Hot for Teacher

Never did I think I would find myself in an all-girls program. I looked around in amazement on orientation day as the 41 other first year students sat around me, chatting excitedly. They were all girls. According to the professors, this was typical. Despite that I'm also a girl, I'm not really what you would think of as a "girly girl." Anything further than the most basic concepts of make-up, accessories and style completely elude me. For example, I have a vague concept of what a cuticle is and I recently learned that blush and lip color are supposed to match. Who knew? Most days I'm content to wear jeans and a t-shirt-- occasionally, on a day when I'm feeling fancy, a sun dress with some sandals.

Of course, it wasn't a conscious decision; I had assumed that there would be more men in the AuD program, particularly at such a large, prestigious university. But I somehow wound up here, adrift and confused in a sea of fashion and other womanly topics that I could hardly share in a conversation about. Academics had always been more my specialty.

It wasn't that I disliked the girls-- I simply craved seeing a male face once in a while, and having a conversation with a guy. Guys always seemed easier to talk to, to me. I had a fiance, so I wasn't interested in finding a life partner or anything. I just appreciate seeing an attractive guy every now and then. Not to mention that my fiance travels frequently for work, leaving me lonely in more than one way... A handsome face would go a long way to get me through the lonely nights in my cold, small apartment. Perhaps that's why I started developing complex emotions toward Jay, the lone male professor in this estrogen fueled environment.

He wasn't particularly attractive; he had an ever widening bald spot on the back of his head, and even his loose fitting clothing revealed that he was not in optimal shape. Still, what hair he had left was dark, he had striking blue eyes with a strong jaw, and he really wasn't in HORRIBLE shape. He spoke both eloquently and quietly. Sometimes he joked sarcastically during class, and other times he snapped in an infuriatingly passive aggressive manner at the slightest provocation. There was a certain social awkwardness about him that I could easily relate to. In all, he was a complex enigma that I desperately wanted to figure out. I found myself inexplicably attracted to him, though I constantly resisted such feelings. Not only were they highly inappropriate, but he also had a way of destroying a girl's confidence in a few short words, which was a trait I found highly unattractive. So despite my attraction, I also hated him with an ever growing passion. It was the epitome of a complicated love-hate relationship.

I can still remember the first day that I had decided to wear a black skirt to clinic. It was pleated all around and fell below my mid-thigh. It was not particularly daring or sexy, but I would never get away with wearing anything remotely "daring or sexy" during my professional clinical duties. I wore with it a simple, purple sleeveless blouse and a pair of patterned, knit black stockings with black, open-toed heels. As I stood with a classmate discussing a case, I looked up briefly out of the corner of my eye to see Jay, standing from the doorway with a coffee in his hand. His eyes raked across my body from head-to-toe and an unexpected thrill coursed through my body. I looked quickly back to the case I had been discussing, before he had a chance to notice that I had seen him looking. For the rest of the day, I had tried puzzling out why he would have been looking at me like that. My initial thrill turned to worry and doubt. Perhaps my outfit had been inappropriate after all, despite that it had seemed fine to me-- he never mentioned it, though. He was married, after all, and despite working with many other young women who were much more beautiful than myself, he never seemed to express any kind of subtle sexual interest in anyone. He was strictly business, and quite frankly, seemed disinterested in anyone but himself.

After that encounter, I scolded myself when I blushed at his simple, rare compliments: "Great job on that test, Elle," and "Your haircut looks nice." Even comments that could be interpreted in a mildly sexual way were expressed in such a flat, expressionless, nonchalant manner that my immediate pleasure was quickly replaced by disappointment.

One bright, sunny Friday during class near the end of the second semester, our summer clinic schedules were given to us. I glanced at it, searching for my own name and quickly finding it. I sighed, realizing that I would be working under the supervision of a slightly flaky, erratic professor on Wednesday mornings, but bit back a small smile as I read my other clinic assignment... I would be working with Jay... alone... during the late night clinic on Thursdays.

The thrill of Jay was quickly forgotten as finals loomed ever nearer. The seemingly endless parade of sleepless nights and frustrating exams seemed as though they would never end, but finally they did, and we had a glorious week to ourselves before the start of the summer session. I went hiking in the Adirondacks with my fiance and visited friends and family at home. I had all but forgotten Jay until the first Thursday night that I would be working in the clinic.

