Being a teacher is a fine profession. You get out in front of that class and these eager minds are watching you, ready and willing to absorb your wisdom. Your every utterance is noted and considered as the students strive to learn and improve themselves.
That's the theory, anyway. Sometimes you get good classes that actually listen and you teach them. Other times you get bad classes and you force them to learn anyway. And, occasionally, you'll get a class where you get the impression that you're trying to lay down a foundation on quicksand. Everything you tell them is sucked down, never to be seen again.
It comes as something of a shock when you have a good class and, by some evil magic, it transforms into a quicksand class. It happened to me recently. The class, a senior class, was usually easy to teach, so I was perhaps a little slow in picking up that things were going wrong. Once I did I had to bear down hard, harder than if I'd picked up the problem earlier.
Once I knew the problem existed I did my best to isolate the trouble-maker, but there's only so much you can do in the actual classroom. It's not considered politically correct to turn on one of the girls and ask it it's her time of the month or does she just have run-away hormones, but I can tell you, I was tempted.
However, there was nothing to stop me having a quiet chat with the offender after the class. Accordingly I dropped a small hint to Miss Suzy Foster that I'd like to see her in my office as soon as it was convenient for her. And it was going to be convenient for her immediately, if she got my drift. Suzy got my drift and admitted that she had some spare time right then and she'd be delighted to see me in my office.
She didn't look all that delighted as she trailed along behind me, but that didn't really worry me. She was going to be even less delighted after I'd finished with her.
In my office I settled down behind my desk and gave Suzy the old fish-eye. She'd been about to sit in the visitors chair, but hastily changed her mind. She stood in front of the desk, looking nervous.
I just looked at her for a short while, letting the tension build a little. Then I started in, rather casually.
"Just what is your problem?" I asked.
"Um, I'm not sure what you mean," she muttered.
"Oh, how about all the sexual innuendo in any answers you gave? You were quite inventive in your ability to make even the simplest questions seem smutty. I had the impression that you were trying to shock everyone, and not doing too bad a job of it, either."
"No, I wasn't," came the expected response. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do. I'm just trying to work out what's behind it. You've just turned eighteen, haven't you?"
"Well, yes, but what's that got to do with anything?"
"Possibly nothing. Possibly a lot. Once I caught on to what you were doing I kept an eye on you and noticed an interesting little side glance every so often, usually just after you'd made some smart-arse comment. Do you want to know what I decided?"
"Not really," came the expected reply.
"Mm. I didn't think so, but I'll tell you anyway. Now that you're of age you've decided to get laid and the whole thing in class was just part of your courtship ritual. There was just one little point I couldn't make up my mind on."
Her face was bright red, and she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so I dropped it.
"I could see where you were looking but couldn't quite believe it. I wouldn't have thought Mike was your type."
"Mike?" she said with a yelp. "I wouldn't be caught dead with him. Shows what you know. It's all in your imagination."
She seemed to have recovered a little bit of aplomb. It was almost a pity to disrupt it again.
"That's what I thought where Mike was concerned. Then I spotted Greg sitting on the other side of him. That made a lot more sense, although I think you've opened the door for a bit of trouble for yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Mike was watching your little glances and he thinks you were coming onto him. You're going to have to fight him off with a stick. And I don't think Greg noticed, because Mike was blocking his view. You'll have to try again where he's concerned."
A red-faced Suzy made some spluttered denials but it was pretty obvious that I'd hit the nail on the head. I finally held up a hand to shut her up.
"If you want to invite Greg to get into your panties that's between you and him. I just don't want you using my classroom for your courting rituals. You'll find I'm a lot harder to shock than your classmates, but if you try you'll also find it will be a lot easier for me to shock you. So don't go throwing out any challenges."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," she said huffily.
She wasn't going to back up one inch. She'd made her plans and was going to stick to them, and I could take a hike.
"If you're thinking of challenging me, think again," I said softly.
She just lifted her pretty little nose in the air and said nothing.
"You don't think I could or would shock you?" I asked.
"Not really. What could you do?"
