Gaby's Grades

"And your answer would be, Miss Mackay?"

Professor Hawthorne's voice brought Gaby to her senses with a jolt.

"Wh... what?"

"Young lady, there are only four of us in this tutorial. Is it really too much to expect you to remain awake and paying attention? Are the rest of us really so uninteresting?"

Shit! Had she really dozed off only four feet away from her Tutor; the man whose final assessment would determine the quality of degree with which she would soon leave University?

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't sleep well last night. Would you mind repeating the question?"

The older man sighed resignedly.

"I know Monday mornings are never popular among students but with only a few months of study before the final examinations I would have thought..."

Gaby listened to Professor Hawthorne's lecture yet again. She knew it almost by heart and had actually recited it to her friends in the pub only two nights before. But she also knew if she had paid attention to its content months ago, she might not be in the difficult position she now faced.

She tried to look as if she was listening as the Professor droned on but concentrating was so hard after only three hours' sleep.

Once again, the 'glass of wine' with her flatmate Debbie the previous night had attracted the attention of the boys from the flat above. Once again the evening had developed into a long night of drinking, watching movies and playing cards. Once again she had fallen into bed around three o'clock and into her own bed two hours later, flushed and sticky.

Gaby believed in a work-hard-play-hard attitude to student life and had pursued this throughout her time in Oxford. During the first two years this hadn't mattered; the marks she had received had been excellent. They hadn't counted much towards her final degree but, confident in her ability, she had taken maximum advantage of all the ancient city had to offer a pretty, well-off girl.

Now, in her final year, all that had changed and every mark was vital if Gaby was to follow her mother into the legal profession. At first she had found this change hard to deal with and had found it impossible to give up her socially and sexually rewarding but academically damaging lifestyle.

As a result, her marks had started to slip! That would never do; apart from her own competitive nature, what would her hard-nosed, career oriented mother Julie say if Gaby failed to get the degree her abilities warranted?

Julie Mackay was a high-flying Queen's Counsel in London despite having been a single mother for several years after graduation. This, as everyone pointed out, was a difficult example for her daughter to live up to.

Gaby took after her mother physically but that was where the resemblance appeared to end. Julie Mackay was blonde, large-breasted and strikingly attractive. Like her rather errant daughter, she too had studied at Oxford, indeed, if Professor Hawthorne - the tutor they shared over twenty years apart - was to be believed, Julie had been a model student. Certainly she had graduated with a First Class degree, had been snapped up by one of the top five firms and her career had taken wings.

Gaby often suspected this wasn't the whole truth; after all she was only twenty two years younger than her mother; even the simplest of calculations showed that the Great Lady must have been pregnant when she left University and despite her mother's three marriages, no name for Gaby's genetic father had ever been forthcoming.

"I can't understand how so many of you waste so much of the precious opportunity you have been given..."

The Professor's voice droned on. Gaby tried to look as if she was listening but the throbbing in her head and the queasiness on her tummy were too great a distraction. She bit her lower lip to try and remain alert and looked at the Tutor they all referred to as 'the Old Man'.

In his baggy, unfashionable corduroy trousers, un-ironed checked shirt, badly knotted tie and shapeless cardigan, Professor Hawthorne looked the epitome of the distracted, unworldly Oxford Don. He was grey, unfit, a little stooping and even wore an ancient tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows.

Unmarried and of indeterminate age, he had avoided the usual rumours about closet homosexuality. In fact if anything he had acquired a reputation for looking a little too intently at his female students' breasts and legs during tutorials; the 'Old Man' had become the 'Dirty Old Man'.

Gaby had felt the weight of his appreciative gaze on her body many times, especially when wearing the low cut tops and very short skirts she preferred whatever the weather. But there had never been any suggestion of inappropriate physical contact and his relationships with the female academic and domestic staff appeared relaxed and cordial as if they found him friendly and unthreatening.

