Extra Study

All characters are over the age of 18. The characters and events present are created from my own overactive imagination and any resemblance to anyone is accidental. I hope you enjoy this new story. If you do, feel free to comment and rate!

Disclaimer: Power dynamics and the abuse of that in academia is a real issue. I don't aim to make light of that but I hope you enjoy the fantasy I have created.

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It was just a struggle to get started. That was the main issue. I just took too long to start so I didn't write enough in the given time. My problems with writing in a professional academic style were also brought up in the feedback I had received. I was trying what I could but the grades I had received for my first semester essays were lack lustre to say the least. I comforted myself with the knowledge that they were not grades that would go towards my overall degree and were more like practice papers than anything. The exams at the end of the third semester were the real issue. They would be graded, the timed essays in those exam papers would have an impact on my overall degree and while second and third year counted for more, I didn't want to head into those years already having to catch up. These issues and the lack of solutions led me to turning up at his door.

Dr. James Macleod. The words shone down on me as a last hope, from about head height on his office door. The cool wood was a welcome change from the surprisingly hot spring weather I had experienced on the way over to the university. That same heat filled the corridors inside the Arts and Humanities building where the majority of my history lecturers resided, including my personal tutor, Dr James Macleod.

Young, strongly built, playful and incredibly attractive, you could tell that just from the wide eyes of all the heterosexual female students who followed him around. I'll admit I acknowledged his attractiveness when I saw him, always wearing fitting suit trousers and a number of smart, not to mention tight, shirts. I'm certain that when he showed up in our first seminar with that clean white shirt, half the group cooed. And his voice! That smooth melodic but slightly gruff Scottish accent did have me swooning. I'm not going to say that he sounded exactly like Gerard Butler...but I'm not, not going to say that. Physically he seemed slimmer, leaner and seemed to only be in his late twenties.

Brushing out my pencil skirt and flapping my blouse to cool my chest down I prepared myself. I checked my watch and made certain that I was here at the time we had agreed to in our emails. The green sliding sign showed clearly that he was available. I knocked quickly and delicately.

"Come in!" he called with a soft order. I entered.

"Ah Miss Bailey, hello! Do come in. Close the door behind you."

I did as he asked and stepped into the room with a nervous smile. We had already had one designated tutor meeting when I had arrived but the one-on-one environment was still nerve-racking for me.

I took a seat in the chair he gestured to and sat opposite him, the desk separating the two of us.

"So, thank you for emailing me. What exactly is it I can help you with?" he asked warmly.

"Well, you see. Well, I just got the essay marks back and they said that, well I didn't score highly in the writing style or the sophistication of the argument. I think it's because we didn't do too many essays of this style at school, and I was just wondering if you had any ideas of how to help me out with that? Any advice I could use?" I knew I was stumbling over my words but I couldn't help myself. His gaze was intense but his casual, welcoming posture put me off guard.

He paused for a minute before replying, "It is true that academic essays at university are a step above what you will have done at school, even sixth form or college." He tapped on his keyboard and looked at the screen, from what he said next I could tell he was looking at my results.

"It seems you are doing quite well in the knowledge criteria and evaluating the evidence you bring up; those would be the issues that it would be most appropriate to visit me for. For issues of academic style and sophistication it might be better for you to approach the Academic Skills Service the university provides. It is student run and they conduct sessions that will help you improve." He turned to me with a smile of an easy job completed but the smile soon faded slightly as he looked at me. I sensed that my face was portraying more than I meant as I could see the hesitation in his eyes. The hesitation of someone who knows they haven't solved your problem.

"I...already tried to book a slot with the Academic Skills people but...well." My nervousness was quite apparent I'm sure but I knew I had to press on and tell him. "I dated a fourth year in the first semester. We only went on a few dates and we broke up before the end of term, but it turns out he oversees organising things inside the Skills Service." I could see him put the dots together in his head so I hurried on to tell him the full story.

"When I requested a meeting none of the other tutors were available for one-on-one tutoring...except him."

"On multiple days and time slots?" Was his short response.