"You're starting to irritate me. Not a wise thing to do to your teacher. You want me to shock you? In our next class I'll publicly ask you to try to refrain from seducing Mike while in the class. That will make you a laughing stock, have Mike haunting you for weeks, and scare Greg off. Won't that be fun?"
Suzy just stared at me in horror, her mouth hanging open.
"You wouldn't," she said, a frightened squeak in her voice.
"No, I won't, because you're going to give me an incentive not to. You're going to lower your panties and lift up the front of your skirt and show me what is causing our current problems."
Now she was shocked. Score one for me.
"You want me to . . ."
I nodded graciously.
"And in return I won't say a word about you, Mike, or Greg an you'll confine your hunting to outside my class. As a bonus, I'll give you a tip on how to land Greg. Let him know Mike is bothering you, and he'll come over all protective. Get him to help you and see how it goes, but make him do the chasing if you really want to catch him."
Suzy stood there staring at me, trying to work out if I was serious about her having to flash me. I just looked calmly back at her, waiting.
"Um, you don't seriously expect me to, ah, lift my dress?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. It's not going to hurt you and it will help you decide if you're serious about having sex with Greg."
"How can showing you help me decide about Greg? I love him. I want to be with him. You're just a teacher."
"True, but if you're too nervous to show me then you may find yourself too nervous to let Greg see you. Call it part of your education."
It quickly became obvious that Suzy was flustered and not thinking too clearly. Instead of just pushing her panties down a little way she pushed them right down and stepped out of them, grabbing them and stuffing them into a pocket of her jacket. Then, blushing all the while she lifted the front of her dress, showing off her pussy.
I got out of my chair, rounded the desk and sat on the visitor's chair next to her. She was looking determinedly elsewhere when I stroked the little tuft of fur.
"A heart," I murmured. "Cute. You have very nice curves here," I added, running my fingertips lightly over those curves.
Suzy gave a little squeak, but apart from that didn't move. She was standing with her feet parted, which meant that I could trace those nice curves down and around, so I did, finally giving her mound a little squeeze which somehow or other turned into a gentle massage.
"Are, are you going to rape me?" came a worried enquiry.
"That depends," I told her. "Would you like me to rape you?"
Now she looked at me. Her head snapped around and she glared at me.
"Why would I want you to rape me?" she demanded.
"I don't know. It would be your decision, not mine. Some women like to be raped. Some don't. Maybe you'd like the feeling of being utterly helpless while a man slides his cock into you, using you as his toy. There's also the fact that it would absolve you of any guilt. It's not your fault if a man wants you so much that he takes you without permission. A man so carried away with lust for your body that he has to have you.
Just think, you'd be lying there, watching this man's cock slowly sink into you, feeling your virginity yielding to him, knowing there's no undoing what is happening. All you can do is lie there and go along with what he wants."
Whether she wanted to be raped or not was one thing. Her current state of arousal was something else. I could already feel moisture seeping out from between her lips as I continued lightly massaging her pussy.
"There's another benefit. With the rapist having robbed you of your virginity you can turn to your true love, knowing that when he takes you it will be all pleasure and no pain."
I smiled up at her, noting that she was breathing hard. She was also moving restlessly against my hand.
"There again, you may prefer to lose your virginity to the man of your choice, reserving the right to be raped for another time, just to see what it's like. Or you may decide rape isn't for you and do your best not to get into a situation where you might be."
I shut up, watching her face.
"Are you saying getting raped is the woman's choice?" she asked, plainly not believing it.
"Not really, but if you consider it I'm sure you'll find that there have been instances where the woman could have avoided the situation or fought her attacker off or screamed and scared him off. Women have been known to deliberately provoke an attack just to see what it's like."
"Are you saying I'm provoking you?"
"I could make a case for it but I won't. Neither will I rape you unless you ask me to. That doesn't mean that I'm not willing to seduce you."
"That's stupid. If I ask you to rape me I'm giving permission and it's no longer rape. And I don't want you to seduce me. Um, you said I only had to show you. You didn't say anything about touching."
