A Reputation Ch. 07 - Instruction

"I think she bought it for you," Elaine said. Was that a sly note in her voice suddenly?

"Yeah, well the guys of the class certainly were thanking her for it," I said, not quite willing to admit right out that I had drooled.

Elaine snorted. "Come on," she scoffed. I looked at her a little warily, as her voice was still good-natured but had acquired an... edge? "You've noticed how much better the class has gotten recently, with class participation and stuff? I don't think Svetlana knew or cared that she even had students... until she found out she had Shower Guy in her class."

I looked at her, stricken. Then I softly banged my head on the table.

"What?" Elaine laughed.

"Can we please go back to you treating me like Will Green, not that creature of my mutant Reputation?" I entreated, a little more pain in my voice than I had expected.

"Oh! Hey, I'm sorry, Will. I think I do treat you the same," Elaine said almost apologetically. "I'm taking about ourprepodavatyel. Svetlana's the one all hung up on you," my study partner added, returning to what was, yes, definitely a leer. "She is definitely interested in you. I mean, come on, the way she decided to make you, out of the whole class, conjugate 'Shower' the other day?"

"Well, she had a funny way of showing her alleged crush on me with that last quiz," I grumbled.

"Why?"

"She couldn't have written it more perfectly to hit all my weaknesses," I grumbled, sliding the quiz across the table to Elaine. She picked it up and whistled low at the uncharacteristic C. Then her blue eyes narrowed and she grabbed her own quiz from the pile on her side of the table.

Suddenly she was laughing. "Yep, Will, I can now virtually guarantee it. She wants to fuck you."

"What?"

"Well, she already kind of fucked you with this quiz," Elaine said. "You and I got most of the same stuff wrong, and we earned the same number of total points. But I got a B+, and you got a C+."

"What the actual fuck?" I said hotly, grabbing at the papers.

"She 'lost' yours, right? Made you stay after class to get it back, if I remember correctly?" Elaine challenged me with that maddening grin. "I'll bet she suggested an office visit," she added, sing song. I just looked at her. "I'll bet she told you all her time slots were booked, and suggested some weird, alternate time?"

"No!" I pounced. "I didn't even ask for an appointment."

"Well, you shoooould," Elaine teased.

"To tell you the truth, I always kind of thought that you were more her style than I am," I retorted, both being honest, and trying to get off the defensive somehow in this new color of weird.

"Svetlana? No...!"

"Are you so sure, pretty girl?" I said, before I quite realized what I said.

She caught it, but was too intent on our debate.

"Actually, I am sure. You know Penelope Whitman?" my study partner shot back at me.

"Yeah..." I admitted carefully. Penelope looked and acted more like she belonged in lesbian porn movies, very high-quality lesbian porn movies, than she did in the Astrophysics department.

"I hear she made a pass at our Ms. Godinova. She got brushed off, and not with an, 'It wouldn't be appropriate,' but with an, 'Ewww.'"

I looked at her, still pretty dubious. "So Svetlana is not a lesbian?"

"No." Elaine said firmly. "You should make that appointment."

I looked at her.

"Oh please," she said, folding her arms. There was that slightly hostile edge again, almost reluctantly hostile. "I can't imagine it would be too much of a hardship for you, if you were suddenly offered some 'extra credit' opportunities to keep your grade up..."

I stared at her indignantly.

But inside, I was already making plans to ask Svetlana the next day for an appointment. Maybe I'd even try for the last slot of the day...

Yeah. I'm a pig. Want to make something of it?

*

Wednesday went smoothly through lunch, and I ambled across campus in the sunshine to get to Russian class.

Hoo boy.

Uncharacteristically, Svetlana came in a minute or two late, making a bit of an entrance with everyone already there. She had on another new suit. This one was kind of Commie Chic, made of lightweight wool in a solid crimson, with large yellow brass buttons. The jacket was cropped at the waist, and she wore it open with a white silk blouse underneath that had that one particular button, the one that makes the difference, unbuttoned. The skirt...

The plain, tight, skirt was barely longer than a tennis dress, leaving acres of her sweeping, sexy, surprisingly muscular legs bare for the world's appreciation. I heard a few guys hiss quietly as she entered the room. There was a catty murmur from someone behind me, I think it was Johanna Welch.