Whatever his appearance and sexual preferences might be, Professor Hawthorne's legal brain was still razor sharp as his many published opinions, articles and learned papers clearly testified. His acerbic, sarcastic wit was sharp too as Gaby herself had found out on several memorable occasions.

"Returning to my original question..."

To her relief, the Professor's admonition had ended and the tutorial recommenced and miraculously, Gaby found she knew the answer to the question she had missed. She replied and was complimented. She answered the next two questions correctly too and the rest of the morning's session passed much more productively.

As the college clock chimed twelve and the students rose to leave, the Professor asked her to remain for a few moments. Gaby's heart sank. This could only mean one thing; a further, personal lecture to follow his earlier admonitions to the group.

"You are aware your mother was one of my students, Miss Mackay?" he began, his eyes disconcertingly on Gaby's rather ample breasts.

Her heart sank; Gaby had already heard enough stories about her mother's hard work, attention to detail and general super-human abilities. She mentally switched off as he droned on a little longer but was brought back with a jolt at his next words.

"... but my opinion, your abilities exceed hers by some considerable distance."

"I'm sorry?" she stammered.

"You apologise too often, Miss Mackay. It's polite but a good lawyer knows when politeness appears as weakness."

"I'm sorr... I mean, is that so?" she asked. The Professor grinned.

"You are clearly a fast learner too. Take a seat."

Gaby sat on one of the hard-backed chairs and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode high up her bare thigh; she could see the Old Man's eyes follow every inch of its journey before he spoke.

"If you were to leave here with a First Class degree, your career path could be as impressive as your famous mother's - probably even more so - but your recent performance makes that unlikely."

His eyes were on her groin for the whole of this speech but it was too important a conversation to take offence; Gaby knew her recent marks had been below her best and had been reconciling herself to gaining only an Upper Second degree.

The Professor's words of confidence were astounding, but he hadn't finished; his eyes moved from her legs to her breasts and back as he continued:

"You still have six pieces of work still to complete. Two of them are already overdue so you will be marked down. I have no doubt that you will excel in the formal examinations so it is essential that you achieve the maximum possible in your remaining assignments."

Gaby needed no help paying attention now; the Old Man's words were the fastest hangover cure she had ever encountered. She crossed and re-crossed her legs awkwardly as his eyes apparently tried to see right through her top and knickers but his words could make her forgive him anything.

"I suggest you apply your considerable talents as a matter of urgency. I would hate to see such ability wasted on a mediocre result followed by a mediocre career. I'm sure your Mother feels the same."

"Of course Professor."

"Professor Mullins will mark your overdue assignments. He is strict so you can expect no more than an Upper Second."

Gaby frowned; Professor Mullins was notoriously mean. She was quite capable of producing First Class submissions in his subject but that would now be pointless. She cursed her laziness silently as Hawthorne' eyes scanned her from the flat shoes on her feet, along the full length of her legs, across her tiny skirt then over her breasts to her eyes where they seemed to burn into her flesh.

"Your final four submissions are my responsibility. The first is due next week. I suspect you are behind with this already so, out of respect for your mother I am prepared to grant you an extra week's grace. One week, no longer!"

"Thank you Professor. I will do my best."

"It will take your very best, young lady. This University does not award First Class degrees to any but the very best!"

***

Gaby worked hard over the next few days, spending hours in the library revising and working on her assignments, calculating and recalculating her marks to see how close she could get to the First Class degree she so badly wanted.

As predicted, the two overdue works were marked down by Professor Mullins; not as badly as they might have been but her total mark still looked uncertain.

The exams would improve this but in the end her final degree and with it her career as a lawyer - possibly her entire future happiness - rested on the last four pieces of work she had to produce for Professor Hawthorne.

This made her nervous. The man would mark her fairly but would be firm too. His topics had never been her strongest and she was by no means sure of gaining all the marks that she needed. Perhaps an Upper Second was the best she could get.

And then the letter arrived.

It was from Wickhams, one of the 'Top Five' law firms in London, offering her the coveted training place she and all her co-students had dreamed of.

