Date: Tue, 25 Jun 2002 12:42:38 +0100 From: Kim Anderson <kima@supanet.com> Subject: Passing Grade, Part One - TV Fiction Passing Grade (This is Part One of a larger work, incorporating "My Night With David". Please send any comments to kima@supanet.com. Hope you enjoy this - Kim) Once I had made the decision, there was no going back. I wasn't going to pass the course by studying - that much I had decided. Theory of Interest was more course than I could manage. I had tried my best, and my best wasn't good enough. Failure was not an option, however. While the course wasn't considered "core" to the Business Admin stream at Uni, a failure would bring my average down, and I would be out. But maybe there were other ways of passing. So to speak. It was a good size class. It was unlikely the Professor knew me well enough to recognise me. And I was willing to do anything to get through the course. Anything at all. I knew I would be taking a risk. If this got out - well, I didn't even want to think about that possibility! Professor Daiken would be in his office for most of the day. Tuesdays were his days to be available to all students. Let's see how available he could be. I considered my strategy as I selected my clothing from the darker recesses of my wardrobe. I wanted to show some skin, but not be too tarty. I had to seem respectable but attractive. I eventually decided to wear the fuschia print summer dress with the tie-front cardie. Simple and pretty. Quickly I laid out the accessories: floating heart pendant, kitten-heeled sandals, breast enhancers, ankle bracelet. Then I retired to the bathroom to continue preparations. Despite the late Spring heat, I drew a hot bath and luxuriated in it and poured in a generous helping of bath salts to bring a healthy flush to my skin. As I soaked, I considered how the conversation with Professor Daiken could go. <<Oh, Professor Daiken. Your intellectual genius makes me swoon! Take me. I'm yours.>> Hmm, a bit too forward, I thought. And stupid. <<What are you doing after class, Professor?>> Coy. He might like it. Or it might go right past him. I would have to make it up as I went. I shaved my pits and my chest before I emerged from the tub into a large, fluffy towel, and towel dried my hair. Say what you like about men in touch with their anima; at least they keep the bathroom clean and free from mildew. Wrapping the towel around me, I wiped the condensation from the mirror, selected a new razor, applied lubricant and shaved as closely as I could. Fortunately, I had little in the way of facial hair and a close shave was fairly easily done. Now for the legs. I had a Lady Remmington I used for this matter. Unfolding a second towel onto the floor, I stretched one leg out and rubbed Johnson's Baby Oil into the skin. Then carefully (probably more carefully than my face, if I'm honest) I shaved the hair from my legs. I wouldn't say my legs were my best feature (although in my heart of hearts, I believed it to be true), but I hadn't had any complaints. And I always found a smooth, shiny pair of legs was always sexy. You can have your fishnets and your stockings (but not mine; I didn't say I didn't want them). Discretely exposed flesh is always best. <<My job here is finished,>> I announced to no one in particular, and I returned to the bedroom. At my dresser, I removed my makeup bag and a large mirror which I propped up. I sprayed a large handful of styling mouse into my hands and worked the foam into my hair. Blow dryer and diffuser were applied with dedication and soon my wavey blond hair had style and body. I applied makeup sparingly. I didn't want to seem like I was cruising for piece of action. Just enough to **sparkle**. Eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. Fortunately, God, mum and Oil of Olay had given me clear, well-moisturised skin. Thanks to one and all. Already feeling alarmingly perky, I selected my panties and bra set. Coral pink lace, the bra was padded to add oomph. Which, sadly, I needed. I slid the panties up my legs, tucking my little man back and away before pulling them up all the way. I put the bra on, hooking it up at the back. Then I settled the enhancers into the pockets, and adjusted for effect. When I had finished dressing, I turned to look in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. <<Goodness, Lee, you look lovely!>> An accomplished job, if I did say so myself. >From the tips of my pretty, pink toes peeping from the sandals, up past the curves and planes of an apparently shapely young woman, to my bright smile, I was - to be immodest - delightful. Prof Daiken wouldn't know what hit him. I grabbed my purse and left my flat, prepared to do battle. * * * The walk to campus was no more than fifteen minutes - the advantages of an apartment close to campus. In that time, I passed a few male students, most of whom showed their approval by looking me up and down as I passed. A couple of them - the cute ones - I favoured with a smile. One boy with his girlfriend got a sly wink as I went by. His smile got broader, and she suddenly clutched his arm, her eyes promising an unpleasant death. Prof Daiken was on the third floor of the Macmillan House. His door was closed, but his office hours suggested he'd be in. I knocked. <<Come in.>> The Professor was installed behind his desk, the space in front of him taken up with a laptop. The rest of the office was taken up with test papers, text books and, behind a stack of papers that seemed to be on the verge of throwing themselves onto the floor, was a vase with bouquet of long-dead flowers. <<Professor Daiken?>> <<With you in a moment.>> Without looking up, he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk, where his leather briefcase had pride of place. Depositing it on the floor, I perched on the chair, my knees pressed tightly together. After a moment's thought, I pulled the hem of my dress up a bit, exposing a bit more thigh. Then I awaited my audience. The Professor looked up finally. <<Sorry. I didn't want to lose the thought.>> He closed the laptop, and removed his glasses. <<What can I do for you?>> <<It's about Theory of Interest.>> <<A moment, please.