The Poet and the Professor

"'Fine, mostly' is good. Let's continue. Shoes and pants next, please."

"Take them off?"

"Yup."

Jason began to feel nervous, but he did as he was told and slipped off his sneakers, undid his belt and pulled down his jeans. His heart started to race once he was in nothing but his boxer shorts. His professor eyed him up and down, slowly and deliberately, taking in every inch of his body. The air in her office felt cool against his skin, and he suddenly struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. As he stood there, his anxiety began to build when he felt a tingle of arousal coming from within his boxers. Jason said a silent prayer that his professor would not notice the bulge that threatened to grow.

"Very, very nice," she mused. "You take direction well, Jason."

"Thanks," he said, more than a little confused.

"Now," continued Melissa calmly, "Let's take off the boxers."

"Are you sure?"

"I just asked you to," she said, leaning back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. "Yes, I'm sure."

"O-okay," Jason stuttered, and before his courage left him, he pulled his underwear down towards his ankles. His semi-hard penis bobbed when he brought his waistband down past it, and he added his underwear to the growing pile of his clothes. He felt the thrill of nakedness along with the cool air of the office, and his heart started beating faster. Jason watched Melissa's eyes drift downward and then back up, drinking in the sight of him. Trying to be modest, he clasped his hands in front of his crotch.

"Hmm," Melissa hummed as she ran a finger through her hair. "Hands at your sides, please. There." Jason watched her examine every inch of him with her sharp blue eyes. In spite of himself, he felt excited standing there naked in front of her, and he began to grow more visibly aroused. He tried to stay calm, focusing on the bookshelf behind Professor Bennett.

"Now, think about what you are feeling right now, letting me see you like this," she said. "This, this is vulnerability. This is presenting yourself to me fully and completely. If you can learn to be comfortable with vulnerability, there's no limit to what you can achieve with your writing. Expose yourself on the page just as you're exposed now. That's what your audience is craving. And," she added, raising her eyebrows and adjusting her glasses, "judging by your physical reaction to this exercise, I believe you might enjoy it too."

She was right—Jason was nearly at full mast.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Jason?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I want you to be honest and present, because your vulnerability has power." Melissa stood up and strode around to the front of the desk. "It really does." Her voice grew low and husky as she spoke.

"Okay."

"You see," Melissa purred, getting close to him, "Your audience will respond to it in ways you can't even imagine. Because exposing yourself authentically is what will make them feel the full effect of your writing. And it can be a strong effect." She stepped closer until the tip of Jason's manhood brushed against her skirt, sending a shiver down his spine. She pressed herself against him as he stood in place, too nervous to move. Their heads were side by side now, his gaze cast over her shoulder at the bookshelf behind her desk. He could smell her citrusy shampoo and feel the fabric of her blouse rise and fall with her breathing. Her right arm snaked over his shoulder and down his back, and as he continued to stare straight ahead, he felt cool fingers curl one by one around his shaft. He stifled a gasp and felt weak in the knees.

"A very strong effect, indeed," Melissa whispered. She took a deep breath and sighed as she held him there softly. "Jason, if I told you that seeing you vulnerable like this—seeing you naked—made me extremely horny, what would you think?"

"I think that would be, um, good," Jason said breathily, his head spinning.

Melissa began to stroke him ever so gently, barely moving at first. She whispered in his ear, slowly and deliberately. "How would you feel if I told you that I was already dripping wet under this skirt?"

"That would be really good," Jason groaned softly. He was fully hard now, every touch from his professor sending sparks through his body. His arousal began to make him feel uninhibited.

"What if I told you," she went on, "that I crave this dick of yours with every fiber of my being? That I want to touch it, taste it, and most of all, feel it pumping in my eager cunt?"

This time Jason was speechless. He tried to say something, but words had deserted him. Head buzzing from arousal, all he could do was nod to show his approval.

"Now," his professor said, "you are feeling the power of my vulnerability."

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you understand?"

"I understand, Melissa."

"Mmm, now you see what I mean. This is the power you have with your writing, to make your audience feel. You can hold them in the palm of your hand, but first you need to own your vulnerability. That's what we need to work on."

