***Authors Note: This is my first attempt at putting a story out into the public eye. It starts slow, but hopefully ends well. I welcome any and all comments. Thank you, and enjoy.***
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Thomas was very nervous, very dreadfully nervous. It was his final tutoring session with Emily before his final exam, and he wasn't even worried about how he was going to perform on the test. He was worried because this session felt much different than any other before it. The last few months had been leading up to this night, whether he was aware of it or not.
Emily was nearly five years older than Thomas, and currently a graduate student, who did tutoring on the side to make a little extra cash. She was helping Thomas through his Epic Poetry course. Going into the final he had a low A grade, and he knew with a good final exam score he would that A, which would greatly help his GPA. He wasn't really that nervous about the exam; he had over prepared for it and was confident he would breeze through it, unlike some of his fellow students. He would have to completely bomb this last exam to not pass the class at all. So, nearly all of his focus was on Emily, thinking back on how the past few months had progressed.
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He had been attracted to her from the moment they first met back in mid-September. He had quickly discovered he was in over his head, and that Dante, Virgil and Homer were going to bury him unless he was able to find help. She had knocked softly on his door, and with great trepidation he had answered it. He had spoken with his professor and was placed on a list to be paired with a tutor and his expectations had been an uppity, overly confident male grad student who would talk down to him and belittle his ignorance of ancient literature. Upon seeing who the course instructor had matched him with for his tutoring sessions, he was left nearly speechless.
She stood at his door, a currier style bag slung over her shoulder, smiling at him with a genuine smile. Her blue eyes shone brightly, with authentic happiness as she asked, "Are you Thomas?" in the most wonderful British accent he had ever heard.
"Uh...," he replied, before coughing quietly and finally answering, "Yeah. I'm him... I mean, that's him... I mean, that's me."
She chuckled, "Perfect, I'm Emily. Dr. Cloughton set me up as your tutor for the semester."
"Perfect," he mimicked, with a goofy grin plastered on his face.
She smiled, and then waited patiently, as Thomas just stood staring at her.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Emily bit her lip softly and asked, "Would it be okay if I came in?"
"Oh crap, yes of course, I'm sorry," he said, as he quickly backed up, opening the door to his small apartment fully. He backed up so quickly he got his feet tangled and nearly fell to the floor. He grabbed for the handle on the door in hopes of saving himself, but his fingers slipped as he tumbled backwards. Luckily Emily reached out and grasped his arm before he managed to fall to the floor in complete embarrassment. Her radiant smile remained in place through the whole ordeal.
"I'm okay, sorry, two left feet I guess," he sputtered.
She chuckled softly again, "Not a problem. Why don't you show me where you want to start and we'll set out a plan of action for the semester."
He was enamored with her laugh and smile. They pulled him in and immediately made him feel comfortable. Small laugh lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes with each smile, testifying that she was likely happy a great amount of the time. It was infectious, and he began feeling his own face stretch with a smile, as well.
Thomas gestured to the small living room/dining room/common space that was also directly adjacent to the kitchen.
He shrugged, gave an embarrassed half-smile and said, "Not a lot of options, it's pretty small."
"Seems perfectly cozy to me," she replied, dropping her bag onto the worn brown couch. "Cozy-comfy, perfect for studying."
"I suppose so," he replied, quickly seeing how she was likely the type of person to put a positive spin on everything.
That night they didn't crack one book. Instead, Emily laid out her plan of attack, a step-by-step approach to getting Thomas into a situation where he could succeed. He did his best to focus on what she was saying, but he was constantly forcing himself to refocus on their plan. Too often he found himself distracted by her beauty and presence.
She had dark brown hair which she had pulled back into a ponytail, but when free would fall to just above her shoulder blades. Her enchanting blue eyes never lost the energy he had seen when he had opened the door. She had a very cute nose, cut sharp, but perfectly suited for her face. She wore capris, opened toed sandals, and a loose blouse top that managed to hide some of her figure. Thomas, however, was able to observe enough through her movements to discern she was lean, muscular in a very feminine and attractive way, and had absolutely perfect breasts.
Trying to imagine just what her body looked like under her clothes was one of his biggest distractions. He felt guilty, thinking of her in such a sexual way after just meeting her, but he was also very aroused. Thomas was constantly shifting and adjusting his body as he sat on the couch next to her, in an attempt to keep his growing erection from being seen.
Emily seemed distracted by his constant motion, but seemed to be writing it off as nervous energy. Her focus stayed on her study plan, which she had laid out in a excel sheet.
"Dr. Coughton likes to pretend he doesn't play favorites when it comes to the epic authors, but those of us who've been around long enough know he has a soft spot for Dante. Be prepared for the Divine Comedy. I think we need to spend roughly half of our energies there. If we can get you super knowledgeable and comfortable with that particular work it's going to set you up really well."
"Yeah, I saw that on the syllabus, but I honestly have no idea what it's about. Only the references I've heard in pop culture, and I seriously doubt that's going to do me any favors," Thomas said.
"No, you're better off forgetting anything you've heard. But don't worry; I know what I'm doing. I promise if you stick with me and the schedule, "she said, gesturing to the Excel sheet, "I'll get you to the end in good shape. "
"Thank you. I already feel much better about this. That first day of class, I was seriously worried I was in over my head."
"Thank me at the end. Any other questions?" she asked.
"Well, nothing that really pertains to Epic Poetry," he responded.
