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The Professor's Star Student (dominant_minded X katie marie)

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dominant_minded

Star
Joined
Mar 16, 2009
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never mess with a Coriscan when he's in command of the French Army," Professor Iverson concluded. Some of the students laughed, enjoying the slight joke. He looked out over the class, grinning, and thought about how much he loved teaching history. "Of course, the problem with Napoleon was that he was so successful that later Generals considered his strategies definitive. This even led quite a few of them, notably in the American Civil War, to continue using his tactics after technology had made them obsolete. Which is why you see such large casualties in that war; they were using tactics based on muskets rather than rifles and getting in close to one another before firing. Anyhow, that's all for this week. Have a good Spring Break, and don't get arrested, we have a test in two weeks." Again there was mixed laughter and a few groans that were drowned out by the sounds of about 100 book bags being filled and picked up and students shuffling feet.
 
Aimee sat at her desk, which was of course in the front row, captivated by the words flowing from Professor Iverson's mouth. The brunette had been fascinated with her history teacher the whole semester, and every class, she would laugh at every joke, raise her hand at every question - it was rather pathetic really. Like a elementary student falling head over hills for a substitute teacher.

And this class was no different. As book bags were filled, and laptops were closed, Aimee remained in her seat. Flipping back her long, dark curls, she slowly began to place her notes into the correct slot of her binder. History was the only class she ever took notes in, or at least notes that she kept up with. In fact, history was one of the only classes she was acing. Collecting her things, she waited until everyone had filed out of the room, before standing up and walking towards her professor's desk. "Uh... sir?" She asked quietly. Her bright blue eyes shined with a supposed innocence, as her long eyelashes fluttered in hopes to get his attention further. "Do you think you could tell me my current grade?"
 
He smiled at her. Much as he was aware of Aimee's sycophantic attitude towards him (she had been batting those eyelashes at him all semester) it was still nice to have a student that actually paid attention and showed some interest in the material. Trying to remain professional, he took on his 'teacher' tone and answered, "Well Miss Matthews, I'm sure you're aware that it's an A, but if you want the exact grade point, you'll have to come by my office. I can calculate it for you there. When would you like to come by?"

He smiled congenially, trying not to be affected by her, but he had to admit to himself that she was an attractive girl, even by young coed standards.
 
Aimee smiled as he continued to use his teacher voice. It was a strong 'I Know Everything' tone that made her body feel warm and fuzzy. For a moment she closed her eyes, taking in the sound. But after a moment she shook her head, realizing she probably looked very silly doing such a thing. "Uh... Sure." She grinned at him, and shifted the weight of her bag onto her shoulder.

"But... Do you think we can do it now?" She tried to bat her eyelashes once again, and she gently swayed her hips like a small child. "I... I have to do something later." Of course Aimee was lying. It wasn't as if she had no life or friends, but she didn't constantly plan things. After all, grades were important right now.
 
He smiled at her again, for a moment a little entranced by her overt behavior. He cleared his throat to make the feeling pass and glanced at his watch. "Alright, I've got some time." He began to walk from the classroom to the building across the street that housed his office.

He checked over his shoulder to make sure Aimee was still in tow, and started to make some chit chat as they walked. I'm rather surprised you're not in a hurry to start your break," he lied a little, he wasn't that surprised. "This must be one of your last classes after all."
 
Aimee smiled as he agreed to her proposal. With a wide smile, she followed closely behind them as they crossed to the office. Clinging to her bag she nodded at his words. "Well, yes, its my last class." She shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. "And I am excited, but all I'm going to be doing is sleeping late and relaxing. So... I've got time."

Walking behind him into the building, Aimee set down her bag on a table, and kept herself beside him. "So what are you doing during Spring Break Mr. Iverson?"
 
He walked behind his desk and sat down. "Well, I have a great deal of grading to do for the graduate courses I'm teaching, nothing very interesting," he said rather exasperatedly as it was far too true. This week was going to be rather boring. Still maybe he could read the new biography that Dr. Cranston sent him a signed copy of. His mind kept wandering as he turned on his laptop and started to pull up his class grades. He began to search for Aimee's grades, not quite paying attention to what she was doing on the other side of the desk.
 
Aimee pretended to pout when he told her of his plans for the week. "Well... Maybe you'll find something interesting to do." Little did he know that she had a wide smirk on her face. Oh how badly she wanted to just sit down in his lap and be completely loose on her emotions. Still, she wanted to keep some sort of dignity, and not come off as a total whore. Still, she walked around the desk slowly and looked at his computer screen. Bending down a bit, she leaned towards him as her eyes gazed over names. "Pfft... Lauren is failing, of course." She mumbled to herself.
 
