A+ for the Naked Students

Perspective: A Student Named Kate

Her first foray into the world of sex came during a summer trip with childhood friends. All of them were college freshmen with most of them going to different schools. This was their annual bonding event to ensure they'd always remain friends.

The destination was Las Vegas after successfully begging their parents for permission and lots of cash. For several days they planned on exploring city life within legal limits. They had tickets for concerts, performances, and even planned out which destinations they'd visit.

It was presumed that they'd stick together the entire time. After all, what are friends on a trip for? But that wasn't the case.

Every so often, a friend would make a lame excuse for leaving a group activity, something about needing 'personal time alone.' Others were blunt about what they were doing. They were having sex with random hook-ups they'd meet.

Whenever they got together again as a group, there was plenty of blushing, sometimes laughter, lots of shame. In private, there was gossip and judgemental comments, and snide remarks about morality.

Everyone in the group was a hypocrite though. All of them had a sexual experience like that during the trip.

In that moment in time, her sexuality found its balance. She was an adult now and the rules were different.

The next defining moment of her sexuality is as follows...

Kate Miller began her second year of an all-girls private college. At elite institutions like that, cliques are everything. There were the popular girls, the geeks, the outcasts. Most of the girls came from rich families with influence in society.

Academically, it was a competitive place. Grading was done on a curve and awards were given publicly to the top students. As for sports? Trophies were large and standing on the field with the winning team was alluring.

The pressure on all fronts was enormous. It was an open secret that many of the girls had eating disorders to maintain the 'perfect' figure. Everyone wanted to be the prettiest (whatever that meant), the most slender, the best at sports, and the top of the class.

It was the perfect recipe for girls wanting their peers to fail.

Despite having all of the things that made a toxic environment, the institution was still a place of reverence. Their programs were world-class and the teachers were esteemed. Attending a place like this opens doors, socially and career-wise.

Somewhere amidst the chaos were girls like Kate Miller, who came from respectable families, but didn't have wealth, and didn't have the same bond as the popular girls, who'd known each other for years.

Kate was academically minded, but she was also an athlete on the Lacrosse team. Tall and lanky, she stood out compared to the other girls. Where most students were outgoing and eager for parties, Kate often retreated to her dorm. Having little in common with most of her peers, it turned out, was a blessing in disguise.

The evolution of her sexuality started with an announcement.

"We're aggressively expanding our arts programs," a teacher said at the end of class. "Everything from writing and painting, to stage work. It's a concerted effort to get students to broaden their interests. We're also expanding our ties to the local art community."

Emails were sent out, flyers were posted on walls, and teachers made announcements regarding upcoming events. Students buzzed with excitement for potential career opportunities. Everything from writing competitions, to more theater programs, to student art galleries.

Many of these were extracurricular, but some allowed students to earn extra credit for particular classes.

What piqued Kate's interest was writing. Her secret passion was writing fiction. Her secret dream job was becoming a novelist or a screenwriter. The chance to make connections in both worlds was like peeking into a window she never knew existed.

Late in the afternoon, she looked for the Literature teacher in the office area for an impromptu meeting. The teacher was stern with a hard edge, but always approachable, and always willing to assist students. Their relationship was cordial and she liked the teacher's taste in books.

The campus was small. Since the teacher wasn't in the office area, Kate had an idea of where to look. Many teachers head to classrooms earlier so that seemed like the logical place to look next. She walked to the next building and she saw a group of teachers having a conversation.

When the group split up, she followed the Literature teacher from a distance. The teacher entered an empty classroom which had a large window on one side with the curtains open.

Approaching the room, she saw Ms. Zanjani through the window, on her knees, praying with rosary beads in hand. It was true devotion, because unlike many people, this wasn't for show. This was genuine religion.

Kate paused, not wanting to interrupt anything. She watched from a distance, through the window, at Ms. Zanjani praying. A knock at the door broke the teacher's concentration. Another teacher entered the room and the prayer ended.

She assumed the conversation between the teachers would be over soon. After all, it was typical of teachers to have quick conversations between classes, so Kate just paced around outside.

