It was one of those Spring days in Ohio when the day's high jumped to the 80's, when it should have been in the mid-60's. A small smile crossed Brian Dempsey's face as he walked by the well-manicured lawns of his university campus. Weather like this brought out the just-below-the-crotch shorts that seemed to be the standard apparel for women undergraduates. Mmmm....nice image! That nice image was quickly interrupted by the thought that as one of the self-defined, post-modernist History Department faculty, such thoughts might signify the objectification of women. "Jesus", Brian thought, "stop the continual intellectualizing. Just enjoy." Something he had not done much of since his divorce.
His first appointment of the morning was with Kate - or was it Katie?, damn hard to remember when you teach dozens of nondescript undergraduates. He knew why Katherine Fletcher wanted an appointment. She had earned - no, "received" was the right verb - a gift "D" on her midterm in his HIST 457 American History: Civil War to the Present. Yesterday, he e-mailed her major paper back to her, again with a gift "D". She had chosen the option of writing a narrative from the point of view of a Civil War soldier on July 3, 1863 at the battle of Gettysburg. Not only was her paper poorly written, but she had penned a story in which Gen. George Meade had ordered the infamous Pickett's Charge. Christ, she didn't even know which side was which.
Promptly at 9:00 Kate - he had remembered, it wasn't "Katie" - appeared at his door in the expected uniform. Tight, white shorts about 2" below the crotch and a low-cut T-shirt that outlined her firm, young breasts perfectly well with a little hint of nipples underneath. Although well-practiced in the art of "keep your eyes up here", Brian found himself unable to resist the occasional gaze at this lovely, nubile woman's bare legs and inviting breasts. But, long ago he had realized that sex with an undergraduate student - even if consensual - was a career-ender. Plus, would he really want to have sex with someone who was literally younger than his own daughter? Probably not, he was never had much use for Freud.
Still, as he tried to patiently explain Kate's many errors to her that merited, really, no more than an "F", one recurring thought distracted him. "Damn, I would really like to fuck...her mother."
His first appointment of the morning was with Kate - or was it Katie?, damn hard to remember when you teach dozens of nondescript undergraduates. He knew why Katherine Fletcher wanted an appointment. She had earned - no, "received" was the right verb - a gift "D" on her midterm in his HIST 457 American History: Civil War to the Present. Yesterday, he e-mailed her major paper back to her, again with a gift "D". She had chosen the option of writing a narrative from the point of view of a Civil War soldier on July 3, 1863 at the battle of Gettysburg. Not only was her paper poorly written, but she had penned a story in which Gen. George Meade had ordered the infamous Pickett's Charge. Christ, she didn't even know which side was which.
Promptly at 9:00 Kate - he had remembered, it wasn't "Katie" - appeared at his door in the expected uniform. Tight, white shorts about 2" below the crotch and a low-cut T-shirt that outlined her firm, young breasts perfectly well with a little hint of nipples underneath. Although well-practiced in the art of "keep your eyes up here", Brian found himself unable to resist the occasional gaze at this lovely, nubile woman's bare legs and inviting breasts. But, long ago he had realized that sex with an undergraduate student - even if consensual - was a career-ender. Plus, would he really want to have sex with someone who was literally younger than his own daughter? Probably not, he was never had much use for Freud.
Still, as he tried to patiently explain Kate's many errors to her that merited, really, no more than an "F", one recurring thought distracted him. "Damn, I would really like to fuck...her mother."
