The Taking of Caitlin Darcy

Everything was now ready.

The preparations had taken nearly three days.

One day to decide what to do, work out the design and details of my plan, and to write down a list of needed materials.

One day to shop for the items I didn't have, which was most of them.

And one day to do minor carpentry, set up everything and make a nice meal.

And now;

Dinner was prepared and the wine was cooling.

Candles were lit and music was playing.

The curtains were drawn.

Thick blankets and soft pillows were placed were they could be quickly grabbed. A heavy-duty clothesline was weaved through the frame of my leather couch and attached to simple pulley and lever devices that were bolted to the frame.

A half-dozen large bandana style scarves were tied up in slipknots; four of them were clinched to the clothesline.

A small bag of wooden clothespins, a pair of scissors and one of my leather belts were hidden in a drawer.

A new sex toy was hidden too.

It was a pretty simple plan, but the fun would be in seeing how I would be able to play it out. I sat in the romantically, but not too dimly, lit room sipping wine; just waiting.

Suddenly a car's headlights illuminated the front window.

Caitlin Darcy had arrived, only a few minutes late for our dinner date.

I played a game in my mind's eye trying to guess what she was wearing tonight and how she would look as she walked through my door.

Firstly, a picture of her crossed my mind:

Her hair was coppery-blonde and her eyes were emerald green. She had fair skin with a few freckles across her checks and upper chest that made her look cute and innocent. She was quite small and thin, but curvy. And she was very pretty.

And as I thought about what she might be wearing I heard footsteps coming up my walkway. She was wearing heels...excellent...

The first time I saw Caitlin Darcy she was sitting in the back of my small breakout discussion session of her geo-politics class. I was the graduate student/instructor for her class. She caught me eye immediately. Sitting there with her long thin Capri-clad legs crossed with an elevated foot dangling a strappy sandal and her right hand under her chin and holding up a bored-to-tears face. Her fitted pink tank top couldn't even try to hide the rounded swell of her breasts and nipples. But I remained business-like and appreciated her from a distance.

Most of the students in the class were doing rather well. But three weeks into the semester we had had our second quiz; Caitlin got a D-. This followed a D on the first one.

I returned the quizzes, face down, to the students. Then I got to my underachiever.

"Miss Hayes, I would like to talk to you immediately after class; just for a few minutes."

I place the quiz face down on her deck and tapped my index finger on it once. As I resumed returning the quizzes I heard her say, breathily, "Shit!".

I had mixed feelings about talking to Caitlin. I knew the type; privileged, arrogant, condescending and flippant. Well, that is what I thought. On the other hand she was looking particularly nice today. Sporting a short denim skirt, a cropped camisole top in teal and a pair of flip-flops on her feet. It looked like she was on vacation. I'm sure I felt butterflies in my stomach when I heard the slapping of her flip-flops against the soles of her feet.

"Please, you don't have to call me Miss Hayes. How about Caitlin or CD?"

I looked up to see that a smile really made her extraordinarily pretty; much better than that dour expression she usually had. "CD?" I inquired.

"That stands for Caitlin Darcy, my first and middle name. But my friends call me CD."

She pulled up a chair and sat next to me at the front desk. More than attentive, she was positively ebullient. She prattled about how interesting the course was and how good a teacher I was; all the while flashing a coy smile and rubbing her thighs together. Surely the hem of her skirt was beginning to slide, exposing even more leg. She touched my arm and hand with her fingertips and whipped her hair around to remove it from her face. It filled the air with an intoxicating fragrance and it took a great deal of will to stop her tirade.

"Miss Hayes...Caitlin; we really must talk about your grades and mastery of the course material."

"Oh, sure. Mastery, hmmm... I'm sorry; I know I'm not doing well. What can I do?"

"Are you reading the assigned material and reviewing the notes and handouts?"

"Not really."

"Are you working on the problem sheets?"

"Uh, no."

I looked blankly at her. "I think I know what the problem is here. Why are you not doing the work? Are you taking too many credits this term?"

"I'm taking 14, is that too many?"

"Shouldn't be; how much time are you studying after classes?"

