The Student Ch. 03

"The other three were just by chance?"

"That's correct. Two of them I should have failed, they didn't know the material, and since it's an undergraduate prerequisite for nearly everything -- I felt they should have. But I didn't think it was fair to just adjust Miss Simpson's score without giving the same consideration to everyone, and for those four they all got slightly improved grades."

"Mr.B, what is your relationship with Miss..." she paused to look at the paper, but somehow I felt she knew exactly what her name was, "Simpson?" I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; my blood pressure must have been through the roof as I could also feel the vessels pulsing in my ears. I carefully chose my words.

"Miss Simpson is currently a student at this school and a former student of mine. I had her in class for two consecutive semesters, achieving well deserved A's both times."

"Thank you. Are you aware of whom James Patterson is?"

I was startled. James Patterson? Who the hell was James Patterson? The name sounded familiar, but yet... suddenly a thought popped into my mind.

"Um, Isn't James Patterson a novel writer?"

"Quite right, Mr. B," the speaker laughed. "However, we're speaking of a different James Patterson. Perhaps you would know him better by his nickname of JB?"

Immediately I knew who they were speaking of; a former student from several semesters' back that had immediately let it be known that James was his father, his name was JB -- and so it had gone into my book. I hadn't equated the two names until then. "Oh yes, of course. He was a student in my classes, probably two years ago. I'm sorry I really don't remember much of him." But what the hell did this have to do with anything?

"Thank you. And perhaps you can tell us, are you aware of a dining establishment called "Le Fontainebleau?" I wanted so desperately to wipe the sweat off my forehead, it was about to run into my eyes, but I refrained.

"Yes."

"Are you aware that Mr. Patterson is a waiter at Le Fontainebleau?"

"No, I was not."

"We have heard from Mr. Patterson that he witnessed you and Miss Simpson at that restaurant having a romantic little dinner for two about 8 weeks ago. Is this correct?"

Oh shit, ran through my mind. I hadn't seen Linda since that night, except in class. Now into the next semester, I hadn't even had that little bit of interaction in several weeks. What was this going to do to her? What would it do to her reputation? We hadn't done anything wrong, but I knew appearances could be more damning than evidence.

"Yes, I had dinner with Miss Simpson."

"But you say your relationship with Miss Simpson is as a "former student."

"Yes, that's correct."

"I see."

"Mr. B," my least favorite woman in the entire world at the moment started again; "Mr. Patterson said that he witnessed you holding hands, speaking quietly together and leaving together. Are these the type of activities that a former student and professor normally engage in?"

"No." I didn't expound, just let it be.

"Mr. B, are you currently married?

"No."

"Were you married at the time that you had Miss Simpson in your classes?"

"No."

"Mr. B. Have you had a relationship other than as student and teacher with Miss Simpson?"

It takes a lot to get me riled. "Turn the other cheek" was instilled into me by my parents at an early age, and for the most part it's always been the best policy. But as any cop knows, just keep asking the questions again and again, and eventually a liar will slip up, or the one being questioned will explode. I hadn't lied, not one word -- but I'd had my fill.

"Damn it, if you've got something to ask, Fucking Ask It! You're sitting here trying to entrap me into saying something wrong, trying to trap me in a lie, but it's not going to happen. My personal life and my professional life are two different things. No, I did not trade a grade for sexual favors. At the time that Miss Simpson asked for additional consideration she was just a student, and I was in a relationship with someone else. I didn't meet Linda socially until later that summer, between semesters and we hit it off, we hooked up. Yes, we had a relationship for several weeks -- but she broke it off. She didn't think it wise to allow anyone to know about our relationship, especially since she was going to be taking my class the next semester and she just didn't have time for me in her life.

Have you got anybody accusing me of something? Have you got someone complaining? You had a very minor discrepancy between how I normally grade and how I graded one semester, and since I am the Professor and according to the University Rules it says the grade is entirely my prerogative, I've done nothing wrong, and I've explained that. Last semester Linda Simpson called me when her car broke down in the middle of the night because she had no one else to call. I went out on the road at 3 am and picked her up. If you don't believe me, check the police report. I took her home to get her daughter and then helped her get a new car the following day. Afterward I took her out to dinner, and the last time I checked, it is not illegal for two consenting adults to have dinner together in a public place. That is all!"

