Dr. Peterson is the sexy, older professor in the anthropology department at my university. All the freshman girls in my sorority take his introductory course even though they have absolutely no interest in geology. After class we walk back to the house together and trade fantasies about him, everyone giggling at the descriptions the more lewd girls provide. I join in this charade, but the fact is, I actually am interested in anthropology and plan on becoming an anthropology professor myself one day. Don't get me wrong, I have caught myself daydreaming once or twice about what it would be like if he asked me to stay after class, but for the most part I try to focus on learning the material and getting good grades. Recently though, my grades have been slipping, and I know why but I don't know what to do about it.
The reason for my failing grades has to do with my boyfriend. Rick and I have been dating since we met at freshman orientation almost two months ago. After a couple of weeks, he began pushing for sex, but I kept making excuses to avoid it. Finally I confided in him that I am still a virgin, and although I want to have sex, I want to wait until we had been dating for at least a couple months. He agreed, but as our two month anniversary approaches, he has been counting down the days and incessantly talking about it, trying to get me to succumb earlier. The more he pushes, the less I want to have sex with him. He's just so immature sometimes, and it can be a bit of a turn off. Nevertheless, I'm nervous about the approaching 2 month anniversary and I can't seem to focus on my schoolwork because of it.
I stand in front of the mirror and assess my image before leaving for class. Long, light brown hair swept up in a ponytail; cutoff jean skirt showing off my long, slim legs that are golden brown from the California sun; light blue v-neck t-shirt ... I inspect the shirt closer and groan to notice that the silhouette of my nipples are just barely visible through the shirt. I recently got sunburned on my back and my bra rubs too much on the area, so I've been going without for the past week. The burn is almost healed, but it's still too uncomfortable to wear a bra.
"Mylie, come on! We're going to be late!"
Oh well, no time to change now. I run back to my room to grab my bag and high heels, and throw a light weight cardigan on to take care of the nipple issue. Before leaving, I glance at the calendar on the wall with a date two days away marked in red, indicating my last day as a virgin. I sigh and run out the door to catch up with my sisters on their way to geology.
It's not that I don't want to have sex. In fact, even though I'm still a virgin, I masturbate frequently. It's just that I never thought the first time would be with a freshman fraternity boy. I'm also a little nervous about performing for someone else. I gave a blow job once to a guy I dated over the summer before college, but he was so immature he came about 2 minutes into it. I don't want my first time to be like that!
I try to focus on Dr. Peterson's lecture, but all I can think about is that red mark on the calendar. With 5 minutes left in class, Dr. Peterson stops to hand back papers. I cringe, knowing that my paper was pretty bad. He sets my paper face down on my desk and pauses for a minute. I blush in embarrassment at my poorly composed paper, and glance sideways at him. I realize that his crotch is at my eye-level and blush even more. Why can't I think about anything other than sex lately? I glance back down towards my desk, wondering why he's still looking at me. Oh crap! I realize I'd taken my cardigan off in the middle of class and my nipples are as perky as ever. My whole body is hot from his attention, but I quickly shove the cardigan back on anyway.
He taps his finger on the paper, and then continues to hand back the rest of the papers. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His dress shirt and pants fit him well, and I realize he's well-built for an older man. His hair is graying around the temples, but it suits him. I hold my breath and turn the paper over, but there is no grade. I flip to the back, but can't find a grade anywhere. Instead, there is a note scribbled on the back page:
"Mylie, I'm concerned about your recent performance in this course. Please see me during my office hours. –Dr. P"
My heart is pounding as I shove the paper in my bag and rise to leave.
"Mylie, can you please see me for a minute," Dr. Peterson says as I head for the door. He is back at the front of the classroom gathering his papers. I recall some of my sisters' fantasies about Dr. Peterson starting just this way, and all the blood rushes to my face. I approach him, my heart pounding even louder.
"I want to talk to you about your paper, but unfortunately I won't be available during my regular office hours. Can you come by my office today around 4:30 instead?"
"Um, sure," I agree, trying not to think about the sexy fantasies my sisters are probably concocting right now.
I run to catch up with my sisters. "What was that about?" They ask, clearly intrigued.
I don't tell them that he wants to see me in office later that day, and instead make something up about him answering a question I'd e-mailed him. They lose interest, and begin talking about the upcoming Greek event, which is coincidentally the same day that Rick and I have planned to have sex for the first time. Normally this would bring about the fear and anticipation that's been plaguing me about the loss of my virginity to Rick, but instead all I can think about is Dr. Peterson.
The rest of the day is a blur, and I finally find myself in front of Dr. Peterson's door at 4:27. I wonder if the closed door means that he's gone. After all, most of his colleagues have already left for the day and the hallway is silent. I knock timidly on the door.
"Come in!" he calls out. I slowly open and the door and enter the room. He asks me to close the door and sit down in the chair across from him at his desk.
I suddenly feel very young, and inappropriately dressed. Why do I insist on dressing like all my other sorority sisters in these short jean skirts and tight tops? My tall heels suddenly seem silly for walking around campus. And why didn't I put a bra on? I tug on my shirt, but this only makes things worse by revealing more cleavage and accentuating my hard nipples.
I glance quickly at him to see if he noticed, and realize that he is appraising my outfit as well and seems to like it. He doesn't even try to hide his admiration of my long, bare legs as he confidently relaxes back in his chair and removes his glasses.
