NB:EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT
In a free and just society, for a man, scale is the key to promiscuity.
Fortunately, for a journeyman lecturer such as myself, the wholesale commodification of the university education system provides exactly the scale I need to be promiscuous.
I teach first and second year classes with anywhere from two to three hundred students and, because of the pittance I’m paid for each class, I teach four or five courses a semester just to stay above water.
Let me do the math for you.
Assume that I lecture in front of a thousand students each semester. Assume also that ten per cent of those students are young women who are attracted to older men or to men with status or to men outside their comfort zone. Assume, then, that I have one hundred legitimate prospects each semester. If I convert only ten per cent of those prospects, I can expect to have ten affairs each and every semester.
Needless to say, I make it very clear to each and every class I teach that I am always available outside of regular office hours to answer any questions they might have.
“I can’t believe I’m your first student,” Sophia purrs with post coital pride, as her breasts continue to defy gravity. “Think through the numbers, Gregor. It’s a simple matter of scale. You’re decent looking. There should be a parade of girls through your office and bed.”
Sophia is razor smart, gorgeous, and completely at ease in her body and her sexuality. I didn’t notice her persistent advances over the course of the semester because I can’t even imagine that a girl like Sophia would take a sexual interest in a guy like me — even now when she’s regularly in my bed and I in hers.
“Whatever, Gregor,” she playfully sneers, as she runs her fingertips through the semen she asked me to deposit on her smooth, flat, and tanned stomach. “I wasn’t after you for a better grade. Cs are degrees!” She licks her fingertips clean. “Your class was too easy anyway.”
It’s at the end of the final exam period, when Sophia finally corners me at the campus pub. She flirts the way assertive women do in the movies and there is no room for doubt about her intentions. Because I’ve already submitted the final grades for her course, I realize there is no abstract principle to hold me back. I realize instead that I hold back because I’m terrified.
When we finally have sex later that night, after an evening of drinks and careful coaxing by Sophia, I’m so nervous I can hardly hold an erection. Sophia’s arousal is so conceptual, we need to use lube. To be honest, it’s totally disappointing.
“It’s the idea of it, I love!” she squeals. She gets on all fours and wiggles her geometrically perfect ass in my direction. “Do me doggie this time. And hard! I can’t wait to tell my friends.”
Thankfully, she has the good sense not to post anything on Facebook but, in the early going, I’m always a little afraid she will. When I’m honest with myself, I admit I’m tantalized by it.
“I can’t believe it. Jen always says nasty things about you now. All the time.” Sophia is putting her clothes back on with a soft porn intensity I’m not convinced that she fully understands. “Before I told her about us, she was as hot for you as I was.” When Sophia’s done dressing, I present my erection to her and she happily swallows it.
The affair dwindles out after a few months, when the thrill of sleeping with a professor wears off. I suspect I was also too honest about my place in the university pyramid scheme. In retrospect, I am sure, the beginning of the end is the night I convince her that she has more disposable income than I do because her parents cover most of her expenses. The summer break puts a decisive end to the affair at last.
I suppose, because she was the first, I will always think of her most fondly. The memory of her body is sometimes even more exciting than the actual body before me. She was, after all, the only transgression because it is she who convinced me that there is, in fact, no transgression to make.
I often wonder what might happen, if we ever cross paths again, but I doubt we will. She will earn her Cs, her degree, and glide effortlessly into the rest of her life. I suppose there is one faint hope, but, unfortunately, for me, Sophia is far too smart to waste her time at graduate school. If nothing else, I hope she learned at least that much from me.
November 11th, 2012 → 6:55 pm
[...] Read Episode 2. [...]
April 22nd, 2013 → 9:01 pm
[...] Sophia always plays a prominent role in these montages. Images of Sophia, I should say. Images that are one part photo, one part short movie, and one part dream. Little perfect sexually explicit moments that replay in short tiny loops, as my hand moves in time. By now, I’m sure I’ve had more sex with my memory of Sophia than I had with her. [...]