All characters engaged in sex acts are eighteen or older.
"Gianna Garnier," the receptionist called. The dean's office was in a three story building with columns at the front of the university campus. Gianna stood, her stomach flopping and her legs shaky. People sometimes told her how they couldn't imagine going in front of thousands of people like she did at her games. But when it was only one it was worse. The attention was all on you
personally.
She wore a pair of cream slacks and a conservative blue blouse. Markus no doubt wouldn't have approved. She gritted her teeth. The purpose of her visit was to see what she could do. She was on academic probation and didn't want to fail out of school.
The Dean was a heavyset, white haired man with a loud, lively voice and an open, blunt face. He stood when she entered. "Nice to meet you Dean Beyers, I'm Gianna Garnier." She held out her hand.
"Good to meet you, Gianna, your reputation precedes you, as you might have guessed." He chuckled. "Please, have a seat."
The inside of his office was decorated with pennants from the university as well from his East Coast alma mater. There was an open laptop on his desk along with a little stand with the state flag. "Thanks for seeing me, sir," she said.
"I have an idea of what brings our star volleyball player here, but I think it would be better if you told me in your own words." Wait, did he know why she was here? How could he? She wondered how many students came to plead their case like this.
"Umm..." she stammered, tapping her fingers on the antique wooden desk. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about my academic probation." She paused, and when he said nothing she continued. "I just want you to know," she gulped, "To tell you that I'm ready to turn over a new leaf and get serious about my education."
He nodded and got up, getting a red plastic cup of water from his cooler. He set it in front of her. "You look like you need it." He gave a kind smile. Gianna was hoping to go through this without tears. She hated when people cried to manipulate.
Gianna took a couple of sips and continued. "I'm getting private tutoring to improve my grades and I intend to bring them up enough that I pass everything. There's just too much here for me at school that I care about. I do care, even if it doesn't look like it, sir. And not just about sports and friends, but grades too!" This kind of thing was so difficult. Did she sound insincere?
The dean leaned back in his chair. "You're still young, Gianna. A lot of kids your age come through here and go the way you're heading. They're used to coasting through high school or used to everything going their way and it's a shock once they make it to university." A bead of sweat ran down Gianna's side from her hot armpit. "And I'll be frank with you," he continued, "Plenty of them have been here just like you begging for another chance, insisting that they've seen the light. I'm not going to patronize you, Gianna, I ordinarily would just listen to your sob story and send you on your way."
"You would?" Gianna stared at him. She held her breath for the "but."
"Well, your letter changed my mind. Not everyone gets a second chance like this." Wait, what letter?
Gianna tried to play it cool. "It did?"
He smiled, a little pleased to catch Gianna off guard. "The recommendation from Dr. Rosen. He's been here forever, and between you and me, he doesn't hand out recommendations like this lightly. He even came and spoke to me personally. He must really be taken with you." The dean's face faded and she saw Markus's smug visage replace his. He had waylaid her once again. The dean flipped around his computer screen.
Sure enough, there was an email from Markus. Gianna read it, dumbfounded. "Fine young lady," "Diligent and obedient," "Committed and faithful." It was as if everything had a double meaning: an academic, professional tone the dean would pick up and an entirely different one she would see. She gulped. "Sir..."
"You see why I put a bit more stock in your words now? You don't know how much this means from an old grouch like Markus Rosen. He and I were in the same graduating class. I only knew him in passing, but if you knew the reputation he had..." he shook his head.
"So, sir, if... ummm..." she struggled for the words.
"Yes, if you pass all of your classes, you'll be off academic probation next semester. Dr. Rosen told me that he spoke to all your other professors too. You're not out of the woods yet. I looked at your grades and you've got a long way to go, though I've certainly seen stranger things." He sighed.
She didn't have any questions after that, and she was stunned by what the Dean had told her. Thanking him profusely, she left. And though she hated it, she silently thanked Markus too.
--
Dr. Rosen:
I'll be there in ten minutes. I trust you'll be waiting for me outside?
Miss Garnier:
Of course, sir. And I think you'll like what I have on.
