Of all the "new professor" practices I'd adopted since my Intro to Creative Writing class kicked off six weeks ago, office hours have to be the least useful. Every Monday and Wednesday evening between 5:30 and 7, I open my door, as stated in my "open door policy," and wait. No one ever comes.
I try to tell myself this is because I am doing such a good job in my standard 1 - 1:45 MWF slot that no one feels the need to seek out extra help. It's an unconvincing argument, but there is no one around to counter it.
Given this, I am caught more than a little off guard when Selina shyly pokes her head in my door. I recognize her, though she rarely speaks in my class β her essays have piqued my interest. She writes with a flair for the dramatic, creating situations for her characters that are imaginative and exciting. Even if they're not perfectly plausible, they're fun to read.
As much as I like to think of myself as an attentive, present professor, I've noticed all of this because of the other noticeable quality about Selina β she's a total babe. Long, dark auburn hair that waves and lightens as it reaches her tiny waist. Round and soft in places that would beg to be touched...under other circumstances. She had a knack for accentuating her long legs with short skirts and high heels, and her deep brown eyes are framed with thick bangs and glasses. She reminds me of an intellectual, cheeky mermaid from the 70's that has just come to land and found legs.
Needless to say, Selina has never before come to my office hours. I'm surprised to see her. "Hi, Mr. G," she says as she half peeks in the door.
"Hi, Selina," I greet her. "Great to see you. My office hours have not managed to draw a crowd as of yet. I should know better than to try and compete with happy hour..." I trailed off, embarrassed that a 19-year-old can make me tongue tied. Not all 19-year-olds looked like mermaids.
"Intimidated, I'm sure," she says kindly, stepping her way fully into my office, closing the door behind her. She took a seat in the chair in front of my desk. She crossed one bare leg over the other and dangled her foot, tapping it rhythmically as if keeping time to a song in her head.
"What can I do for you?" I asked her.
"I was hoping you might be able to offer some extra curricular assistance," she smiled slyly and leaned in towards me. Her gorgeous, full breasts peeked out over the top of the white button down she was wearing. If I didn't know better, I would think she was flirting with me.
"I am always here to assist. Curricular and otherwise."
She leaned forward and spread her legs slightly, looking up at me in a way that I felt increasingly sure was intended to seduce. "I was hoping you would say that," she said in a voice that was soft and deep. "You've been on my mind. Not exactly in a curricular capacity..." She looked up at me and, though I was unsure I was reading her signals correctly, I felt my cock grow hard in my pants.
"I'm sorry. I know that's forward. But I was hoping you might be open to it." She placed a hand on her knee, drawing my attention to her tan, toned legs. Her skirt was short and I thought I caught a glimpse of a pair of pale, pink panties. Was it possible she was suggesting what I thought she was?
"I'm not sure I quite understand what you need from me..." I stammered, both hoping and not that my interpretation was correct.
"Well," she practically purred, looking up at me from beneath her thick, sassy bangs, "I was hoping you might come over here and kiss me." She brought her hand to the buttons on her white blouse. She moved slowly, continuing to make eye contact with me. One by one, she unbuttoned them to expose a sexy, baby blue lace bra. Her tits looked so full and voluptuous, overflowing the cups.
"Selina, I could lose my job for this. You are a gorgeous, very sexy young woman, but you have to understand there are consequences for me here."
She slipped her forefinger and thumb into her right cup, and began pinching her nipple. It grew hard, peeking out of her bra. She threw her head back slightly and smiled mischievously. "If you tell me to leave, I'll get up and walk out of here. But I'm hoping you won't."
All of my judgement and wisdom and ethics and training. None of it pointed to this. But here she was a fully consenting, stunning young woman, and she was touching herself in front of me.
I stood up out of my chair and walked over to where she sat. I grabbed the hair in the back of her head firmly and slowly pulled her head back. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I asked her.