She’d be damned before she let that happen!
She looked herself over in the mirror. Sure, she was older than all the cute little things in the class. But they were just girls, while she was all woman. She smiled at the firmness of her breasts, and the alluring curve of her hips. She approved of the shapeliness of her legs, and the wonderland of experiences her coquettish smile promised. “Professor Jones, you have no idea what you are in for,” she murmured, as she undid one more button on her blouse. She smoothed her skirt over her firm, full ass, picked up her car keys and sashayed out the door. She was on a vital mission, and she looked good!
Half an hour later, she sat opposite Professor Jones in his office. She pushed her chair back from his desk, so he would be able to see her in all her glory. The skirt was short, but not so short as to look cheap. She crossed her legs alluringly so he would be treated to the sweeping curve from her knee to the tip of her toe, and she let her tasteful black pump swing back and forth.
Professor Jones muttered his apologies as he busily tried to finish an email. She let the moments pass, idly twirling a little curl of her hair with her finger, and then allowing that finger to trace slowly down her neck toward her ample cleavage. Professor Jones was playing things very cool, she thought. Or else he simply hadn’t noticed how agonizingly sexy she looked.
Eventually Jones raised his eyes and offered her a warm and encouraging smile.
“I’m glad you came to see me,” he began. “Your last paper was…well…I’m not sure it was your best work.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I was under a ridiculous time crunch. Everything was due at the same time. And right in the middle of it all, my son fell ill.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The Professor sounded quite sincere. “How is he feeling now?”
Dammit, she thought. Here I am dressed to seduce the guy, and he’s got me talking about my son!
“He’s much better, thanks. He actually managed to return to school on Friday.”
“That’s great news. Maybe if you have a little more time on your hands, you might be able to rework the paper for me? Really show me what you can do?”
This was the chance she’d been waiting for — a chance to play on his sympathies, and to hint at the boundless gratitude she would show him if only she could receive a solid passing grade. She coaxed a little tear to appear as she widened her eyes imploringly. She leaned forward, to allow him a better view of the black lace bra that barely held her bountiful breasts. She let her tongue linger on her lips momentarily as she breathed, “Thank you. Thank you so much, Professor. I’d be overwhelmingly grateful for that chance. It’s so vital that I pass this course, and I will do anything — ANYTHING — to make sure it happens.”
It seemed odd to her, though, that his eyes never left her own. His voice seemed full of concern, without a hint of lecherous intent, as he offered, “I think you are an extraordinary student — an extraordinary woman. And I’m certain that, with a little work, you’ll be able to prove it in this paper.”
She actually felt herself blush a little as he said this.
By the time she arrived home, she was still unable to work out what had happened. No matter how many suggestive poses she had struck, how many times she had given him the chance to stare down her shirt, he had offered no clear reaction. Then again, he had been consistently warm and encouraging, and had insisted on an appointment the following week to discuss her progress. Perhaps that was when he would make his move? Well, next week she would dress to kill once more. That passing grade would be hers!
A week later, and she was knocking demurely on his office door once more. She chose to wear the same skirt as the previous week — after all, it was absolutely perfect in the way it showed off her legs and clung to her sumptuous ass. But this week’s blouse was sheer, and her bra was extremely thin. With the slightest breeze, her nipples stood upright and demanded attention from anyone who saw her.
She sat closer to the desk this time, and let one of her shoes fall from her foot. Having made sure that the office door was obscuring anybody else’s view, she let her stockinged foot stretch nearer his, so, later, they might casually touch.
She handed him a draft of the paper and watched, with some frustration, as he buried his eyes in the pages, leafing through quickly and scribbling occasional notes. Hoping to distract him, she leaned across the desk. She even interrupted, asking a tentative question about how he was finding her work. But neither the seductive neckline, nor the gentle cloud of perfume around her, not the foot she gently brushed across his leg or the breathy voice she used as she asked about the paper, were able to distract him.
