium and endowment dinner."

She remained standing. "Speaking of long weeks, Professor, I've got to confess, it's been a doozy for me plus I never really got around to eating much today, what with practically being the Dean's shadow since before 9am this morning. You said I'd be your last Friday appointment, so unless something else is keeping you here, would you object to getting caught up over some food? I don't think I'll last until dinnertime."

"Brilliant idea, Samantha. I'm just realizing I graded papers through lunch and only had some soup. I'm rather famished myself. Let me grab my jacket."

~~~

They strolled off-campus. After a few blocks, Professor Maguire steered Samantha towards the dark, richly varnished doorway of an Irish pub he was fond of. She smiled as he held the door for her. The hostess led them to a quiet booth and left them with menus. A waitress approached with glasses of water and asked if they wanted to order drinks.

"I'll have a Jameson's on the rocks please and the lady will have...?"

"Jameson's as well, please, but neat." The waitress nodded and said she'd take their food order upon returning with their drinks.

Professor Maguire hid his surprise until the waitress was out of earshot. "Samantha? Jameson's? Aren't you a bit young for drinking?"

"Professor, I turned 21 earlier this month," she said as she reached for a sip of her water.

"Well, I had no idea. Happy belated birthday. You're officially legal."

"I am indeed," she said with a particular tone and smile playing on her lips that the professor had never noticed from her in all the months she'd worked for him. Professor Maguire hadn't really noticed a lot of late, but he did have a tendency to immerse himself in academia. He truly adored teaching his courses.

He knew a number of his colleagues enjoyed playing the very chancy game of bedding students from time to time. Professor Frank Maguire always tried to err on the side of propriety. To avoid certain looks, he even alternated his T.A.'s so that he had a male for two semesters and then a female for two.

Granted, he was human. He would certainly linger on the quad and gaze appreciatively at the coeds in the warmer months when their many-layered winter outfits melted into frothy summer dresses, shorts and sandals. He wasn't beneath the occasional wearing of sunglasses and "reading the paper" yet allowing his eyes to wander some. But he had daughters close to the ages of some of his students and that tended to give him pause. Plus he found the thought of chasing young nubile coeds wasn't quite as titillating as some of his co-workers made it sound. While he had most often done the pursuing in his romantic life, when he had a romantic life, it was fun to occasionally imagine being the one pursued - but who the hell pursues middle-aged literature professors?

The waitress returned with their drinks, took their food order and retreated again. Samantha took her binder and tablet out of her bag, setting them aside on the table. The professor and student chatted back and forth, a mix of day-to-day odds and ends as well as touching on some of the yet-to-be confirmed items on the symposium outline.

His steak arrived still sizzling and he enjoyed it. If he were honest with himself, he was enjoying the view as well as the meal. Seeing Samantha dive into her BLT with eager hunger was strangely pleasing. She was ladylike and yet there was a carnal undercurrent to how she'd lick her thumb free of mustard. When his napkin slid off his lap and he leaned under the table to retrieve it, he noticed Samantha's crossed legs and was struck dumb for a moment. She'd let one of her stilettos slip off her heel where she let it dangle on her toes as she softly bounced her leg. The professor suddenly decided that was something he could watch for hours but forced himself to sit upright again before raising any suspicions.

After their meals were cleared, they ordered another round of drinks. Samantha stood, picking up her binder and tablet, pointing with her free hand to the professor's side of the booth, "It might be easier to sit side by side to discuss some of the symposium topics, especially the seating arrangements for the endowment dinner."

Professor Maguire nodded in agreement and gestured towards his side of the booth and said "By all means," as he moved his jacket aside.

As they sipped their drinks, Samantha pointed out items in the outline on her tablet, she'd jot down in her binder the professor's changes and suggestions. More than once, the professor felt the swell of the young coed's breast brush or press against his shoulder. He tried to ignore it, that delicious rounded warmth emanating through his dress shirt, especially as it was distinctly shaped and scented so femininely.

He'd been a widow for more years than he cared to count. He was a man and he had the usual wants and needs, but he'd diverted most of his energies into work and family. The whiskey had begun to warm him nicely, but this physical warmth while pleasant, was unexpected. In addition to that, a long week of classes and meetings was taking its toll and his concentration was beginning to strain.

"... so, while my two cents is we seat Dr. Garcia and Professor Drake as far apart as possible, I just don't know how we'll protect you from Fran Mayer or Donna Pendergrast."

The professor nearly choked on his whiskey. "I beg... *cough*... *cough*... your pardon... *cough*"

