Talking to Professor Styles

There’s something about Professor Styles that makes her a recurring figure in your nighttime fantasies.

Part of it, you must admit, is her killer body. She rarely wears clothing that shows off her figure, but there’s a certain point at which you can’t hide it. Her tight sweater and slacks today has only confirmed what your imagination was filling in before. Your teacher is a babe.

But the other part that makes her appealing, which feels a bit silly to admit, is just how brilliant she is. You’re deep enough into this whole chemistry business to know who some of the hotshots are, and this woman is up there with the best of them. As you’ve begun to dive more into her papers, you’re just starting to appreciate what kind of a brain and what kind of drive was needed to get her here.

With that said, it takes more than a bit of courage for you to knock on the door to her office. Michelle gives you a curious look, but you ignore her, waiting by the door for your response.

“Hey Alex,” Professor Styles says, opening the door for you. “How’re you doing?”

“There’s some things about the research and class that I’d like to talk to you about,” you say.

“Come in, have a seat,” she says invitingly, pointing to the extra chair she keeps in her office. It’s a bit of a cramped space, journals and loose papers piled up everywhere. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I did some of the optional readings that you put on our syllabus for class,” you say. “I was surprised by how tightly it seems to connect to some of the research that we’re doing in lab.”

“It’s no coincidence,” Professor Styles smiles. “It’s how I pick out my prospective undergrad RAs, most years.”

“Is that how Michelle got the job?” you ask.

She nods, the smile on her face an oddly nostalgic one.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better fit,” she says. “That girl’s got a rare talent.”

“Much like you?” you say, playfully.

Professor Styles laughs, shaking her head.

“Call it self-flattery, but she does remind me of myself, back when I was in college,” she says.

“I see the resemblance,” you say. “You must have been the most sought after gal in your sorority, too, huh.”

“Dangerous territory there, Alex,” your professor says, though the smile on her face grows wider. “But no, I was never in a sorority. And I never had Michelle’s looks.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say, pausing to get a good look at her. “You’ve still got them.”

She’s surprisingly youthful for a professor. You wouldn’t have put her at a day over thirty, and yet, you know from her CV that she’s a good few years older than that. Her face still has the charm of youth, and she keeps in great shape. She’s hot in a mature, sophisticated way. It’s a different sort of feeling than most of the girls on campus inspire, but it’s one that turns you on nonetheless…

“You flatter me too much,” Professor Styles says, clearly tickled by your words. She clears her throat, giving you a look that you find difficult to decipher. “Now Alex, listen carefully, because I will only tell you this once. I keep relations with my students strictly within the confines of university policy. Do you understand what I mean? Strictly. Within. The. Confines. Of. University. Policy. Remember that. Oh come now, don’t give me that expression. I wasn’t implying anything about you. Just stating a fact. You came here to discuss work. Shall we talk?”

You maintain composure, trying not to let your disappointment show. This was always going to be a long shot. Better things to be resolved this way, than getting reported to Title IX for sexual harassment. The two of you slip into talk about your work in her class and research. The conversation is rockier than you would like, though. Class has been tough and you haven’t been able to keep up with every last detail, but as the conversation gets more and more technical, you feel like you’re just nodding along as she explains things that you feel like you should already know.

Half an hour flies by, and you feel like you have a more confident grasp of what you need to do to succeed in class and at research. Yet, somehow, you feel like you failed to make a real connection with your professor. Ah well. Maybe some other day…

Styles +5