It was quiet, nobody said anything.

"Dr. B, we're not making any accusations," we're just being sure that the facts all add up. One last thing, you said that at the time she was in your class you were in a relationship with someone else?" I thought about it, decided to answer.

"Yes."

"And could she corroborate that statement?"

"That I was in a relationship with her? Yes."

"More that you didn't have a relationship with Miss Simpson at that time."

"Is that a stupid question or what? Of course not! Look, I was married to a woman that was sleeping with her boss for months -- and I had no clue. If I'd been asked to testify whether she was having a relationship with someone at that time -- I'd have said no, and I'd have been dead wrong. The reality is unless you've got something specific, somebody who's accusing me of something, somebody who is complaining about something -- tell me. Otherwise, I'm done. I'm not participating in this witch hunt any longer."

I stood up, gave them 10 seconds, and walked for the door. I heard a "Dr. B" just as the door was swinging closed, but I just kept walking.

And that was the end of it. I never heard another word from anyone. As it turned out, they actually questioned every single professor about the way they created grades and applied them and even came out with supposed guidelines later on in a report. We all knew it was bullshit; it was just a cover for getting rid of a lawsuit that was waiting to happen. The head of the Humanities department was asked to step down at the end of the year. Nobody ever said why, but we all knew.

~

"Hello?" I answered before looking at the caller ID on the phone, recognizing the number even as I spoke.

"Rick? I had to call someone."

"Linda? What's wrong?" Her voice sounded strange.

"I got in." Like a dummy, I didn't even follow what she was saying.

"In? Got in where?"

"Harvard Medical School! I'm so excited, I had to tell someone!"

"Oh my god! Linda, that's fabulous! Congratulations! That's your dream! When did you find out?"

"I just did. It was in today's mail. I keep reading it, I just can't believe it."

"Believe it, baby. You deserve it. You've worked hard, stuck to your guns, and big sacrifices warrant big rewards."

"Thanks Rick. I gotta go to work, but I had to tell you. Love ya." And she hung up.

"Love you." Two tiny words, we say them to others so often, they flow like water sometimes. But in this case -- it was the first time she'd ever said them to me. I almost forgot about Harvard, having heard those two words. Everything about Linda was running through my mind; meeting her at a strip club, picking her up alongside the highway in the middle of the night, Lori bouncing onto the bed in the morning demanding pancakes -- and now that period in her life was coming to an end, she was going off to Harvard Medical School.

I glanced down at the letter in my hand, wondering as I did just what the prognosis for a non-tenured professor to get a job in Massachusetts was. I hadn't even moved when the phone rang again. "Rick?"

"Hey Linda, what did you forget?"

"I know I said I wouldn't see you again for six months -- but tomorrow's my day off and if you're free, would you like to take me to dinner to celebrate?"

I didn't even need to think about my answer.

~

I think my mouth fell open when Linda opened the door. At the very least, my eyes bugged out. "Like it?" She asked, twirling in place for me as I opened the screen door.

"Like it? Oh My God, Linda -- you're absolutely stunning." The dress was obviously new, nothing close to anything I'd ever seen her wear before. It certainly wasn't a dress that had been hanging in her closet weeks before when I'd seen her almost non-existent wardrobe. I'd never seen her look this elegant, this exotically beautiful or sexy before. A solid red equivalent to the proverbial little black dress, it was loosely cut where it draped over her bosom, showing a fair amount of cleavage. With two spaghetti straps the only cloth on her upper chest or arms it was something that would have been seen on a beautiful young A-list actress walking into the Emmy's. When she turned around, the back was even lower than the front, only rising to the middle of her lower back; the two straps over her shoulders crossed and attached at the top of the dress, just below her armpits, so her entire back was naked. Even without makeup the contrast with her raven black hair would have been awesome but, with the perfect amount of color she'd added to her face, she was indeed absolutely stunning. A pair of red strapped high heels accenting her legs completed the chic and sexy ensemble.

I escorted her to the front door at the restaurant; trying to play the perfect gentleman even though she left me feeling completely underdressed and virtually tongue tied. I glanced back at the car when I didn't hear it drive off and found the valet sitting there obviously ogling Linda.

