A student needs your help

You're still puzzling over the message when the classroom door opens and a student steps in, giving you a radiant smile. Her long raven black hair frames a pretty face that has a hint of Asian features, and the glasses perched on her nose only enhance her attractiveness.

"Hi Dean Hawkfeather, can I have a moment of your time? I'm Abby Davison."

"Certainly Miss Davison," you reply, putting the decoded note in your pocket. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm wondering if I could change my course schedule," she asks with a cute smile as she sways up to stand in front of you. "I've realised I made a mistake and I should be taking a computer course, and I wondered if I could change so I could take the introductory course."

"I don't have any objection, but I don't make those decisions. You'd have to take it up with the Headmistress."

"Oh Dear," she gives a little pout, pushing her lower lip out. "I was hoping it would be simple. Can't I just swap courses? It's the first day of classes, and I won't have missed much."

"I'm sure the Headmistress would be happy to try and accommodate you Miss Davison."

"Abby, please Sir call me Abby. Miss Davison makes me sound so old," she giggles. "Ms. Naylor seems so stern, I'm a little afraid to talk to her. Couldn't you help me sir? Couldn't you talk to her for me? You said you didn't have a problem with me joining your class," she gives you a pleading smile that is utterly appealing. "I'd be ever so grateful Dean Hawkfeather."

"I really think this is something you need to do yourself Miss.....Abby. The Headmistress isn't an ogre. Just explain what you want and why and I'm sure she'll be able to help you."

"Oh Dear! I'm sorry to be so silly, but I really am scared of her. My sister, my older sister was a student here and she got in a lot of trouble. Ms. Naylor thinks I'm just like her. She said she was 'keeping an eye on me' when she saw me yesterday. Couldn't you please help me Sir? Please? I'd be in your debt just forever and ever." She actually clasps her hands in front of her as she appeals to you, her face made cuter by its anxiety. "Really Sir, I really am scared of her! I'm not even kidding! Please Dean Hawkfeather! I'd do anything if you helped me! Just anything at all!"

She bites her lower lip as she makes her pitch, the toe of one shoe rubbing slowly on the floor as she looks at you over her glasses, her eyes brimming. You sit back in your chair, looking at her carefully, trying to gauge the meaning of her words. You're not sure if this is a genuine plea for help or another hormonal young student offering her body for special treatment or just for the fun of it. The words of your old CO that no one of importance would care if you rutted your way through the student body come to mind as you look at the nubile and anxious teen in front of you.

Abby seems to take your silence as a prompt to up the stakes, and remove all doubt of her meaning. Still biting her lip and looking at you over her glasses, she sinks to her knees and slowly runs her hands up the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart.

"Just anything at all," she breathes, reaching for your belt.