"Ahem. You realize of course that I could get in serious trouble for allowing you to look at other student's grades, Miss Matthews," he smiled at her and turned the screen a little. Unbidden the words 'naughty girl' came to his mind so quickly that he almost blurted them out. He bit his tongue and continued to look for her grades, but didn't tell her to sit down. He glanced in her direction once, just trying to notice whether or not he could look down her blouse. He chided himself for this, then rationalized it telling himself he was only human... and male, after all.

He pulled out a calculator and began doing some numbers. "Well, with all of your quiz grades and the latest paper," he grabbed a stack of graded papers and pulled hers out, "it looks like you currently have a 97. You're well on your way to a 4.0 in my class, Miss Matthews. Truly excellent work so far." He smiled at her.
 
"She wouldn't know." Aimee said with a bit of stiffness. For once something followed her from high school, and that was her annoying nemeses, Lauren. It was merely a habit to find anything bad about that girl. Still, the brunette found herself muttering an apology moments later. After all, she didn't want to offend her teacher, her crush.

While she would have been overjoyed for her grade in any other class, ninety-seven didn't seem high enough for her needs. Anyone could have a ninety-seven. Only a special person could get a hundred. Someone who the teacher would of course bond with because, well, didn't teachers like their best students? Aimee frowned as she looked at him. "But its not a 4.0 yet." Bending to one side, which did in fact reveal some of her bust, she looked at him sadly. "When are we going to take some more grades? I really want to make a good grade in this class."
 
He almost laughed out loud, but managed to contain it to a light chuckle. He's even amused enough that he uses her first name, forgetting his air of professionalism, "Aimee, you know that the university grades anything over a 95 as a 4.0. What do you want, extra credit work so that you can have a perfect hundred? You're already one of the top students in this class."

He smiled at her, amused at how much she wanted everything perfect in this class (though he had his suspicions that this was mainly because for some reason she wanted him to like her), and then he noticed that the view had changed down her blouse. He stared but only for a moment, lightly shaking himself and making himself look her in the eye again through his glasses.
 
"But that doesn't make it a real 4.0, not really." While Aimee was glad that her professor told her she was one of the top students, she was somewhat upset with the slight sarcasm in his tone. "But one of the top isn't the top." She added, emphasizing the importance of being number one. Well, if she was the top student, wouldn't he have to pay more attention to her? Or maybe if she became a terrible student he would have to help tutor her... But then he might think she wasn't interested and would ignore her.

As hundreds of possibilities filled her head, Aimee hardly noticed that he was looking down her shirt. She finally shook her head to loosen her thoughts after a moment. "So sir, can I do extra credit? Or maybe you can help tutor me so I ace the mid-term test!" She grinned at him for a long while, and began to sway her hips innocently. "Please?"
 
He rolls his eyes and tries not to chuckle. "Miss Matthews, you can't be serious," he smiles at her and then looks her in the eye sighing, "but you are, aren't you." He thinks to himself that this is going to far, and that he's somehow to blame for her feeling inadequate when her grade was superb. He considers trying to argue with her, but then reasons that he's never once refused help from a student looking to really work to improve his or her grade and shouldn't start with her.

"Alright look, Miss Matthews. I'll do what I would do with someone looking for extra credit with a marginal grade," he looks through a stack on his desk and pulls out her paper. "You made a 96 on this, I'll give you the extra 4 points if you rewrite it after I make some notes for you. I'll take a look at it tonight and then we can get together, I guess after spring break, and talk about it. Then you rewrite it with my notes to earn the rest of the grade. Sound fair?"
 
Aimee smiled proudly as he let out his sighs, aware that she was in fact serious. She couldn't help but glow a little, knowing she had succeeded in getting more attention from Mr. Iverson, and now, she was getting closer and closer to actual non-school time. But, she couldn't go too fast. No, she had to make sure he wasn't the type of man who didn't want a younger girl, or that he was secretly gay, or married, or too scared to have sex with a student. Oh, the possibilities.

"Well... Okay." She said after his proposal, a bit disappointed. "But why not over Spring Break? You told me you didn't have anything to do this week but grade papers. I can come over and work on stuff. Or maybe even help you grade papers!" Aimee had a wide grin on her face once again, hoping she would be able to get a yes from his with her enthusiasm.
 
He raises his eyebrow at her, a little wary of encouraging her feelings towards him too much.