Linda talked throughout dinner. She'd brought the letter to show me, her excitement and pride making her that much more radiantly beautiful to my eyes. I heard again about how much time she'd spent working for a goal, preparing for something that ultimately wasn't her decision. I heard how, now that she'd made it, the pressure she'd put herself under was off and although the semester and her undergraduate career hadn't yet come to an end, at least it was in sight and she knew that with just a few weeks to go she'd have no problem completing her second goal of going through her entire school career with nothing but A's. "And besides, now that I'm in Harvard -- it really doesn't matter! They've already admitted me even if I didn't get all A's!"

I sat and listened and let her talk. The bottle of wine had all but disappeared before she looked around and realized how long we'd been there. "I suppose we should get going?" She asked, leaning forward and reaching across the table to put her hand on top of mine again. The loose folds of her dress fell forward just a little bit as she did, drawing my eyes for the thousandth time to the curves of her nearly exposed breasts. I forced my eyes up to meet hers, the twinkle in hers saying she knew exactly where I'd been looking, exactly where she'd wanted me to look.

"I suppose," I answered, nodding. "Are you ready?"

"Almost," she answered, making no move to sit back or standup. "Three."

"Three what?" I asked, not understanding what she was referring to at all.

"Would I like a nightcap, isn't that what you're supposed to ask? The answer is three, and your place."

~

"Oh my god, you're so beautiful." Linda was lying naked on the sheet beside me, the covers kicked to the foot of the bed. I was lying on my side facing her; I slid my hand up her belly to her breast running a finger around her nipple before cupping it with my hand. I watched her eyes watching my hand, before they flicked back to my own face. "Have I ever told you that?"

"What is it about boobs and guys?" she asked instead of an answer. "All I have to do is take my top off and you guys all become blithering idiots. Show a man your boobs and they completely forget the rest of the world."

"Um-hm," I agreed, my fingers coming to rest with her once again hardening nipple between them. "You don't seem to mind when I pay attention to them."

She giggled. "You do have that effect on me," she said, stretching her arm out and rolling toward me. I reached down, her arms went around me and our lips met. Her hand reached around behind, sliding to my butt and pulling me against her, even as my hand was still pinched between us, her breast in hand.

Our lovemaking was slower this time, less frantic than the lusty romp that had built from the time we'd walked through the door of the elevator at the restaurant. She'd snuggled against me as the elevator began the 26-floor plunge to the street, my arm going around her back, resting on her shoulder. She'd had her arms clasped to her chest between us; I let my hand drop down her naked back and over the top of her dress to her bottom. I knew most of her underwear were thongs so wasn't surprised to feel nothing beneath the dress but her bottom, but for some reason ran my hand along the dress, across her bum -- realizing as I did that I didn't even find the miniscule cloth of a thong. I felt her looking at me for reaction even as I glanced down, finding her face smiling up at me impishly.

"It's about time you noticed." I didn't answer, just bent my lips to hers. The fingers of my right hand worked the bottom of her dress higher until my hand slid underneath onto her naked bottom; my left-hand moments later joining to two handedly pull her against me as my cock expanded rapidly in my pants. Her bottom would have been uncovered except for my hands; if we'd had anyone else with us she would have been indecently exposed. When the elevator slowed, I removed them, the dress sliding down over her naked bottom as the elevator door slid open to once again make her just the exotic, beautiful, woman in red.

Handing over the valet ticket was almost needless, there weren't but a couple of cars left in the lot that late anyway. The lone driver ran off, and I put my arm around Linda pulling her to me again. I bent my head to hers; her tongue slithered between her lips. "I want you," she whispered.

"I want you too," I whispered back, my lips finding hers, my hand again sliding down over her bottom, this time keeping the dress between my hand and her flesh. It seemed just seconds before the sound of the car, accelerating through the lot and slowing rapidly in front of us, broke up our kiss and fondle.

"You're a stinker!" I said once we'd slid into the car. Although I'd noticed the dress was hot and short, for the first time it meant something more -- knowing that there was nothing beneath to protect her modesty. "What are you trying to do, pull a Brittney Spears?"

