It’s stupid. I feel like a little girl with a crush.
I haven’t had time for romance since coming to college. Keeping up with my studies has been hard enough, but trying to have a love life when you’re one of three girls in your major, well…
Honestly, guys are more likely to call me a slut than ask me out on a date. So I pretty much just ignore them.
It’s not all that bad. Mostly guys are just assholes in little ways, like assuming I don’t understand a question or an answer, or explaining things slowly for me, or something like that.
Mostly I’m treated like a cute little puppy dog.
Whatever. It’s fine. I haven’t needed romance. I’ve had my studies to keep up with, friends to spend time with. I don’t need to bother with immature assholes.
Jason, though…
He’s very, very mature.
Too mature, maybe.
But no, it doesn’t matter. He’s my professor.
It’s not like he’d ever have interest in a girl like me.
“Well, I look forward to reading it.” He smiles.
“Thanks, Professor Turner.”
He winces. “Call me Jason.”
“Uh, okay. Jason.”
“See you next class.”
I linger for a second as he walks back to the table and gathers his things before turning and hurrying out of there.
I swear I can feel his eyes on my ass as I head out the door, sharp and focused.2JasonI look out at the sea of faces and, for only a second, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
I’m not the kind of man to second-guess myself. I’ve made a lot of money, gotten a lot of success, by not second-guessing anything.
My instincts have served me very, very well so far in my career.
But coming to this college and teaching like this? It’s strange, even for me.
Teaching was never something I wanted to do. I always imagined myself at the helm of a huge company, steering things into victory and profit, slowly taking over the world.
Been there, done that. Now I’m forty, with more money than I could ever hope to spend. I did the whole hedonism thing for a while, fucked a hundred women, drank my fair share of expensive whisky, but now I’m ready to settle down.
Well, not entirely. I’m ready to settle down into a new project.
Fortunately, I know the dean of Monray pretty well, an old school friend named Roman Flores. He agreed to let me teach a class on a topic of my choice.
So here I am, looking for the next crop of the best and the brightest.
Maybe I’m looking in the wrong place. My old business partner, Larry, said I should be at Stanford or Harvard or someplace like that, but I think he’s wrong.
I think there are gems here at this school, and it’ll take a person like me to find them.
But after grading those tests, maybe I was wrong.
There were only two that I felt were genuinely successful. Two tests out of a class of forty. I expected at least five, maybe even more, but fucking only two really impressed me at all.
Ah, well. There are three more that’ll do fine, but the top two…
It doesn’t matter. I think I can make it work, if these two are as promising as they seem.
I start the class out normally. “No test today,” I say, to their palpable delight.
But there’s an edge to the class. They want to know who the top five are and what that means. Better to make them wait.
“Today, we’re going over the syllabus and starting with some basic concepts…”
I’m not a cruel man. Really, I’m not. But sometimes it’s just more fun to make them wait.
I push it until the last possible second. I string them along, let them worry that I might not announce the winners at all.
I admit, I’m enjoying myself.
The whole class, I keep glancing up to the top left corner, up to a little cluster of students. It’s where she’s sitting, the only girl in the class.
I try not to make it obvious, but I lock eyes with her at least twice. Clara looks back at me, a little smile on her pretty lips, her big, green eyes wide and drinking in every detail.
She’s fucking attractive. God damn, I didn’t expect it when I first came here. I figured these college girls would be too young, too immature. But Clara, she has the look I love.
Wavy auburn hair, pale skin, full, perky breasts, round ass. It’s exactly what I look for in a woman.
Even if she is half my fucking age…
Doesn’t matter. She’s a student, and everyone knows it’s fucked up and against the rules for a student to date her teacher. So I keep my eyes off her, even if I do keep glancing in her direction.
Finally, two minutes before the end of class, I put away my notes and clear my throat.
“Okay, that’s enough of that. I bet you’re all wondering about that test yesterday.”