Well...you know what? I need some incentive. I don't think this material is exciting me. Perhaps if you tutored me I would catch on. Is that possible?"

"I have my office hours posted on the department website."

"No! I need a private tutor. I can't make any of your office hours. I can pay you."

Needless to say, over the following few days we set up a weekly tutorial session. Caitlin would visit at 6 pm every Tuesday evening. I had annotated notes and strongly suggested readings. We went over the problems and the discussion questions. I was well prepared to help her to pass the course. I definitely looked forward to Tuesday night; clearly mine was more than only a professional interest.

Caitlin would arrive in the most amazing clothes. From week to week her outfits, despite the cooling temperatures of the deepening autumn, became skimpier and skimpier. Her flirtatiousness became more and more obvious. The sexual innuendo became more and more blatant. But gratifyingly her grades soared. On the last two quizzes she scored a B- and then a B+.

We were both quite pleased, and it seemed to me that she was taking an active interest in the class. It was a good thing; I announced the mid-term exam would be held in two weeks. Caitlin looked slightly ill.

Tuesday evening came around and in flew Caitlin. She was wearing the shortest shorts I had ever seen. When she turned around to close the office door, two cheeks of her pert derriere peaked from below the frayed denim. Reflexively, I licked my lips. She had a shirt tied in a knot between her breasts and her hair done up in a loose ponytail. Her feet were adorned with colorful ropey sandals with two-inch heels. I swear I have never seen her in the same shoes twice. She grabbed a chair and slid so close to me that she was almost in my lap.

"Oh, God, I'm so scared. The mid-term is coming so soon. Oh, Mr. Priete, please don't let me fail."

"I think if you work hard, study and take our sessions seriously you'll have no problem."

"Oh, Mr. Priete, I'll do anything, really."

"Well..." I coughed, "let's get to it then. And you don't have to call me Mr. Priete. My first name is Steven; but that is only for here, not in class."

"OK, Steven. Wow, it's like we're more than just student and teacher. I like your name."

"Great. OK, lets get started."

Caitlin continued her flirting. When I was going over some dense material phrase by phrase she placed her naked right leg against my left. I could feel the warmth, I could smell her skin, I could hear her breath...I could feel my erection grow...

Only through great strength of will was I able to stay focused and keep my explanation clear.

"Oh, I see," she said, "I was always so confused about the cause and effect of these issues. Thank you so much for your patient explanation." Caitlin took my hand in hers and squeezed it.

I made it through the tutoring session without giving myself away (I hoped).

On her way out the door Caitlin turned, "Oh, I hope it's not to cold outside, I'm almost naked. I wish I had something to warm me. Bye, Steven." She gave me a little wink as she left.

Our last session before the mid-term exam went well. It was the end of October and quite cool and still Caitlin came to my office in summer clothes. But I was determined to be a good and proper teacher and I maintained my professionalism. I did, at least, on the outside. Inside, Caitlin was getting to me. I could feel my desires grow and my resistances weaken. But I did what was required, and I knew that if Caitlin worked on the material she would do well on the mid-term. I was satisfied that I had done all I could; it was up to her. I told her that but I had this odd feeling that she was not listening.

And then the results came in.

Caitlin passed, barely.

She got a C-. And a pretty low one at that; a couple points less and she'd have been in D territory. She looked stricken when I handed her the exam. I was not sure that she would show up to our next Tuesday session. But she did.

And I was expecting a much more reserved Caitlin, but she came in even bolder than usual.

She took off her coat and let it drop to the floor. A tiny wisp of a dress, shear and short, clung to her body like shrink-wrap.

Before I could react or say a word, Caitlin started.

"Oh, my God, Mr. Priete. I feel so bad about that test. I feel especially bad for you. I know you worked so hard trying to get me ready."

"Well, it wasn't the result I had hoped for."

"No, for sure. I so wanted to make you proud of me. But I was distracted all the time I was studying."

"Distracted? By what?"

"You."

"Me? I don't understand."

