Stalk her: Crissy Bronson, 10+ she’s alone and ready

Chrissy Bronson, one of the students in your senior seminar on 1970s american visual culture, opens your door. You stand up. She nervously opens the door to reveal her waifish form. Standing about 5’5” you’d guess, Chrissy had barely any curves to speak of. You wondered if her tits even filled out a-cups. She brushes her bright red hair away from her face with a paint splattered hand.

“It isn’t office hours, Miss Bronson.”

“No, I mean, I know.” She steps into the room. “I just have my visual arts senior seminar during your office hours and like I wouldn’t miss your class for their office hours but I also can’t miss their class for your office hours, you know?”

“Fine. What is it?” You put the stack of papers down and sit in your chair. She sits in the chair across from you and starts unloading books and notes. You smile as you realize she’s putting her things right where cum had just recently dried.

“Ok, so. I had an idea and I wanted to run it past you. The senior visual arts seminar is in portraiture and human figuration this year and since your seminar is on visual culture, I thought to myself ‘why not combine the two.’” She taps a few times on a tablet and spins it around. You see a collection of sepia toned photos of hippie women.

“Elaborate.” You lean forward and begin to flip through the pictures.

“I mean in like a shared project. I’m setting up for my senior thesis on the historical male gaze in spring semester, I thought maybe this semester I could combine my senior seminars and look at how women were photographed and drawn in the 70s.”

“How do you expect me to grade your doodles Miss Bronson?” You look up at her from the photo collage. She’s included a few nudes in the collection and you can’t help but wonder now if the carpet matches the drapes.

“Oh no I mean I’d write a paper for you and that would also serve as my collection statement for the visual arts seminar.”

“It sounds like you just want to get out of doing work for my class.

“It’s not like that at all!” You can see she’s realized what she’s tacitly asked you and she looks shocked at herself.

“Isn’t it? You want to turn in work for your visual arts seminar lecturer for my class and not do work for my class. You’re a history minor, but I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that the seminar is no less mandatory.” You lean back watching fear and anxiety grow in the face of the girl across from you.

“No! I mean let me explain it better…”