Samantha rested the tablet on the table and reached behind the professor to pat his back several times as he caught his breathe. "Professor, it's the university's worst kept secret how those ladies have been vying for your affections for some time now."

He closed his eyes and shook his head before sipping some water. "They are lovely ladies, but they are most certainly not vying for my attention, I assure you."

"Oh, Frank, don't be coy. It's sweet in a way, but I don't think being self-deprecating suits a man like you. Fran practically drools when I've seen her spot you on the quad while Professor Pendergrast does all she can to legitimately molest you in any public setting."

He swallowed hard, not prepared for his Christian name to sound so breathy and erotic to his own ears. He shifted slightly and frowned before speaking "Professor Pendergrast does no such thing."

Samantha chuckled softly. She'd kept her hand on his back long after his coughing fit had subsided and now she slid it up towards the collar of his dress shirt, carding her slender fingers through the professor's dark hair, caressing the wayward waves into some semblance of order. She slid her other hand along the length of his tie, smoothing it down and straightening the knot. "So you honestly believe that when Professor Pendergrast fixes your hair and adjusts your tie... you think she's simply grooming you? Come on, you're a smarter man than that."

He gazed at his teacher's assistant with new eyes as he took in those small touches of hers, they left him far more effected than they should and considerably more effected than by Nancy Pendergrast. And from where, he couldn't say, he spoke the truth: "I have zero interest in either Fran or Donna and I most certainly don't entertain or encourage them."

She brushed her knuckles along his cheek, her fingertips just touching the corner of his mouth as she countered, "Do you have any interest in anyone? Anybody you might consider encouraging or entertaining?"

"I really don't want to go down this road, Samantha, it borders on inappropriate and/or a conflict of interests." And while he believed he meant what he was saying, his body made a point of staying put and not retreating from his student's touch.

"You've already written your recommendation letter for my graduate studies. The symposium and dinner next weekend are the last of my obligations to you and your department. I say your arguments are moot, Professor. I've been a very good student all year and now I'm ready to celebrate my birthday and what I really want is to celebrate and I want it to be with you."

"S-S-Samantha, I'm old enough to be your father."

Samantha eyed him over the rim of her glass as she sipped her whiskey. "Mmmm, yes, you are. Haven't you ever noticed who I date?"

"Actually I don't think I've ever seen you around school with anyone in particular that stood out."

"That's because I don't date or fuck around a lot, I take my schooling seriously. But when I do make the time to date or fuck, it's not with boys."

He watched his hand shake slightly as he reached for his drink, just to do something, not that he imagined the whiskey would help with his body's reaction to hearing Samantha curse.

"I prefer men, grown men. Experienced men. Men with something to say. Tell me something, Frank, don't you find me attractive?"

"Samantha, you're a lovely and incredibly smart young woman, of course you're attractive."

"The question is whether *you* find me attractive." Samantha's small hand now rested on his thigh, not caressing, not gripping or moving, just waiting. "If I'm not your type, that's fine, I'm a big girl, I can take honest rejection."

Professor Maguire tossed the last of his drink down his throat and took a deep breathe before replying "Samantha, I've always found you quite pretty. I've always enjoyed the effort and work you put into your projects. Makes me incredibly proud to see how your writing has grown and evolved and know in some small way I've had a hand in that. Today I feel like I'm seeing something of a different side to you, not only in how you're dressed. But yes, I am very attracted to you."

Samantha smiled. "I like your candidness. Allow me to return the favor. I want you, Frank. I've wanted you for months but I'm aware of your reputation and how you handle your affairs. I'd never want to jeopardize your tenure at the university, but like I said earlier, there's nothing really to stop us, two adults, from enjoying each other for a while. Whaddya say, Professor, wouldn't you love to let your hair down for a bit, forget the endowment crap, forget the symposium shit and just have some fuckin' fun with an able and willing partner?"

Frank lifted Samantha's hand from his thigh and shook it as if they were agreeing to a sale. "Maybe you should consider switching to law, Samantha, you're very able and willing to dismantle my arguments. And you do an excellent job of having the other side see the logic in your argument. I haven't had much fun in a very long time, Samantha. I'd like to remember what it's like, if you're truly interested in something, anything, with me."

Samantha leaned over, pressing her breasts against the professor's chest, for a brief, chaste kiss that made all sorts of promises and threats. "Get the check, Professor, and get us out of here. I've got a job to do and it can't be done in public."

