Everything was now ready.
The preparations had taken nearly three days.
One day to decide what to do, work out the design and details of my plan, and to write down a list of needed materials.
One day to shop for the items I didn't have, which was most of them.
And one day to do minor carpentry, set up everything and make a nice meal.
And now;
Dinner was prepared and the wine was cooling.
Candles were lit and music was playing.
The curtains were drawn.
Thick blankets and soft pillows were placed were they could be quickly grabbed. A heavy-duty clothesline was weaved through the frame of my leather couch and attached to simple pulley and lever devices that were bolted to the frame.
A half-dozen large bandana style scarves were tied up in slipknots; four of them were clinched to the clothesline.
A small bag of wooden clothespins, a pair of scissors and one of my leather belts were hidden in a drawer.
A new sex toy was hidden too.
It was a pretty simple plan, but the fun would be in seeing how I would be able to play it out. I sat in the romantically, but not too dimly, lit room sipping wine; just waiting.
Suddenly a car's headlights illuminated the front window.
Caitlin Darcy had arrived, only a few minutes late for our dinner date.
I played a game in my mind's eye trying to guess what she was wearing tonight and how she would look as she walked through my door.
Firstly, a picture of her crossed my mind:
Her hair was coppery-blonde and her eyes were emerald green. She had fair skin with a few freckles across her checks and upper chest that made her look cute and innocent. She was quite small and thin, but curvy. And she was very pretty.
And as I thought about what she might be wearing I heard footsteps coming up my walkway. She was wearing heels...excellent...
The first time I saw Caitlin Darcy she was sitting in the back of my small breakout discussion session of her geo-politics class. I was the graduate student/instructor for her class. She caught me eye immediately. Sitting there with her long thin Capri-clad legs crossed with an elevated foot dangling a strappy sandal and her right hand under her chin and holding up a bored-to-tears face. Her fitted pink tank top couldn't even try to hide the rounded swell of her breasts and nipples. But I remained business-like and appreciated her from a distance.
Most of the students in the class were doing rather well. But three weeks into the semester we had had our second quiz; Caitlin got a D-. This followed a D on the first one.
I returned the quizzes, face down, to the students. Then I got to my underachiever.
"Miss Hayes, I would like to talk to you immediately after class; just for a few minutes."
I place the quiz face down on her deck and tapped my index finger on it once. As I resumed returning the quizzes I heard her say, breathily, "Shit!".
I had mixed feelings about talking to Caitlin. I knew the type; privileged, arrogant, condescending and flippant. Well, that is what I thought. On the other hand she was looking particularly nice today. Sporting a short denim skirt, a cropped camisole top in teal and a pair of flip-flops on her feet. It looked like she was on vacation. I'm sure I felt butterflies in my stomach when I heard the slapping of her flip-flops against the soles of her feet.
"Please, you don't have to call me Miss Hayes. How about Caitlin or CD?"
I looked up to see that a smile really made her extraordinarily pretty; much better than that dour expression she usually had. "CD?" I inquired.
"That stands for Caitlin Darcy, my first and middle name. But my friends call me CD."
She pulled up a chair and sat next to me at the front desk. More than attentive, she was positively ebullient. She prattled about how interesting the course was and how good a teacher I was; all the while flashing a coy smile and rubbing her thighs together. Surely the hem of her skirt was beginning to slide, exposing even more leg. She touched my arm and hand with her fingertips and whipped her hair around to remove it from her face. It filled the air with an intoxicating fragrance and it took a great deal of will to stop her tirade.
"Miss Hayes...Caitlin; we really must talk about your grades and mastery of the course material."
"Oh, sure. Mastery, hmmm... I'm sorry; I know I'm not doing well. What can I do?"
"Are you reading the assigned material and reviewing the notes and handouts?"
"Not really."
"Are you working on the problem sheets?"
"Uh, no."
I looked blankly at her. "I think I know what the problem is here. Why are you not doing the work? Are you taking too many credits this term?"
"I'm taking 14, is that too many?"
"Shouldn't be; how much time are you studying after classes?"
Well...you know what? I need some incentive. I don't think this material is exciting me. Perhaps if you tutored me I would catch on. Is that possible?"
"I have my office hours posted on the department website."
"No! I need a private tutor. I can't make any of your office hours. I can pay you."
Needless to say, over the following few days we set up a weekly tutorial session. Caitlin would visit at 6 pm every Tuesday evening. I had annotated notes and strongly suggested readings. We went over the problems and the discussion questions. I was well prepared to help her to pass the course. I definitely looked forward to Tuesday night; clearly mine was more than only a professional interest.
Caitlin would arrive in the most amazing clothes. From week to week her outfits, despite the cooling temperatures of the deepening autumn, became skimpier and skimpier. Her flirtatiousness became more and more obvious. The sexual innuendo became more and more blatant. But gratifyingly her grades soared. On the last two quizzes she scored a B- and then a B+.