"Yes." I looked down.

"Have you come here to report that? I can get in touch with the-"

"No!" I interrupted and then hurriedly stopped myself from continuing my rude interruption but he sat back and waited for me to say my piece. "Sorry I just...I don't want to cause any issues. He'll be leaving after the summer term and he hasn't done anything bad...I can just tell he wants to use the meeting to try to get back together."

He bit his lip considering it and slowly nodded. "So, you just need a little help right now and don't want to create any stressful issues for yourself."

I felt tears at the corners of my eyes as I gazed up into the kind and considerate face that sat across from me, leaning forward as though the small physical distance had translated into understanding. I brushed the forming tears from my eyes.

"Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I need. I can go to the Skills department afterwards if I still need help and I won't bother you anymore I'm just really worried about the timed exams coming up. I want to improve before then!"

He stood up with kindly raised eyebrows. "You're a smart young lady, I hope you are aware of that. Knowledge of your own flaws and the desire to better yourself." Looking at me he smiled. "How could any self-respecting personal tutor, any self-respecting academic, turn someone like that away."

He started rummaging around in the papers that were piled on his half of the long desk at the side of the room. With a little "aha" sound he returned and placed a sheet of paper in front of me. I took it and examined it.

"They're sources, from one of the later seminars I'm running. You would have been asked to read some of them in preparation for the session's discussion but I'm going to ask you to read every single one of them. When you return next week, you can work in my office or the side room-" He gestured first to where the long desk continued onto my side of the room and then to the corner of his room where a desk sat, almost entirely enclosed by a freestanding, shoulder-high fabric privacy screen, "-and complete an essay under timed conditions. From that I will go through it with you and give you feedback."

"Work in here?" I asked surprised, expecting I would be working at home and bringing in any kinds of essays that I would get feedback from.

"Yes, I prefer to discuss things in person and I have a time slot available where I can do my own research while you work and then give you feedback on Fridays, 3-5. That should work for your lecture schedule shouldn't it?"

"Um...yeah." I unconsciously pulled at my blouse as I thought about working inside his office, weekly. Working in the warm arts building under his watchful gaze. I felt my temperature curiously rise at the thought.

"And I would suggest you dress a little more comfortably than you are now. I appreciate the formal attire you wore to both this session and our last meeting, you look very professional, but with the heat of this spring I think you'll find a great benefit in lighter more comfortable clothes to work in. I know it can be hard to judge formality for lecturers but I like to think of myself as a little bit more casual than some of the old academics here."

His cheeky but friendly demeaner and the casual compliments I had just received had thrown me completely off my game, which I believe, combined with the heat, is the only explanation as to why I would have ever said what I said next.

"Please with this weather I'd need a bikini to be comfortable in here."

Both our eyes rose with shock at what I had said and I clamped a hand over my mouth in a not-so-subtle display of completely, totally regretting what I had spoken.

Laughter filled the room. He burst into a booming laugh and threw his head back and I for my part fell into a fit of giggles.

"I am so...so sorry. I didn't mean..." I struggled to say through laughter.

"Not at all, that was a good laugh. You've had a stressful and hot day, we'll put it down to that." He supposed as an explanation and continued to laugh. "I mean I would advise wearing something over the top of it for the journey here but..." he stopped himself, knowing when to hold back on a joke. "Perhaps shorts and t-shirt or a light dress would be a better choice right off the bat."

"That's...that's probably wise. I'm sorry." I blushed ferociously.

The insanity of what both of us were saying had embarrassed us both but underneath I felt something else. A tightness in my chest and the gears of my mind whirring. For just a moment a few images flashed through my mind. I saw myself sitting on his desk. Legs draped over the edge. I saw my images flick past of my body clad in multiple, highly inappropriate outfits. I saw his hungry gaze upon the image I had created.

I licked my lips before I could stop myself.

The feeling of his eyes flick to my mouth brough me back into the present before once again sending me into fantasies.

He cleared his throat, "So does that sound like a plan. Let me know if you struggle to find any of the sources and I'll give you the questions when you come back here."