When I arrived, I was upset. My fiance had left that morning for another business trip, and we'd had an argument about his travel schedule the night before. Depressed, I dragged myself into the clinic and miserably stared at my case file, not absorbing the information written within the pages. Compounded with my gloomy disposition, I knew that I would perform terribly-- in front of Jay, nonetheless-- if I couldn't pull it together and extract some meaningful information from the file. Suddenly, Jay's head popped around the corner of the door and he announced that my client had arrived.

"Let's not keep him waiting," he said, looking meaningfully between my face and the clock as I snapped the file shut, feeling flustered and rushed. We walked together in silence to meet the client while I smoothed my hair with my hands.

"Hello, my name is Elle and I'm a first year graduate student. I'll be working with you today!" I said in the brightest, cheeriest tone that I could muster. It did not match my mood in the slightest, but I hoped that my true emotions were not showing. The elderly man looked up at me and shook his head.

"A student?" He asked, eying me with disdain. I looked to John, uncertainly. Ever the professional, he quickly replied, "No worries, I'll be supervising. You should have been informed when you scheduled the appointment, however, that there would be a possibility that you would be seen by a student." He looked at me and I gulped. I guess I was supposed to call and let the old man know that...

The old man grumbled incoherently as he slowly rose, his knobby knees shaking with age. We slowly walked back to the therapy room, and I tried to elicit a conversation with him. He replied grumpily with little more than one word answers. Finally, we arrived at the room and I asked him to take a seat. Sitting down across from him, I asked him brightly what had brought him into the clinic today.

"I just filled out a bunch of papers, can't you just read them?" he snapped. With a small sigh, I realized that this was going to be challenging. I really didn't want to look incompetent in front of Jay, especially not with how badly the rest of my day had gone up until this point. Jay leaned against the doorway, mostly out of sight but keenly listening.

I cleared my throat and said, "Well, it will be good to hear it from you."

The old man glared at me and said, "I'm here to buy a hearing aid! What else does anyone ever come here for?"

I frowned, confused. I had thought that this would be a simple, half hour long appointment, but apparently it was a consultation, which generally lasted about an hour and a half. I certainly wasn't prepared for that. I could feel my panic rising.

After I fumbled awkwardly for several moments with the old man fuming and raising his voice, , Jay stepped in. He gave me a look that the patient couldn't see which clearly suggested that we would be talking about this failed consultation later. Shoulders slumped in defeat, I slunk off to another chair in the room which was out of the way, and Jay took over the rest of the appointment. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and wondered what he would later say to me.

What felt like hours later, the patient left after happily ordering a brand new pair of top of the line hearing aids. Despite that I was dreading the next several moments, I couldn't help but admire how well Jay worked with patients. Jay turned to me as soon as the old man was out the door and said, "Follow me to my office," motioning with his head. He didn't sound angry, but that didn't mean much with the ever enigmatic John. I smoothed my gray skirt nervously and followed him to the elevator, my black heels clicking in the otherwise silent and empty building.

Once in the elevator, despite that I knew I was in trouble, I started to feel my heart beat faster from being in such close proximity to him. I kept my eyes mostly on the floor, but I chanced a brief glance at him and noticed for the first time that he had a small scar on his head above his ear. I wondered how he had gotten it, but knew better than to ask. He was staring at the reflective metal elevator doors, lost in his own thoughts. I glanced in them too, seeing our indistinct figures reflected back at me. Even in the blurry reflection and despite my nervous state, I was able to admire my own figure; I have always been thin, and my figure was described to me as wispy, which I took as a compliment. The uncomfortable silence continued as we stepped out of the elevator and across the hall to his office. He unlocked it, swung the door open, motioned for me to step inside and followed me in, shutting the door with a faint click. He indicated that I should sit at a chair near his desk, and once I was seated, he pulled up a chair across from me and sat down. I was ashamed of myself for feeling a little bit excited that his knees were a mere inch from mine. He placed his chin in his hands and propped his elbows on his knees, leaning in toward me so that he was uncomfortably close, fixing me with an impenetrable gaze.

