Making the Grade

"Okay, everyone!" English Professor Jon Dowd's voice boomed across the lecture hall. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and sighed as a hush fell over the hall. Jon took his place at the lectern and recited the speech he'd given to every English Literature Lecture Series class since he'd begun his lengthy career at West Pine Community College nearly 20 years before. He called it his "Come to Jesus" lecture. Only two weeks into the semester, Jon had already lost ten students to voluntary withdrawal, another six were in danger of being withdrawn for failure to perform academically. Out of the 65 students remaining, he knew another 10 would flunk the course, not because the material was too difficult, but because they thought his class would be an easy one. They were wrong. Jon's lecture series was his baby, refined and reformed over the years to hit all of the most important works of literature and their authors. Jon prided himself on being strict without being draconian.

"I know some of you are having trouble with the course load." Jon began his summary, "If you are finding that you can't handle this particular course, then I would urge you to think over the next few days, whether you can manage or if you should withdraw. If you choose to continue, you will be expected to hand in the work on time and to show up."

A few students rolled their eyes, most simply stared at their desk.

"If you need help, don't be afraid to ask for it." Jon continues, "There is no excuse for failing this class."

Turning his back on them, Jon strode to the whiteboard and wrote out the next essay assignment.

"Next Friday, I want to see a real effort from all of you, to delve into the writings of Dylan Thomas." A collective groan erupted from about half of the class. Jon turned and waited for silence.

"All next week, we'll compare different examples of Thomas' works and your essays should reflect some of that as well. Don't think you can hand in your honors English Thesis from Junior year, I want fresh new work from all of you." With that said, Jon made a shooing gesture at the door and dismissed his class.

Despite all of the minor headaches, Jon loved his job. He loved the idea of bringing his students an understanding of some of the most influential written works known to man. He liked to think that he was doing his job well and he took pride in all of the assignments he handed out.

After his last class, Jon spent an hour in the campus fitness room. Nearing fifty, he took great pride in his athletic build and had vowed early on not to let himself go. By 6:00 pm, he was back in his office to gather his brief case and the stack of essays he'd collected and drove home humming to himself.

Jon sighed as he took the turn into his driveway, the front door lit by the porch light. He sat in his car momentarily and steeled himself for the trip into the house. While Jon was happy with his career and satisfied with himself as a teacher, one aspect of Jon's life was lacking. After 15 years of marriage, Jon's wife had grown cold and distant. She no longer initiated physical contact and often spent more time harping at him than anything else. With a deep resignation, Jon forced himself out of the car and through the front door. All through dinner, Jon worked to engage Jen in friendly conversation. Tonight she complained about his inability to put his coffee mug in the dishwasher in the morning. After 20 minutes of listening to her bitch at him, Jon retreated to his office saying he had papers to grade.

Breathing a sigh of relief as he closed the door, he flopped heavily into his chair and rested for a moment. Jon thought about the first years of their marriage -- the passion Jen had shown towards him, and he wondered silently why she no longer wanted his company. Shaking off the disappointment, Jon picked up the stack of essays from the lecture class and began to read. Half-way through the stack Jon looked up at the clock. It was after midnight, he was certain Jen had gone to bed hours ago, so he crept quietly to the kitchen and helped himself to beer. Returning to the stack of papers, Jon was reading one student's insightful take on William Blake's "Tiger,Tiger". He was impressed by the girl's writing style and he flipped back to the first page to check the name -- Sasha Connor, he smiled. Jon wrote a few comments on the essay and added a note at the end "Very insightful. Nice job." When Jon set the essay aside, he tried to recall the young lady who had penned the essay, but was unable to put a face to the name.

Jon spent most of the weekend grading papers in his office and avoiding his wife. He was grateful for Monday morning and drove to the college with a smile. Normally, on Monday morning Jon would hand out the graded essays without comment, today however he stood at the front of the room and smiled at the students.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," He began, "I just wanted to let you all know that it was my distinct pleasure to award the first A of the year. Sasha Connor, could you please come up and get your essay."

Jon watched as a young, slim brunette stood in the back row. Sasha was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a skin tight tee shirt. She walked to the front of the room with her head down, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. When she reached the lectern, she looked up with bright, intelligent brown eyes and he smiled warmly.