I squeaked my reply, "Yes, yes that sounds great. Thank you so much. I really do appreciate it sir." I cringed at my use of "sir". I had been brought up to use it for school and it was hypothetically no less appropriate here. Hypothetically. Nevertheless, using it on him...it sent tingles to all the deliciously wrong places.

He grinned at me, "You're more than welcome Miss Bailey. And please, feel free to call me James."

Oh god that was worse. That was way worse.

"Oh, well thank you James." Oh fuck, that was soooo much worse. "Call me Molly."

"I look forward to next week, Molly."

By the time I had shut the door behind me my pulse pounded inside my head and my knees could barely carry my body. I tumbled out of the building and down the road towards my house, and more importantly, my bed.

Thirty minutes later I lay exhausted and breathing heavily upon my bed. My smart office clothes had been discarded in uncharacteristic carelessness and my duvet had mostly fallen on the floor. A name sat heavy upon my lips; despite the number of times it had recently poured out from between them.

"See you next week, James."

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I didn't go with his recommendations of outfit straight away. I stared out "daring" to wear a tight pair of black jeans with a black and yellow crop top. Even still it felt inappropriate. However, as I got into writing I mostly forgot about my outfit. Mostly. I did notice his gaze flick to me occasionally. It was probably just because I was the only other person in the room. Maybe I had moved? Or maybe he was just keeping an eye on his student, as was his responsibility. Maybe.

Or maybe the fact that this crop top showed off my midriff and hoisted my breasts so that a generous amount of cleavage could be seen was the reason? Even debating that distracted me a little. Surprisingly, I did manage to write an answer to one of the essay questions under his watchful gaze. It was when he read it and gave me feedback that my mind really started to wander.

I had to remain quiet while James read my work but that only allowed me greater time to pretend to not be looking at him while getting a full and detailed, memorised image of him. Then it was time for him to give me precise feedback right next to me about how to improve and...what I had done well.

After that first session the number of compliments started to increase. My writing style was improving, I was using sophisticated diction correctly and with restraint, nice outfit... Yeah that one gave me quite a buzz. The knowledge that I was improving my work was amazing and filled me with such pride but wearing tiny shorts and a black t-shirt and being complimented on it did excite me.

On the surface he pulled it off as simply appreciating my sense of humour as the top had the words ' "What are you gonna do, stab me?" - Julius Caesar, 44 B.C.' written on it.

It is a funny top. But more than that it was his decision to say outfit, not top, that made me feel so warm. My shorts barely covered my ass and clearly displayed my long legs. With my top clinging to me and outlining every contour I couldn't help but feel he appreciated my body as well as my humour.

From then on it was a constantly varying combination of tantalising items of clothing. Short skirts, tight tops, leggings and thigh high socks. All worn in front of my professor. In front of only my professor.

It was the seventh meeting that I wore my white summer dress with no underwear on. Oh, it was heavenly. He didn't get a peak under my dress but I could tell he could at least see the impression my nipples made on the fabric of my dress. That session was spent with me squirming in my seat as my excitement built. It was an intense struggle to write anything but it was almost as though my arousal heightened my focus and energy. I blitzed through the paper in record time and had plenty of time to check through it. I noted that my excitement and imagination had caused my mind and spelling accuracy to drift. Checking over my document for any last errors I remember finishing it and printing it early, much to James' surprise. He looked up at me impressed and not without an insulting amount of suspicion.

He doubted that I would have been able to complete an accurate and comprehensive essay up to my recent standards in that time. The heat, or another engagement, must be distracting me and making me desire to finish quickly.

I enjoyed how much he praised the work when he had read it, as if he was trying to make up for his unspoken doubt.

His eyes sparkled with pride and he exclaimed how happy he was with the progress I had made. I knew then that my excitement was improving my work to degrees I didn't think possible and that more than anything I wanted to feel this handsome older man's eyes all over me. Even daring to imagine what it would feel like to experience not just his eyes on me, but his hands...maybe even his lips.

However, his next piece of praise scared me.

