A tutorial with a cocky jock

You're sitting in the study room, your fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on top of the desk. Two of your students are here, the girls chatting to each other while you all wait, but the other pair are nowhere to be seen even though it's almost ten minutes after the scheduled time. You were expecting a certain boy to be late and planned to start without him, but with the other girl in the group also missing you can't exactly begin properly until she gets here.

Suddenly the door to the room swings open, slamming into the other wall with enough **** to make you jump. In swaggers the boy you certainly don't want to see. James Marshall, the college's water-polo star. He has that usual arrogant sneer fixed on his face, and, unlike sweet, innocent Sam, he doesn't even bother trying to hide the way his eyes bore into your chest. You've called him on it before, but he has this sheepish way of somehow sliding out of any trouble. With his sculpted features, piercing blue eyes, and wavy auburn hair, he's just so relentlessly handsome even you struggle to stay mad at him. He also has the kind of insolent confidence that could only come from a life where everything's always gone his way. It's hard to deal with a boy who just doesn't seem to understand that the world can't revolve around his perfect abs, as delectable as they might be.

"Sorry, Ms. B." He drawls, stepping forward into the room like he owns it. "Something came up, couldn't miss it, you understand, right?"

"Let me guess." You sigh. "Coach Adams kept you in the pool for training again?"

"You got it." He grins, flashing perfect white teeth.

"I don't suppose you told him about my request." You raise an eyebrow. "That he stop holding my students back so they can actually learn something during their time here"

"Nope." He shrugs, swaggering forward in a t-shirt that looks a few sizes too small and is stretched so tightly over his tone body you can see the lines of every sculpted muscle. He takes a seat next to one of the girls, spreading his arms over the back of the chair and leaning insolently back. He turns and gives his partner a winning grin, his narrowed eyes tracing over her body. He's clearly undressing her, but she blushes faintly, starting to twirl her hair around one finger. You just sigh in exasperation.

"Does anyone know where Julie's got to?" You ask, glancing at the other girl, Melissa, who seems to be resisting James' charms and is sitting stiffly with her arms crossed. "She's usually so punctual."

"Sorry, professor." She replies. "She's had some personal problems." As she speaks, Melissa turns and gives the jock a vicious stare, anger flashing in her eyes. He doesn't even have the courtesy to look ashamed, smiling back at her like he finds her amusing. Just like that, you understand. Poor Julie, such a sweet, studious girl. You'd noticed James flirting with her just last week, and he must have somehow snapped her up in the interim. Even you're aware of his reputation amongst the student body, as a relentless heartbreaker with a string of jilted lovers left in the dirt. You suspect his sole ambition for his time here is to reduce every remotely attractive woman on campus to another notch on his bedpost. And yet somehow the ladies keep falling for it, thinking they'll be the one to tame this stud and make him theirs.

"Well then, we'd best start without her." You gather up your papers and begin the tutorial you've planned, a rather difficult discussion focusing on exactly how genetic diseases can arise from problems in cell division. You try to involve your students as much as possible, letting them work their heads around these tricky ideas by talking them through with you. It's here that your greatest frustration with James reveals itself. He's really quite smart. Even his short, disinterested answers revealing a surprising grasp of difficult concepts. If he just applied himself more, you're sure he'd be one of the top students in his year, but all he seems to care about is splashing about in the pool and fucking girls. It's such a waste.

You finish things up after coaxing the last few talking points you were looking for out of Melissa, then dismiss the three. She's off like a rocket, clearly hardly able to stand to be in the same room as James. The second girl looks very torn, biting her lip as her gaze flickers between the handsome jock and the doorway. At last, she seems to decide that female solidarity is more important than landing a hunky boy and gathers up her things to leave. You nod with pride, though by the hungry way she was staring at his biceps you suspect her resolve won't last very long if he makes a serious play for her.

It's then you realize James has made no move to leave. He's still sitting in his chair, gazing across the desk at you with that same cocky grin.

"Is there something you wanted, James?" You ask.

"Yeah, there kind of was." He drawls, not-so-subtly tensing his arms to make his biceps pop. You pause, your lip curling. "You see, Ms. B., I was wondering if you wanted to go out for drinks sometime, just the two of us." He slides his finger across the table, glancing significantly down your body. Your mouth drops open.

"James, that is highly inappropriate." You splutter. Of course, you'd noticed him checking you out, but to just come out and say that! He's never been this bold before! "I can't meet privately with my students, you know that!"

"So what if I wasn't your student?" He grins, seeming not to even care that you're upset. "I'm not sticking around here much longer anyway."

"What?" You gasp. He still has two years left of his degree, doesn't he? For a moment something flickers across his handsome face, a slight wince like he's not sure he should have said that. Then his cool smirk returns, so quickly you're not even sure of what you saw.

"Think about it." James shrugs. He reaches into his pocket and drops a piece of paper on the desk in front of him, with a phone number written on it. His own no doubt. "Hit me up if you're interested." He rises to his feet before you can gather your thoughts, then turns and swaggers out the door like he hadn't just propositioned a member of staff.

Of course, you already knew he didn't restrict himself from preying on the faculty. Just last month, you overheard one of your colleagues, a ditzy post-doc, sobbing down the phone to her friend. James had cornered her after a class she was teaching and talked her into coming to a student party. There he'd managed to charm her into bed, promising her they could date in secret. Of course, once the deed was done and he'd conned one last morning blowjob out of her, he kicked her out his room without even giving her a chance to dress. She was the one at fault for sleeping with a student, so she couldn't even complain to the college for fear of losing her job. The whole sordid story had already shocked you, and now this blatant attempt to seduce you, a professor almost ten years his senior!

A flicker of concern makes you frown, amplified by what he just let slip about leaving soon. This is starting to seem like self-destructive behavior from the handsome jock like he's trying to provoke a backlash and get himself kicked off the course. Should you alert student welfare? Perhaps, but they're not likely to act based on these small scraps of information., especially for a boy who's hardly going to cooperate. Instead, he'll likely end up in trouble for his transparent attempt to pick you up. Well deserved, but if you're right to be worried it could push him to do something drastic and then you'd blame yourself. You could just wait of course. Maybe you're overreacting to what could be just another example of his rank arrogance and he'll come back next week acting as though nothing happened after bedding another, easier girl?

There is one way to be sure. Call his bluff. Meet him somewhere and see just what his intentions are. If you're wrong and he's just being a horny idiot again, you can ditch him in the dirt. It'll be a good, sharp shock to his ego, one he desperately needs. Of course, it's the riskiest path. You won't get fired just for meeting a student outside the college, but questions would be asked, especially if you were spotted talking to this particular one. Your colleagues might believe you too had fallen for his charms.

Reaching over the desk, you grab the piece of paper and stare at his number. You'll have to decide what move you want to make.