Gaby had never been so excited in her life. There would be thousands of Law Graduates coming out of Universities that summer; only a small proportion of the would find jobs at all. Gaby had not only found a job but had been offered the best job she could have imagined. If she was successful and joined this prestigious firm, her future career was assured.

No doubt her mother's reputation had helped put her in this position but all the same, Gaby was elated.

Then she saw it; those terrible words:

'... conditional on your graduating with a First Class degree..."

Oh shit!

She called her mother immediately. The Great Lady was equally pleased and proud but her response, though perceptive, had still been characteristically acidic.

"If you'd spent more time in the library and less time in bed with your dubious boyfriends you wouldn't be having these worries!"

"Mother!"

Gaby had objected half-heartedly, knowing her mother was right; her sexual history at University had been chequered to say the least.

"Gabrielle, we live in a man's world; we women have to deal with that. We have to use all the assets God gave us to best effect."

There was a long pause before Julie carried on.

"You only get one chance in life Gabrielle and this is yours. It doesn't get better than Wickhams; you can't let this chance slip through your fingers."

"I know but..."

"Now is the time to be brutally focussed. You must do whatever you need to do to get that 'First'. Your whole future depends on it; do whatever you need to do!"

***

Her mother's words ringing in her ears, Gaby had spent the whole of the following night working on her next assignment. When the morning finally came she was exhausted but had produced what she knew was a superb piece of work.

What was more, she had a plan! It wasn't a plan her mother would approve of but, if it worked, she would indeed be 'using her assets to best effect'.

***

During the following morning's tutorial session, the Professor lectured them again on the need for hard work but the impact of his admonitions was reduced because he delivered the entire first half of the speech to Gaby's left breast. In his defence, she had made sure it was displayed remarkably well by an excessively tight vest top and she had neglected to wear a bra.

The second half of the speech was delivered to a combination of her well-presented right breast and the tiny white knickers her microscopic skirt and crossed legs made hard to ignore.

When the rest of the group had departed, she approached Hawthorne slowly.

"Excuse me, Professor."

"Miss Mackay?"

She placed an envelope on the table in front of him.

"My next assignment. I wondered whether you had had a chance to look at my last work yet."

Her voice was soft and almost sultry.

"You know I'm not permitted to discuss work before its deadline."

"I know, but I really want to know whether I've reached the right standard - so I can judge my next submissions properly."

He turned to look at the blonde head raised pleadingly, its eyes open wide. She was standing so close he couldn't avoid seeing straight down the front of her top or notice the hard nipples sticking proudly forward.

"Did you like what you saw, Professor?" she asked archly.

The Old Man was clearly wrong-footed.

"Um... your work is excellent but I'm afraid still borderline. If you really want that 'First', you need to gain even more marks on these last pieces."

"Is there still time?" Gaby asked.

"Not normally, but I could return your last submission so you can work on it a little more."

Gaby moved even closer and opened her eyes a little wider.

"I wondered if some extra tuition might improve my marks even more."

Hawthorne looked at her blankly.

"I'm not sure I understand you, Miss Mackay."

"My mother suggested that you might be able to give me some... private tuition."

"Your mother suggested it?"

"Yes. She said you were very helpful."

The Professor seemed very pleased at this compliment.

"Your mother was a remarkable student. I do remember some additional tuition in her final year. Not that it was needed; she had real talent."

Gaby closed her ears to her mother being praised once again.

"And of course so do you but you seem to lack her commitment," he continued.

She took a deep breath. This was the real gamble; this was taking her mother's words very literally.

"I hoped there was some way I could be more certain of getting a First. I know I'm good enough but I thought a little extra... in private... might just guarantee those last few extra marks."

"It comes down to you and your abilities. Private tuition is not part of a Professor's tenure. Some might even think it unethical."

"I appreciate this is a lot to ask so I thought... I mean I wondered whether... whether we could come to an arrangement."

His eyes were still disconcertingly blank.

"An arrangement?"