Hmmm, it's kinda hard to explain. Mostly, I was afraid that if I did crappy, you'd think I was a waste of time and stop tutoring me. And if I did great that you'd think I didn't need any more help. And, you know, our tutoring sessions are the only chance I get to be alone with you. I couldn't stop thinking that however I did on the test you might not want to see me anymore. This whole thing sound crazy, but I couldn't help thinking about this. And that totally distracted me."

"Caitlin, these help sessions are totally up to you. I have the time. And I admit, I enjoy our time together."

"You do? Oh, I knew it. Wouldn't it be great if we could spend more time together? You know, like boyfriend and girlfriend."

I sat there not knowing how to respond and perhaps a little slack-jawed. Caitlin must have noticed that she found a chink in my emotional armor; and then there was no stopping her.

She sat down and leaned against me, "Steven, I so wish we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. There is no one else in my life that is so special. We could have dinner together, hold hands, kiss... I could touch you in wonderful places; I could put my mouth on you; I could get naked for you and wrap my arms and legs around your body...

Oh, I'm sorry, are you blushing?"

"Blushing? Caitlin, I'm about to blow a blood vessel...in one of those places."

"You're so funny, come on Steven. Don't you know that you're driving me crazy? Like, that's why I did so shitty on the test. We should get together, we have to."

I placed my hand on a silk covered shoulder, more to keep myself steady than the keep her at bay. "Caitlin; whoa, that's a lot all at once."

"Tell me that you don't ever think about me except as your student? Can you truthfully say that? When you're alone at night, didn't you ever think about me when you masturbated?"

"Caitlin, you are so pretty and so full of life; of course I'm attracted to you." I ignore her last question.

"Then kiss me," she dared and placed her face right next to mine.

"But Caitlin, I'm your teacher, it really would be right."

"I'm not about to tell anyone anything, Steven." She took the hand I placed on her shoulder and pressed it downward. "Touch my breast."

But I resisted; I don't know how.

"I just can't. There is nothing else in the world I would rather do than kiss you and touch you. But, it is wrong for so many reasons."

She placed her free hand behind my head, pulled our mouths together and kissed me; sweetly and softly.

"Alright, But you won't be my teacher after this semester ends. So it seems like you're going to make me wait that long until I can see you naked, is that right?"

I couldn't help but smile. "So you're serious about getting together after this term, aren't you?"

"Aren't you Steven? It's so hard to wait; but I think you're worth it. Don't you think I am?"

"You are absolutely worth waiting for." And I returned her kiss, lightly and sweetly.

"Mmmm, I feel just wonderful in your arms. I am so tempted to tear your clothes off now. I think I better leave, do you understand, and do you mind?"

"Oh, yeah; I understand. It is definitely best. And anyway it'll give me a chance to go over tonight's notes and maybe, just maybe, I can outline the important points more clearly. So you can more easily see what I think would be important for the tests."

"That would be so great, Steven, just perfect."

And with that she stood up to leave.

"I'll give you the notes after class on Thursday. We can go over it next Tuesday. The timing is good, there's a quiz the following Thursday."

I thought I saw a hint of exasperation in Caitlin's expression as she turned to go.

"Goodnight Steven, see you Thursday."

"Goodnight Caitlin," I returned with a smile.

With that Caitlin turned, bent over at the waist and picked up her coat. Her short dress rode up her hips completely exposing the most beautiful ass I had ever seen. Two bands of pink lace, one falling between two perfect mounds of white flesh, formed a "T" where her back joined those mounds. I was transfixed; I stared unblinking.

As Caitlin straightened she looked back at me.

"Seems to me that you like the view, I knew you were an 'ass-man'." She licked her lips, threw the coat over her shoulders and sashayed out the door.

That night I masturbated while thinking about her.

The next six weeks felt very strange. They, both, flew by and dragged slowly along.

Caitlin did all sorts of things to remind me of what the end of the semester would bring. Firstly, she had a 'days-before-dating' count. She touched me with more and more familiarity. And then one day she dropped a piece of paper into my pocket; I thought it was a stick of gum.

"Don't look at it until I leave," she requested.

When I looked at it I found it was an information brochure from a birth-control pill package.