"What? You don't like me without panties on?" she grinned.

Reaching across the center console, I put my right hand on her leg. "Just the opposite -- I love you without panties on." Rubbing gently, I began inching it upward under the hem; she made no effort to stop me. As I reached the crease of her leg, her legs spread slightly, but my foray was stopped by the tautness of her dress. Pulling my hand back momentarily to drive as I headed up the freeway onramp, I saw her shift upward, pulling the dress from beneath her bottom. She was now sitting bare bottomed on the seat, only the bunched up dress in her lap keeping her from being nude from the waist down.

When I slid my hand back to her leg she spread them for me and there was nothing keeping me from finding her wonderland with my fingers. In fact her hand reached up to grasp my arm, keeping me exactly where she wanted me. Her "ummm" of pleasure as my fingers began stroking her preceded the increasing wetness as I continued to play between her legs. She made no effort to stop me as we pulled onto the side streets, our twenty-minute freeway drive seemingly over before we started. Traffic on the side streets as we approached the house was non-existent but apparently it didn't matter to her at all. The smell of aroused woman filled the car long before we reached my street, the wetness of her pussy making squishy sounds to my plundering fingers.

Pulling into the driveway, when I started to pull my hand away to shift out of gear and turn the car off her hand gripped mine, preventing me from pulling away. "Almost..." she said - her first words since we'd left the restaurant. I forced the headlights off with my left hand, continuing to sit there with the engine running in gear, foot on the brake, my right fingers stroking her kitty. Now leaning back in the seat, she'd thrust her pelvis forward to my hand. Her dress had ridden up -- if someone had come by and looked in the window, she'd have been completely exposed -- but she also obviously didn't care. Her body quivered now and again, her hips twisting back and forth, trying to move just that little more so my fingers were in the perfect spot. I heard her sharp little intakes of breath followed by seconds on end of not breathing at all, the wet, squishy sounds of my fingers on her pussy somewhat hidden by the idling engine. I could feel the gradually increasing tension in her body, the gradually increasing force as she raised her pelvis against my hand, but there was nothing gradual about the sudden shuddering and gripping of my hand as she exploded in orgasm. I stilled my fingers, only to have her shudder convulsively once again as I resumed caressing her. "Stop," she commanded half-heartedly. I did, leaving my hand in place cupping her mound, my finger resting against her clit.

"God that was nice," she said as she released my hand and turned slightly to look at me. I purposely pressed my finger harder onto her clit as I withdrew my hand. I reached over and secured the car, the inside lights coming on automatically as I turned the ignition off. Leaning over the console on my right arm, she leaned in toward me and I kissed her, my left hand coming up to caress her cheek. "Let's go in," she said when she pulled away.

I unlocked the front door of the house and pushed it open allowing Linda to enter before me. As I turned to push the door closed and lock it something bulky and soft suddenly hit me in the head - a flash of red falling through my peripheral vision. I unconsciously grabbed at it and closed my hand, realizing as I did that it was Linda's red dress.

Turning in surprise, I found Linda standing totally naked except for her red high heels, an impish grin on her face. Stepping forward she reached for my belt, her mouth hungrily searching for mine. I crushed her naked body to mine at first in a bear hug, rapidly relaxing that as the hug was keeping us from getting my clothes off. Her mouth hungrily sucked mine, slipping away, coming back again as our hands worked together to strip my clothes off. I hooked one shoe with my other toe, slipping first one foot out and then the other, immediately stepping out of my pants that had fallen to my feet as she'd already gotten my belt and pants undone. She reached in to unhook my cock where it had gotten stuck on my underwear and I stepped out of them as they also fell to my ankles. My hands had been roaming her body, cupping her breasts, stroking her ass as we'd worked on undressing me. Now with us both naked, our mouths were once again locked into a kiss, her mouth hungrily sucking my tongue into hers. Her right hand slipped between us to grip my penis, stroking slowly. My hand slipped again to her naked ass, pulling her against me, trapping her arm until she pushed back slightly, pulled away from our kiss but still sucking my tongue until it slipped from between her lips. "Fuck me right here," she said, turning and leaning her back against the door and pulling me toward her by my cock.