"So what happened down there today, Elle?" He finally asked, and I detected a faint hint of anger in his voice. Suddenly feeling numb, I searched for a reply, absently scanning his office with my eyes. I saw glimpses of photographs of his children and the pictures that they had drawn for him. On his bookshelf there was a single, dusty picture of John standing formally beside his wife; they were barely touching in the picture.

"I don't really know," I answered, lamely. "I guess it's just been a bad first day back."

"You can say that again," he said without a hint of sarcasm. He sighed and sat back in his chair, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and then staring at me as if he was unsure of what to say next. He paused, sighed, and continued. "You're always at the top of your class as far as academics are concerned, but your clinical skills are quite frankly, nonexistent."

I looked up at him sharply, feeling indignant tears forming in my eyes.He was staring at me with those ice blue eyes, contemplating me like I was a problem that he had taken upon himself to fix.

"Jay, I honestly tr--" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"I know that you're trying, but... maybe you just aren't cut out for this."

His words hung in the air as I fought back panic, fear and anger. Sure, I had some social anxiety and interacting with clients certainly wasn't my forte, but I thought that he was being grossly unfair. I worked my ass off for this program, and I loved what I was learning. He stared at me with those piercing eyes, waiting for my reaction. Frustrated and upset, I couldn't help the single tear that spilled over my lower lid, though I hastily tried to wipe it away. In an uncharacteristic show of sympathy, he offered me a tissue. Surprised by this small gesture and caught off guard, I could no longer hold back the flow of tears and began to weep openly.

"I-- try-- so-- h-hard," I sobbed, almost unintelligibly. "I get--- s-s-so nervous s-some--times. And today... today was just--- a -- b-bad d-day!" He stood up, though I barely noticed through my tears. I blew my nose loudly and continued to sob, wondering how he would react to this. A few of my classmates had cried in front of him after frustrating days in class and clinic, and they had said that he was entirely unsympathetic. Which is why I nearly jumped out of my seat when I suddenly felt his warm hands on me back, gently rubbing my shoulders. He leaned down closer to me and asked, "Why was it a bad day?"

While he rubbed my shoulders, through my tears and discontent, I felt little spikes of excitement from his touch. Little by little I explained the situation with my fiance and slowly I started to feel better. By the end of my story, I was no longer crying, but dabbing at my red, puffy eyes. He stopped rubbing my shoulders and I felt a twinge of disappointment. He crossed the room to his desk and pulled a hand mirror from inside a drawer, handing it to me. I took it and peered into my own wide, almond-shaped green eyes. My short, brown hair, cut in a bob, was slightly disheveled. I had heavy dark circles under my eyes from the fatigue and stress induced by the night, and my mascara had run.

"I look terrible," I muttered, handing the mirror back after dabbing away what mascara I could. I didn't expect him to reply to that, but he looked at me, puzzled.

"I don't think so," he said. Characteristically, it was a completely asexual comment which I found myself wishing betrayed some slight interest on his part. We were, after all, alone in his office-- alone in the building! And it was late, though we had ended clinic an hour early... His wife would never even be curious...

Imperceptibly I shook my head, trying to clear such dangerous thoughts. I caught a strange, momentary twinkle in his eye which was unfamiliar to me, but it disappeared before I had a chance to interpret its meaning.

Seeing that I had settled down, he replaced the mirror in the drawer and slowly walked back to his seat, sinking slowly into his chair again.

"What are we going to do with you, Elle?" he asked aloud, more to himself, as he stared out of a window behind me into the twilight. I wanted to know what he was thinking... I was still distraught by what he had said to me. Absently, he placed a hand on my thigh. I gasped and he looked at me, but he didn't move his hand. Suddenly I felt warm blood rushing to my face, and quickly brushed his hand away, subconsciously crossing my arms over my breasts and standing up clumsily.

"Jay, what are you doing?" I gasped, backing away toward the door. "You have a wife... and I'm engaged! And your k--"

He cut me off and crossed the room to block the door, grabbing my arm with a firm grip that almost made me wince in pain.

"Stay, I just want to... talk..."

