It was my first semester of college and I was all ready failing. I had thought that college would be a breezed since I had been a straight A student in high school. Boy, was I wrong. In high school the teachers had been there to walk you through everything, to help you when you got stuck on a problem or a project but here the professors could care less about you. They had to teach thousands of students a day and if one student wasn't doing to well they weren't going to worry about it. If you asked them a question or ask if they could help you they would give you a look as though you were the stupidest person on the planet and tell you to refer to the syllabus. Yes, I found that the syllabus in college was your bible, if you lost it or couldn't follow it you were sure to fail.
I finally had to swallow my pride and go home to my Mom to have her help me out on all the homework I had fallen behind in. I hated to have to ask her for help. I knew she'd sit there and tell me how she knew that I had made a mistake in going to college. She had hated it when I told her I was leaving for school. She had wanted me to follow in her footsteps and get married right after high school to my boyfriend at the time. I told her that no man would support me my whole life and that I was going to make something out of myself whether she liked it or not. The argument still contained even after I had enrolled and moved into my dorm room.
I was surprised when she didn't say anything, and sat there at the table with me helping me out. She kept giving me that, I-told-you-so-look, but didn't open her mouth to say anything that would piss me off and make me leave.
During that weekend I got everything caught up and when I returned to school pulled my grades up from failing to A's and B's except in my English class. I had done all my work, writing all the essays, doing all the research, but the teacher insisted that I had no idea how to write a good paper. He said that my grammar and mechanical skills were that of a three-year-old and if I didn't learn how to do the basic skills in writing that I would never pass his class. He practically threw my papers back to me and gave me a chance to rewrite them all but it seemed no matter how much I changed the papers they still were not good enough for him.
In a month I was on the phone with my mother, crying and ready to give it all up and come back home with my head down. I told her that I was never going to be able to make it here, the professor had told me that, and I wanted to come home and live the life she wanted me to. She wouldn't take that for an answer, which surprised the hell out of me. I could hear the anger in her voice while she talked to me.
"Janice, I can't believe you. You fought to go to school and you are going to stick it out. You are going to do whatever you have to do to get the grade you need."
"What are you talking about Mom?"
"Well, apparently the man wants something more from you than what you give him on paper."
"What!?"
"Yes Janice, he wants that sweet young body of yours. Any woman with the some common sense would be able to see that."
"Mom, that's just wrong! I mean the man is twice my age and my teacher at that. He doesn't want anything from me but for me to learn how to write."
"You're wrong. I've seen those essays you've put together and they are magnificent. You are a fabulous writer, you have always been one."
"Mom, you just think about sex too much. I'm almost positive that my professor doesn't want to fuck me. There would be too much risk for him with having a sexual relationship with a student."
"Girl, there are ways around that. You just keep your mouth shut and no one would ever find out. How do you think I got through high school? I'll tell you it wasn't from studying any books."
"God Mom! I'm getting off the phone. I have some studying to do."
"All right but think about what I said. You'll see that I'm right."
"Okay whatever. Bye I love you."
"Bye Honey, love you too."
I hung up the phone. I really couldn't believe that my Mother would have told me to fuck my teacher to get a better grade, then again I wouldn't ever put anything past my Mom.
I did begin to think about what she had said. It was a silly idea but it might actually work. I had heard girls around the campus talk about which teachers would give you a better grade if you gave them a blow job everyday or let them fuck you. It was no big deal to these girls to use their bodies to pass the class but I had always held myself in high regards, I had more dignity than that, didn't I?
I kept thinking about it and decided that it wouldn't be a big deal. I'd do it this one time and that would be it. English had always been my worse subject anyway, I wouldn't have to take another English course for a long time, and by then I could study more and learn what it was that I was missing now.
I called my Mom back and told her that I was going to do it. She told me that we'd have to go shopping before I started anything, I didn't have the right clothes to seduce anybody. I looked down at what I was wearing, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, I thought I looked all right. My clothes had never stopped the boys from wanting me but she told me that I wasn't dealing with boys my age anymore, I was dealing with a grown man and I needed to get the clothes that would make him take more notice of me.
When I went back to school that Sunday after Mom had taking me on the biggest shopping spree we had ever gone on, I was excited and a little scared. The clothes she had picked out for me, I thought, would make me look like the biggest slut on campus. She had gotten me skirts that barely covered my ass and a ton of halters and tank tops that barely covered my breasts or midsection. She had also bought me more make-up, telling me to throw away all the stuff I had now. I had never been real big on wearing it but she showed me how to apply it, putting more definition on my eyes and lips then I normally did.
