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This story is part of an ongoing series involving four college students making very big mistakes. Though they don’t have to be read in order, know that these events happen in a chronological sequence.
Kate Dempsey was ready to start her summer with a bang, not a logarithm. She’d just moved into a gorgeous new house with her best friend and snagged an exciting summer job teaching at a day camp. There was a hot art teacher down the street who’d asked for her number. Things should’ve been off to a wicked start.
But Kate, the foolish Dance and Chemistry double major, had to spend three nights a week at Weston-Orwell, Sailor University’s math and natural science building. She excelled in a number things: analytical chemistry, modern dance, and making her friend Tori break out of her shell. But math wasn’t one of those things, and Kate needed to understand calculus in order to get her chemistry degree. After barely passing some of the more difficult tests in Physical Chemistry, Kate’s advisor suggested that she take summer tutoring.
The night she had to register, Kate flopped down on her couch and kicked her feet onto her best friend’s lap. “I can’t believe I’m spending my Fridays on campus,” she moaned. “What kind of messed up world do we live in?”
“I don’t see why you’re complaining,” Tori retorted. “Isn’t Weston-Orwell the one where they have a 24-hour hot drink bar?”
“Yes and? Why should I care about coffee if I’m not getting it with a hot art teacher?” She whined.
Tori, who as far as Kate knew was woefully single, shrugged. “Call Gen if you want to complain. Or Cat. I hear she’s back in town.”
Kate sat up. “Tori, you’re a genius. We should have a girl’s night!”
Her lazy housemate sunk further into her seat. “Please don’t.”
But at that point Tori should’ve known that once Kate had an idea, she ran with it. Days later, Tori and Kate were joined by Genevieve Smith, who’d gone abroad with Kate that fall, and Cat Reynolds, who’s just returned from a semester in England. Cat eagerly agreed, revealing to her friends that she was recovering from a brief love affair with her best friend that ended in a spectacular fashion.
“Did I know he was bisexual? I had a feeling.” The tense blonde tightened her ponytail, allowing Kate to rub her shoulders. “I would have loved a memo before he went off and slept with half of Switzerland, but it’s fine.”
Tori looked up from her pint of mocha fudge ice cream. “Is that an exaggeration?”
“Here,” Cat said, handing Tori her phone. “Check his Instagram feed.”
As the ginger scrolled through the feed, she whistled. “This is why I don’t date boys,” Tori said, giving Cat her phone back. “Too much…everything.”
“What?” Tori said. “I’m serious.”
“You don’t date boys,” Gen emphasized. “What about men?”
Flushing a shade darker than her ginger hair, Tori buried her face into her ice cream pint. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Genevieve.”
“Get out of town,” Kate gasped, falling off the couch. “Tori! Who the hell are you fucking?”
Tori pulled her beanie down over her eyes. “I’m not…it’s not a big deal,” she huffed. “I have simply found myself in a relationship with an older man. It’s not that uncommon.” Tori sent a pointed look across the room. “Isn’t it?”
Gen rolled her eyes. “Yes, fine, I am also sleeping with someone who is much older than me. He’s in his mid 30’s and wonderful.” She threw a fuzzy pillow at Tori’s face. “And I am fully willing to tell you about how great it is.”
“What’s his name?” Cat asked.
“Anything but that.”
Kate was still focused on her best friend. “C’mon, T, can you tell me something about your mystery man?” She lay flat out on the ground, batting her eyelashes at Tori. “Is he tall? Does he like modern art? What’s he do for a living?” Kate put her hand up and whispered, “Is he packing?”
Groaning, Tori hit her head against the table behind her. “Yes, I don’t care, he writes, and absolutely.”
Kate gaped, grinning at the other two girls. “Gen?”
“Is my partner packing? Moderately,” she replied. “But it’s more of the experience thing that gets me. He’s not an idiot trying to get his life figured out. He’s a grown man who knows how to listen to my needs.”
The dancer rolled onto her back, draping her body across the living room floor. “What a dream. A man who listens.”
“They do exist,” Cat said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Just not in college.”
Gen and Tori shared another glance. Kate caught it, noting the tell-tale twitch of Gen’s lips. She’d learned from their study abroad program that her twitching indicated Gen was hiding something. Kate was tempted to pry, but trying to get Gen or Tori to open up was like trying to open a triple locked safe. She let it slide in order to encourage Cat to find another way to occupy her time.
