Readers: This is a revised and longer version of "Not Good Enough." It is quite different, but the characters and settings will be familiar to anyone who has read the earlier story. This version fits better with prequels and sequels such as "Before the Fall," "Spring Semester," and After the Fall," yet to come. Enjoy - Dora
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Fall Semester
Carol wasn't expecting it. But Carl was.
Carl was a predator. He was also a professor, which gave him plenty of possibilities. There were always hundreds of desirable undergraduate women on campus, bursting with their new-found sexual magnetism. But Carl understood that they were each pursued by every undergrad male student, and by most of the faculty men as well.
What Carl found so appealing were the not-quite-so-young school teachers who filled his English classes every semester, still-attractive women in their late twenties and thirties who were taking his classes to maintain their teaching credentials.
These women were invisible to the other students. They generally went to class at night, and they were, after all, older than most of the "co-eds" on campus. And, for the most part, they were married. This is what Carl liked best about them. Married women presented fewer problems, fewer expectations. Many of them were still young enough to be very, very attractive, if you could see them through the teacher's glasses, the teacher's sweaters, and the teacher's personality. They weren't looking for commitment ... they already had a committed relationship at home. They weren't likely to have an STD ... teachers were characteristically conservative, faithful wives. But, and here was the key thing, the younger ones were also often in that part of their marriage that everyone goes through, when the newness has worn off, and the long-haul drudgery of working for a living has settled around them and their husbands and taken all the romance and adventure out of their lives.
Carl taught classes that met three times a week for an hour, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and then other classes that met only twice a week, for an hour and a half each on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So, by the end of the first week of classes, Carl had generally identified three or four attractive women in his classes that might be looking for a little adventure, even if they didn't realize it themselves yet. Then he waited, and before long, one or two would always show the signs.
Carol always came to her re-certification class directly from school. She just stayed late in her classroom and graded papers, then left in time to pick up a snack on her way to the campus. It was so much better than going home and relaxing that little bit, then trying to get charged up again and gather up all her stuff to go out to class in the evening. Plus, it prevented her from driving clear across town two extra times.
John didn't mind. He always said he was okay with fixing himself and their daughter something for dinner -- Carol usually set something out, or left a note about what they might take out and defrost for dinner. Then, when Carol finished her class, she either picked up another little snack at the student union coffee shop or came home and had left-overs with her husband in front of the TV.
This schedule meant that she was always wearing her school clothes to classes in the evening. Carol still felt obliged to dress up a little for teaching. Where other women who taught in her public middle school wore jeans and t-shirts to school, Carol thought that looked slovenly and unprofessional, and generally wore a nice skirt and blouse, often with a sweater. She almost always wore hose and nice shoes (not heels, though! There was too much standing as a teacher to wear heels of any height, and tennis just looked ridiculous in her opinion. She just wore "practical" flats.) So, on the college campus, she looked much more like a faculty member than a student, and was doubtless the best-dressed student in her classes.
And, Carol was an eager learner. She loved teaching and she loved learning. She loved the English language, and was so excited to discuss literature with adults who were motivated and interested, after long days of trying to teach the material to kids who would rather look out the windows or talk on their cell phones.
So Carol was always attentive, and alert, and participated in class to the point where she sometimes became self-conscious and held back from answering questions or expressing her opinions because she felt that she might be dominating the other students and not giving them a chance.
By the end of class on Thursday, there was no doubt in Carl's mind. There was a woman named Carol in his Tuesday/Thursday classes that was perfect. She was still quite young, probably in her late twenties, and she took good care of herself. She was neither "cute" in a little-girl way, nor beautiful like a model, but she was definitely a handsome-looking woman. From what he could tell given the winter clothes she was wearing to class, she had a great figure. She always looked put together. And she was smart, fun, and engaging when she participated in class. This one would be a good one.
Carol probably didn't realize it, but she showed a deep hunger for adult interaction and intellectual stimulation. She was like a puppy, she craved his attention in class so hungrily. And, when he favored her by calling on her or commenting on her excellent observations, she simply glowed with appreciation. After only two classes, she stood out from the crowd: sexy, sharp, together, and most important of all, needy.
"Carol, could you see me after class?" Carl said as the class was shuffling their papers as the clock approached 8:30.
As the other students filed out, Carol came to his desk, then stepped close to him to be out of the way of the others filing past to the door.
"Yes, Professor Fellows?" Carol asked.
"Oh, please, Carol. We're all adults here, call me 'Carl.'"
"Oh, sorry. Just a natural reaction left over from college days, I guess," Carol said with an embarrassed smile.
"No problem! I've been looking over the papers I had everyone write in class on Tuesday to tell me about their background, and I wanted to talk to you about yours."
"Oh? Did I make a mistake?" Carol asked.