"Very nice work, Sasha." Jon handed the essay back to her. "Everyone else, well done, I am please to say that most of the grades were Bs and no one received and F."

Jon handed out the rest of the papers and then gave the first of his lectures on the works of poet Dylan Thomas. The rest of the week went smoothly, the only difficulties coming from his home life. Jon considered himself lucky to at least have a job he loved. During the lectures, Jon noticed that Sasha was bright and attentive, seeming to soak up every word. Though she participated very little in the discussion portions, he knew that she understood the material. Friday arrived and another stack of essays went into his brief case for home.

John was half-way to his car when he heard a panicked cry from behind him. He snapped his head around and saw Sasha barreling toward him.

"Professor Dowd! Stop!" She yelled and barreled toward him.

"Sasha, what's wrong?" Jon waited for her to catch up to him.

"My -- essay," she panted, "I -- need -- it -- back." "Why?" A slight irritation crept into Jon's voice.

"I...made a mistake." Sasha's voice was strained and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"I'm sure it's fine." Jon reassured her. Over the years he'd experienced his share of female dramatics over perceived 'mistakes'. Most of the time, the 'mistake' was nothing more than a comma or period out of place.

"No!" Tears began to fall from her eyes, "You don't understand! I handed in the wrong paper -- it's just a rough draft."

"Sasha," Jon sighed, "I'm sure it isn't nearly as bad as you think."

"Please," She pleaded with him, her hands shaking as she held out another essay, "I have the right one here, just -- give me the other one."

Jon was taken aback by her desperation. Her hysterics made him wonder if she may have plagiarized some aspect of the essay and was afraid she would be expelled.

"Listen to me, Sasha," Jon's voice took on a stern paternal tone, "I can't give you your paper back. That wouldn't be right."

Sasha's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Please," She whispered one last time, "I'll die if you read it."

Jon raised his eyebrows at her statement.

"Tell you what," He offered gently, "I'll accept this new essay, and as long as you 'rough draft' doesn't contain anything unethical, this whole incident will be our little secret, okay?"

Sasha nodded, still sniffling. She held out the paper, Jon took it from her and before he could say another word, she turned and fled. Left staring after her, Jon shook his head and sighed at the unnecessarily dramatic display. He stuffed the paper in his bag and drove home to face another round of miserable bitching from his wife.

After dinner, Jon settled down in his office with the stack of essays. Rather than search for Sasha's, he simply started at the top and worked his way through the pile. An hour later, a good portion of the stack was gone. Jon stood and stretched, still dreading the thought that he might have to report Sasha for cheating. Jon snuck into the kitchen and helped himself to beer. He had just popped the top when Jen entered the room.

"Oh," she looked disappointed, "I didn't know you were in here."

"Just taking a quick break." Jon apologized for being in his own kitchen.

Jen tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave. "Watching a movie?" He attempted a benign conversation with his wife.

"Yup." She answered and stared at the microwave.

"Want me to join you?" He asked, ever hopeful.

"Uh, no, it's fine." Jen brushed him off, "I'm sure you have lots of work to do."

The microwave beeped and before he could say anything else, Jen retreated to the living room.

Jon sighed and returned to his office, beer in hand. Giving in to curiosity, Jon picked up the paper Sasha had handed him in the parking lot. A brief read through offered no obvious signs of plagiarism. Sasha's assessment of Thomas' poems was thorough and intelligent. He set the essay to one side and continued with the pile. There were only a few papers left, when Sasha's original turned up. Jon braced himself and began to read. The first two pages were identical to the other essay, and Jon wondered what the fuss was about. The shock came on page three.

Jon blinked at the words on the page and, turning back to page two, he read the last line again:

It is evident in Thomas' poem 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night' that his depression...

...stroking him as she ran her tongue over his thick throbbing cock.

On page three something had gone terribly awry, instead of the conclusion of her essay, Sasha had accidentally stapled an erotic vignette that would have made a porn start blush.

"Oh, my." Jon muttered to himself, realizing that Sasha's fears came not from expulsion, but from exposure. Jon read on and by the time he reached the bottom of the page, his cock throbbed insistently.