"I wondered whether...if I helped you in some way... you might be able to... to mark my assignments more generously."

The Professor looked stunned.

"I'm not sure I understand, Miss Mackay. You would like some extra-curricular tuition from me and in return?"

She took another deep breath, offered a silent prayer and said it!

"In return, I would provide some extra-curricular activities for you."

The Old Man stood still as if frozen to the spot.

"Are you trying to corrupt me, young lady?" he asked, apparently amused. "I should report this conversation to the Master if you are."

Gaby paused for a moment. Had she misread the signs? Perhaps he was just testing her to see how serious she actually was before putting himself in danger by agreeing.

"Goodness no, Professor! But I do know I'm asking a great deal of you. You've really inspired me these last few weeks; I really want to do my best; to repay the faith you have in me. I do have the commitment! I want to get a 'First', I really do! You told me I'm good enough; my work alone should show that but..."

"But?"

"But I want to be... certain!"

She looked him straight in the eye and spoke so clearly and precisely that only an imbecile could mistake her meaning.

"There's nothing - nothing I wouldn't do to get that 'first'!"

Their eyes were locked together for what felt like an age before there was a loud knock on the door.

"Come!" called the Professor after a long pause.

The door opened and four young, pale teenagers filed in. Gaby rose nervously to her feet, unsure where the situation had reached. Had he understood? Was he interested? Or had she just destroyed her degree and career for nothing?

"I think - to avoid misunderstandings - it would be best if you put your proposal in writing, Miss Mackay," he eventually said.

Gaby breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't expelled her straight away.

"Should I send an email?" she asked. He laughed and looked at the new arrivals.

"I think a letter would be better, don't you? I find handwriting much more personal. And proposals in a person's own hand are much easier to understand. And perhaps accept."

Gaby felt a mixture of relief, fear and anxiety wash over her as she walked slowly from the room.

***

It was nearly midnight when she leaned back in her chair and pushed the pen away. The letter had taken over an hour to write but was finally finished.

Like most students, Gaby always typed her assignments so it had taken some time remember how to write in ink. She had chosen the fountain pen which her mother had given her for her eighteenth birthday in the belief that the Old Man would appreciate it more.

Was she crazy? Had she gone out of her mind? Surely with her talents just a little extra tuition would be enough to gain her the degree she deserved?

She looked again at the letter from Wickhams; at the paragraph offering her dream placement. It offered her the brightest future she could imagine - if and only if she graduated with the First Class honours degree she had told them she expected.

Gaby knew she couldn't take the chance. However distasteful, she could and would go through with it.

The letter she had written was rather more direct than her conversation had been to make sure there could be no misunderstandings. Once she had handed it over there would be no turning back.

She looked at the Wickham's letter again. She had to succeed; there was no other choice!

Besides, how bad could it be? It's not as if she was a virgin; not as if she hadn't slept with some highly unsuitable partners in the past. He was an old man for Christ's sake!

Gaby carefully folded the letter, sealed it and addressed it neatly. She would slip it into the Professor's pigeon hole tomorrow. Meanwhile there were those remaining assignments to get on with.

She made herself another mug of strong coffee and began to type.

***

"There are only a handful of tutorials left before your examinations so I expect you to take maximum advantage of what little time is left..."

Gaby tried desperately to concentrate as the Professor drew the session to a close. It was Friday, three days since she had posted her letter; so far there had been no response and she was anxious. Had she misinterpreted his interest? If he was outraged he showed no sign of it.

There was a knock on the door as the next tutorial group arrived and the Professor began to dismiss them but as Gaby approached the door he stopped her.

"Miss Mackay?"

Her heart missed a beat.

"Yes Professor?" she turned slowly to find his eyes firmly fixed on her breasts.

"Thank you for your... proposal. I have decided... to accept it."

She felt her tummy churn. Was it relief? Or fear?

"Thank you, Professor," she replied, her voice weak with nerves.

"I could see you on Monday afternoons at four and Thursday mornings at eight-thirty for the next three weeks."