moving on to Madame Bovary after the upcoming midterm exam and wrapped up the session. She pushed her hair back off her forehead, realizing that, despite her exhaustion, it would be hours still before she could sleep.
But, at least they were finished with The Scarlet Letter unit.
~* * *~
Seth unfolded his too-long legs out of one of the horrid little wooden half-desks in the lecture hall. He dropped his notebook into his backpack and watched Dr. Sullivan erase the board. He enjoyed her class, and in it he was able to put away all his concerns. Libby Sullivan was a sharp professor – she used a strong mix of humor and challenging questions to keep one’s attention through the whole three-hour period. She was one of the best teachers he’d had. Of course, he had to admit, the fact that she was a stunner to look at did no harm. Physically, she was just his type, he thought, with her short, curly auburn hair, and sweet face, with a curvy build designed to invade his dreams. Oddly enough, she was also everything his bleach blonde ex wasn’t – smart and reserved, and oh-so-temptingly untouchable. His former wife, Jami, he had to admit, had been far too easy for him and was anything but untouchable. Libby, on the other hand, was one of those women who’d be hard won, but so much more worth it.
Running a chagrined finger over one dark eyebrow, Seth smiled slightly to himself and cleared his throat. Definitely no way to think about a prof, he chastised himself. Even if she was delectable. Clearly, he needed to get out more, or at least get himself a few pinups that were more appropriate objects of his disused hormones than his university professor.
Still, watching her lean over the podium to grab her books, her full breasts compressing against the wood... Some man out there got to have her, he thought, and what a lucky bastard that guy was.
There was no way she’d want a busted up ex-cop who’d barely made it through high school, so he was better off putting all that straight out of his mind. But, while his mind was willing to ignore, other parts of him were not so co-operative. It was tenth grade Spanish all over again, and he was the sixteen-year-old Seth Webster mooning over Ms. Greer in her sexy swishy skirt. He had to admit, teacher fantasies were something a man may never grow out of, and they were even more appealing when the prof wasn’t fifteen years older than you.
Smiling silently, he finally remembered he would be expected home for dinner, and reluctantly made for the door. Whatever else was wrong in Seth’s life, at least school was something that was going right for him this time around, and he planned on keeping it that way. And hitting on the prof wasn’t the key to the success he envisioned.
~* * *~
The night before her students wrote tests or exams, Libby tried to stay close to her computer, as late as she could. Students had a bad habit of reading new material at the last minute for the first time and panicking when they didn’t understand what anything meant. Many of her colleagues would say that was the student’s fault, and the prof owed them nothing, but Libby, while never directly handing her students the answer, felt the least she could do was to offer them some kind words to help calm them down enough to sleep. Perhaps she remembered being an undergrad better than some of her fellow professors.
Her undergraduate years weren’t exactly pleasant ones. She was very happy to be on her own, but, instead of the free partying many young college kids got to enjoy, her freedom involved two jobs and a lot of hard work to maintain her funding. She remembered those late nights, often still in her greasy cafeteria uniform, trying to frantically finish an assignment for early the next morning. She was sure some of that stress likely shortened her lifespan a bit. If she could save some students the panic by remembering many of them worked much more than twenty hours a week in order to afford to
But, at least they were finished with The Scarlet Letter unit.
~* * *~
Seth unfolded his too-long legs out of one of the horrid little wooden half-desks in the lecture hall. He dropped his notebook into his backpack and watched Dr. Sullivan erase the board. He enjoyed her class, and in it he was able to put away all his concerns. Libby Sullivan was a sharp professor – she used a strong mix of humor and challenging questions to keep one’s attention through the whole three-hour period. She was one of the best teachers he’d had. Of course, he had to admit, the fact that she was a stunner to look at did no harm. Physically, she was just his type, he thought, with her short, curly auburn hair, and sweet face, with a curvy build designed to invade his dreams. Oddly enough, she was also everything his bleach blonde ex wasn’t – smart and reserved, and oh-so-temptingly untouchable. His former wife, Jami, he had to admit, had been far too easy for him and was anything but untouchable. Libby, on the other hand, was one of those women who’d be hard won, but so much more worth it.
Running a chagrined finger over one dark eyebrow, Seth smiled slightly to himself and cleared his throat. Definitely no way to think about a prof, he chastised himself. Even if she was delectable. Clearly, he needed to get out more, or at least get himself a few pinups that were more appropriate objects of his disused hormones than his university professor.
Still, watching her lean over the podium to grab her books, her full breasts compressing against the wood... Some man out there got to have her, he thought, and what a lucky bastard that guy was.
There was no way she’d want a busted up ex-cop who’d barely made it through high school, so he was better off putting all that straight out of his mind. But, while his mind was willing to ignore, other parts of him were not so co-operative. It was tenth grade Spanish all over again, and he was the sixteen-year-old Seth Webster mooning over Ms. Greer in her sexy swishy skirt. He had to admit, teacher fantasies were something a man may never grow out of, and they were even more appealing when the prof wasn’t fifteen years older than you.
Smiling silently, he finally remembered he would be expected home for dinner, and reluctantly made for the door. Whatever else was wrong in Seth’s life, at least school was something that was going right for him this time around, and he planned on keeping it that way. And hitting on the prof wasn’t the key to the success he envisioned.
~* * *~
The night before her students wrote tests or exams, Libby tried to stay close to her computer, as late as she could. Students had a bad habit of reading new material at the last minute for the first time and panicking when they didn’t understand what anything meant. Many of her colleagues would say that was the student’s fault, and the prof owed them nothing, but Libby, while never directly handing her students the answer, felt the least she could do was to offer them some kind words to help calm them down enough to sleep. Perhaps she remembered being an undergrad better than some of her fellow professors.
Her undergraduate years weren’t exactly pleasant ones. She was very happy to be on her own, but, instead of the free partying many young college kids got to enjoy, her freedom involved two jobs and a lot of hard work to maintain her funding. She remembered those late nights, often still in her greasy cafeteria uniform, trying to frantically finish an assignment for early the next morning. She was sure some of that stress likely shortened her lifespan a bit. If she could save some students the panic by remembering many of them worked much more than twenty hours a week in order to afford to
Similar Books