When she looked through the window again, she saw Ms. Zanjani kissing the other teacher on the mouth. It was the kind of kiss that lovers would share. In the small world in which Kate lived, this was her first time seeing two women kiss. Even from the short distance, she could see tongues going in and out of their mouths.

The kiss ended and the teachers exchanged more words. Just like that, they returned to normal, as if nothing wayward happened between them. As if a kiss between teachers was as casual as discussing midterms.

As the other teacher left, Ms. Zanjani turned her head towards the window and Kate was caught in the salacious act of committing voyeurism.

***

Her next step towards debauchery happened the following day. Her seat in the Literature class was in the third row and all she could think about was the teacher's kiss. Her eyes focused on that bold red lipstick, watching Ms. Zanjani give a lecture about the book they were all reading.

When class was over, Ms. Zanjani gave a 'stay awhile,' to Kate, as everyone was leaving. Kate remained in her seat, with all her things packed on her desk, and Ms. Zanjani pulled a seat in front of her.

"Do you always spy around here?" the teacher asked, getting comfortable in the chair.

"Excuse me?" Kate replied, almost in a gasp, knowing the reckoning was about to happen.

"You've always been a respectful, straight-forward student. That's why it was such a surprise to discover that you spied on me yesterday."

The teacher held an excellent poker face which Kate was unable to read. It's not every day that you catch your teacher engaging in lascivious conduct on campus.

"I didn't tell anyone," Kate said calmly. "I swear."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"The whole thing was an accident. I wanted to see you about the upcoming arts programs because I'm interested in submitting a short story."

"You've come to the right teacher. Your timing was a little off though."

Kate managed a smile. "Like I said, I didn't tell anyone."

"Are you going to ask me what that was about?"

"If you're interested in sharing."

From her eyes, she could tell that the teacher was interested in sharing, as if wanting to clear up any misunderstandings; as if preserving her standing and dignity, to ensure that her stellar reputation would remain intact.

"This campus is a tight-knit community," Ms. Zanjani said. "Us teachers work long hours during each semester. We get lonely. It's that simple."

The well-crafted persona was coming down and the vulnerabilities were showing. Yes, this teacher was strict, oftentimes unforgiving, but there was also a softness that was undeniable and attractive.

"Makes sense. I get why you'd keep that secret, you know, the kiss."

Ms. Zanjani held firm. "You have no idea. Does it bother you? Does it make you uncomfortable at all?"

"No way, why do you ask?"

"Many students come from religious backgrounds, so it's best if we cleared that up."

"I saw you praying yesterday," Kate said. "Before the kiss, you were praying. Was that a form of atonement?"

"Yes, you're very aware. All of the teachers here are religious and pray routinely. It's part of this institution's history."

There was a slight, ever-so-faint tone in Ms. Zanjani's answer, as if willingly opening the door for further inquiries on this matter.

Kate paused.

"Go ahead and ask," Ms. Zanjani said. "I know you're curious."

"Are there other teachers who do that?"

The question made the teacher seem delighted. It was like a well-orchestrated trap that Kate fell into.

"We paint each other naked. You should see their artwork. These are women who could have their work showcased in any gallery in the country."

"That explains the art programs," Kate said.

"It does. We're lovers of great art and it's time to bestow those passions onto students. Too many students are focused on sports, in my opinion. So it's nice to offer new creative outlets for young minds."

Kate's mind raced with what the teacher was saying. Teachers painting each other naked? It seemed difficult to believe, but this teacher was honest and was in the mood to confess these things. Were other teachers kissing, too? There was no answer to that.

Wetness grew between her thighs and she crossed her legs. Could the teacher smell it?

"But enough about me," Ms. Zanjani said. "You wanted to see me yesterday about something?"

Kate snapped out of the aroused trance. "I'm interested in joining the short story competition."

"Ah, yes. You've always been a terrific writer, Kate. I'm sure you'll be a top contender. How may I help you with that?"

For the next several minutes, they went over the ins-and-outs of the contest. Everything from guidelines to strategy. In Kate's eyes, this was the warmest the teacher had ever appeared.

Additionally, they discussed the extra points students could earn from participating in these art programs.