"Well, I could take a look at this and get with you this evening," he said carefully. He thought to himself how much he didn't want to come back to the office after he left today. He carefully weighed what he was thinking of suggesting. He told himself that he had invited other students to drop by his house for conferences before, but he also reasoned that they usually didn't have such an obvious interest in pleasing him personally. Finally he decided that there would be nothing wrong with it, and nothing too dangerous, since she was the one pushing for it. "I'll be honest though, Miss Matthews, I don't want to come back to my office tonight. If you really really insist on pursuing this right away, I'll give you my address and we can have a short conference before you rewrite your paper."

He decided not to acknowledge her offer to help him grade, although he would like to get the work off his hands. It just didn't seem wise to have her sticking around his house all week.
 
Aimee was somewhat upset to hear that Mr. Iverson didn't seem to have the same enthusiasm she did. No enthusiasm or happiness at all, to tell the truth. Her smile drop and she pouted slightly. Why was he so upset over this? "That would be nice." She tried to keep herself optimistic. She would be spending time with him! She should be happy. Still, it wasn't everything she had wanted. Perhaps she just needed to be patient.

"Seeing it was on the French Revolution... Do I get extra points if I dress up as Marie Antoinette?" She smiled at him once again, and then grabbed a scratch piece of paper out of her pocket. "You can write it on here." She handed it to him, and then moved to sit herself on his desk. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Iverson. Its really nice of you."
 
He took the scrap of paper and chuckled lightly at her costume suggestion, writing down directions and his address. "Simply come as yourself. I'm sure that will be more than enough to make the grade," he wasn't sure if he had intended for that to come out suggestively or not, but it had. Perhaps it was the way her skirt was riding up her thighs as she sat on his desk. He really did need to stop noticing her like that. But then a little voice that he recognized and feared slightly started to try and reason with him, But why shouldn't you notice? She's of age after all. She's an adult.

He shook himself trying to bury the voice again. He handed her the scrap of paper, "Don't get there before 6, Aimee, and call if you're going to be later than 8, ok? Otherwise you'll catch me in my pjs," and without thinking about it, perhaps inspired by that all too familiar voice, he winked at her.
 
Aimee laughed as his words stumbled out of his mouth with slight suggestive hints. Smirking to herself, she played with the hem of her skirt, and kicked her legs softly into the air. Looking at the piece of paper she read over his address quickly and continuously, until it was embedded into her head. "I think you'd look cute in your pjs." Aimee, on the other hand, knew her words were more than suggestive about her liking of Mr. Iverson.

Hopping off the desk, she grabbed a sticky note off of the pad, and wrote down her phone number. "You take this in case something comes up, or whatever." Sticking it to his desk, she handed him one as well. "And just in case I am not able to make it, I'll call you." She was still shaking slightly over his wink. It was the same one he had given to the class at random moments, normally after a joke, but this one seemed awfully special. Cause she was the only one getting it. "But I am sure I'll be there. I can't wait to see you without the school face on." Quickly realizing she might have gone too far, she tried to rationalize her statement. ".... Maybe it'll be easier to learn with you relaxed."
 
He raised his eyebrow for just a moment, but was unable to deny that he had liked the way she was talking to him. He picked up one of her sticky notes and read the number then tucked it in his shirt pocket. Then he answered her comment about him being more 'relaxed' saying, "It might at that, though I hope I'm not too stiff in class."

You just said stiff, you sly dog, the voice came again and he wanted to shout 'shutup!'

"I almost forgot to give you my home number. Just don't give it out to other students, alright? I don't want a bunch of calls at home near the end of term when everyone is looking for favors." He thought about asking for the scrap back, but then a strange thought came over him and he just reached out for her hand. "Here," he said and wrote the number on her palm, "if you're going to be very late, call that number."
 
Aimee merely giggled at him saying the word 'stiff'. I hope your more stiff at home. The words went through her head before she could even control them. She had never actually though sexually of Mr. Iverson, not really. It was more of a puppy love sort of thing she had for him. But now that she was thinking about it, her teacher was a handsome man, very much so, and he looked strong - in the hips. Perhaps sex with such a man wouldn't be so bad.

Her thoughts were like that of an evil genius, one who was planning something big, and was slowly going to watch everything fall into place. Aimee was manipulative, it was that simple. And now, she was going to manipulate Mr. Iverson into doing what she wanted.

"Oh, thanks." The brunette said as the sharpie hit her hand. The cold sensation made her skin tingle. Did it make them more personally closer since he had written on her hand? Thats what all the college boys did to other girls. Teachers wrote on paper, suitors wrote on hands. "I'll make sure to keep it with me." It was going straight onto her phone the moment she got to her bag. "Well, I guess I'll see you tonight Mr. Iverson." She smiled at him and turned around to walk towards the door, making sure her hips swayed more than usual as she walked. "Bye!" She yelled, and then out she was, eagerly putting Mr. Iverson into her contacts.
 