"Well, I think only a few more sessions of this Molly and you won't need any more help from me. You'll be more than able to excel in any future exams."

Of course, that's true...it was bound to end at some point. He was aiding my skills, and nothing more.

That evening, with my summer dress...somewhere, not on me, and my body drenched in sweat, was when I made the decision that it wouldn't end like that. Not with the parting of ways of two people who had achieved their goal and moved on. I would not leave behind the growing feelings and electricity I felt in his presence.

That evening was when I chose next week's outfit.

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I pulled the coat around me tighter in what I'm sure was a very conspicuous manner. It was a large coat, thin material sure but thicker than anything that would be needed in this weather. I was sure I stood out like a sore, overly wrapped up thumb. The pleated white skirt that peaked out from beneath the coat was vital. Without it, I had looked as if I were naked underneath the coat. My lime green coat even had the classic belt associated with flasher trench coats. Luckily, I looked a fair bit trendier than that.

I walked quickly. My small pink heels clicked against the concrete as I struggled through the campus under the harshly beating sun. My curls bounced as I quickly climbed up the steps to the humanities building. Cool sweat rolled along my neck making me shiver. Why was I doing this? Did I really want to push it this far?

A throb emanated below. My breathing caught in my throat as I stepped into the stuffy building. Yes, of course I did.

Up the stairs I hurried, hoping no one could catch a glimpse up my short skirt. I strode along the corridor, tensely worrying about letting my coat fall open. I clutched my bag to my side to prevent it bouncing on my back. Finally, I arrived. The green "Open" sign greeted me and I knocked.

"Come in!" swam his harsh but melodic tones. I pushed the door open.

His face lit up for a moment when he saw me enter and he sat up straighter, "Ah Molly good to- good to see you today." His voice had faltered halfway through the sentence. The excitement and barely concealed eagerness of his previous welcomes had faded to be replaced with concern.

I could hardly blame his change in attitude. My change in outfit had likely sent his mind searching for answers. Was I upset with previous meetings? Had I decided the game had gone too far and so I was now focusing only on my studies.

He cleared his throat and scratched his stubble, "Please, make yourself comfortable. Sit down, please. I have -er prepared todays research questions. I'm sure you did the- the research so you will have no problem with these questions. I have to say you have progressed greatly over these sessions. You're writing style and sophistication I mean. So...um...just a second."

He rummaged around on his desk to collect the papers. His voice was all business. None of the playfulness from before. No excitement and admiration. Just nervous energy. A well brought up child at Christmas who had to pretend he was content with his extended family's disappointing gifts. There was no personalisation to the gift, so he responded with stock phrases. The energy he had built up remained but had been buried deep within. This present obviously was not worth that overwhelming energy with which he had enjoyed the others.

I untied my coat and spoke, "Well it's all to do with your feedback James. I really do appreciate it." I turned away from him and towards the desk as I pulled the zip down.

"Well- well you're too kind Mo- Miss Bailey, as your professor it is my job to aid students with their academic pursuits in any way I-"

He had turned around. I couldn't see him but I knew. He was looking at me. I had frozen for just a second, a second that lasted an eternity. I could only imagine the view. Both hands had seized the long lapels of my jacket and dived over my shoulders. Smooth skin bare from shoulder blade to shoulder blade was clear to see. Neatly framed by my fists, clenching fabric.

I had practiced this move. Practiced it intensely. Practiced it embarrassed. Practiced it excited. Practiced it with my whole-body buzzing and shaking. Buzzing and shaking was how I performed it to him.

I released my grip and dropped my arms. It floated for a moment before tumbling away. I felt the material trace the lines along my back and caress my arms. I felt the weight as it pooled above my wrists as they clung to the ends of the sleeves. It slid over my waist and hung just in line with my thighs, suspended by my grip on the fluffy jacket cuffs. I passed my left sleeve to my right hand and experienced the caress of my jacket's liner against my leg. I swung my right hand up and folded the coat over my arm. It was a messy fold but there was no need to be precise, there was more to be done. I couldn't stop now.