What else had he said? He had talked of her beauty, her intense sexuality, her seductive, sensual nature. All the time, she had been thinking that he hadn’t noticed her. But he had. He had seen her, he had appreciated her, and yet he had chosen not to take advantage of her. When was the last time a man had deliberately chosen not to take advantage of her when given the opportunity?
She poured another glass of wine and sank into the couch. Slowly, she stopped thinking about her grade and her paper and her future. But she kept thinking about that gentle, encouraging man who had appreciated her beauty and her sexuality, but chose not to exploit them, preferring to push her to realize the power of her own mind. And in her half-drunken state, all sorts of interesting ideas began springing to her mind…
The next morning, about half way through his second cup of coffee, Professor Jones heard a knock on his office door.
“Come in,” he called. A moment later, she was walking into the room and settling herself into the chair directly across the desk from him.
Professor Jones immediately noticed that she was wearing exactly the same outfit she had worn on their first meeting in his office. Then he noticed the same heady scent she had worn. And then he noticed something new. There was something in the way she held herself, a twinkle in her eye and a strength in the way she set her jaw that distinguished her from the desperate student he’d seen two weeks earlier. Across the desk, he now saw a formidable, confident woman – and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She didn’t wait for him to speak.
“I owe you a great deal, Professor Jones. You’ve been kind, patient and encouraging with me. Thanks to your help I think I’ll be safe from academic probation this term. And more importantly, I think I’ll be able to approach next term’s courses with a newfound confidence.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” he replied. “It’s gratifying to see a student grasp the true power of her mind.”
“Nevertheless,” she interjected, “I can’t help thinking that there is unfinished business between the two of us.”
Jones eyed her suspiciously.
“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” he replied. “I asked you to rewrite a paper for me, and you did an admirable job. I’m not sure what business might be unfinished.”`
She nodded a handful of times before she inquired, “What about the requests I made to you?”
“The requests you made of me?” Jones seemed to be struggling to understand what she meant.
“Come now, Professor.” Her tone was almost dismissive. “I was practically begging for it.” And with that, she settled herself further back in her seat to observe him, as though preparing to watch an adversary squirm.
Professor Jones pressed his fingertips together and thought a moment before responding.
“I believe what you proposed was transactional in nature. Quid pro quo. You offered me…umm…something…in return for a grade. I declined your offer.”
“And yet,” she now leaned forward, anxious to force home an advantage, “You gave me the grade I wanted. Don’t you want to collect on the debt?”
“Not at all.” He smiled warmly, still the friendly, supportive instructor. “You earned your grade with your excellent work. There is no debt to collect. Besides,” and here Jones’ expression softened, and he offered her a cheeky, conspiratorial smile, “What you offered is worth far more than a measly grade. Even an A+.” And for the first time, she saw his eyes move appreciatively over her body. It made her feel bolder.
“Well, then. Now that I’ve earned the grade, would you agree it was impossible for me to propose the same transaction?”
It was Jones’ turn to nod.
“So, if I presented you with the same opportunity as before…,” she calmly unfastened one of her shirt buttons, “Nobody could misconstrue it as a transaction, to earn a grade?”
“That’s true,” he admitted, his eyes fixed on the widening gap in her blouse. “However, someone might wonder exactly what had motivated such a generous offer.”
Her response was simply, “Let them wonder!”
Their eyes held each other unwaveringly for quite some time. In the quiet office their breathing synchronized, and each of them contemplated the possibilities that the other presented.
Eventually, she spoke again.
“You make a wonderful teacher. I wonder if you have anything more to teach me?”
“And you make a wonderful student. I have some curriculum ideas we could discuss – topics you might like to investigate in depth.”
“Yes,” she smiled. “A very, very deep investigation is exactly what I was hoping for.”
This whole experience seemed surreal, and left her feeling a little giddy. The previous night, sometime after her first glass of wine but before finishing the bottle, she realized that the gratitude and admiration she felt toward her professor had blossomed into affection. Soon after the bottle was drained, she found her mind drifting into a wonderland of fantasies in which Professor Jones featured prominently. When she awoke, she still felt that girlish excitement. But it was paired with a woman’s sense of purpose. She had shaved herself clean. She had dressed swiftly but seductively, deliberately omitting panties, which she hoped would be superfluous. She had marched from her home intent on finding whether her fantasies might become reality. Now she was seated across the desk from him, exulting in the way his eyes were hungrily examining her body. And they were nice eyes, too. Cool and steely grey. They remained kind, even while they sought to work their way directly through her clothing.