He shook his head as he watched her exit, her hips swaying a little bit obviously. He was encouraging her far too much, he rebuked himself. If he didn't watch it, he was going to be taking advantage of a student with an infatuation for him. This was ridiculous, he told himself. She should be going after guys nearly half his age. He sat in his office for a few minutes feeling guilty (and hoping that the guilt would bury that voice before it started trying to talk him into the even more inappropriate behavior that it usually called for) before getting himself up and walking to his car after tucking her paper into his loaded satchel.

He drove home quickly and took a shower to cool himself off. After relaxing for a little while in his robe, he set himself to the task of finding something in Aimee's paper that she could improve on. At first he struggled. Her thesis was the same as what he had presented in class and there were plenty of supporting details. Still there was something missing. There was a reason he hadn't given her a 100. He thought hard about what it was, and then, trying to make it clearer, thought about the best written biographies he had read and what set them apart. Suddenly it came to him, and he began to scribble some notes in the margins.

As usual, he got wrapped up in what he was doing and lost track of time. It was already past 6 and he was still wearing his robe.
 
After Aimee left the office, she walked to the parking lot and quickly drove home. So much to do! She had to shower, dry her hair, curl it, put on makeup, lotion, perfume, pick out the perfect outfit, paint nails, pick accessories - everything. It was like how most girls were before their first date. Everything had to be amazing, even though in the end, the guy didn't notice much difference. Still, she was determined to make an effort. And so three hours later she was pulling on a new skirt and a loose top that fell off one of her shoulders.

A few sprays of perfume and two high heeled shoes later, Aimee was looking over herself in the mirror. She looked like a little princess, only she was dressed like she was going to a club. Her face seemed to glow with excitement, and her whole body was getting slight goosebumps. Glancing at the clock she saw it was five-fifty p.m., so she quickly headed out the door, purse in tow.

Around six-fifteen she arrived outside the address she had been told was Mr. Iverson. After a few more moments of waiting, whilst she checked over herself in the mirror, Aimee stepped out of the car like a movie star. Locking the doors she hustled as fast as she could in the stilettos to the front door, and rang the doorbell.
 
As he heard the doorbell, his head spun around to the clock. He cursed himself when he noticed the time. He quickly ran to his bedroom and pulled on some jeans, tossing his robe on the bed. He jogged to the door and pulled it open saying, "Good evening, Miss Matthews, I just...," but the words died in his throat as he looked her up and down. She looked cute, like she had been getting ready for hours and preparing for an evening out. No, he corrected himself, she looked downright hot. The twenty year olds she usually dated might not have noticed the effort, but a man of his age did (especially considering how infrequently he went on dates these days). He suddenly felt under dressed in his own home, wearing a simple T-shirt, jeans and socks. He suspected, or possibly hoped, that this outfit and work on her appearance were for him, but still he said, "Wow, Miss Matthews. Are you going on a date with the star quarterback or some other stud from class later?"
 
Aimee waited at the door for some time, and after about a minute, she began to worry if she had the right house. Stepping back onto the path that led to the street, she got onto her toes and looked at the houses around them. Nope. This was 5618 Jameston Drive. With a sigh, she then went close to the door, and looked inside. It certainly looked like the house of a teacher. She could see a small pile of papers inside, and books and binders filled with learning material and lesson plans. At the same time, she noticed her teacher jogging towards the door, and she jumped back. He didn't need to know she was peaking in the whole time.

"Hi Mr. Iverson!" The brunette said with a smile, just after his voice trailed off. She wasn't sure if they way he was looking at him was good or bad. He could be thinking she was hot, and that he should totally consider her - or, it could mean he thought she was a whore and needed to go to church for a while. Still, she tried to make the best of the situation and decided he probably was thinking of the first one, especially after his next words. "Ha ha, no! I just had some extra time before coming over here and decided to play around with some stuff." Perhaps by play around with stuff she did mean wearing the tiny little thong she had bought a year ago that had been sitting in her drawer forever.
 
"Well come on in," he said and held the door open for her, unable to NOT watch her ass as she walked by him. He really thought that he had gotten over working around young attractive women a long time ago, but she was definitely affecting him.

And why shouldn't she affect you? She's an exciting young creature and she fawns on your every word, the voice came again, he almost sighed, trying to bury it again.

He shook himself and said, "I've got your paper in here in the study." He walked in front of her and headed towards one of the nearby rooms. Inside there was a small coffee table with her paper on it and a half empty glass of red wine. He sat down on the couch in front of the coffee table and patted the seat next to him, inviting her to join him.
 
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