There were some definite changes in my attitude and actions. Foremost, my tutorial notes, written specifically for Caitlin, became more biased toward answering specific questions that I surmised would be on the quizzes and on the final exam. I justified this by thinking that as long as I didn't give her the questions and their answers that I remained within moral bounds.

As the weeks went by Caitlin's quiz results improved quite nicely. She had gotten a few B+ and A- grades.

And then suddenly the last week of the term was upon us. At our tutoring session I handed her a set of notes.

"It's all there, Caitlin, concise and to the point. If you study the eleven or twelve major issues and the few 'cause and effect' relationships that are outlined, there is no way you could get below a solid B. But you have to study these note carefully."

"Thank you Steven. I could never have passed this course without your help," stated Caitlin as she tucked the printed notes into her bag and turned to leave.

"Caitlin, wait, just one other thing. We should exchange cell numbers. I don't have yours. Here's mine," I muttered as I handed a single sheet from a post-it pad with my number scrawled on it.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Mine's 517-232-1842. Well, I better go, s'lot of studying to do. I'll talk to you real soon." She tossed me a little hand wave on her way out.

A week later I walked into the exam room and Caitlin was already seated. We hadn't talked; she hadn't called with any questions about the course material. I would have some concerns except that I had been studying for my own exam and I had some research papers due. I was rather busy.

When I dropped the exam on her desk I gave her a knowing look. She returned a mischievous grin and a raised eyebrow. The minutes ticked away uneventfully. Five minutes before the allotted time expired, Caitlin walked up to my desk. I caught her eye as she dropped the exam on my desk. A confident smile stole across her face. It was a covert but accidental message. She knew she was going to pass. I imagined that in a few days I would be getting to know her better, kissing her and sharing time together. And I thought about her amazing ass. I returned her smile but she had already turned away and was walking out.

And it turned out that she indeed did pass. A solid B+ on the final landed her a B as a final course grade. Caitlin would be pleased with that. The professor signed off the grade sheets and they were posted to the registrar's office. I waited on pins and needles for 24 hours; until the grades became available on the webpage.

As soon as they appeared I called her number. I was redirected to the cell phone company with a reply that the number I dialed was not in service! Did she not make a payment and her account had been cancelled? Maybe I dialed wrong. I tried again. I got the same message. I called the cell directory service and gave her name. But her name was on their 'no release' list; they could not give me her real number. Luckily, the department office keeps a list of current students. I walked there and, because I was an instructor, I was able to access her file. The number she supplied to the department was 517-232-4218, not 517-232-1842 as she had given me. How could she have inverted the number pairs when she gave me her number? Or did I write them down wrong? Weird!

In any case, I called her on this number. It immediately went to her voice mail; I knew I had the right number now. I congratulated her on her grade and then asked her to call me back at her first opportunity. I knew she had a few more exams so I didn't expect an immediate return call. But two days went by and...nothing.

I called her again with the same message and this time I left my number.

Two days later and she didn't call me.

I called her again...no reply.

Christmas came and went.

New Year's Eve came and went also. I was looking forward to welcoming the new year in with her. I was beginning to suspect that I had been used... for a grade.

A couple days later I called her again, but there was no answer.

It went to her voice mail, but I didn't leave a message.

And she didn't call me back.

Perhaps she went home for the holidays and something happened. Maybe she couldn't call, she might have been in a car wreck or perhaps someone in her family was ill.

I had to find out.

I went back to the department office and took another look through the student records.

I could have gotten this the first time but I now had her campus address. Should I just go and knock on her door and ask her what was going on? I should, but for some reason I didn't want to face her. She lived just off campus in a row of apartments. I found that there was a Starbuck's across and down the street with a clear view of her front door and the parking lot in front of it. There was one week until the start of the spring semester.

The next morning at 7 am I took a seat in the Starbuck's window. A big steaming cup of java in my hand, a newspaper and a course outline in my lap; this might take a while. I was truly hoping to see her, but I expected to have to wait several days. I hoped that she would be driving a car with a crumpled fender. And that the car was fully packed with suitcases and new stuff from home. I imagined her appreciation at my chivalrous act of helping her unload and carry her suitcases up to her apartment. I imagined how she would thank me...

But only two hours later and my fears and hopes washed away.