Professor Margaret Cooper

Forty-year-old, divorced, childless Margaret "don't call me Maggie" Cooper, PhD in English Literature with a specialty in early twentieth century realism was not happy. Due to budget cuts, she was teaching a freshman intro class. She wanted to teach graduate level courses and do research for her next book, but had ****. English professors weren't exactly hard to find, so she did not have much bargaining power as she was still a year away from attainting tenure.

She stood in front of her class looking over the poem she had assigned the class before.

She looked up and discussed the poem, and as she did, she did not notice the zipper on her slacks started to slide down. Even though her slacks were tight over her wide hips and butt, she was too distracted by her thoughts of how this class was a waste of her time to notice that eventually her fly was wide open.

A moment later, she felt something tickling her nose. She reached up and wiped the tip of her nose with the back of her hand, but the tickling would not stop. It kept up for a few minutes then stopped. Then her blouse started to unbutton itself, and she did not notice that either.

The students noticed Professor Cooper's fly was now down, and the top four buttons of her blouse had come undone, but no one said anything.