Inappropriate Ch 01

I was in a good position in life. As an Adjunct Instructor at the university, I was able to teach, which I truly enjoyed, but fortunately I was not burdened with academic research. The four classes I taught gave me plenty of time to myself, including short breaks throughout the day when I could get my errands done or take a leisurely lunch break. While there were often quizzes to grade, I could dispense with those rather quickly; midterms and finals clearly took longer to grade, but that only occurred a few times per semester. And since most of my students were in their first or second year of study, their youth helped to keep me youthful and energetic despite my thirty-six years of age.

The beginning of a new semester was always a time of slightly-nervous anticipation. With the advanced courses, there was almost no anticipation, both because the students already had a strong background in media studies and because I had already taught most of the students in previous classes. With the introductory courses, however, I never really knew what to expect – each group of students has its own collective personality which affects how a class is taught, but that is also part of what makes teaching itself such a fun challenge.

Another "fun" aspect of teaching in such an environment was the juxtaposition of youth and sudden adulthood. Watching and listening to my students interact with each other showed their relative naïveté interlaced with "older" attitudes and experiences and desires. I sometimes needed to hide a smile when I heard something, or watched discreetly as one student attempted (usually rather badly) to hit on another.

As New Student Orientation progressed, I enjoyed spending time walking across campus or meandering in the adjacent area of student-oriented shops and eateries. I especially enjoyed admiring the short skirts, tight shorts, and cleavage-revealing tops worn by the myriad of young women coming to or returning to the university. From behind my sunglasses, I was able to sit at a table and read

Idoru

while occasionally averting my eyes from the page to admire the collective female body passing by the restaurant's patio.

"He's cute!" I heard softly from my left. I pretended not to hear as I took another sip of the Coke, glancing to my left. A trio of young women sat two tables away, looking in my direction. But then the noise of the lunchtime crowd came to a natural crescendo, so I could no longer hear their conversation.

While I could not hear them, I could definitely discretely see them: two brunettes and a redhead. The redhead particularly attracted my eyes, with long eyelashes which captured my attention as I saw her in profile. She wore an adjustable silvery ring, and from the distance I was not entirely certain of the form of the ring. The tight tank top revealed that she was not wearing a bra, her nipples not erect but still just barely discernable against the taut fabric. Of the group, she looked toward me much more often than the others, her pinkish eyes truly riveting me.

In time, I finished the remnants of my lunch slipped the book back into my backpack. With a final sip of the Coke, I discretely admired the redhead one final time.

*****

To my pleasant surprise, that had not been the final time to discretely admire the redhead, for on the first day of classes, she was the third student to walk into the large lecture hall.

It was a large class: 250 students and 5 Teaching Assistants, including me. I hoped, as I admired her from across the large auditorium, that she would be in one of my Sections.

"Earth to Robert," one of the other Teaching Assistants chided me. "Eyes off the juveniles!"

Eric and I shared a knowing grin. I had taught with him in the Spring semester as well, and knew that he had his own ranking system for the women in his Sections, not dissimilar to the film

10

.

At that point, Dr. Langley approached us, with several other Teaching Assistants in tow, for a quick impromptu meeting, and I lost track of her as the auditorium began to fill with students. But soon enough, the class was beginning, and as I stood with the other Teaching Assistants at the front of the auditorium, I saw her out of the corner of my eye.

Again, she wore a tight tank top, but she at least wore a bra this time, which was probably good since the air conditioning was indeed on its "Iceberg" setting and her nipples would then have definitely been impossible to miss. Her eyes this time were lavender, and I could only assume that she was wearing colored contacts to achieve that effect. She also wore a rather short denim skirt, short enough that if she were to inadvertently part her legs, everyone at the front of the auditorium would have been able to accurately report what color underwear she was wearing.

...if any

.

That thought percolated in my mind throughout the introductions and the opening lecture. I may have been laughing at the appropriate times at the many jokes and funny film and television clips Dr. Langley showed to the young throng, but my mind was reeling with thoughts of the redhead's potential lack of underwear.