"That makes complete sense," Kate said. "I already have a few ideas for stories and I'll see which one fits best."

"Planning a career in the arts? A writer, perhaps?"

"I'm open to it. Definitely. But it's hard making a career out of writing."

"Well, if you ever need help, I'm here," Ms. Zanjani said. "The arts is my specialty. Helping students is my calling."

"Are you currently mentoring other students for this?"

"No, not for this. But I know other teachers are helping students with painting. It's an unintended consequence of expanding the arts."

"Teachers must be really busy then," Kate said.

Ms. Zanjani fought the urge to grin. "Teachers hold a lot of power. As I'm sure you understand, many students are attracted to that power. You can imagine the rest."

"Oh..."

Kate's jaw dropped from the revelation, while Ms. Zanjani had a little smirk. The thought was a lot to handle. Her legs crossed even tighter. Now she was certain that her teacher could smell the wetness between her thighs. The smell was that potent. The arousal was that real.

"It's more common than people think," Ms. Zanjani said. "Teachers never, ever make the first move. But some of these students -- spoiled brats or sheltered religious girls -- once they move away from their parents and come here, it's a whole new world to them. That's why some of them aggressively pursue their teachers."

"For better grades?" Kate asked, followed by a deep gulp.

"Sometimes. Mostly it's curiosity. Face it, they're going to have sex regardless of the rules. They can either do it with a novice their own age. Or they can seek experience. Teachers are smart, beautiful, and they have a lot of experience with sex."

Kate's heart was pounding. "Oh my god."

"It's okay, relax."

"I can keep a secret. You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to tell anyone."

The teacher nodded. "Of course. You strike me as a trustworthy person."

"I appreciate that."

"Here, let me show you something."

Ms. Zanjani stood and retrieved her laptop, placing it on Kate's desk, then opened a file in one of the folders.

On the screen were images of nude paintings. The teacher flipped through the images to show Kate the contents. Knowing these were faculty members, Kate was able to figure out who some of them were, as the images were created with striking clarity.

What surprised her even more was that several of the images featured nude portraits of young women. Students? All signs pointed to them being classmates that Kate saw regularly.

"I think I recognize them," Kate said, examining the screen. "Was that Ms. Debecki? The other one is Ms. Tanner. One of them looks like Becky from the Lacrosse team. I recognize that curly red hair and thin figure."

"You have sharp eyes and a good sense. You've always been an observant student."

"The quality of the paintings are incredible. That's how I noticed them."

Ms. Zanjani nodded. "Now you know more about the inner-workings of this institution. I felt you deserved a transparent answer after what you saw yesterday."

The screen was left open and Kate's eyes remained fixated on the screen. Instead of replying to the teacher, she reached out and touched the keyboard to go back a few images. A nude portrait of the European History teacher was displayed; how could such a proper woman pose like this?

"Are these made often?" Kate asked.

"Yes. Even before the new art initiatives, we'd get together in our free time. We paint, we laugh, we discuss academics, make art, we kiss. Sometimes with students involved."

Kate looked the teacher in the eyes, she held a strong gaze. This was an unbreakable woman without shame. It would always be a secret between them and Kate was aroused beyond belief.

"Is it like a workshop?"

"It's exactly like a workshop," Ms. Zanjani replied.

Kate's eyes returned to the laptop screen. "Can I join? I want the same academic privileges as the other students. I want to be an A+ student and I want to excel at something. Anything."

There was a long hard stare from the teacher, as if this were a big leap that neither of them were ready for.

"Want to know what I think?" Ms. Zanjani said. "I think you're looking for an outlet. A place of acceptance, because you're unhappy with campus life. You don't really fit in with the other girls."

Kate gulped, then replied, "I've thought about switching schools before."

"Now you're looking for a reason to stay. You believe your outlet with fiction writing will help you. You're hoping to make friends with creative teachers so they can guide and shape you. That's what you're looking for."

It felt like a gut punch and she could feel her stomach twisting in knots.

"Do you... not... want me to join?" Kate asked.

"I want you to think about it. Let me show you this picture, then think. It's the biggest decision you'll ever make on campus."