“It’s…interesting…,” he mused, looking up and directly into her eyes. “I really like this theme you introduce in the third paragraph. But, you’ve been a little lazy in developing the idea.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here to whip me into shape!” she quipped, with a lascivious wink. But again the Professor appeared immune to her suggestions.
“I really need you to develop this idea more clearly, and to provide me with more convincing evidence.”
Taking the paper back from Jones, she let her fingers graze over his hand for a second. But there was no evidence that he noticed. He simply smiled encouragingly, and asked that she return on Friday.
“And remember, you are an extraordinary student — and an extraordinary woman.”
Thursday night she worked late, falling asleep at her desk as she attempted to improve her paper. Her late night efforts, however, were continually interrupted as she pondered how she could sway him in order to secure her passing grade. She was feeling less extraordinary by the minute — all her efforts, and he still hadn’t so much as raised his eyebrows in appreciation of her curvaceous form.
When she pried herself off her desk the following morning, she realized she had overslept. No time to primp or preen for the prof today: it was all she could do to run a comb through her hair, pull on some clean clothes and race off to his office in time for the meeting.
Damn, damn, DAMN! How could she have been so foolish? Time was running short in the term, and the sooner she managed to seduce her professor, the sooner her academic future could be secured. And under that pressure, she had chosen this time to come to his office looking…well…plain.
Not that it seemed to make any difference to Professor Jones. He ushered her into his office, and directed her to sit. He took the paper from her and busily started to read. A smile seemed to creep across his face, and he quickly began scribbling some notes in the margin.
“Is something wrong? Or funny?” she asked uneasily.
“On the contrary,” he quickly replied, “I think you’ve done an excellent job developing that theme we discussed last week.”
And with that, he began to analyze the work, offering critiques, commentaries, cautions and congratulations. He seemed very enthused.
“But, having said all of that,” he continued, “Your conclusions leave me totally confused.”
This sudden criticism caught her by surprise, and for once she let her seductive demeanor slip.
“What do you mean? The way I see it…” and she launched into a lengthy exposition of her ideas, carefully qualifying and clarifying her statements in response to his questions and suggestions. She supported her arguments by referring to various hypotheses and analytical frameworks they had studied in class as though this was the most natural thing in the world, and she added perspective with examples she drew from class readings.
“I see,” said Jones, staring vacantly at the ceiling. He blinked, and turned to her suddenly. “Well that makes perfect sense. Why didn’t you just write that in the first place?”
And faced with that simple question, she found herself lost for words.
Eventually she stammered, “I…um…I did write that. Um…didn’t I?”
But Professor Jones smiled, shook his head, and handed back her paper.
“Bring me the final draft on Monday. Oh, and don’t forget: you are an extraordinary student, and an extraordinary woman.”
Saturday night was a tense one. This last opportunity to write the paper, and to meet with the professor, was upon her. Her recent efforts with the paper had obviously fallen short of the standards her professor set, but at least she seemed to have made some progress in that direction. Her seduction attempts, however, seemed an unmitigated failure. Nevertheless, she was pretty sure she would still fail the class unless she was able to give the Professor some additional “encouragement” to pass her.
Despite all of this, there was another issue that kept gnawing at her. The criticism Professor Jones made of her paper had seemed unfair. For all his kind words and gentle encouragement, the guy just wouldn’t give her credit for any of her insights or arguments. With a jaded sigh she reread the previous draft to confirm her suspicions.
As she read her paper, however, something unexpected began to happen. Immersing herself in the process, she soon found that her focus improved. In no time, her mind was whirring at millions of miles an hour, reworking phrases, refining her logic, tightening her arguments. And the criticisms Professor Jones had made became clearer and easier to understand. It was true, the arguments she was presenting were good; but her conclusions were loose and poorly presented. There were gaps in her logic. She often failed to produce convincing evidence. But remarkably, all these issues she confidently addressed, correcting and improving the paper markedly before sleep finally took her in the early morning hours.