A note from me:
Some of you may have read my 6 part series which details my relationship with my husband and his friends. While that series focuses on true events from my life, I had such a fun time writing about it that I wish to continue writing more short stories, but this time with elements of both truth and fiction. I will use myself as the central character in these stories and put to words the scenarios that I think and fantasize about. I hope you enjoy.
My name is Nina and I am 20 years old. I am a second year student at Western University in Ontario, Canada majoring in business administration. I am born and raised in Canada, but my family is of middle eastern origin, Lebanese to be specific. I am 5 foot 1 inch, with straight dark hair and dark eyes and light skin. My family lives in Toronto but I decided to pursue my business degree a bit further from home. Western University is a great school with a fantastic history and a reputation for partying, which certainly doesn't hurt.
This story took place in the second semester of my first year, during early April. Mid-terms were completed and exam season was fast approaching as my days and nights were spent in the library and in my dorm, constantly studying to keep my grades up. The school is very competitive and I needed to ensure that I was staying on top of everything. So far, I had done a fairly good job at this. I was in the 70 and 60 percent range for most classes.
But, there was one class I was failing: Economics. My mark was in the 40s; I had done poorly on all the tests and midterms and the assignments were not enough to bump my grade up. Over the coming weeks, I focused most of my attention on this subject, studying day and night and constantly revising. My boyfriend, Jake, had been a huge support to me during this time. Jake was majoring in biochem, and so he wasn't able to help explain the content to me, but his moral support was something I needed.
The economics class was taught by professor Ken Miller, a tall, white, highly intelligent (and slightly intimidating) man in his early 40's. I would attend all of Professor Miller's lectures, always sitting at the front, as I listened attentively to every word, while viciously typing notes on my laptop. Despite my best efforts however, I was still flunking his class.
Failure was not an option for me. My parents always told me stories about their lives back home and what they had to sacrifice to come to Canada where my two brothers and I could grow up safe and pursue high levels of education.
I realized that my traditional study methods were not working with this class. I had to try something different. Maybe if I went to go see Professor Miller? Perhaps he could offer me some extra help? I emailed the professor and made an appointment with him for early the next morning.
I woke up the next morning, showered, had my breakfast and got dressed. The warmer weather had started to come back. I'm not a fan of wearing jeans or sweatpants and always prefer shorts, skirts or dresses. Even in the winter time, unless it is extremely cold, I would wear a skirt or dress and pair it with leg warmers or knee high socks. I just felt more feminine and sexier in them and much more comfortable.
I put on a short black dress that rested a few inches above my knees and paired it with a pair of white sneakers and a black thong. The dress had short sleeves, and was tight from the top, but became loose and pleated and flowy at the hem. As always, I decided to ditch the bra. My breasts are on the smaller side, but they're very perky and I always felt uncomfortable constraining them underneath a bra.
I started to walk towards the professor's office and decided to pick up a cup of coffee for him and myself, with some milk and sugar on the side for him. I got to the professor's office a few minutes early for our 7 am meeting. I knocked on his door and I heard him say, "Come in."
I walked in slowly as I saw the professor sitting at his desk. He was always well dressed, even when he decided to go with a more casual look. Today he was wearing a pair of jeans and a dark coloured polo.
"Good morning, Professor Miller," I started as I handed him the coffee, milk and sugar. "Thank you so much for taking the time."
"Oh, you didn't need to bring me coffee. How nice of you," he said. He set the milk and sugar aside and took a sip of the black coffee. The professor was an attractive man, with sharp features, dark hair and light eyes. He wasn't 'good looking' in the traditional sense, but I thought he was attractive with his deep voice and his intelligence. He always had a stern look on his face and rarely ever smiled. Perhaps that was part of what made him so intimidating. "So, what can I help you with?" he asked.
"Professor Miller, you know that I come to each and every lecture of yours. I'm always handing everything on time and I've been working extremely hard," I started. "I've had a difficult time with the midterms and tests. I study the material and feel like I know it well, but when it comes to the test, I just blank out and can't seem to properly answer any of the questions."
"First of all, you can lose the Professor Miller. I ask all my students to call me Ken," he said. I smiled and nodded in response. "Secondly, which sections are you having most trouble with?"
I told the professor about my struggles with understanding central banks, monetary and fiscal policy, aggregate supply and demand, exchange rates and so much more.
"That's a long list," he said with a slight smile on his face. "Won't be easy, but I'll do my best. Bring your chair around."
