There are different reasons why people come to my office. Some are looking to document the most important events of their lives, others want to share their experiences so others can learn. This is a place where adults can have open dialogue without fear of being judged.
Their identities will forever be protected. No one will ever know their real names. What’s said to me, in turn, will be discussed on my podcast for the world to hear.
Sandhya is a 46 year old woman, single, dark skin complexion, and she wears a modestly priced outfit that makes the most of what she can afford. She’s also the first educator that I’ve ever spoken with. When I start recording this conversation, she tenses and her nerves are on display.
“Is this the part where I reveal my deepest, darkest secrets?” she says with a hesitant smile.
“Well, this is at your leisure. We can talk about movies if it’ll help you relax.”
“No, no, I’d rather get this over with. It’s funny, I speak for a living, but something like this terrifies me.”
“That’s why it’s exciting,” I say.
“You’re right about that. Exciting, stimulating, stomach-churning.”
“Let’s begin,” I say. “So you’re a professor. Let’s start with that.”
Sandhya clears her throat. “Yes, that’s correct, I’m a professor and I teach political science and research. I’ve been teaching for close to 15 years. I love my job. I enjoy the responsibility of shaping the minds of future leaders. It sounds cliche, I know.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that cliche. It’s an admirable career. I respect that.”
“Would you like to hear about a particular student now? Should we get straight to the point?”
“Whenever you’re ready. This is your forum to speak openly.”
“Thank you,” she replies. “Her name is Dani. I considered giving you a fake name, but that would take away the power of my story, in my opinion. Her name is Dani. It goes against policy and my personal ethics, but she’s a current student of mine.
She pauses, then continues, “Long blonde hair, blue eyes. The ‘all-American’ type, though the meaning of that phrase is evolving. I would describe her as somewhat outgoing, puts in effort for assignments, she’s personable, charming. She made a deep impression early in the semester because she sits near the front row. I teach in a big lecture hall, but she managed to stand out.”
“Was it Dani’s beauty that got your attention?”
“At first it was her striking blonde hair and blue eyes, but it was her outfits. Her tops are reasonable, something your average college girl would wear. A sweater with the university logo on it. Tshirts when it's a warm day. That sort of thing. But it’s Dani’s assortment of skirts that lured me. As the semester went on, her skirts became smaller.”
This interview has almost reached the main point. Sandhya seems to be experiencing a sense of shame, maybe remorse, because this is against her rules. At the same time, I notice her lips giving a slight quiver. Whatever conflict she feels, she’s also aroused by this.
“Do you think she did it on purpose?” I ask.
“At the time, I wasn’t sure, but Dani has since admitted that she did it on purpose.”
“May I ask, are you a lesbian? Do you have experience with women?”
“No, to both questions,” Sandhya replies in an instant. “My parents are from India, very conservative and traditional, and I was raised with the same values. I’ve been married to a man for most of my adult life, but that ended a few years ago. To your question, I’m not a lesbian, and I had never been with a woman.”
She’s almost defensive about it, which is something I’ll have to discuss with her later. Her defensiveness and inner-conflict make this story compelling.
“Your background is noted,” I say. “That makes the next question more interesting. How did things escalate with your student?”
“Slowly, then suddenly.”
“As with many great stories.”
“I remember everything,” she says. “I mentioned that I teach in a lecture hall. Dani often sits 2 or 3 rows back, so when she wears skirts, I can see her legs. The room has bright lighting, so her white skin shines. Her legs are often distracting and I find myself having to stand elsewhere. She ran track in high school, she later told me, so her legs are in great shape.
She continues, “This memory will always stay with me. I remember giving a lecture and Dani spread her knees apart. It was the first time she ever spread her legs that far open. It was like she was stretching. I’m ashamed to admit that I looked inside her skirt. Not because I wanted to, but because it was so blatant.”
“Does that happen often with students?”
“Not with me. I know it’s common for students to want sex with a professor. Male students have their ‘hot for teacher’ fantasy. Female students desire the power dynamic. Faculty members discuss this in the lounge sometimes. But it’s never happened to me. I’m not the type, I suppose. Certainly I’ve never had a female student do that in class.”
“What did you make of it?” I ask.
“It threw me off the lecture. I went blank for a few seconds. But here’s what got my attention. I saw her panties, a thin, light blue fabric. The center was wet. There was a dark spot from the moistness. She didn’t bother to close her legs. Her face was stoic, like nothing was wrong, and she knew I saw inside her skirt.”
“Was your immediate reaction that she was flirting with you?”
“I thought it was possible, but I couldn’t be sure at the time.”
“What did you think the stain was?”
