The Professors - Pt. 01

"Remember the coursework's due in on Friday. The deadline's 2pm. I won't be accepting any excuses."

I felt my heart sink at my lecturer's words. I'd hardly gathered together enough material to write a 1000 word report, let alone the mammoth 6000 word essay that needed to be submitted. And it definitely needed to be submitted. I was barely scraping through as it was, teetering on the edge of failure. Another unsatisfactory module mark and my chances of progressing on to the second year were looking pretty bleak.

It's not that I couldn't cope with the content of the BA History course I'd joined the previous year in September. I was certainly bright enough. In fact with my A Level grades I'd probably sold myself short in picking my current university. I'd not chosen it on its academic merits or league table rankings though, I'd blindly followed my boyfriend there who'd bagged himself a full sports scholarship playing football whilst studying Sports Science. What I hadn't banked on was finding him in a compromising position with the student coach of the ladies volleyball team only a month into the first semester.

Things had swiftly gone downhill from there. All of a sudden poring over textbooks in the evening was replaced with downing shots in the Students Union bar. I told myself I was having fun, I was only young once, it was just the first term, I had plenty of time to buckle down and better my weak grades after Christmas, but unfortunately my first semester exam marks were a harsh wake up call. If I didn't pull my socks up I'd be out of the course and off campus by the time early summer rolled around. And then Professor Murphy came on to the scene...

Professor Thomas Murphy or Tom as he urged the students to call him was a recent addition to the Faculty staff. Fresh from his PhD studies and eager to teach, he'd fast become a firm favourite amongst both staff and students alike. He was friendly, enthusiastic and always took the time to explain the course content thoroughly. But it wasn't just his engaging teaching style which saw his module fast oversubscribed with keen students. He was drop dead gorgeous, and the flurry of excited whispers that had flowed around the lecture room when he'd stepped up to the lectern to deliver a short introduction on semester two options day had less to do with real excitement for the subject, and more to do with the tightness of his trousers and his piercing blue eyes. You could practically hear the collective sigh from most of the females in the room... and a few of the males too.

And now here I was, three weeks into the term, my self-made promises of turning over a new leaf looking more and more like empty vows as night after night I ventured out rather than taking my studies seriously. Not even the thought of impressing my attractive new Professor was enough to tempt me away from two-for-one cocktails at the Union club nights. In fact he'd been the main reason I'd been out until 2am in the morning the night before.

It had started innocently enough. Loud cheers and cheeky remarks as the usual gang of revellers from my hall of residence had spotted Tom and a male colleague enjoying a quiet early evening pint in the corner of a bar in the town centre. We'd all struck up banter backwards and forwards across the room until Tom had caved and agreed to join us all at the next bar in our planned pub crawl. Pint after pint had been sunk, and soon enough it was impossible to tell exactly who the responsible adult was. We'd all seen another side to Professor Murphy, a fun, reckless, impulsive side which only served to make him all the more attractive. If only I'd not had that last cocktail I probably would have been able to restrain myself.

I cringed internally as I recalled bumping into him as he was coming out of the toilets at the nightclub we'd all ended up at. How I'd grabbed the lapels of his shirt and backed him into the wall of the narrow corridor, showering him with compliments which he'd awkwardly rebuffed. If I'd left it at that I probably could have laughed it off, kept my head down for a few lectures and there would have been no harm done, but I hadn't. Spurred on by my drunken state and my worries about flunking the course, I did something bad. Something I wasn't going to recover from with a flushed face and an awkward apology.

I propositioned him.

One hand against the wall, the other toying with his belt buckle before slipping down to firmly caress between his legs as he looked back at me wide-eyed and disbelievingly.

"So... Sir," I'd slurred, voice thick with inebriation. "Is there anything I can do to help me pass your module this semester?"

I'd seen a spark of something in his eyes but it was only fleeting. He'd quickly recovered, firmly pushing me back, hands on my shoulders, spinning me around so I was now the one against the wall.

"Grace... you're drunk," he'd stated. "I'd think very carefully about your next actions if I were you or you're going to get yourself into a situation that's beyond your control."

"Ooh... d'ya like being in control then?" I'd giggled, pouting suggestively, reaching for him again.

He'd grabbed my wrists, hard, his grip firm as he pushed them back against the wall. "I mean it. Don't make me do something I'll regret."

His eyes flashed dangerously, boring into me for a long moment before he pushed himself back from the wall, releasing me and then stepping away, muttering that he was leaving.

I let him go.

It was supposed to be a warning, a show of his authority to deter me, but it didn't have the desired effect. In fact it did the exact opposite, and as I stumbled home and into bed that night all I could think of was his hands on my wrists, pinning me back against the wall. How it would feel if his lips had met mine and his body had pressed against me.

I fell asleep that night full of thoughts of him running through my head and I woke up just hours later, hungover and restless, my head pounding.

"Come on Grace, get up. You've got a 9 o' clock lecture. You can't be late again."

My best friend and room-mate Lizzie had appeared at my bedside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of paracetamol in her other open palm. I'd raised my head stiffly, blinking at the harsh sunlight and groaning before sinking my head back down into my pillow face-first.