Jon thought about what to do, he now knew that Sasha's essay was not plagiarized and he felt he should honor his word. However, the thought of discussing the erotic fantasy included in the first version frightened him. His cock wilted slightly at the imagined conversation and the consequences he could face if he were accused of sexual harassing a student.

The sex scene that Sasha had written stopped mid-sentence at the end of the page and Jon spent a fleeting moment fantasizing about reading the whole thing. The throbbing ache in his groin returned and he absently brushed his hand over the front of his pants. Relieved that Sasha would not be expelled and feeling more than a little horny, Jon locked the 'first draft' in the top drawer of his desk and headed upstairs to bed. It was 1 AM when he crawled in beside Jen and he flirted briefly with the idea of rubbing his hardness against her to wake her up, but he felt that wouldn't go over well. Instead he lay in bed, and willed sleep to come.

The next day, Jon found himself returning to his office to read Sasha's paper over and over again. By dinner time, the exercise had done nothing but leave him hot and hard with no sign of relief. Jen was loading the dishwasher when Jon made a decision and came up behind her in the kitchen. Jen jumped when he embraced her and he felt her muscles tense up. He pressed his erection against the small of her back in explanation.

"Want to go upstairs?" Jon teased, ever hopeful that Jen would have a change of heart about him. Instead she snorted in derision, "No."

Jon pulled back, his affection rebuffed. With a deep frustrated sigh, he turned on his heel and locked himself in his office. Re-reading Sasha's erotic scene for the tenth time, Jon gave in to his own needs. Seated in his office chair he unbuttoned his jeans and freed his aching member. Cock in hand, Jon closed his eyes and pictured Sasha, her slim hips and the gentle swell of her firm tits. Jon pictured her naked, a curtain of dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she rode him. Jon stroked his cock, imagining the feel of Sasha's tight pussy. He let himself want her, he stroked faster needing the rush of release. What pushed him over the edge was the thought of Sasha's full pink lips closing around his shaft, he gasped and erupted hot, sticky liquid all over himself.

Ashamed of himself and tired of his wife's abuse, Jon spent the next two nights sleeping on the couch in his office. Jon approached Monday morning with trepidation and excitement. On one hand he couldn't wait to get out of his house; Jen either didn't care that he was sleeping in his office or hadn't noticed, but either way the atmosphere of the house had passed chilly and entered the arctic zone. However, anxiety over having to face Sasha, made Jon linger in his car and he entered the lecture hall two minutes late.

"Good morning, good morning!" He called out as he took his place at the lectern.

"Yet another Monday and I am pleased to announce another A essay from Sasha Connor and also an A effort from Devon Small, both of you please come and get your essays, excellent job as always and I am very happy with the efforts most of you are making. Those of you who are not seeing the grades you desire, again I urge you to consider whether or not you should be in this class. The final day for voluntary withdrawal is Friday, after that if you are removed it will be, with an F."

Sasha had approached the lectern, her face a deep crimson color. Jon gave her a knowing smile and continued on with his class. Over the next week Jon found it difficult to concentrate on his lectures, he often found himself seeking eye contact with Sasha and though her general discomfort faded slightly, she still hesitated at meeting his gaze for long periods of time. Periodically through the week, Jon found himself becoming aroused in the middle of class as his thoughts wandered back to Sasha's erotic prose. He'd initially intended to give the paper back, but at the last minute, he'd left it locked in his office drawer, unwilling to part with the fantasy connection.

Thursday arrived and when Sasha passed him on the way in the door Jon whispered, "I was wondering if you could stay for few minutes after class?"

Sasha blushed and nodded, a look of fear on her young face. Jon blew through the lecture in record time, and dismissed the class ten minutes early. As the students filed out of the room, Sasha remained at her desk in the back row. Finally alone, Jon waved her to the front of the room and stepped down from the lectern.

"How are you?" He asked gently.

"Fine." She replied staring down at her shoes.

"I just wanted to assure you that, uh, nothing about your rough draft caused me any concern." He smiled and willed her to look him in the eye.

"Oh, god!" Sasha covered her face with her hands, "I'm so embarrassed."