...and I could conspicuously feel her eyes upon me.

*****

The first of my Sections immediately followed the lecture portion of the course for the week. Fortunately, I did not have far to go – just down the corridor to the last classroom on the left, and when I arrived, it appeared that virtually all the students in that Section had already arrived.

I was not at all surprised to see that the captivating redhead was already sitting at the table at the center of the front row, pointedly ignoring the Oriental-looking student sitting next to her.

To be honest, I do not know how I made it through that first Section without constantly having my eyes fixated upon her, and without sprouting an erection.

The good thing about the usually-mundane roll call was that I finally learned her name: Rose Black. Almost certainly, she had been named Rose for her red hair, but it also provided a nice and colorful counterpoint to her last name.

At the end of Section, most students left the classroom immediately. A few students came up to me with questions about the course. Rose, however, waited until everyone else had stepped away from me before she asked an unexpected question:

"When are your office hours?"

It took me a brief second to collect myself. "Fridays from 11AM to Noon, and Wednesdays from Noon to 2PM. It says so in the syllabus."

"Oh," she replied. "I'm sorry. I must've overlooked it. Thank you, Dr. Stephenson."

"Whoa!" I uttered with a laugh. "I'm just 'Mr. Stephenson.' I don't have a Ph.D."

Rose smiled. "That's okay. You clearly know more about media than I do."

*****

That night, I dreamed of Rose. I dreamed of holding her tightly in the center of main campus as students and professors hurried past en route to their classes and labs and offices. I dreamed of teaching her Section and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, finding her completely naked yet utterly unashamed. I dreamed of grading her exam and finding she did not score well at all, then calling her into my office and pulling her over my thighs to spank her for her poor performance. I dreamed of awakening in the darkness to find her mouth slowly descending my hardened desire.

In the morning, Rose filled my mind as I showered the wall of the shower.

*****

11:00AM came slowly. Typically, I did not really look forward to office hours, but this time, I truly wanted to be there.

I officially shared an office with a Junior Professor, but since she was on medical leave for the semester so she could give birth and care for her newborn, I had the small office to myself. I was very thankful for that fact when I arrived at the office and found Rose awaiting me.

"Good morning, Dr. Stephenson."

I smiled, gently shaking my head. "Remember, I don't have a terminal degree."

"Remember, you know more about media than I do."

Clearly, this was going to be a private joke between us.

Never be alone in a room with a single student, especially with a single student of the opposite sex, unless you have a door open so that others can easily see and hear anything that may happen.

That line from the mandatory Sexual Harassment course kept resonating in my mind as we sat and chatted. The door was indeed open, but since the office was located in a rarely-used part of the building, there was virtually no chance that anyone would come by unless it was specifically to see me, since the professors with nearby offices were all teaching according to the department's Master Schedule.

I do not recall the conversation Rose and I had that day in the office. I only recall that she sat in a very unladylike manner, her super-short skirt spread obscenely, providing a nice view of the crotch of her pink panty. Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling that my office hour was at an end, and Rose slowly stood, stretching her arms over her head as she arched her back, her breasts straining against the tight-fitting blouse.

"Tease" was the only word which came to mind.

"Perhaps I am," she admitted quietly.

Only then did I realize that I had actually said what I had thought, and I froze for a moment, uncertain what to do. Yet with perfect fluidity, Rose pressed herself against me, hugging me, and only by instinct did my arms wrap around her, a deep, quiet area of my mind protesting the situation.

It had been several years since I had last held someone. She was also about the same height as my previous girlfriend. Perhaps it was those two facts combined which caused me to do something which I had often done with my previous girlfriend in such situations:

I kissed her forehead.

Rose whimpered softly, happily, a sound reminiscent of a contented puppy. Time seemed to lengthen before she finally stepped out of my grasp and retrieved her backpack from the floor.