"I'll work on it," Jason whispered softly. Melissa brought her left hand to her mouth and sensually licked from her palm to her fingertips before resuming her stroking, the new wetness bringing him close to ecstasy. Feeling emboldened, he cautiously rested a hand on her back, moving it down towards her hip. Under her thin blouse, he could feel the toned curves of a surprisingly athletic body. She started stroking faster, eliciting a moan from her student.

"Very, very good," she purred.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and they both jumped. Hands dropped from each other and Melissa and Jason stepped away from each other, looking at the closed office door. The frosted window was completely opaque, but Jason could not remember if it was locked.

"Professor Bennett?" a cheerful female voice called from outside.

"Just a minute!" Melissa yelled out. "Wait there and I'll be right with you."

"Okay!"

Professor Bennett turned back to Jason with a playful smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Well," she said, "you should probably get your clothes back on."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jason stuttered, and with trembling hands he fumbled with his pants and shirt until he was decent. Melissa got back behind her desk and sat down, checking her hair and makeup in a pocket mirror. The panic made Jason's manhood start to go down, but it was still semi-erect as he got ready to leave. Thankfully, his jeans masked his hardness reasonably well to the casual observer. "Thank you for, um, going over things with me," he said.

"Of course, Jason," Prof. Bennett said without looking up. "Think about what I said, and I look forward to reading your future writing. And it goes without saying that the lessons we've discussed stay in this room. I trust in your discretion."

"Yes, they will," Jason said. Heart still racing, he pulled his backpack on his shoulders and left the office. When he got into the hallway, he saw that Amy was waiting outside.

"Hi, Jason!" she exclaimed in her usual cheery tone.

"Oh! Uh, hey, Amy." He felt his ears burn.

"It's good to see you! Did you have a productive chat?"

"Yeah. Mel—Professor Bennett gives good advice."

"That's good. I just hope she doesn't rip my poem to shreds." She laughed nervously.

"No, she's very nice. You'll be fine."

"Are you doing alright? You seem stressed."

"Yeah, I'm just, um, kind of in a hurry right now, actually." Jason lied.

"Oh! I won't keep you then. See you later!"

"See you in class," Jason said, and he walked away, head still spinning. He felt a strange mix of relief and resentment that he had been interrupted before anything more happened with his professor, but his mind was still locked on the feeling of her soft hand on his member and the sound of her voice in his ear. The way her body felt so tantalizing pressed against his made his heart pound. Jason thought about Amy walking into the office right after him with no idea what had just happened before. How would she react if she knew that just a second before she saw him, he was naked, listening to their professor whisper those things to him? He hoped she had not noticed his erection when they talked in the hallway. I guess vulnerability really does have power, he thought. He almost couldn't believe Professor Bennett was really that attracted to him. He wondered what it would be like to have sex with her, and he let himself fantasize about kissing her, touching her, sucking on her nipples, slipping inside her, hearing her moan with pleasure. He wanted Professor Bennett more than anything, and when he got to his dorm room, barely a moment had passed before he lay down on his bed and, indulging in his fantasies, finished himself what she had started.

#

Jason was nervous coming into class on Tuesday, and he was relieved when, as usual, he came in before Professor Bennett. The thought of having to greet her in front of the class gave him more than a little anxiety, but as it was, he was able to take his seat without having to talk to her. He took his seat in the back of the classroom and greeted Amy when she arrived.

"How did your meeting yesterday go?" he asked.

"It was really good, actually," said Amy. Jason swore she sounded nervous. As she spoke, she looked down and chewed her lip for a second. "She gave me some, uh, good tips. How about yours?"

Jason wondered for a second if he should tell Amy about what had happened, but quickly decided against it. "Yeah, it was good," he said. "Definitely helpful."

"That's good," said Amy. At that moment Professor Bennett walked in to start class. Jason felt his chest tighten as she entered the room, wearing a blue Oxford shirt underneath a gray cardigan and jeans.

Professor Bennett greeted the class and began the lesson. She explained that they would be focusing on romantic poems that day, passing out sheets with works by Pablo Neruda, Shakespeare, and a few others. They started with "If You Forget Me" by Neruda, Professor Bennet calling on volunteers to read the poem out loud stanza by stanza. At then end, she asked if anyone had any thoughts about the poem, and Amy eagerly raised her hand.