A week passed and Kate had forgotten about her friends’ mysterious affairs. She was quite canlı bahis frustrated about the math tutoring ordeal, not to mention the fact she was missing out on a night at Lesbianaughts, one of Saint Paul’s biggest night clubs. Cat decided the best way to get over Ray was to get under someone else.
Instead of playing wingman for Cat, Kate trudged to Weston-Orwell for her late night tutoring session. She’d decided on dressing like she was going to the club, in case she got out early. Her tight black shorts and thin purple tank top doubled as a precaution for the weather as well. The Minnesota summer was beating down on her at all hours, and though it was nearly eight in the evening, it was ninety degrees outside.
Strutting into the building, Kate stopped at the hot beverage bar. She poured herself a cup of chamomile tea, sloshing it onto the ground as she danced toward her tutor’s office. Kate was fully aware of how cliché it was that she liked to dance around campus. She couldn’t help it. Kate felt more fluid when she danced. It was much more interesting than marching everywhere.
When there were other people around, she did her best to keep her movements appropriate and casual. But Weston-Orwell was empty at night. As far as Kate could tell, there was no one else around. No one to watch her as she pirouetted down the hall, stretching her long legs upward and showing off her body.
It is at this point important to note that Kate Dempsey was a very smart woman. She wasn’t great at math, yes, but that didn’t mean she was stupid. She could talk circles around her lab instructors when it came to chemical composition. She spoke four languages—and was learning her fifth. She was well read and could recite Austin and Poe by heart. All of this is important because as smart as she is, Kate was oblivious. Too oblivious for her own good.
So oblivious that when she showed up five minutes late to her tutoring session, wearing tight shorts and drinking her tea, she didn’t realize how her tutor would react. Her tutor who, for the record, was the math professor Kate often referred to as ‘The human embodiment of sandpaper’.
“Miss Dempsey,” Doctor John Atwood said, glaring as she walked into his office. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to grace me with your presence.”
Kate downed the rest of her tea. Atwood was a capital ‘A’ Asshole with a personality as interesting as the color beige. He was also tall, mysterious, and handsome; he exclusively wore sharp three piece suits that accented his taut, muscled frame. Atwood’s best feature, in Kate’s opinion, were his warm, chocolate brown eyes. They saw straight through her. Under his gaze she could’ve melted. If he wasn’t such an unemotional asshole, maybe she would’ve.
“I wasn’t that late,” she replied, dropping the compostable cup in Atwood’s trash can. “And I won’t make a habit of it.”
“Let’s hope so.” Atwood looked at her over the brim of his glasses. “I’ll cut to the chase, Miss Dempsey. You can’t complete your major unless you improve your understanding of calculus. Frankly, I’m appalled you got this far with such a poor grasp on the subject.” His attention fell to the stack of papers on his desk, already bored with the discussion.
“That’s not fair,” Kate replied, sitting down. “My high school had a really bad math program. It’s not my fault!”
Atwood scoffed, not glancing up from the reports he’d laid out neatly on his desk. “You mean your high school teachers couldn’t do math but had an impeccable natural science program?”
“No, they were bad at that too. I taught myself chemistry.” Kate straightened her back to appear unintimidated. Though it wasn’t her intention, she ended up thrusting her chest out so Atwood had a better look down her tight shirt. “And I’m willing to teach myself calculus, too. I got far because I know when to ask for help. And this is me, asking for help.” Because she’d been forced to. If it had been anyone other than Atwood, Kate would’ve been more forgiving. “Professor Atwood, I know that I can figure this stuff out. I just need someone to give me a hand.”
“Give you a hand?” Atwood repeated. “You’re clearly going to need more than just a hand. Your grades are a nightmare.”
That was it. Kate stood up, slamming her hands down on the desk and ruffling his papers. “Now that’s just unkind!” She snapped. “I’m not a fucking idiot, John!”
Atwood looked up. “Please refrain from using such language, Miss Dempsey. And I’m not calling you an idiot. I’m just concerned this is going to take a while.” He examined her, frowning as he focused on her appearance. “You are aware that this is going to require work, don’t you?”
Kate stared at his desk as she repeated his words. “What does that—”
“I mean you can’t come in here dressed provocatively and expect me to look the other way, Katlyn.” Atwood kept his hard gaze locked on her pursed lips. “Flaunting your body throughout the building is not going to get you anywhere.”