After this enchanting sight, things went downhill quickly, as Ms. Godovina had yet another pop quiz for our 'enjoyment'. She went around the class, placing a test before each student. As with her rather spectacular display for me on Monday, she bent only at the waist as she lay down the tests. Harry Eaton, a kind of fat kid who sweated a lot, sweated even more when she bent a bit low to lay down his test, giving him what had to be a nice flash of cleavage.

When she got to me, Svetlana laid mine down with the deepest bend yet, giving me a view down her open blouse that included the white lace cups embracing her dangling, significant bounty. She definitely bent lower for me than for anybody else. I had been paying attention, after all, so I was sure of that fact.

As she passed behind me, I saw Elaine grinning at me from across the aisle. She had been paying attention too.

'Wow,' she mouthed silently, giving me a significant glance. It was weird. Her expression still had that edge that I wasn't quite sure how to take. It almost seemed like jealousy. Was Elaine into Svetlana?

As for the quiz... I was ready for it this time. Elaine and I had worked on just what we needed the day before, and I felt confident that I had aced it.

But... If I got graded the same way as the last quiz, my expected 97 was going to be given a B. Svetlana came around, collecting the tests in much the same picturesque manner as she had distributed them. I looked back over my shoulder as she picked up the last quizzes, and found myself appreciating the wonderful, tight ass in her short red skirt pointing in my direction.

I was enjoying this quiz, and I wasn't the only one.

The rest of class was pretty much the new normal. Svetlana was a productive, effective teacher, engaging the class as she taught the day's material. It was amazing the difference it made in her teaching abilities when she started noticing that she had students in the room.

When Bob Ralston thoroughly embarrassed himself, accidentally saying in Russian, "I took my dog to the meat grinder," everybody burst out laughing. He realized it instantly, swearing insufficiently under his breath, "Fuck me with a stick."

Svetlana laughed again, and actually winked at Bob. "Trakhnee menya palkoi," she corrected his profanity into Russian. He stared at her until she made him repeat it. When he made a hash of it, she went over to the table in front of him, leaned over as deeply as she had leaned in front of me, and repeated the words slowly, gazing directly into his eyes. Bob gulped and got it spot on, and with appropriate feeling, given the sight he had before him.

I'm not positive, but I think she had tilted her torso just a bit off from straight on to Bob, so that anybody in my direction could have gotten a least a glimpse themselves. I know I got a nice show, even it was not as nice as Bob's.

There was more general laughter, and as she turned back to the front of the room, some dude in back called out, "How do you say, 'Fuck me silly?'"

Svetlana just smiled over her shoulder as she walked and said, "Tee khocheshya!" That got another laugh from the half of the class that recognized it as "You wish!"

When class ended, several students went up to talk to Svetlana, so I waited in my seat. I felt Elaine bump my shoulder with her hip and I looked up. She just wagged her eyebrows at me, then left the room. I really liked watching her hips move, regardless of whether or not she was a lesbian.

As the last student but me, a mousy brunette, thanked Svetlana and scuttled out of the room, I slid from my seat and moved to the front of the class. She was already tidying up her materials, and only looked up when I reached her desk.

"Ms. Godinova?" I asked softly. I wanted to sound hesitant, which was easy, because I was very much not sure how to approach this. I was unsure if I was imagining things. I was very unsure if Elaine knew what she was talking about. "About my quiz grade from before... I do think I would like an appointment during your office hours. What time can I come in?"

She looked at me and pursed her wide lips, glossed in a red to match her suit. "Tch. But I have just booked last appointment for this evening. And I have brief staff meeting just after." She did not seem to be terribly apologetic, nor terribly disappointed.

"Oh," I said. "Well, I'll just have to try anoth..."

"No..." she said, holding up a hand. "Staff meeting is always short on Wednesdays. Chairman always has bridge game with Dean... and Dean's wife after, so we do not waste time with stupid meetingchushe sobachyiya. Is glorious." She smiled. Was she smiling at not having an interminable meeting, or about somehow helping me... or at the mention of the Chairman and the dean's wife? "You will come back to offices about seven. Will be empty, except for poor Svetlana Godinova, who has many terrible papers to read and grade for her Russian Literature section."

"Terrible papers?" I could not help but ask.

She gave one of those big Russian shrugs. "Tolstoy," she grumbled. "Because he is so long-winded, students think they must be also."