As I got ready Monday morning to go to the dreaded English class I was still a little scared but I was also a little turned on now. I had never really paid that much attention to my own body. I went to the school's gym three times a week but I had never noticed exactly how good I looked.
I studied myself in the mirror with a slight smile on my face. I had chosen to wear a black leather skirt that stopped right below my firm ass, I had to admit that my butt looked great in the skirt. I moved my eyes down my legs, and looked at the black knee high boots that went with the skirt. The boots made me four inches taller than I normally was and I liked that. I moved my eyes back up to my midsection that wasn't covered up by the black tank top I wore. I didn't look at my tummy long before moving my eyes up to my breasts. The tank top had a built in bra to it that lifted and pushed my breasts together, creating the best cleavage that I had ever seen on myself or anyone else. I had always been very self-conscience about my tits. I was small only standing at five foot two inches tall, only weighing 110 pounds but my tits looked like ones that should be on a much bigger woman. I wore a 36D and I had always thought that I should be in something like a B cup. Before I had always tried to hide my figure under big shirts and loose fitting jeans and that had always upset my Mom. She'd tell me that I should flaunt what I had but I hated the mean looks I would get from women that were my size but had much smaller breasts. I would hear them talk to each other and decide that they must be fake and that made me feel bad for them.
I finally raised my eyes from my chest and looked at my face. I had to admit to myself that I was very pretty. I had full lips that now looked even bigger with the lipstick Mom had picked out for me. I had high check bones, and big brown eyes that slanted slightly. My hair was light brown and straight coming down to the middle the middle of my back. I smiled; I looked good, now if I could pull this off then everything would be great.
On my way to class every man that walked past me turned for a second look, boosting my confidence even more. I began to walk with more switch in my hips than normal, swinging my ass from side to side so much that I thought at one point I might fall down, I might have a great body but grace had never been on my side.
When I got to the classroom I made sure to sit in the front row, right in the middle where Professor Kellor was sure to see me. He came in, put his briefcase on the desk and looked up right in my direction. I saw a look of approval and desire come into his eyes the minute he looked at my body. His cheeks blushed for a second before he composed himself.
During class I had a chance to really look at him. I usually sat way in the back and never had paid attention to what Mr. Kellor had looked like. He was handsome, in his mid 50's, with short black hair that had started turning gray at the temples. He had small dark brown eyes and with the way he'd hold his brow always made him look stern and unfriendly. His mouth was also small, with tight perusing lips that always looked displeased but there was something about him that made him look good even with his stern facial expressions. I believed that it was the way he held himself. He was tall and fit. I guessed his height at about six-foot, his body frame was lean and muscular and he held himself with ease. He never stood up straight or ridged which would accompany the expressions on his face but he'd stand a little slouched over. His body language and the way he moved told you that he was easy to approach but if you stepped out of line he'd have a rude commit to throw at you.
While class was in session I pretended to be paying attention to what he was teaching but my mind was more on ways to get him really turned on to me. From time to time he would look at me, that look of want still in them and this is where I'd begin my teasing.
When I saw his head turning to me I would move my legs, deciding at just that point I needed to uncross one leg from the other to make myself more comfortable. When I would do this I'd let my legs fall open for a little bit, giving only Mr. Kellor a full view of my bare pussy before closing my legs again. Sometimes I would bend over in my chair, either to get another pencil out of my bag, or pick up something that I had "accidentally" dropped, letting Mr. Kellor see my breasts, which would almost pop out of the shirt when I would bend over. Everytime I would do something to show my body to him he would clear his throat, and sometimes even forget what it was he was saying.
When I'd look back up to listen to his lecture he would give me a very stern look before moving on to another subject. He dismissed the class early that day but before he did announced that he wanted to see me in his office. I was terrified, I thought that I was going to get it for sure now. He was going to sit there and yell at me for distracting him and his class with my lewd movements and way of dress. I knew this had been a bad idea, I should have never listened to my Mother.
As I got to the door to his office my heart was racing so fast that I thought I was going to pass out. Here it goes, he's going to kick me right out of his class, he's going to flunk me, and my college career will be over. I knocked on the door and waited for him to invite me in. I could hear him moving in the office and soon the door was opened and he stood there staring at me for a minute. The stern look in his face had disappeared and there was one of pure passion that replaced it.
"Come in Janice. I need to speak to you about something."
