I waited for the other students to file out of the class for lunch period until I approached Professor Witbeck with my request to make-up a missed exam. He had been expecting such a request due to the fact that I had been absent the day before; seeing as how he is my history professor, the exam shouldn't be too difficult.
"Professor Witbeck?" I spoke as I sat up from my desk and approached him as he continued grading the other day's test.
"Ah, Miss Holzer," He began; only to follow with handing me a heavily stapled test paper stack and answer form.
"I didn't even need to ask, did I?" I slightly chuckled; I always found myself nervous when I was around him, not in a scared sort of way, but, dare I say it? Nervous as one would be on their first date. Most of the girls had taken a liking to him, who wouldn't? It wasn't that our school was void of male teachers, or males for that matter; we attended a male/female boarding school, along with plenty of male teachers. But there was something different about Professor Witbeck; he could relate to the students, and he made history a bit more interesting. He was younger than your average teacher (or Professor, as we call them here), early to mid twenties, with an enthusiasm for teaching. At around 6'3, he fit the 'tall, dark and handsome' cliché, with his dazzling grey eyes and blackish brown hair that hanged down a few inches past his ear lobes; it had a lovely wave to it, not straight, but not curly. Me, on the other hand; I was around 5'10, slightly athletic build, pale, freckled skin; accompanied by ginger red hair and piercing green/blue eyes. But, back to my Professor; to put it simply, he was gorgeous. The female teachers would regularly stop by during their plan time to interrupt class, in hopes of persuading Professor Witbeck into his store room for an extra-curricular activity or two; much to the female student's relief, he never accepted. He was not married, but no one was quite sure if he was single.
I returned to my seat, with test and answer sheet in hand and tried as hard as I could not to focus on my Professor grading papers at the front of the room. I began the multiple choice questions and whizzed through them effortlessly, but when I got to the essay questions, I was a tad confused. Before I built up the courage to approach him at his desk, Professor Witbeck was summoned to a matter in the hall by a fellow instructor.
"Excuse me for a few minutes, Miss Holzer, I trust that you won't cheat." He smirked as he rose from his seat to examine the situation in the hallway.
I was stumped, I couldn't continue with my test, and being the perfectionist that I am, could not let myself fail. One of the more negative qualities of my teacher was that his essay questions weighed in at about 50 points per essay, which usually amounted to 3 of them, bringing their total up to 150 points, all out of the 200 point test. It was then that I hatched an idea, it was not one that I was proud of, nor one that I was confident to follow through with; but in the back of my mind I had been planning it ever since I laid eyes upon him.
I was wearing the school uniform: a white oxford shirt, burgundy tie, a sweater vest with the school emblem, a burgundy pleated skirt, black maryjanes, dark stockings, and to top it all off, yet another burgundy item (our school colour), a blazer. Not the most flattering of outfits, but definitely manageable. I could hear commotion in the hallways and decided to act now. I stood up from my chair and removed my blazer, stockings, sweater vest, and tie; hiked up my skirt considerably, unbuttoned the top 3 buttons of my shirt, and sat back down in my chair. I had situated myself to where my legs were crossed beneath my desk, but revealed a tiny sliver of my panty-less vaginal area that was clearly visible from his desk.
When Professor Witbeck returned to his classroom, he heaved a sigh and shut the door to his room, filtering out the noise that was emanating from the outside corridor.
"Ridiculous." He muttered as he paced toward his desk, (which had a mountain of papers awaiting him), without even looking my way, "You'd think they were elementary school children." He continued, to which I responded with a hushed chuckle. The moment his eyes found me, he blurted out,
"Miss Holzer, I hate this just as much as you do, but even though it feels like ninety degrees in here, if another teacher were to come in and see you not in proper uniform, you could be penalized for it."
"Pardon me, but Sir," I began in an innocent, (yet far from cutesy) little voice, "the temperature is absurd in here!"
Only there was one issue, both Professor Witbeck and I knew that the room was not as humid as we exaggerated.
Not another word was spoken on the issue, and a few minutes later I gathered up the courage to approach his desk.