I shrugged empathetically, while inside shuddering at the idea of having to read anything by the author of War and Peace, especially in Russian. "So, seven?" I asked.

"Da. Now run off, so I can lock up," she said, standing, but without the deep flash of cleavage she could have easily provided. I realized that I had been expecting it, and was disappointed that I hadn't gotten it.

*

I had a light dinner, treating myself to Chick-Fil-A again. Beyond that, I dithered. What was going to happen? She had clearly arranged to get me there when the offices would be deserted. That was quite promising. But how was I going to play this? More to the point, I supposed, was how was she going to play it?

She had clearly given me that bullshit (chushe sobachyiya) grade to provoke me. That much was clear, wasn't it? Was she trying to get me to grub for my grade? How was she going to define 'grub' when it came to Shower Guy asking? Was I supposed to offer sex for a better grade?

That seemed more like a male professor--female student kind of meme, didn't it? Was she going to blackmail me into sex with her to make her stop grading me down?

Um, could you blackmail someone into doing something they most definitely wanted to do anyway?

And was she serious, or just role-playing? I mean, she had mirrors. She had to know that I, or any single guy, would jump her bones in a heartbeat, given the opportunity. Maybe all this was just to get me into her office, and we would dispense with the games after that. Hopefully, along with dispensing with our clothes...

I looked at my watch, balled up the wrappers from my dinner and tossed them in the auto-compactor, and went to wash my hands extra well. If I didn't need them nice and clean, I was going to be heartbroken.

I walked briskly through the dusk toward the low, bland office block tucked off behind all the showy classrooms and student facilities, the dingy hole in which the university warehoused a collection of adjunct professors and other instructors with little or no hope for career advancement during their employment here. I idly hoped that the improved student evaluations that Svetlana would inevitably get this semester would encourage her to move on to somewhere where tenure was at least a possibility. There was even the tiniest chance that, based on improved evaluations, the real faculty might move her office to a more public building where people who had actual, legitimate, professional hopes were set up.

The bleak, fluorescent-lit halls of the second floor echoed emptily. Warmer light spilled from the only open door, which I guessed, correctly, was 277. I rapped briskly on the frame and looked in.

Svetlana sat at her desk, leaning over a pile of papers. I liked that angle, as it presented a pretty spectacular view of a luscious, fleshy valley, rimmed along the slopes in white lace. Even better, I was sure that yet another button was undone now, compared to class time.

She looked up, closing off the cleavage show as she straightened her spine, and smiled formally. "Will, you are here. Good. I already need break from badly written Russian from students who mistranslate Tolstoy to begin with." She rose from her seat and gestured me in. She stepped behind me (the office is quite small) and closed the door quite unnecessarily. The building was essentially empty, but for the two of us.

As the door clicked loudly in the silence, my instructor turned and asked, "Now, what can Svetlana Godinova do for you?" Her voice was almost distant. And a little hard.

"Um, first thing is, this quiz you gave us back on Monday. I... feel like the grade is a little low for how I did. I mean, I did get 26 points." I handed her the quiz.

She looked it over, pursing her lips. Then she shrugged and handed it back. "26 points. C+,da. Is just quiz, Will. Two percent of grade. Did you do better today?"

Despite the situation and why I figured that I was here, that response did get to me a little. "Yeah, but Elaine got 26 points on the same quiz, and she got a B+!"

Svetlana stopped and looked at me. "She told you this? Perhaps I should change little trouble-maker's grade to C+, like yours?"

"What? Wait. No!" I scrambled. "I just wanted to know why the difference." Apparently, we were going to continue the role-play. I was going to be blackmailed. I hoped. What was with the threat to Elaine?

Svetlana looked at me calmly. "Different points are worth more," she said, with another Russian shrug. Russian shrugs are different from the classic Gallic shrug. The French shrug to say, "I really don't give a shit." Russians shrug to say, "Fuck It," or often, "Fuck You."

So. Either she was a colossal bitch, and I'd never seen it coming, or she wanted to play out the blackmail scenario.

I was down with having my brains blackmailed out.

"Please, Ms. Godovina," I said, eagerly. "I've just started to improve my grade in this class. It seems like a little thing to give me the B."

"Is pain in backside, is what would be," Svetlana scoffed. "All grades are in main computer. I must write an explanation of change."