>> From his desk, he pulled a binder and opened it. <<Are you in the class?>> A good sign. <<Yes, sir. Lee Chadwick, sir.>> He scanned the open page, and traced a line across it. He looked up, frowned, then looked again at the list of marks. Are my marks that bad? <<So, Lee, what can I do for you?>> Here goes. <<I'm not doing very well, am I, sir?>> He shook his head. <<Not particularly, I'm afraid. Not this worst in the class, but you could be better.>> I could feel tears welling in my eyes. A good trick if you can pull it off. <<Can I see?>> He gestured with his head. I rose and came around his desk. He pointed to the line next to my name. I leaned forward as if to see more clearly, although I new quite well what I would see. But now he could smell my hair, and feel the warmth of my body near his. I stopped short of letting one breast settle on his shoulder. That would be too obvious. <<Oh, dear.>> I clasped my arms around myself. <<Not good, is it? I wish I knew what to do.>> <<You've been coming to class regularly?>> <<Yes.>> <<And you've been doing the homework?>> <<Yes. As best I can.>> He looked back at his binder. <<I could give you a couple of names. Students who might be able to help you.>> <<Yeah, but...>> I waited until he looked back, and I let my eyes fill with tears again. <<The exam is so close. I'm afraid I might not learn it in time to pull up my mark.>> I opened my purse for tissues I knew weren't there. <<I'm sorry. Do you have a tissue?>> The Professor dug around in his desk, and came up with a small packet. <<Thank you.>> I dabbed at my eyes, careful not to smudge my mascara. I leaned on his desk, and took a deep breath. I kept my head lowered when I looked back at him, so that I'd been looking into his eyes through moist lashes. <<Is there anything you can do?>> <<How do you mean?>> <<Something... I can do to lift my mark?>> <<I'm not sure ->> <<I'm willing to consider anything that my get me a higher grade.>> I stared deeply into his eyes. <<Anything.>> He frowned and turned away. <<I think you're under a misapprehension. I'm not interested in trading sex for marks.>> He turned back, and looked me once over. <<In any event, I'm not homosexual.>> <<Wh-what do you mean?>> Involuntarily, I took a step back. <<I must admit, you make a very attractive young woman. But you're not. I remember making a mental note first day of class that "Lee" was Male.>> He put the binder back into his desk. <<I can still give you the names of a couple of students. If you like.>> The tears that welled now were considerably more genuine. <<Yes, sir. Thank you.>> He wrote a couple of names on a Post-it Note. <<But I would suggest you not dress that way for them. It might be too distracting.>> I mumbled a thanks. Then gathering my purse and shattered ego, I fled his office. I locked myself into a cubicle in the Women's and tried to gather myself. That went badly. For a moment there, I thought I had made it. He seemed to find me attractive. But - God! What if he mentions to my other teachers? I could be looking at public humiliation, or even expulsion. My illustrious career - gone before it's started. I tried to rebuild my confidence. Who would he mention this to? And it's not like I actually offered him sex, did I? And he gave me the names of a couple of students. If had planned to have me expelled, would he have done that? Okay, then. On to Plan B. But carefully. Plan B found me in the West Block of Physical Sciences Hall. A prefab addition to the 200-year-old building, West Block was a tight collection of small offices for the Tutorial Assistants, those graduates working on their Masters, who taught extra lessons for many of the Professors. In particular, it had the office of Daniel Harrison. Daniel Harrison was Prof. Daiken's assistant. A soon-to-be father, it was well- known among the students that his wife was going through a bad pregnancy, and that she was taking it out on him. And that made him pliable. Having stopped to freshen up my makeup, I made my way to his office. Office, hell. It was a closet with two desks and strip lighting. Danny was alone in the room, working on a paper. <<Daniel Harrison?>> <<Can I help you?>> I stepped a little past the doorway. <<Prof Daiken suggested I see you.>> <<About?>> <<Theory of Interest.>> I moved a little closer. <<I'm... I'm having problems in class, and he thought you might be able to help.>> He gestured at the computer on his desk. <<I'm a bit busy right now.>> <<Oh!>> I laughed. <<I didn't mean right now. Whenever you're available.>> <<No, that's what I mean. I have to get the next stage of my thesis completed by the end of the month. I'm sorry, but I don't have any free time.>> He turned back to the screen. <<I'd be willing to pay.>> He looked back at me, a faint flicker of interest in his eyes. <<It wouldn't be much. I don't make much as a waitress. And I could throw in a home-cooked meal.>> This was a triple-hook I was throwing at him: money, food and proximity to a woman. I could see it was of interest. He pulled out his diary, and paged through the days. <<When did you have in mind?>> <<When are you available?>> He studied the page. <<Tomorrow night's okay, I guess. About 8?>> <<Oh, that would be brilliant!>> I gave him my address, and phone number and left with a promise that he would appear on my doorstep the next evening. That gave me little over a day to put the final touches on my "evil" scheme. Oh, come on. It's not like anyone was going to get hurt. Daniel would (well, might) get a little of what he was missing, and I would get the marks I needed and seemed to be unable to earn the traditional method. And his wife (the mother of his child)? Well, it was up to him if he told her or not. Besides, it not as if I were actually planning to pay him. He might as well get something out of the evening. * * * Preparations the next day actually took less time than I thought. The sexstasy I already had from a party a few months earlier. I had to rent a video recorder from a shop in town. Which necessitated almost emptying my bank account to put down the deposit. And I needed (yes, needed) a few new things for my wardrobe. I set the camera up discretely on my wardrobe. I considered disguising it,