Her jaw dropped. bahis siteleri “I’m sorry, what?” Kate sank down into her seat, tilting her head to the side. “Do you really think that I’m trying to…” She didn’t even know how to finish her sentence. The nerve of that man! What kind of idiot did he think she was?
“Your clothing, Miss Dempsey.”
“It’s ninety degrees outside!” She argued. “What, did you expect me to come to this stuffy building in jeans and a chunky-knit sweater?”
“Well…” Atwood scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose that would be foolish, wouldn’t it.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Kate crossed her arms. “You should be ashamed, you know that? I come here because math’s like, hard, and all you can do is judge me for my clothing.”
Her tormentor’s façade slipped into a cracked frown. Atwood sighed, slouching in his armchair and shrugging off his jacket. “Then I owe you an apology,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Katlyn. You would not believe the day that I’m having. Not that that’s an excuse for treating you poorly.” He met her eyes, his sad gaze showing the first sign of emotion she’d ever seen from him. “I really can’t tell you how many times young students have tried to pull the wool over my eyes. And how common it is at this school. I’m—” He paused, mulling over his next words. Finally, Atwood held up the papers in front of him. “I’m already dealing with one department scandal.”
Kate leaned forward, reading the title to herself. “Branson admits to sleeping with four students in exchange for good grades during his time at Sailor,” she murmured. “Branson as in Daniel Branson, from Statistics?” Atwood nodded slowly. “Holy shit.”
“There’s an unfortunate number of faculty members who are willing to trade sexual favors for good grades.” He set the papers to the side. “But you didn’t hear that from me, all right?” Atwood offered her a small smile. “I really am sorry I was so brash, Katlyn. There’s a lot going on in the department, and the last thing I needed was another beautiful young woman flaunting her assets for a passing grade.”
“No, just a beautiful young woman who wants to learn vector calculus,” she muttered.
Atwood chuckled, his warm laugh shocking Kate. Students rarely witnessed this wide of an emotional range from the stoic mathematician. He looked at her over the brim of his glasses, examining her face with a soft smile. “That is indeed what I’m getting, isn’t it?”
In an instant, Atwood’s expression dropped. “Miss Dempsey, I didn’t mean to offend you again.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Kate said, flustered. “I set you up for it I guess.” She tried to write off the blush dusting her cheeks. Though still offended by Atwood’s accusation, Kate couldn’t shake the fact he’d called her beautiful. Indirectly. It wasn’t like she didn’t know she looked good. She didn’t need a man to tell her she was hot. Not even a very, very attractive older man who could hand Kate her ass in advanced mathematics.
As Atwood mulled over her words, Kate remembered what Gen and Tori said about sleeping with an older man. An experienced, skilled, handsome older man. And so Kate examined Atwood, sizing him up for her own devices.
“Miss Dempsey,” Atwood said, noticing she’d fallen into a lull. “Are you still with me?”
Kate licked her lips, planting her hands on the desk. “Can you give me the first week’s work packet?”
He considered her request. “Do you not want me to go over the first lesson?”
“No, I’ll just take your notes,” she replied. Remain calm, Kate thought to herself. She wanted to appear aloof and not desperate. Definitely not desperate.
The professor began rifling through his papers in silence. “I’m truly sorry if I’ve offended you, Miss Dempsey. If you want to request another tutor, I can pull some strings and get you someone your age.”
“Don’t do that.” Her response was too fast. Now she did sound desperate. “I just want to prove to you that I can do this on my own.”
He straightened his back. “Well. I can appreciate the initiative.” Atwood handed Kate the papers. “Does that mean you’re going to leave now?”
Kate’s plan was formulating in her head as she went along. Standing up, she faked tripping and threw her papers onto the ground. “Oops.” Kate bent over at the waist, taking her sweet time picking the worksheets up.
She could hear him sigh. “Is there a reason this is taking a while?” Atwood asked.
“I’m making sure it’s all in order.” Kate bunched the papers under her chest, bringing attention to her full tits.
Now that Kate appeared to be done with him, Atwood’s attention had switched back to his work. “So are you leaving or not?” He asked, tapping his pen against his desk.
Kate’s shoulders slouched. Nothing was working. And for Kate, when nothing went her way, the only option she had left was to blurt everything out. “Doctor Atwood, what if I wanted to have sex with you?”
John Atwood looked at Kate over the rim of his glasses. “I’m sorry bahis şirketleri Miss Dempsey. What was that?”