"I'm sorry," I said brightly. "Is there something I could do for you to make up for the effort?"

She looked at me archly. I looked back at her blandly. We both cracked the barest hint of a smile.

Svetlana reached back to her desk for the quiz, and appeared to genuinely have it slip from her fingers. She sighed and bent down for it. If I thought the bending Monday had been impressive... Today, she wore even higher, spikier heels, and there was that crazily short skirt. She bent double, with one foot slightly ahead of the other. She, without bending a knee, placed her hands flat on the floor to slide around the quiz and look at it. "I suppose..." she trailed off.

I could not help but break character. I didn't want to, but the words just spilled out of my mouth around the knuckles I was biting to try to keep them in. "Ohhhh shit, Sveltana. How do you do that?" I gasped.

Her head tilted up toward me, and she seemed to accept my suspension of our game. I hoped she'd leave it behind entirely. It was boring anyway, since we both seemed to know what we wanted. She smiled, a bit self-satisfiedly. "This?" she asked, her breath not even labored by the bend in her abdomen. She unfolded herself effortlessly, with a grace that all by itself would have made me hard, had that ship not already put to sea before I even knocked on her door. I nodded wordlessly, drinking her in.

"Flexibility is number one characteristic for ballerina," Svetlana said easily. "As little girl, either my flexibility or my grace alone would have been enough to make me prospect for Bolshoi."

"You were in the Bolshoi?" I said, admiringly. I know approximately zero about ballet, but even a cultural caveman like me has heard of the Bolshoi.

"I was Prima at Moscow Conservancy," Svetlana almost snapped. "Of course I was destined for Bolshoi." She paused, and her face turned sad. Then she ran her hands upward from her waist and over her chest. "But then," she shrugged... hard, "my body developed additional charms," she went on, drawing a deep breath while pressing her blouse and jacket firmly against her abdomen, combining to give me an enhanced view of said additional, magnificent charms.

I exhaled softly. "I am so sorry for you," I said, slowly, "But I'd be lying if I said I was unhappy about how things turned out,"I added daringly.

She barked a short laugh. It had an edge of old bitterness and newer humor. "So," she asked challengingly, leaning back on the front edge of her desk, crossing those evidently world-class dancer's legs, bracing her hands on the surface behind her, and in so doing, thrusting her chest out at me. "You have come here tonight not just to grub grade, but to appreciate boobages?"

"I had hopes," I grinned.

She looked back at me, clearly making me wait. "You have not yet even earned B you want..."

I smiled slowly. I had to restrain myself from jumping up and down like a 10 year-old in the Lego Store with grandma's platinum card, but I managed the feat. Instead, I stepped slowly toward her, keeping my eyes locked onto her strikingly porcelain features.

As I reached the point right before her feet, I let my eyes slowly run down her body as I simultaneously sank down onto my heels. I reached out and caressed her ankle which lay atop the other. It was just so sleek and perfectly formed. It was not until that moment that I realized her legs were so smooth and unblemished all on their own. She wore no hose. And she must own one helluva razor...

I smiled and lifted the one ankle, setting it gently down several inches to the left. Then I lifted the other and moved it even further to the right. I let my eyes drift languidly up to peer into the small area of darkness beneath her skirt. I let her see my lips curl upward for a moment before I began to work my way up the inside of her thigh with my fingers. I took my time enjoying the journey, caressing and kneading the flesh of those long, incredibly sexy legs, every inch a demonstration of perfection.

Svetlana just played it cool, staring calmly down at me with impassive eyes. Only the slight, uncontrollable tremors that shook her legs now and then revealed her enjoyment.

At her knees, I bent to add my mouth's services to my caress, and kept working my way upward. When I reached the high hem of her skirt, I let my lips loiter there, nibbling the slightly raised ridge of a muscle running up her inner thigh. My hand still crept upward though, sliding gently against her thigh and into darkness--hot, moist darkness. Her trembles grew a little more frequent.

Well, well. What have we here? My finger tips brushed against nothing but smooth, slippery skin where her legs met. There was no way in Hell that Svetlana had spent the day teaching and going to meetings in this short skirt with no panties on. She had removed them in anticipation of my arrival. "Hmmm," I chuckled. "I think maybe I am not the only one who thought ahead about my anticipated request to adjust my grade."