~~~~~

With the check paid, Samantha slid out of the booth and took in the sight of the professor as he rose out of the booth. Even in her 4-inch stilettos, he towered over her 5'4 frame. This had always been part of his appeal to Samantha, he was a giant of a man, but his personality was warm and inviting, not overwhelming or blown out of proportion like some of his more arrogant colleagues.

He smiled down at Samantha warmly, his earlier nervousness now history as he took her hand in his and led her out of the restaurant. She noted that they were not heading back to campus.

"So, where are we going?"

"My place isn't far - I usually walk to and from campus. Unless you'd prefer your apartment?"

"I have 2 roomies, but they're both out. Are you sure it's alright for you to be spotted with me?" Now it was her turn to second-guess herself. Even with all the hoping and the bit of planning she'd done, she hadn't been 100% certain that Professor Maguire was going to wind up on the same page with her.

He slipped his arm around her shoulder as they walked. "Samantha, I don't care. You said it yourself, we're adults. We're entitled to some fun. I need some fun and if I'm really honest, I need you."

She murmured her agreement into his shoulder as they strolled leisurely in comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts as they processed what had happened and what could happen. Soon enough, they reached his apartment building and the doorman greeted them with a big smile as he held the door open for them, "Good evening, Professor D! Have yourself a good weekend."

Frank smiled at the doorman as they passed him, "Thanks Bobby, you do the same." He led Samantha to the elevator and in moments they were in front of his apartment door. As he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him, Samantha stepped into a nicely appointed foyer as Frank turned on some lights. She placed her bag on the credenza and turned to now find her professor just simply staring at her. She approached him but left some space between them, watching the mix of curiosity, enthusiasm and growing want in his eyes.

"So, Professor, would you like to start the fun with a bit of a game?"

Frank ran his hands through his full head of graying hair, a trait that Samantha found endearing. She'd noticed it in class when occasionally a student would present a tangent that Professor Maguire hadn't anticipated. She realized it was his way of buying time while he got his thoughts together. "What sort of game did you have in mind, Samantha? I imagine I'd be up for any game with you. But let's draw the line at drawing blood, shall we?"

"Oh I'm sure we can address a few less than vanilla things together. I suspect your still waters run deep. But for starters, I've got this silly fantasy about seducing my teacher for a better grade."

A deep smile and an even deeper laugh escaped the Professor. "Isn't that a bit cliché?"

She smirked as she shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, don't knock it til ya tried it. Beside, it helped me behave myself around you. I used that fantasy to get me off more times than I care to count."

That comment briskly removed the smile from Frank's face, making his jaw clench and set a sexy almost sinister glint in his blue eyes. "Oh Samantha, the idea of you touching yourself..."

She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Samantha felt his arms snake around her waist to bring their bodies flush against each other. "You like that image? Me touching myself as I imagine it's you? Like the idea of me tugging on my nipple as I pinch my clit and cry out "Oh Frank, please fuck me hard?" Care to help make my fantasy a reality?"

She felt distinct movement against her lower belly with every word she had just spoken, which helped empower her as she watched her professor nod eagerly as he told her "Anything and everything you'd like."

Samantha slid her hands away from Frank's neck and pulled herself gently from his embrace. Walking back to the credenza, she pulled the clip out of her hair, placing it on top of her bag as shook out her shoulder-length dark blonde hair. She began twirling a piece of her hair around her finger as she began to nibble on her lush lower lip. "Gee, Professor, I really didn't think I was risking such a low grade."

Frank blinked, hard, baffled for only a moment before he picked up on the fact that the game had indeed begun. He pursed his lips to ruin the smile he wanted to share. Putting his hands on his hips, he fashioned an annoyed look. "I really am rather surprised at you, Samantha. Seems to me like you were hoping to coast through this last part of the semester without putting in the necessary effort."

Samantha widened her eyes. "But Professor, that's not true, I *did* put in the effort. I mean I do. I mean I will. Can't you assign me some extra credit project? Please."

"I don't know, Samantha. That means additional work for me as well, then, doesn't it? Coming up with something unique and appropriate to address where you've dropped the ball and then grading you separately."

She walked up to him and placed her small palms on his chest. "Please Professor. Both my folks will throw a fit if I drop my GPA down this far in my freshman year. And it took so much convincing to get them to let me attend college out of state."

The professor raised an eyebrow. "So you sweet-talked your parents into what you wanted and now you think you can do the same with me? I'm not so easily swayed."

Samantha slid his hands slowly down the length of his chest and rested them on his beltline. "Professor, tell me what it will take, tell me what I need to do. Please."

Frank shook his head, trying not to smile over the silly pleasure of the role play. "I think maybe since your writing assignments have suffered lately, maybe we need to address that your oral skills don't wind up getting rusty and suffering as well."

Samantha also fought not to smile as she slowly unbuckled his belt and began to walk the professor backwards towards a stuffed armchair she'd spotted, talking to him softly as they stepped into the living room. "But Professor, what if you're not happy with my oral presentation?"

"Then I will assign you additional work until I am satisfied, young lady. I won't be denied."

They'd reached the armchair, the seat brushing the backs of Frank's legs. Samantha playfully pushed him down into the plush leather and slowly dropped to her knees before him. Her hands pulled his belt out of the loops with the sensual slither of leather slipping against wool. She unzipped his fly and tucked her hands into his pants, finding a steadily growing erection. Her eyes widened genuinely, as she muttered, "Oh Professor, this is a really big task. I don't know how I'll manage it."