My heart was pounding, half in excitement and half in fear. I feebly tried to twist away, wearily looking for an escape, but his grip remained tight. He grabbed me with his other hand and pulled me in closer, steering me back to my seat and forcing me down. He leaned over me and I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.

"I just don't know what to do about you," he repeated, whispering in my ear, his hands still firmly planted on my shoulders despite that I was squirming. He slowly moved his hands down my pale arms, shaking slightly as he did so, the tips of his thumbs brushing against my breasts through my thin shirt. I shivered and felt a familiar tingling below, but tried to focus on a way to get out of the situation. I had to remind myself that a fantasy was one thing, but that this should not actually be happening... My fiance... his wife... I couldn't be a homewrecker, I could never forgive myself.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he said, still whispering in my ear while snaking a hand across my chest and stomach, reaching for the bottom of my shirt. He gently stroked the skin around my belly button while he spoke, moving in slowly expanding circles and lifting my shirt higher each time. "I don't understand it... I've never felt like this about a student. But you... I can't get you out of my head..."

I gasped as he removed his hand from under my shirt in a quick motion and began to unbutton my shirt. I tried to push his hands away, but he was much stronger than I was.

"Jay, please--"

"Shhh, sit still," he commanded me, unbuttoning the final button and revealing my flat, bare stomach. Still behind me, he slipped the straps of my bra off of my shoulders as I tried to cross my arms and cover myself, inadvertently squeezing my breasts together and giving him more of a view. "I can't get you out of my head, and suddenly I find myself in this perfect situation... Alone with you, at night... helping you with your weakest subject..."

I pushed myself forward suddenly and briefly broke away from him, but in quicker movements than I had honestly thought him capable of he was behind me, one arm across my breasts and the other across my stomach. He held me tightly as I struggled in vain.

"The way that I see it," he continued as if there had been no interruption, "you need something from me... and I think it's pretty clear that I want something from you in return. So how about in exchange for... the pleasure of your company, whenever I want it... I guarantee that you get A's in all of your courses this summer.

I recoiled and gave a valiant push, grunting slightly and trying to get away from him. I was getting tired of struggling, though, and was beginning to realize that escape was futile. My mind screamed that I needed to at least try to get away, but my body... well, that was another story. His touch sent shivers down my spine and made me feel a way that I had never felt before with any other man.

"I can get the grades by my own merit," I whispered, shakily. He chuckled humorlessly and began to massage my right shoulder, slowly working my bra down in the process and caressing the top of my breast with his fingertips.

"That's the thing, though," he said as if explaining a particularly difficult concept in class. "I could fail you for the entire summer session in clinic based solely on your performance today... So you can refuse me and fail this session, or you can pass everything with just a little bit of... sweat..."

My blood froze in my veins and the fight left my body. I realized that he was right, of course.

"How about after we're finished here, we forget that tonight ever happened..." he spoke softly into me ear, finally revealing my very erect, pink nipples as he pushed my bra down to my hips with his hand. "Unless of course I need something from you at any point..."

I let out a moan of pleasure in spite of myself, shocking myself, and tried to cover my breasts as my face flushed bright red. He pushed my hands away and slowly began caressing my breasts, teasing the nipples. Involuntarily, I leaned back against him and felt his hard, throbbing cock pressed tightly to my ass.

"Jay, we can't," I said in a small, weak, voice. His hands ran down the line in the middle of my stomach toward the top hem of my skirt, and he wriggled his fingers beneath it, teasing and rubbing my lower belly while kissing my neck. Waves of pleasure coursed through my body and I was finding it harder and harder to remember why it was that I should be fighting. The ethical dilemmas that only moments before had been resounding in my skull seemed like distant memories. His breathing was becoming rapid and shallow. I felt him unzip my skirt and tug it until it slid down my long legs, revealing the low rising, lacy black thong I was wearing. He moaned and I heard him unzip his own zipper. He roughly spun me around to face him. I looked into his eyes, which gleamed with a strange maniacal sense of power. Shivering out of fear and excitement, I hesitantly took in the sight of his body. He grabbed my hands, and placed them at the top of his pants. I found myself desperately imagining what his cock might look and taste like. Abandoning my last vestiges of self control, I tugged on his slacks and pulled them down as I slowly slid to my knees.