"I'll be sure to watch that movie over the weekend," she said softly with a smile. "Thanks for the suggestion!"

And then, as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the previous few heartbeats, Rose left the office, leaving me standing there alone, confused yet aroused.

*****

That night, one of my neighbors was having a barbeque and had invited me. There is something about the combination of barbeque sauce and alcohol which is just perfect. Add some great neighbors and a large pool to the mix and it was a wonderful Friday night.

However, instead of waking up with a hangover in the morning, I awoke to an emptiness. For the first time in years, I truly lamented the fact that there was not anyone beside me as I awoke.

Specifically, I truly lamented that fact that Rose was not beside me as I awoke.

That was when I knew for certain: I was falling for a student.

It was perhaps the only thing besides plagiarism which could instantly ruin an academic career. It would certainly ruin my Adjunct Instructor status if I were to act on this and be discovered.

Only then did I realize just how dangerous it was to have hugged Rose the previous morning with the door wide open. I had known at the time that it was not right, but the potential gravity of the simple act suddenly felt like a pair of anvil upon my shoulders.

I spent Saturday morning in somewhat of a stupor. While the aftereffects of the alcohol slowly drifted away into the ether, my mind was awash in images and thoughts of Rose, and that truly baffled me, for I had never fallen so hard for anyone, not even for my late fiancée.

Yet, by lunchtime, I was biking toward campus, secretly hoping to catch just a simple glimpse of Rose from a distance. I must have ridden all across campus in various meandering routes for over an hour, but I never saw her, and I finally returned, dejected, to an empty house.

As evening approached, something urged me to go to the shopping and restaurants area next to main campus, so I did. I walked amongst the throng of students, admiring the plentitude of female flesh but not really able to think of anyone or anything unless it was related to Rose.

"Mr. Stephenson!"

A pair of students from one of my classes in the Spring semester came up to me from behind. It was good to see Charlotte and Anthony again, and I was not particularly surprised to see a small diamond ring on Charlotte's hand. We chatted briefly, and while they were planning on getting married shortly after graduation, no arrangements had been made yet other than the fact that Charlotte would wear the wedding dress worn by both her bother and her grandmother. I was truly happy for them, and as they continued on their way to one of the nearby restaurants for a late dinner, I felt a bit happier myself. After all, happiness is usually contagious.

A few footsteps later, I heard a rapping on a nearby window. I glanced in that direction, and was pleasantly surprised to see Rose at the window of a video store, beaming at me. I waved at her and smiled, thankful to finally have been graced with a glimpse of her, but content to continue meandering through the area.

However, she waved me inside the store. Without a moment of hesitation, I changed my plan.

"Hello again, Dr. Stephenson!" Rose greeted me, her pink eyes sparkling. This time, I let the inappropriate honorific stand without comment.

"Planning on a mini-marathon tonight or tomorrow?" I asked, noting the small stack of DVDs in her hands.

She laughed, a melodic sound reminiscent of a siren. "I got

Amélie

, which you recommended, and a few friends who've seen it agreed that it's a really great film. But it's primarily just some Hollywood chick flicks to watch over the coming week."

We chatted for a long time before finally making our way to the register. I stood aside as Rose applied for a rental card and paid for her selections, then walked with her back toward main campus. Once inside the main gate, however, our walk took strange patterns, never really with a goal in mind, until I heard the university's tall clocktower chime the hour.

Midnight.

"Wow..." I said. "I didn't realize it was this late."

"Me neither," Rose agreed quietly. There was something in her voice which indicated that she wished it was not quite so late, that she wanted to spend more time walking and talking with me.

I wanted the same thing.

The warm summer night sparkled upon us as we stood alone in the middle of a wide expanse of grass. During the day, this section of lawn would likely be filled with students – primarily women – tanning between classes. At night, with no one nearby, this place was romantic.

...and to the dismay of what remained of my logical mind, I was in this place with a student.

"I suppose you should start thinking about heading back to your dorm room," I finally suggested, breaking the silence between us.