"The most impactful lines in this poem, to me, come at the end," Amy said. "I like how Neruda uses fire to represent love, because it's all-consuming. It demands every ounce of your attention. And it's dangerous! It can hurt or even destroy you. But it can also save your life, depending on the circumstances. Love is the same way, but creating an image of a fire delivers a much more effective image than saying 'love can destroy you,' etc. It lets him pack so much into such a small phrase!"

Professor Bennett nodded vigorously, grinning. "I agree completely, Amy. Great observation. Moreover, we get to see him play with the metaphor in the next line. 'In me all that fire is repeated.' In other words, the fire—his love—grows from the fire in his lover. Think about a fire growing for a second. It starts out small and rather delicate—" Professor Bennett pantomimed a small flame getting bigger "—but if you give it fuel, it grows and heats up until you have something incredible and powerful. The speaker of this poem is saying that, if his lover's feelings are true and intense, the fire will spread to him. It's an image that calls back to the beginning of the poem, where touching near a fire 'carries me to you;' that is, his lover is already his obsession, an obsession that forms kindling, ready to ignite when his love is reciprocated. The speaker is ready to burst into flame if only the object of their desire will grant them that spark."

Glancing up from his notes, Jason's heart skipped a beat when he saw Professor Bennett's bespectacled eyes locked on his. Unwavering, she held his gaze tightly, and with a sly smile, asked, "What do you make of this, class?"

He knew she was talking to him.

Chest pounding, Jason cautiously raised his hand.

"Yes, Jason?" Professor Bennett's expectant blue eyes stayed locked on his.

"I think that, uh, the fact that Neruda puts the intense image of the fire metaphor at the end, after he discusses the hypothetical where their lover doesn't love them back, shows how confident he is that the feelings are reciprocated. It's pretty clear from the poem, to me at least, that the speaker's lover does feel the same way as the speaker."

Professor Bennett folded her arms and nodded slowly. "Well put, Jason," she mused. "I agree." For just an instant, imperceptible to the rest of the class, she gave Jason a knowing look before she continued the lecture.

"Of course, fire is not the only metaphor used in this poem, but it is one of the most dramatic, and frankly, my personal favorite."

Heart still pounding, Jason furiously tried to keep up as she went on about the other literary elements of the poem and what made them effective. Even as he struggled to focus, every flash of her smile and toss of her hair reminded him of how beautiful she was, and his thoughts kept pulling back to their previous meeting. He wondered, if and when they met again in private, if they would continue where they had left off.

As she finished with that poem and talked about the others, giving students plenty of opportunities to speak up and offer their thoughts, Professor Bennett highlighted each poet's use of metaphor to crystallize their feelings about the object of their desire. At the end of class, the gave them their assignment for the week.

"For your next poem, I want you to use a metaphor to describe an emotion that you've experienced, or one that you are experiencing. See if by wrapping it up in metaphor, you can convey complex ideas to the reader more effectively, more powerfully. As always, I am available outside of class to discuss your work, but otherwise I look forward to reading your poems in one week."

With that, class was dismissed. As Amy and Jason were gathering their things, he asked her if she wanted to go with him to the frat party that weekend. "Kurt invited me," he said, "but they won't actually let me in without bringing a girl with."

Amy laughed. "That's all I am to you? Just a device to get into parties? So you can cram more filler into your tale of college life or whatever?"

Jason blushed. "I mean, no, that's not what I—"

"I'm kidding! Sure, that sounds like a great time. Text me when you go and I'll meet you at the frat house."

They exchanged numbers. As Jason left class, Kurt caught up with him.

"Hey Jason!" Kurt said. "Sorry about last weekend. I ended up needing to study harder than I thought for an exam, and I couldn't make it. I heard they didn't let you in."

"Oh, no worries," Jason said. "It happens. But thanks for saying that."

"Let me give you my number, that way you can text me and I can let them know you're good if that ever happens again. But also, if you bring a chick, you'll probably get in no problem."

"Thanks!" said Jason. He put Kurt's number in his phone and went back to his dorm, eagerly waiting for what that Saturday would bring.