Let him think on that. She was a bundle of nerves since she came out of the dean's office a couple of days before. But it was different this time. When they last met it was borne of her disgust and anger at Markus, at his audacity and arrogance. Her conversation with the dean had been running through her mind over and over. With all Markus had done behind the scenes, she realized what a chance she had been given. In a strange way he was caring for her, holding her accountable. She hated it, but she had to admit that him believing in her meant... something. Dean Beyers had implied that Markus had high standards. What had he seen in her. Of course he was a horny old man and that motivated him, but she realized there was more than that.
This time too, there was a longing to see him. Though it irked her, she wondered what he would make her do this time. It was only a matter of time before he actually fucked her, she assumed. And when she thought of his cock inside her thrusting and his hands all over her body, she was ashamed of how it made her feel.
There was no skirt this time. She turned around, looking at her firm ass in the mirror in the little white pair of shorts she wore. They showed her long legs plenty and were tight enough to show her butt. She had never been much for showing her butt off, since she was under the impression that guys liked big butts. While hers was a nice shape, it was small, girlish almost. Markus, on the other hand, seemed to like whatever she had to show him. God knew he had seen every square inch of her and had only complained when he couldn't see enough.
She shivered thinking of his old perverted eyes roaming her body. Her light green tank would be adequate. No bra of course. Markus would certainly be happy to see her shoulders and the sides of her tits. It was another part of her body she had never been particularly enamored of, but Markus had pawed at her meager boobs every time he got the chance.
Gianna finished dressing and tried to steel herself for Markus's bullshit. But this time something was different. It had nothing to do with her other feelings about him helping her, though. She had known guys were attracted to her, but it was nothing like Markus's fawning. To her, her body was optimized for volleyball. Fitness was her primary concern, so she never considered herself much to look at. And though plenty of guys liked her, when there was a girl with big tits in the room she might as well have been invisible. She decided to leave her straight hair down around her shoulders and went outside to wait.
It was a beautiful day outside, full of blooming flowers and buzzing insects. They had planted a little flower garden in her apartment complex, and it shined this time of year. The sun was out, but it was not too hot.
Somehow she had expected him to have a nicer car, as an old four door pulled up next to her. She saw him inside and came forward. To his surprise, he came out too. "Hello, Miss Garnier. You're looking gorgeous today." There was that smug smile again, and to Gianna's surprise, he opened the door for her. It seemed like he had tried to look a little nicer than usual. His clothes were at least a decade out of style, but his beard was well-trimmed and he had put his hair back in a ponytail and put some kind of product in it. Not quite handsome, but the effort was worth something, Gianna supposed.
"Thank you, sir," she said coolly. She pretended not to notice him reach his hand out to hers to help her inside the car and sat.
"I hope you're doing well today," he said.
"Yes, sir," she said.
"I'm happy we'll finally be getting you some appropriate clothes today, Miss Garnier," he said as he sat down and put the car in gear. "It's a shame to have that magnificent body of yours and not show it off."
Gianna felt a spark of anger with the snap of heat and wetness down below. He was doing it to her again. "Why don't you just send me what you like and I'll order it in my size, sir?"
"I thought women liked to shop," his tone was mocking. "You know when I was your age, this was all we could do. It's what I still do when I need something. Besides, I want this to be something we do together, an experience. You're going to have some choice in this."
Thinking she could get away with it with his attention on the road, she rolled her eyes. Then she jumped, feeling his hand on her leg. "Smooth," he said. "When did you last shave?"
"Last night, sir," she said.
"And your pussy? You're letting it grow out like I told you to, I hope."
Her ears burned. She was going to answer him, but his hand moved up her thigh and insinuated itself into the cuff of her shorts. His fingers moved in further, then stopped short. "Underwear, Miss Garnier?" His voice was agitated.
"I didn't think it would be a problem with shorts," she said. "You can't just flip them up and show you... everything. Like with a skirt."
They merged onto the highway. Traffic was light. Gianna felt his hand probing around her underwear. "I don't like your tone, Miss Garnier," he said. Gianna didn't answer.
Markus sighed and removed his hand. "My expectations for your behavior and attire aren't just for our study sessions. I expect you to always follow them around me."