Rose shook her head. "I actually have an apartment to myself, thanks to my parents," she replied. It made sense, because due to the housing crunch, the university had lifted its insistence that first-year students live in the dorms. "But I'd rather not go there quite yet."

"I see..."

Another pregnant pause.

"Where do you wanna go?" she asked.

I simply shrugged.

As another comfortable silence befell us, it was clear that something was drawing us closer together. I knew that I was dooming myself by being in Rose's presence in such a romantic location in clear view of anyone passing by the large starlit lawn. Yet, I felt powerless to do anything to bring this moment to an end. I longed to reach for her hand, to pull her to me and feel her lips parting for me. I wanted to hold her close, long into the night, and watch the sky brighten for us as dawn slowly illuminated the city.

"You know," she finally whispered, even though no one else was near enough to hear her, "I like you."

My mind reeled, trying to find an appropriate response which would not further doom me yet still leave open the possibility for more.

"I'm flattered," I replied with a smiling whisper.

She giggled quietly. "You should be, Dr. Stephenson. You should be."

Eventually, we continued to walk. We did not touch each other, but we were clearly close enough to violate each other's personal space. As we passed one of the many dorms on campus, we heard the unmistakable sounds of sexual pleasure coming from an open second-floor window, and I hoped the darkness was enough to hide my growing arousal.

"I could listen to that all night," she said softly, "imagining that it was me being fucked to nicely."

I could listen to that all night and imagine that it was me fucking you so nicely,

I thought, trying to keep myself from smiling at her comment and my inappropriate thought.

We were both silent as we listened intently to the sounds of sex until we were out of earshot. The entire time, I imagined I was taking Rose from behind, reaching under her with one hand to roughly seize a breast while pulling her long mane with my other hand, thrusting hard into her as sounds of delight spilled from her dainty lips.

"Would you fuck me like that?" she asked, snapping me from my reverie.

Smartly, I hesitated before answering. "That would be... inappropriate," I answered, hoping it was a diplomatic response.

"True," Rose acknowledged, sounding somewhat disappointed, "it would be..."

In time, we arrived at the edge of main campus. Even for the late hour, there was plenty of traffic on the street, and I noticed a significant police presence – likely on the lookout for drunk drivers, especially on the first weekend of the Fall semester.

"Do you live far from here?" I asked innocently, knowing that eventually Rose would need to return to her apartment.

"No," she replied, fatigue finally creeping into her voice. "Just two blocks away from here."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, we approached one of the many apartment buildings filled with students. Given her young age, I could only assume that this was Rose's first time living on her own, away from her family, and she clearly had a nice place. All but a few spaces in the parking lot were carports, and the shrubs and flowers were definitely tended with love. It was an old three-story building, the white paint clearly fresh in the lamplights. Most of the tenants were either asleep or away, given the few illuminated windows. And most telling of all was that this was an interior-entry building, which was probably just perfect for a beautiful young woman living on her own for the first time.

"Nice place," I commented truthfully. "Much better than my first apartment."

"I got lucky to get a place here," Rose admitted. "The inheritance came at just the right time."

That response intrigued me, but I did not press the issue.

I accompanied her to the front door of the building, fully planning to say goodbye here and walk away once she was safely inside. But before I knew what was happening, she leaned into me, her hand against my heart, her head upon my shoulder, and my arms instinctively enveloped her.

I am so, so doomed,

I thought sadly, but my heart ignored my mind.

*****

After having spent Saturday night and early Sunday morning with her, Rose did not preoccupy my mind quite so much. It was not because I was any less interested in her. Rather, it was because my need to be in her presence had to some extent been sated.

Yet while I wanted to see her again, I also dreaded the Tuesday screening for the course. Granted, I would be sitting with the other Teaching Associates as everyone watched the opening film for the course,

Citizen Kane,

but just knowing that I would likely see Rose again meant that I would need to hide my growing interest in her.