At least he wasn’t outraged. “I want to learn calculus. On my own. And if you help me that’s just fine. But I would never try to exchange sex for good grades.” Kate let the papers fall to the ground. “You’re also, like, really hot? Aggressively hot. And someone recently told me that older men fuck better.”
He stood, staring her down. “Older men fuck better,” Atwood repeated. “First you tell me you’re not trying to seduce me for grades, and now you’re claiming that you want to sleep with me. Just not for a grade. Correct?” Kate nodded, her dark eyes widening as he approached her. “Because, and I quote, older men fuck better?”
Kate swallowed. “Yeah,” she managed to squeak out. “Because like, you’re really attractive, and none of the guys on campus can cut it, and I mean me an’ all of my friends are bisexual so I could really experiment if I wanted to—”
Atwood grabbed her chin, shutting her up. His cool lips were a warm welcome to the dancer, who’d been overheating outside. They were softer than she’d expected. Kate licked them, savoring the taste of cold, bitter coffee on his lips. Atwood groaned, opening his mouth further and sliding his tongue across her lower lip. She slid her hand underneath his shirt, gasping a little as she discovered his sculpted abdomen. In response, Atwood wrapped his left hand in her hair, tightening it and pulling her closer to his body.
“Katlyn,” he murmured against her mouth, “do you really think I’m hot?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she said, shivering.
He crashed back into her, forcing her back into the shelf behind her. Atwood overwhelmed her senses. His strong cologne collided with the acidic coffee on his breath. His smooth hands caressed every inch of her bare skin. With the hand in her hair, Atwood tilted her head back and moved to her neck. He trailed kisses down her body, savoring the salty remnants of sweat from her time outside.
In an attempt to take control, Kate used the hand on his chest as leverage and pushed him away from her. Fire flashed through Atwood’s eyes. He raked his predatory gaze over her body, watching intently as Kate began to sway her hips from side to side. Dancing to an imaginary song, Kate spun on her heels and performed what some might recognize as a modified gran-plie. Kate kept a perfect form as she quickly squatted down. She stood back up, slowly, giving Atwood a better look at her tight ass. Unlike her first try, she had his utmost attention. Kate grabbed his necktie and strutted in a half circle. His eyes followed her as he turned his body to face her.
Kate stood over her long forgotten tutoring packet in the middle of the room. She dropped his tie to take up fourth position. The hand at her hip toyed with the bottom of her tank top. In a swift pirouette, Kate pulled her shirt up and tossed it off, before finishing with her hands in fifth position. The quick removal left her perky tits exposed to her older professor. Though by no means as large as Tori, Kate’s breasts were still a thing of beauty. They were soft and round, big enough for Atwood to grab them and fill an entire hand.
He stepped forward, wedging a knee in between her legs and trapping her against his desk. Without a word, Atwood leaned down and licked from her collarbone to her left nipple. Kate’s heartbeat quickened as he circled the bud. He toyed with her right breast, grinning against her skin as she squirmed in his hold. His teeth grazed her nipple, sending an electric jolt through her body.
Atwood’s attack was twofold; while he sucked on her perfect tits, his hand slid down her stomach and unbuttoned her shorts. In the same motion he yanked both her shorts and her underwear down her body. Atwood cupped her ass cheeks, squeezing the dancer’s sculpted butt before biting down on her right breast.
Suddenly, he moved, kissing around the curves of each breast. Kate ran a hand through his hair and pushed his mouth back towards her tits. Atwood removed his hands from his ass and, before she could react, grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her.
Kate pouted. “You’re gonna kill me,” she panted. “Atwood—”
“Professor Atwood,” he corrected, looking her dead in the eye. The imposing math instructor pulled away, momentarily letting go of her as he loosened his neck tie. Kate had enough experience with kink culture to know what was about to happen next. Atwood kept his knee between her legs, immobilizing her while he worked. “Hands, Katlyn.”
On instinct, she thrust them out in front of her. With a steady hand he wrapped his silk tie around her wrists, binding them together. Satisfied, he spread a hand out on her stomach and gave Kate a gentle push backward.
“Open these legs of yours,” Atwood commanded, tracing a circle around her naval. She opened them slowly, revealing her trimmed cunt to the cool office air. He fell to his knees, running his hands down the length of her long, toned legs. “Impressive form,” he murmured, caressing Kate’s firm thighs. Setting his hand on her knees, Atwood pulled her further apart. He massaged her muscles as he kissed a line from her inner thigh to her cunt.
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