Jason considered visiting Professor Bennett during her office hours that week, but an exam for a different class on Friday kept him too busy to do so. On Saturday afternoon, he texted Amy.

'Hey, it's Jason. You still want to go to the party tonight?'

'Of course!' she replied. Then a moment later, 'I can't wait to see you :)'

'Meet me at the frat house at 10?'

'Perfect. See you then!'

Jason waited anxiously for the hour to roll around, trying on several shirts and pants before eventually settling on a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. He checked his hair one final time in the mirror and practically skipped down the steps of his dorm and out into the cool night. He noticed the Big Dipper lingering in the cool night sky as he walked across the dewey quad to the frat house, his heart pounding with excitement.

Amy was out front waiting for him when he got to the door. For the first time, he saw her face without her usual glasses. She looked as excited as ever to see him, and after saying hello she gave him a quick but tight hug. Amy pulled back with a smile.

"Hey there!" she said with a grin. She wore a loose white t-shirt with a plunging neckline low enough to reveal twin slivers of black bra. Slim ripped black jeans hugged her legs, with holes exposing bits of caramel-colored thigh, knee, and calf.

"Hey Amy! Ready to go in?" he asked. She nodded vigorously, and Jason knocked on the door. The same frat brother from the previous week answered. He did not seem to remember Jason, but seeing that he and Amy were together, let them in.

Loud party music bumped inside the house, which was dimly lit with multicolored lights dancing dizzily across the walls and ceiling. A crowd of people milled around inside the foyer, most of them holding drinks. A large staircase in the great room led Jason and Amy up the stairs to a wide-open second floor, where a DJ in the corner fiddled with a laptop and turntables. A thick crowd of dancers filled the dance floor, and opposite the DJ, a wooden bar sat beneath a taxidermied deer head. Two frat brothers poured out drinks into red solo cups and handed them out at a feverish pace. Jason gestured over to the bar, and Amy nodded vigorously by way of an answer.

Their drinks poured, Amy leaned in to talk to Jason over the din of the music. Her hair brushed his neck and he caught her flowery scent as she talked.

"This looks pretty cool," said Amy. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes, a stray strand of hair falling in front of her face. "I can't believe we're at a real frat party! It's like we're really in college!" She added with a laugh.

Jason nodded and scanned the room. "It's a nice party."

"Let's go explore! I want to check out the house."

"Okay."

Jason followed Amy around the crowd of dancers, and they wandered through the dark frat house. It smelled of beer, and fans throughout the hallways made a feeble effort to cool the warm air, made humid from all the bodies inside. In spite of the dank conditions, the people milling around appeared to be having fun, and several couples were making out against the walls to the pounding music coming from the dance floor. Jason and Amy rounded a corner and found a door that opened into a large common room, where several people were playing beer pong and several more were watching. There was also a couch, where a few partiers were splayed out watching a movie on a TV mounted on the wall. The sound was inaudible over the music, but they seemed to be having a good time anyway. One of the beer pong players looked up as they walked in, and Jason recognized him as Kurt.

"Hey, Bro!" shouted Kurt with a wave. "What's up?"

Jason waved back. "What's up, Kurt? How's it going?"

Kurt welcomed them into the room, wearing a tank top and shorts. He and a freckled blonde girl in a tight black dress were playing on a beer pong team opposite another couple. Their male opponent, who Jason guessed was another fraternity brother based on his pink polo and khakis, had spiky sand-colored hair and a short beard. Beside him was a tall, slender brunette.

Kurt gave Jason a stiff slap on the back. "Good to see you, man." He gestured at the table, where there were a far greater number of cups in front of him and his teammate than the three left on their opponents' side. "We're about to smoke these fools," he said with a toothy grin. "Isn't that right, Dan?"

"Fuck you," said Dan, the brother at the other end of the table. "You got lucky early on." The tawny-skinned brunette next to him raised a middle finger toward Kurt and his partner with a sarcastic glare. She had on baggy jeans and a high-cut sleeveless bodysuit that revealed crescent-shaped sections of skin above the waist of her pants, and a flowery half-sleeve tattoo adorned her right upper arm.