"Grace!" she'd grumbled, louder this time. "Hungover or not, you're gonna be in so much trouble if you don't go to Professor Murphy's lecture. You know how strict he can be."

The sound of his name reverberated around my head, bringing to mind images of me blatantly throwing myself at him the previous night. I considered just pulling the covers up over my head and blocking out the day, but I knew Lizzie was right. If Tom decided to fail me then I was out, no second chances. If I even still had a place on the course after my shameful behaviour.

I'd grudgingly dragged myself out of bed, dutifully swallowing the painkillers and the entire glass of water, then slunk off to the shower.

I'd slipped into the lecture room twenty minutes late, creeping sneakily in with my eyes cast floorwards, fearful of making any contact. Then I kept my head down, quite literally, for the whole of my two hour class. If it had been any other academic up there presenting the material I would surely have dozed off, but I wasn't going to miss a second of Tom. It captivated me how he commanded every student's attention, his obvious enthusiasm shining through as he animatedly delivered the presentation. And what's more, despite being out until the early hours on a brutal pub crawl like I was, he didn't look hungover at all. In fact he looked fresh as a daisy and even more devastatingly handsome than normal. How the fuck did he even do that?

"Remember the coursework's due in on Friday. The deadline's 2pm. I won't be accepting any excuses."

So here I was, fuzzy-headed and shame-faced, trying to keep my head low as I merged into the steady stream of students as they filed out of the lecture room. A sigh of relief was waiting with the big inhale I'd taken as I'd stepped past Tom, eyes fixed firmly on the floor as I'd noticed his polished shoes in my peripheral vision. I was nearly there, the threshold of the doorway just inches away...

"Grace... I'd like a word please."

It wasn't a question. I didn't have a choice. I stopped in my tracks, letting the remaining students slip past me, waiting until the last one had walked through the exit and the door had closed behind them.

It was quiet in the room, stiflingly so, and it made my heart pound with a raw kind of nervousness as I turned slowly, eventually looking up at Tom as I came to a stop facing him.

I was expecting him to look stern and disappointed in me, a disapproving glare to show that I'd let him and myself down, so when I clocked the slight smirk simmering at the edge of his lips I was taken aback. My cheeks flushed a deep shade of scarlet as he held me locked in his gaze.

"How's the head?"

I giggled girlishly, overcome with a shyness that didn't usually afflict me, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, it's... errr... it's... I've been better I suppose... Look... about last night..."

I tailed off, saw his eyebrows raise expectantly as he cocked his head to look at me, his smirk widening. He knew I was mortified and he was thoroughly enjoying this. This was how he was going to punish me, but I deserved to squirm. I supposed a touch of humiliation was a small price to pay for my actions. Especially as trying to bribe my way into an academic's pants to get an honours degree was grounds for an instant expulsion.

I carried on awkwardly, stumbling over my words, tongue-tied and pathetic. "I'm... really sorry. I was just... drunk... I... errr... I didn't really mean it."

"So what did you mean then Grace? Do you want to enlighten me?"

He took a step towards me and I countered it, then another and another and then I felt my back hit the wall. I took a deep breath, holding it, my mind scrambling for a fitting response.

"I just... I... I don't know..."

"You thought you'd just suck my cock and I'd award you a First? Is that it?"

This hit me like a slap in the face and I let my exhale go quickly, my mouth falling agape.

It was the way he said it, matter-of-factly like we were discussing a mundane topic and not a sexual act in payment for my success. He wasn't flustered in the slightest, in fact he looked calm and collected. In control. It made my heart race and that wild, wayward part of me awaken. The part that took chances and didn't conform.

I looked at him right back, a challenge I wasn't backing down from.

"What if... what if I said yes? What then?"

A spark lit in his eyes and he wasn't hiding it this time, it simmered there with a tension that I felt in every fibre of my being as my nerve endings bristled with electricity.

"Well... I couldn't just leave it ignored. You'd need to be disciplined of course."

His words lit a fire between my legs as a dark part of me stirred and came to life. My pulse raced and my breathing deepened.

"Tom..." I began, but my words didn't come.

They caught in my throat as he leaned in, one hand flat on the wall and the other rising up, two of his fingers trailing gently down my jaw. I swallowed deeply, anticipation thick in the air as his fingers came to rest on my chin, tipping my head back so I had no choice but to look up at him.

"It's not Tom to you, it's Sir... You got that?"

"Yes... Sir..."

It came out like a whisper, breathy and full of desire. His lips curled up into a devilish smile as he looked down on me. There was a long moment where we just looked at each other, my heart thudding hard in my chest, my fingers twitching at my sides as I longed to reach out for him, tangle my fingers in his hair, grasp at his hips as I pushed my own against his. Anything to satisfy the ache between my thighs.

But it wasn't happening. He stepped away, eyes still on me as he backed up, watching me carefully.

"Don't be late for my lecture tomorrow... or there will be consequences."

Then I watched as he turned and walked away, pushing through the door without so much as a look behind him, leaving me there breathless and wanting, coiled tightly like a spring.

To be continued...