"It's okay." Jon chuckled, "I didn't tell anyone."

"I don't know how I did that, how I let that happen." Sasha looked on the verge of tears again.

"Relax," Jon urged her, "I found the writing style very -- provocative."

Sasha's cheeks colored again and Jon chuckled.

"Honestly," he confessed, "It was very good." Taking a deep breath Sasha finally met his eyes, a faint, self-conscious pride glowed from her lightly tanned skin.

"Really?" She asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Really." It was Jon's turn to blush; the confession and her proximity making his cock stir in his shorts.

"Um, thanks." She murmured gently, looking away from him. "Can I have it back now?"

"Oh, that." Jon cleared his throat, "Well, I don't have it with me. I left it at home."

Sasha looked confused, Jon blushed again, not wanting to admit that he'd kept the essay only so he could re-read it one last time.

"I'll bring it tomorrow," He promised, "You can pick it up after class."

"Okay." Sasha let out a breath of relief and Jon picked up his briefcase, signaling the end of their conversation.

"See you tomorrow, Sasha." Jon winked at her and left the room.

That night Jon didn't even attempt to speak to Jen and she seemed fine with ignoring him as well. 2 AM found Jon wide awake and staring at the ceiling of his office, thoughts of Sasha filling his mind and inflating his cock. He'd reread her story three times that night, each time fighting the urge to stroke himself. Finally at 2:30 he gave up, allowing his mind to pull up the images of her denim clad ass and the low cut top that accented her small, firm breasts. Jon worked his hand into his boxers, taking a firm grip of his manhood as he imagined her long tan legs wrapped around his waist. He pictured his hands cupping her ass as he buried himself to the hilt in her tight wetness. Jon pumped his fist furiously, wishing it was her hand that gripped him so fiercely. He let the fantasy carry him away and in the moment before he exploded in ecstasy, he wondered what her pussy would taste like.

Jon muffled a moan as cum burst from the head of his cock. He lay panting, the relief of orgasm washing over him and fell into a restless sleep. The next morning Jon showered and stuffed Sasha's paper into his briefcase with a sigh of regret and drove to the campus. Once again after the lecture was over, he asked Sasha to stay for a moment.

Alone she gazed up at him, nervous apprehension apparent on her face.

"I just wanted to return this to you." He held the paper out to her.

"Thank you!" She gushed gratitude.

"You're welcome." Jon smiled, "But, I'm sorry to see it go."

Sasha blushed, grinning with pride.

"I was wondering..." Jon continued, "if, uh, I could, maybe, read the whole thing." Jon was nervous that she'd deny his request, but he had decided to risk rejection on the off chance she'd allow him access to the whole fantasy.

"The whole thing?" Sasha looked confused, "You want to read the whole story?"

"Yes, please." Jon held his breath waiting for her reply.

"Um, maybe." Sasha considered Jon for a moment, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course." He acquiesced, "I'll be in my office upstairs until 5 today, you can just let me know when you decide."

"Okay." She nodded and gave Jon a soft smile as she left the room.

Jon was seated at his desk in the liberal arts office building at 4:30. Typing grades into the database he'd nearly forgotten about Sasha.

"Enter!" He ordered when someone knocked timidly at his door. Sasha slunk into the room, and Jon's pulse raced.

"Hi," Sasha smiled self-consciously at him and he gestured her into a chair.

"I didn't expect to see you." Jon confessed, his own cheeks coloring slightly as he switched off the computer monitor.

"I know." She took a deep breath, "I wasn't sure I was coming, until I was half way here."

They stared at each other as the moments ticked by. Finally Sasha, cleared her throat and broke the silence.

"I've been thinking about what you asked me, and before I decide," She said softly, "I need to -- ask you something."

"Okay," Jon relaxed slightly.

"Um, when you read my 'essay'," she smiled at the word, "Did it -- I mean, did you... like it? I mean did it, excite you?"

Her trepidation was obvious, the nervousness echoing as she attempted to discover whether or not her explicit vignette had turned him on. Jon leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his pen, carefully considering his answer. He took a deep breath and let it out, deciding on total honesty.

"Yes," He looked her in the eye and set his inhibitions aside, "It excited me and I read it a thousand times."