Ms. Zanjani opened a new file on the laptop. It was a high-resolution image of a painting, this time of two naked women making sexual contact.

A fit, naked young woman -- most likely a Lacrosse player -- was on her knees, with her head in between a mature woman's legs. Upon closer inspection, the older woman was likely Ms. Harding, the calculus teacher with a curvaceous figure. The young woman had muscles rippling on her back and thighs. It could have been Samantha, the fittest girl on the team.

Kate imagined herself in that position. Could she do such a thing? Would she? Her eyes darted to Ms. Zanjani's red lipstick, so lush and kissable.

All her life she associated adulthood with sex. Was this her next step? The idea was making her lightheaded. The notion of giving oral sex to a teacher was breath-takingly erotic. She noticed her teacher's lips moving, ever-so-gently, a wet tongue grazing across that bold red lipstick.

In that moment in time, Kate knew what she'd be doing for the next few months, at least. Hushed masturbation sessions in her bed would be spent thinking of Ms. Zanjani, discreet enough so that her roommate would never know. In Kate's mind, a 'good girl' always keeps her masturbation a secret.

***

The final leap towards depravity happened the following week. Kate had spent the weekend pondering, and now that she was back in class, the answer still eluded her. When the Literature class was over, Ms. Zanjani asked her a straight-forward question in private.

"Do you have an answer?" the teacher asked. "We're having a meeting today amongst the creatives. If you want to join, today would be the day. If not, no worries. I'd still love to mentor your writing if needed."

It was at that very moment that Kate Miller found her purpose. Everyone wants to be included and to feel appreciated, so maybe this was her chance? She envisioned herself amongst the teachers and fellow students she could relate to, while being on her knees. Sometimes life is that simple.

"Sure, I'll do it."

"We're focusing on painting today. Is that something you're interested in?"

"It sounds fun."

"Would you like to have your portrait painted?" Ms. Zanjani asked. "You have a classical appearance and your facial features would make great artwork."

There was enough innuendo that Kate knew what this was about. A proposal like this from a teacher felt wildly inappropriate, but it was like a door opening to another world. Girls like Kate are always interested in new experiences, as long as it's safe and with the right guidance.

"I'd be interested."

Ms. Zanjani sat down while Kate was told to stand, as if an appraisal was happening, and the teacher was the judge.

"First you'll have to prove yourself," the teacher said. "Show me what we'll be working with. Pull your bottom down. Prove that you have the mindset and figure for this. I need to know if you'd make a worthy addition to our group."

A twisting sensation gripped Kate's stomach, but the feeling was equally strong between her thighs. Her panties were now ruined.

She reached beneath her skirt and pulled her panties down to her ankles. Standing upright, she lifted the front hem of her skirt. God, how she wished she had shaved. A little bush was between her legs and the teacher stared closely at it.

"I can smell your aroma," Ms. Zanjani said without expression.

Kate blushed. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I like it. You have a beautiful shape. Young and athletic. I like your pubic hair. It looks natural and adds a rustic aesthetic to your body."

"Thank you."

"What do you think happens in our group? Be honest."

"A meeting of the minds," Kate replied. "I have this romantic notion that it's the best of academia. That it's unfettered and unbound by political correctness. Free thinking, discussions of classic novels, making art. Lots of kissing, too."

"You are correct. But does the kissing part scare you?"

"No. I don't think so."

"What if the kisses moved down below? Does that scare you?"

"If it scared me, I wouldn't be showing you my pussy."

"Does it bother you if it's between teachers and students?" Ms. Zanjani asked.

"No, I like the freedom of expression. I see it as the highest form of artistic endeavors, although I must admit that it makes me nervous."

"You can dress now. Be at the teacher's lounge at 5 pm. That's when the magic happens."

*

When the time came, Kate made sure to be punctual. Coming too early would have been awkward. Coming late would mean that the activities (whatever they were) would have started without her.

She spent time in her room, having a quick nap, doing her best not to masturbate. In many ways, she was saving herself for the unknown. There were butterflies in her stomach which would have made having an orgasm difficult anyway.